#reading the ch summary and i am . very uncomfortable

[yourmidnightlover]

getting it over with - ch 2

pairing: bucky barnes x virgin fem!reader

summary: waking up after accidentally admitting a bit too much to bucky about your lack of action, you reveal that you remember everything.

warnings: kissing, fingering, cunnilingus, nervous!reader, bucky is very tender and a SMOOTH talker in this one, please let me know if i'm missing anything!

w/c: 2k+

a/n: THE LONG AWAITED!! i've been in such a rut lately and am so sorry if this doesn't meet everyone's expectations. i kinda like how it turned out and think it's definitely how classic 40s bucky barnes would treat a lady. anywho, enjoy reading my lovelies!

CHAPTER 1

waking up in your jamie’s arms made you wish you were still asleep. sure, you had cuddled before on movie nights when you had to share a blanket, but this was different. this meant he had chosen to stay, of his own volition. fate didn’t need to step in for him to cuddle you. or maybe you were reading far too much into it. 

regardless, you relished in this rare moment of closeness you had with bucky. his arm was securely around your waist as your head remained on his chest. you let your chin rest on his chest in favor of looking at the face that was now free of his perpetual frown lines. you let your hands move the stray pieces of his hair from his face before he began stirring. his arm gently tightened around you before his left came to hold you as well, leaving you softly laughing at his cuddly tendencies.

“mornin’, doll,” his raspy voice scratched all the right parts of your heart. “sleep well?”

“slept like a baby,” you replied as you plopped your head back down on his chest, the rise and fall of his chest nealy lulling you back to sleep.

“so…” he trailed off. “do you…”

“i remember, jamie,” you were squeamish. he obviously kindly rejected your offer in an attempt to let you keep your dignity, but you couldn’t lie to him. “i-i’m sorry for all that. i never wanted to make you uncomfortable, and clearly, i did.”

“you didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he assured you as you quickly got out of your bed. “y/n,” he called after you as you threw a sweater over your tank top from last night. he stood to meet you, tenderly holding your shoulders so you would get still. “you didn’t make me uncomfortable. the only thing that made me uncomfortable was the fact that you were drunk when you asked me, doll,” now it was him who played with the strands of your hair that were still wild from sleeping. 

“so, if i were to ask you that now, with a sound and sober mind… what would you say?” you avoided eye contact, opting to play with the frayed ends of your sweater. 

“that depends,” he nudged your chin with a curled finger. “i’m gonna need you to ask me first,” he teased. 

you rolled your eyes, “there’s a reason they call it ‘liquid courage’, jamie. sadly, i haven’t had any today.”

“you already know what i’ll say,” he shrugged casually, as if it weren’t practically humiliating what you were asking of him. the depth of desperation you had reached to ask your best friend who you’d loved for so long to do you this ‘favor’. “you know i’d do anything for you.”

“i want you to want me,” now you couldn’t stop looking in his eyes, captivated by the pretty blues you’ve always loved. 

he chuckled, “don’t you know i always have?” 

looking into his eyes, you wanted to believe his sweet, serene words that were dripping from his lips like honey. god, how you wanted a taste of the sickly sweetness that oozed from his presence near you. the attraction that pulled you towards him like he was stronger than any magnet tony had created was somehow amplified any time he looked at you the way he was. you only hoped the attraction wasn’t one sided. sure, he was telling you he’s always wanted you, but that doesn’t mean he wanted you romantically. maybe he just meant he wanted your body. either way, you would have him any way you could. 

“say it,” he urged you. 

“will you be my first, jamie?” you swallowed and looked away from him, somehow still afraid of his answer.

“only if i can be your only, too,” he grasped your waist, pulling you against his chest. 

finally, you broke your eye contact with the floor in favor of his bright blues as he leaned in to press a searing kiss against your lips. in spite of the anticipation of what you had just asked asked him, the kiss was incredibly tender and unrushed.

your tongues danced in sync as if you had done this a million times before. his hands squeezed your waist more as you gently sucked his bottom lip into your mouth.

“you’re pretty good at this,” you giggled as you grabbed onto his forearms. 

“we haven’t even done anything, yet,” your eyes went wide at the insinutaiton. 

“are we-did you want to… now?” 

“no, of course not,” his thumbs began rubbing on your waist over your sweatshirt. “i’m gonna make your first time special, like you deserve. if you want, there are other things we can do now. again, only if you want to.”

“well-uh-what were you thinking about?” your arms rose to his neck, thrown over his shoulders as his grip tightened on your waist.

he lifted you by the waist, signalling for your legs to wrap around his own so he could usher you back to the bed. he gently laid you down, hovering over you before pressing a searing kiss to your cheek, just as gentle as when he laid you down. 

“i’m gonna eat your pretty little pussy, doll,” he gingerly kissed down your torso, making the long trail to your center. 

“you don’t have to if… if y’know, it makes you uncomfortable? i know guys aren’t really into that sometimes,” you rose to your elbows, observing him as he spread your legs further to make room for him. the way his eyes were fixated on you was as if you were the only woman he’d ever seen. 

“uncomfortable?” he scoffed at the thought. “the only thing that’s making me uncomfortable right now is how many clothes we still have on.”

“that can easily be fixed,” you swiftly tore your shirt from your body, revealing yourself to him. his eyes were immediately drawn to your bare chest. 

“fuck,” he breathed. “‘s like you’re trying to kill me, doll.” keeping his place between your legs, his arms trailed up your torso to massage your tits. “so fucking gorgeous.”

you placed your hands on his wrists, encouraging him to continue. “jamie…” you sighed as your head was thrown back. 

“has anyone ever touched you down here, doll?”

you shook your head

“only me?”

“only you,” you swear his eyes darkened by four shades, swallowing his pretty blues into the abyss of his lust.

he moved from his place between your legs to help you remove your shorts and underwear in one swift motion, quickly getting right back to business as soon as he was able to. once he was settled back between your plush thighs, you felt his hands gripping them tightly. 

“such a pretty pussy you’ve got here, baby,” his face was so close to your center you could feel his breath against your skin with every word he said. “can’t believe you’ve kept it from me for so long.” he littered your thighs with kiss after kiss, each time getting closer to your center. 

“please, jamie?” your hands made their way to his hair, gently grasping his hair and tugging to emphasize your need to him.

“please what, doll?” he mocked coyly.

“you know what,” your hips began to rise from the bed, searching for some relief.

“nuh uh,” he moved his head further from where he was, “i wanna hear you say it for me.”

“i-can you-i want you to eat me out please?” you rushed out and squeezed your eyes shut, not being able to see bucky as he finally connected his lips with your center. “o-oh my GOD!” his tongue traced your clit lightly, barely giving you much stimulation but even that was enough to make your legs begin to quivver. 

while his tongue tracing your clit felt absolutely amazing, nothing prepared you for feeling his tongue tracing along your soaking slit before delicately prodding inside of you. 

“holy shit, jamie,” his tongue trailed back to your clit before you felt his finger slowly enter your pussy. your grip in his hair tightened, pulling him even closer to your center. 

he was so passionate about pleasing you, humming into your skin as he felt you tighten around his finger the deeper he went. 

he made sure to wait for you to relax, welcoming the pleasure rather than being surprised by it, before beginning to slowly thrust the single digit in and out of your center.

you tossed your head back against the pillows at the feeling of his long fingers reaching parts of you that you could never reach yourself. 

“fuck!” his finger found the perfect spot inside of you, curling to massage it gently and bring you closer to the edge. you could hear the squelching of your pussy in rhythm with his thrusts in and out of you, and somehow you had no idea that you could be so wet and messy.

you felt him moan against you even more as he brought his metal hand up your torso and begin to squeeze your tits, pinching and pulling your nipple before switching to the neglected breast, simultaniously adding a second finger inside of you. 

he wanted to thank whatever gods existed for allowing him to be in between the safe haven of your thighs in this very moment. the soft plushness of your thighs that cradled his head as your fingers continued to tighten around his locks with every move his tongue made against your clit proved that heaven was real.

it took everything in him to stop jumping the bed like a horny teenage boy, because he knew he would’ve blown a load with how pretty your moans sounded, in spite of your thighs encasing his ears.

“ja-jamie,” you cried to him. “i’m so-so close, please don’t stop! please don’t stop!” you back began to arch off the bed as his ministrations continued, his fingers pounding into your pussy as his lips continued to suck eagerly at your clit. “oh my FUCK, JAMES, YES!” you cried as your hips continued to grind into his face, riding out your orgasm as he refused to cease his actions on your body until you couldn’t take any more and were pulling him away. 

he pressed feather-light kissed up your torso, paying special attention to your neck before he met his lips with yours once more. you sighed into his mouth as your arms were lazily thrown over his shoulders, pulling him even closer to you. 

“that was amazing, jamie,” you heaved as he rested his forehead against yours. “i had no idea i could… y’know, that hard! it was intense…”

“i just ate you out and you still don’t want to say the words?” you shook your head rapidly as you tucked your face into his neck. “you came, y/n. you can say it out loud.” you felt his smile against your skin. “now i can officially say that you’re the sweetest thing ever.”

“jamie!” you shoved his shoulder lazily.

“you’re so cute when you get all flustered,” he brushed some of your hair from your face to watch you biting back your smile. “let me take you out? on a real date. i wanna give you what all the other nimrods ‘ve been to dumb to do themselves. wanna show you what you deserve to be treated like. will you let me show ya, doll?”

“you really wanna take me out?” you furrowed your brows. “i don’t mean that in like the killing way… not that you’d do that! i know that you’d never hurt me, i just phrased it weird and then i kinda got- y’know what? i’m gonna shut myself up this time before i get too stupid to even say the word ‘yes’. so, yes, i would love to go out with you, jamie.” you looked past bucky to avoid the further embarrassment from your incessant rambling.

he chuckled at your embarrassment in spite of being the most intimate you had ever been with anyone with him, you still got tongue tied when he asked you on a date. adorable, he thought as he got up, rushing to the bathroom to grab a washcloth, getting it damp before returning and wiping the mess from between your thighs.

"thank you," you closed your thighs as he sat beside you in bed once more. he lifted your arms so he could push his long forgotten shirt over your head to cover you up.

"any time," he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "how does next friday sound for you, doll?"

tags:

@sebas-ass

@nyctophilic0vitnir

@cjand10

@stinkerbelle007

@wilsons-striped-ties

@vicmc624

@ladyfreakingda

@kandis-mom

@charmedbysarge

@raelorns21

@hhiggs

[writingwithcolor]

Running Commentary: What is “ok to do” in Mixed-Culture Supernatural Fiction?

Dear readers: 

Today we are trying something new. To give you some insight into our process in the Japanese moderator section, we are presenting our response in the form of running commentary to show you how we dissect and answer long asks. We hope this makes clear what points are useful and not useful when sending us a query. As always, this is for learning purposes, not callouts. Be prepared: this is a long one. 

To summarize: the asker is looking to create a comic drawn in Japanese manga style, and has provided a long summary of the story and worldbuilding which involves a mix of “reimagined” Japanese yokai mythos and cultural symbols from many other sources. They have questions with respect to cultural appropriation, coding etiquette, and “what is and isn’t ok.” 

Opening Comments

I know a common advice when it comes to the thing I am about to ask is to talk to people involved in __, but I struggle with opening up to strangers for reasons I'm uncomfortable explaining. 

Marika (M): This is already a red flag. If you want to engage with another culture without talking to people from that culture, then research is going to be very challenging. You won’t have members of that culture to guide you towards sources and perspectives they feel most accurately represents public opinion. If I were in your shoes, I might start with tackling my discomfort when engaging with other people, if only to improve my work. If you aren’t ready to engage with a culture and its people directly, then I think you should wait until you are. 

I should note, reaching out to the Japanese mod team at WWC does count as engagement, but WWC should not and cannot be the only point of contact because there is no single, legitimate cultural perspective. 

Rina (R): Also, you don’t need to “open up” to strangers or talk to them in person to get perspectives. Asking specific research questions anonymously to a forum or on social media requires very little vulnerability. You managed to do it here on WWC. So give it a try! 

Anyway, my question basically amounts to the what is and isn't ok [sic] in terms of depicting fantasy creatures and concepts outside of their respective culture.

R: So, the reason why we turn away rubber stamp questions by that ask “is XYZ okay?” is because “okay” & “not okay” 1) is vague and 2) creates a dichotomy where there isn’t one. 

When we say something is “not okay,” do we mean:

It’s offensive to the general majority of XYZ group? 

It’s contentious among people who ID in the group? 

It has a potential to be interpreted in a certain negative way, but may not be a red flag to everyone?

Insetad try asking:

What are the reasons this subject is offensive? 

What makes cultural appropriation bad? 

When might it be “okay” to intentionally discuss a difficult or controversial topic?

What is your reason for including something that may be interpreted as offensive and can it be sufficiently justified? 

What stereotypes or tropes might it be consistently identified as or associated with, and why? 

When might it be justified to bring up these tropes?

With That In Mind...

Let’s get into the rest of the ask below. 

…a story I've been working on in recent times is largely inspired off the Japanese yokai, and the setting is basically Earth in the far future, as far as when the next supercontinent may form. These yokai, although portrayed differently here, do retain their main characteristics [...] Included in this world are two goddesses of my own creation, primarily representing the sun and the moon. [...] There will be thirteen nations, named and based after the Chinese Zodiac, and the life force found in the living things in this world, called qi, comes in two forms that are always opposing each other but can never fully overpower the other, this being based off yin and yang. They're even directly named this; yin qi and yang qi.

M: This reads more like using Japanese and Chinese culture for the “aesthetics”, not the cultures themselves, which I personally feel falls under cultural appropriation. From a world-building/ coding standpoint, the actual use of concepts is workable, and, dare I say, typical, given how Chinese cosmology influences Japanese culture. However, naming a concept “yin qi” or “yang qi” is the equivalent of naming something “- charge” or “+ charge”, respectively. That you don’t seem aware of this tells me you are pretty early in your research phase. In that vein, we’ve covered translating terms and names from foreign languages in fantasy before. See the following article linked here for our recommendation against using RL terms outright but instead encouraging people to create their own conlangs. 

R: Worldbuilding-wise, I think you would have to figure out the chicken-or-egg of the zodiac nations. Did the nations come first, and the zodiac later as an origin folk story (which you would have to rewrite to serve the nation-building narrative)? Did the zodiac come first, and the nations named (most likely re-named) by a political entity? What is the justification? Otherwise, again, it’s a shoehorning of aesthetics. 

There is also a third, lesser known god based off of fox spirits and trickery and I imagined he's the patron deity of a family that honors and worships him, but his influence on them has transformed them into Kitsune-tsuki, which I depict as fox-like anthros. 

M: Not related to this ask directly, but I have jokingly ranted about how often non-Japanese people prefer using imagery related to kitsune-tsuki in Japanese coded world-building (link). This makes me feel the same level of petty irritation. See my troll answer below for a similar experience.

R: Same. It’s boring tbh. 

M: Troll Answer: I get that kitsune-tsuki are very sexy furries, but Japanese folklore has other sexy furries too! These underrepresented demographics also deserve recognition and appreciation!!

The plot of the story is this; modernization has left the goddesses neglected of their worship and forgotten, something that is necessary in this world to stop them from fighting each other. The Moon Goddess awakens first, punishing the humans by unleashing the yokai. Then the Sun Goddess wakes up to fight in humanity's defense…

M: This could feel rather like Shinto-like coding (Ex. the myth of Amaterasu and the Cave, or Tsukuyomi slaying Ukemochi), but something about this scenario feels a bit too binary in terms of themes of good v. evil, light v. dark to be Shinto. The plot also feels more Gaelic/ Nordic in influence for me as a person raised in a Japanese Buddhist and Hindu household. I imagine this dissonance could have been fixed with better guided research. 

…but their fighting has caused a perma-eclipse and this world is in danger of ending. The yokai have run rampant; some are loyal to the Moon Goddess, and some aren't, and it lies to the main characters to bring balance back to Midgard. Yeah... the name of this future Earth is Midgard. I debate changing it since it and some other things I will mention sorta feel out of place.

R: Marika, looks like you were right on the Gaelic/Nordic influence /j 

Also, worldbuilding question: if the Earth is in the far geologic future, how long has it been since modernization (19th-20th century)? Centuries? Millennia? How long has this fighting gone on for? What triggered the perma-eclipse, and why now? Why is this time depth necessary? 

One of the main characters in question is a humanoid woman with wolf features named Ling, and she is a descendant of the dynasty that had first ruled the one of the nations, particularly the one based off the dragon zodiac. She accidentally summons the other main character to this world as she's praying at a shrine, a humanoid with dragon features--I call them drakon--named Angelynn.

[on the names of characters] is it appropriating by not having the world entirely based on [Chinese, Japanese, and Indian] influence? it's a little weird to me how worldwide the creatures are referred to as yokai, implying a strong Japanese influence not unlike how it is today with Western culture being so dominant, yet there are still names like Keith and Kiara.

M: I will give you credit for recognizing you have unconsciously veered towards white-washing/ race-bending: either presenting European cultural influences (drakons, Angelynn, Keith, Kiara, Midgard) as default or utilizing general E. Asian cultural influences and aesthetics for a Western-style story (Ling, qi, Chinese zodiac, yokai). I agree with you that this creates a sense of cultural dissonance. At this point, I’d say you have a clear choice: write a Western-style high fantasy using a background with which you have more familiarity, or get some better guidance on research with East Asian cultures so you can code the story more effectively. 

The focus of this story is centered around meeting all these yokai and showing that there's more nuance to them than Ling believes, all while saving the world. But I worry if I'm appropriating these concepts and creatures by 1, drawing from more than one culture--I initially imagined that there would be a mix of Chinese, Japanese and Indian influence because according to a website I am getting the info on yokai from, the yokai in question already draw inspiration from or have been based on something in Chinese mythology or Hinduism [...]

R: Sure, some yokai have Chinese or Hindu parallels as that tends to happen with folk tales. But not all–some are unique to Japan, and some are more modern. Sometimes it’s very political–some people consider the Ainu Korpokkur as being a “Yokai of Japan” despite it belonging to the indigenous culture. It’s up to you to research, untangle, and understand these influences. 

The fact that you bring up that the Asian continent has seen a lot of cultural exchange is not a sufficient reason to randomly combine influences for the sake of visual appeal or “coolness.” That is appropriation. These influences must be understood in their historical context so that you know how/why certain things combined or morphed into another, and what makes sense to combine/morph. 

M: This also indicates that the character views the yokai as evil/inherently bad, which I would argue is not a typical stance for much Japanese folklore. Again, this shows a deficit in research. 

2, reimagining these yokai in a new context even though I have done the research on them, because one thing I kept seeing in regards to cultural appropriation is that it's bad to do that […]

R: Refer above to my note on “okay” and “not okay.” The thing with folklore and fairy tales is that every–and I mean every–folk tale is reinterpreted with every new iteration of it. Reimagining in a new context is what people do every time they pass on a story or tell a story with the same plot or characters. Do not think of folklore as an “original” that is altered and rebooted, but rather a living document that gets added to. Reimagining is not the inherent issue. HOW you reimagine something matters. 

So I suppose my question is...if someone were to do research upon the creature they want to use, given they are allowed to use it, and gained an understanding of what the creature or concept stood for, are they allowed to pick it apart and reimagine it? Alternatively, is it ok if it's explicitly pointed out that it is derivative of the original?

It has actually become my biggest fear that I may have internalized something that could both continue to do harm long after the fact and attract the wrong people to me work. I don't wanna let people down!

M: As Rina has noted several times, I think the problem is in trying to ID a set of specific variables and circumstances that make a thing “okay” or “not okay.” I want to recommend that you read my joking response about writing in secret rooms while wearing a disguise (Linked here). Who can you hurt if no one knows what you are doing? There’s a difference between creating for oneself and creating to share. 

You have internalized a message incorrectly, but not the one you cite. The goal of many recommendations against cultural appropriation is to avoid causing direct harm to people who have seen their cultures demeaned, discredited and devalued, especially in shared spaces. Assessing cultural engagement, whether we are talking about appropriation, appreciation or exchange is not a measure of personal virtue or a collection of commandment style do’s and don’t’s. Rather, I believe engaging with other cultures is the state of mind of acknowledging that when using these cultures’ in one’s own work, there is value in consulting members of that culture and giving credit where credit is due. This will be challenging if you are only comfortable engaging with all of these cultures in a distanced, minimal capacity. 

FWIW, I’ve written stories that probably will offend people from other cultures and backgrounds, but I don’t show them off. I don’t think writing these makes me a bad person, but I also don’t see the need to give unnecessary offense, so those stories are just for me, to be written and read in my own secret room. However, I’m not ashamed of having written them, and I’m also comfortable to “let people down” provided that my own shared work reflects my personal principles of what I consider to be sufficient research and engagement with other cultures,  As a creator, my work wouldn’t be mine if I didn’t first please myself. I think the trick to the creator role is deciding what to keep private, what to share and what constitutes sufficient engagement. 

P.S. 

We’ve referenced the need for research multiple times in this ask, and in some of the other asks that have gone up this week, so we thought this would be a good place to plug a beginner’s guide to academic research created by the mod team.. Look for it soon under WWC’s pinned posts!

[strwbrrygrden]

Summary : A relaxing day at the spa

Pairing : Seunghan x female reader

Warning : oral (both receiving), name calling

The smell of lavender and vanilla make you feel relax as you enter a new spa that opened a few months ago- it been a while since you been to a spa since you work in the office all day/night and never have a day off. “Good afternoon” the receptionist spoken, “good afternoon” you say with a soft smile, “how can I help you today?” she asks, “I booked an appointment for today, my name is Y/N” you tell her, she nod her head as she looks at the computer screen “The two hour massage session is one of our most popular, I hope you enjoy it.” She says as she place a piece of paper on the counter “please read this over before I walk you to the room” she says, you look at the paper and grab the pen from the tiny pencil case writing your signature agreeing with everything that is written on the piece of paper. She place the paper aside and starts walking you over to one of the empty rooms that was close to the end, “The masseur is on the lunch break right now so it will take a while but until then you can place your stuff down, take off your clothes and wrap this towel around you, and lay down and relax yourself” she says, you nod your head as you enter the room- you both smile softly at each other before she close the door and walks away, you place your stuff on the empty bed before undressing yourself and wrapping the towel around your body, “wow.. comfy and soft, I like that” you tell yourself as you lay on the bed,staring up at the ceiling as you’re enjoying the soft piano music playing through the speakers, and waits for the masseur to enter the room.

“I am so sorry for making you wait for a long time, I just finish my lunch” a male says as he enters the room, you look over at the doorway seeing a very tall and attractive male “It is fine. I didn’t mind waiting, I could’ve fall asleep if you didn’t enter” you tell him, he chuckles and locks the door “I’m Seunghan, your masseur for the next two hours” he introduces, “It’s nice to meet you, my name is Y/N” you told him, “it’s nice to meet you too, dear” he replies as he push a cart that is fill with essentials near the edge of the bed you’re lying on. He looks through the cart and grabs a bottle of body oil and a bottle of lotion to use later, “So, tell me about yourself love” he says, “what do you want to know about me” you asks, “It’s up to you what you want to tell me, I do not want you to be uncomfortable” he reveals, you stare at him and softly smile “Wow.. Seunghan, you are such a gentleman” you teases, he chuckles at your words as he squeeze some body oil onto your neck and shoulders area massaging them gently “You’re tensed up here, do you work a lot?” he asks, “Yeah, I do” you tell him, he squeeze some lotion on his hands and start to gently press and massage more of that area “Your hands are amazing, I feel more relax then when I enter here” you praise him, “Thank you, I hope you enjoy my service then” he replies as he continues massaging you.

“Can you sit up for me, love” he says, you did as he said and sit up on the bed- he sits behind you and pulls the towel down letting it go to your waist, “are you okay? Don’t be shy about showing your body, your body is gorgeous” he says, you blush at his words “Wow.. you must praise your lover a lot” you said, “I don’t have a lover. Since we’re speaking about that topic, your lover must be lucky too- I mean look at you, so gorgeous inside and out, very funny and have a cute laugh” he replies, “No one likes someone who works a lot, I don’t have a lover” you mention. He hums along to the soft piano music playing through the speakers as he squeezes some of the body oil onto your breasts and massages each of them, you lean back on his shoulder and closes your eyes. “I want her so bad.. no I need her” he thought to himself, biting the inside of his cheeks before cupping and squeezing your breasts forgetting about the massage. “Seu-seunghan” you moans as he pinch your nipples slightly, “Yeah?” He asks, “play with them please” you said, “You’re so perfect, Y/N. So fucking perfect” he spoken as he plays with your breasts “Lay down for me” he demanded, you did as he said and lay on the bed- he hover over you and suck on your nipples as he look at you, “So good.. so good” you whispers looking at the ceiling as he kiss and suck on your left breasts and massages the other. “So fucking hot..” he whispers biting your nipples “I need you” you whimpers, “you have me, y/n” he spoken

You’re lying at the edge of the bed, with your legs spread apart, while he’s taking off his pants and boxers. He goes over to you and starts to slowly and teasingly rub the tip on your clit causing you to whimpers “Someone is eager” he says, rubbing the tip against your clit a few more times before slowly inserting his cock in you- the two of you moan because of the pleasure, he begins to thrust slowly and holds your hands tight “Gonna make you feel so good” he reveals as he holds your waist a bit and thrust faster and deeper. “O-oh.. fuck, Seung-Seunghan right there” you moans as he thrust at that spot, he smirks a bit and start to hit that spot repeatedly making you be a moaning mess “You’re so tight” he groan and holds your legs as he continues to thrust “So fucking tight, feel so good around my cock” he moans- all you could do is moan in response, there was no way you could said a word. “You’re such a slut, Y/N.. clenching so much because of my words” he whispers, you whimper in response as he start fucking you senselessly.

“G-gonna cum..” you cried as you grip on the edge of the bed tightly “Cum, baby.” he says, thrusting for a couple of more times until his cock twitch in you- he holds your hand tight as the two of you moan loudly and cums at the same time. You whimper as he fill you up with his cum, “Such a pretty slut, fill up with my cum” he says to you as he slowly pulls out and rubs the tip against your clit teasingly “Go on the floor for me” he says, you slowly kneel on the floor in front of him and stares up at him as he rubs the tip against your lips “lick it” he say, you lick the cum off your lips and wraps your hands around his cock stroking it from the tip to the base. “Such a good girl, suck my cock like the slut you are” he says before he grips your hair and start thrusting in and out of your mouth- you gag against his cock as the tip hit the back of your throat. After a while of him doing that, you felt tears coming down so he stares at you and chuckles “aww, you’re crying? am I going too rough babe?” he asks, you moan against his cock as he start fucking your mouth “such a pretty mouth, I know you can take it all baby” he says, continuing to fuck your mouth with his cock until he pulls away and cum all over your breasts.

He bent you over on the bed and start to fuck you senselessly, “Se-Se-Seunghan..you’re so rough..” you cried as you grip on whatever that is in front of you “I know you like it rough, you love me being rough” he says as he holds your legs and thrust you harder, deeper and rougher “you’re a fucking slut who want to get fuck so much until you’re fill up with cum” he groans, you moan in response since you couldn’t think of anything to said- there was nothing in your mind right now, he’s making you feel so good and giddy. “Look at you, clenching so much at my words” he whispers as he spanks your ass while thrusting and thrusting. There was only the sound of skin slapping skin, loud moaning/groaning, and the temperature of the room was very hot. “S-Seunghan, please let me cum” you cried gripping onto the edge of the bed tightly “Aww, of course I will since you been a good girl” he says to you as he pull out and kneel on the floor spreading your legs apart and sit in between them, he softly kiss your clit “You been so good to me, you deserve this” he mentions, you hum in response and let out a moan when he suck on your clit for a bit while before eating you out.

“G-gonna cum..please let me cum..” you beg, he eats you out for a little more and holds your legs tight as you cum all over his tongue- he kiss your clit softly before pulling away “you’re so messy” he whispers, you lie on the bed and pant heavily “Did you like my service” he asks as he sit next to you “Yes, I did” you replies, he stares over at the clock and hums softly “We have at least half an hour left with each other” he reveals, “What should we do until then” you says, he looks at you and slightly smirks as an idea popped in his head. “What you thinking of in that mind of yours..” you asks him, he smiles at you before grabbing your waist and placing you on his lap. “So good baby..so good” he whimpers as you are bouncing up and down on his cock, “You make sure pretty noises, Seunghan..” you tell him, he tensed up at your words and hold his breath for a bit “Wish I can hear them all day” you spoken as you continue bouncing up and down his cock for a while until he let out a loud moan and cum in you “Please don’t stop, Y/N.. please” he begs, “So cute..begging me like that” you said as you continue to bounce up and down on his cock as he plays around with your breasts “a-ahh,so good..baby, you’re so good” he cries, you wipes his tears away with your thumbs as he whimpers loudly and cum in you again.

The two of you help each other get dressed before he unlocks and open the door, you grab your belongings and walk out of the room “I hope you enjoy and like my service today” he said, “yes, I did enjoy and like your service” you told him, “I hope to see you again soon” he tell you with a smile, “Can I get your number” you asks, “mhm..sure” he says. The two of you exchange phone numbers before you went to the front of the spa and pays for the two hour massage session. As soon as Seunghan’s shift was over, he grab his belongings and went straight home and did his normal night routine before texting you for the rest of the night.

[bg-brainrot]

WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 15: More than Friends Pt. 1

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence, violence, some explicit content

WC: 8k words, 15/?? chapters

Summary: Push finally comes to shove. As fun as living in the present is, Astarion forgets that present dangers are still very, very real. Afterward, emotions run high, and you find yourself in a familiar predicament.

A/N: I know I put this warning in ch 1, but warning that the smut is always going to be more about their ~feelings~ than actual smut, so like, be forewarned and don’t expect too much 🔥!

Also: I never play wizards in real campaigns! I’m a filthy rogue-main and if I play a caster, it’s usually been for the roleplay of it all, so this Tav is not built optimally. They’re built for a chill life in Neverwinter with a few offensive spells. I’m also sticking to 5E rules for this (invisibility, spell prep) for the sake of story as well.

Ao3 | [Ch14][Ch16] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

Since you rejected his advances a few nights ago, Astarion has been making an effort. You’re not entirely sure what the effort amounts to, but it’s an effort nonetheless.

At first you think it’s to get to know you better, understand who you are, as you asked him to. But surely it isn’t that. Something like that wouldn’t make you feel this uncomfortable.

“Oh darling, please let me embroider your robes. They’re simply not doing enough to flatter your alluring figure.”

“Simply exquisite. When you read by candlelight, your eyes shine brighter than even the most vivid moonstones.”

“Have I ever told you that your voice could lure a siren? No? Well, its dulcet tones make this dreadful work all worth the while.”

You think he’s… flirting? However, either he’s out of practice or you’re not an easy person to flirt with, because each time you’re left a bit confused and unsure how to react. Usually it ends with you changing the subject with an awkward chuckle and a thanks.

As the new week begins and you’re finding yourself inundated with these odd statements, you think this might actually be his attempt to get to know you better– he just hasn’t gotten close to someone in so long, it’s devolved into an awkward jumble of compliments.

So when you return from your start-of-week shopping trip to find Astarion waiting, arms crossed, expression irked, you suspect you know what it’s about.

“Why are you rebuffing my every attempt to converse with you?” His voice is annoyed and you try your best not to laugh, thinking of how long he might have been waiting for you in that very position. But you’d been expecting this, so you know better than to laugh.

“Astarion,” you start, putting your bags down. “Are you talking about your weird flattery?”

He all but sputters his next words, “‘Weird flattery’?!” 

You nod. “How else am I supposed to take comments about my ‘dulcet tones’?”

As if just hearing these words for the first time, Astarion recoils a bit. “Well, when you say it…” he trails off a bit before continuing. “I’m just trying to open up a conversation, darling. Not all of us have your… knack for subtlety.” You ignore the insult, as it’s likely warranted anyway.

“Regardless, thank you for making an attempt,” you say, closing the distance between you. “It means a lot to me, even if it’s been, hmmm, odd.”

“Yes, well, I appreciate you saying so,” he says, puffing his chest out a bit. “Gods know I deserve more praise these days for how patient I’ve been.”

You laugh and respond with a matching levity, “Any more praise and your head shall be too big for your shoulders.” Then, you don’t know what compels you, whether it be the instincts of your former self or the strange lull of domesticity you’ve both fallen into in the past few weeks, but you peck a light kiss on his cheek.

Both of you freeze as the gesture catches up to you.

Your mind doesn’t freeze, however, already peppering you with all of the questions a situation like this warrants, Did that just happen? What have I done? Why did I do that?!

Your mouth catches back up to your mind next. “Oh gods, I'm so sorry, I just– my body moved on its own. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Astarion doesn't say anything, just stands there in shock. A slow motion brings his hand up to feel where your warm lips made contact on his cheek.

Your heart drops in your chest as you continue to spew words at him, "I keep messing up, I really am sorry.” Then, seeing that no ‘sorry’ is bringing him out of his stupor, you feel the need to explain further, "I just can't help it. It's like caring for you is instinctual. I know you don't care about me, but–"

"I do care about you. I think. Just not… the same," he says, interrupting your rampaging speech. "It’s just all a bit… confusing."

Your heart leaps in your chest at the glimpse of hope. "So you don't want me to crawl back to where I came from?"

"… no. I don't think I do," he responds, dropping his hand. He meets your eyes once more and his tone turns teasing. "And please do adjust your fantasies. I would be much more likely to recommend you take a trip to the hells."

You don’t speak for a bit, as you collect your weekly groceries, head to the kitchen and begin to sort them. Guilt still beats against your chest like a second heart and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to speak to him again. That is until Astarion jolts you out of your spiraling anxieties.

“Darling, are you going to pout all day?” he says, head resting on his palm while he watches you from the kitchen table. “While it was so very droll at first, I’m starting to feel like I live alone again.”

Right. He’s not the same Astarion you remember from your dreams. While the touch had been a surprise, he doesn’t seem angry or bothered by it in the slightest. He really does seem mostly amused– oh good, at least I’m a source of amusement to him.

So you try to let it go– the moment of weakness, of a habit that wasn’t even yours. That’s not to say that you let it go entirely though.

You apologize again. And again. And again. All throughout the day.

He says you don’t need to keep apologizing, but you do. You feel like you’ve crossed a boundary that wasn’t ready to be crossed. You’re so worried that this carefully crafted, all-too-delicate bond would break with a mere kiss on the cheek.

Astarion assures you, it didn’t bother him. He was simply a bit stunned. While he hasn’t remained celibate over the years, not many have dared to do as you had done. You, the intruder, had dared to kiss the sad, broken vampire’s cheek. He says it like a joke, and you wish you could laugh with him, but worry persists even after you manage a reluctant little chuckle.

And so the rest of the day remains tainted, all but ruined in your mind.

Despite this, the day does continue. You go through plans for an expansion to the colony, more room to allow the vampires a better life. You’re a bit more aware of his hands near yours, his head leaning toward you, but otherwise, you manage.

Towards the end of the day, Astarion receives a message on a Sending Stone from Dal. He doesn’t tell you the contents of the message, but the look on his face says it all: worry. As soon as the exchange is over, he gets up to leave. He refuses to elaborate beyond the fact that his siblings need him.

You nod, not questioning his concern. “Can I do anything to help?”

“No,” he says, lips pressed together firmly, broaching no room for discussion. “I need to go now. I should be back by morning. Remember what I asked you?” When your expression remains blank he continues, “Prepare a Mage Armour or another warding spell.”

“Okay,” you respond, and your own face is likely as worried as his is now. “Are you sure you don’t need my–”

He grabs your hand in a rush. “Stay put. Promise me.”

You’re not sure that you can promise that, especially if he’s entering a dangerous situation. But with the way his red eyes burn into you, you find yourself nodding again. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow,” he confirms, releasing your hand and leaving. You’re left in a flurry of papers and growing unease.

__

On your sixteenth day in Astarion’s house, everything goes wrong.

He meets you in the morning, just as he promised, but after that, your day turns upside down entirely.

“Astarion?” you ask, when you open your door to his incessant knocks.

“Good,” he breathes. “You’re awake.”

You’d only just exited your reverie, but the look of sheer panic on his face means your remark dies in your throat. “What’s wrong?”

“Something came up,” he says before looking you up and down. “Get dressed and meet me in my room.”

Even on a regular day you would have listened, perhaps with a sly remark, but on a day like today, where his voice comes out short, clipped, and his jaw is clenched in a hard line? You comply with his orders like the model student you once were.

As soon as you’re ready for the day– in your best travel robe, Mage Armour cast, a variety of new spells prepared for the day– you head toward Astarion. You hope you won’t need the preparation, but with the way that Astarion’s shoulders were set, you suspect you might.

“Astarion?” you call, knocking on the door. “I’m here.”

He opens the door and you’re graced with a surprising amount of his bare chest. “Good,” he says, either not noticing or not caring about the blush that’s creeping up your neck and into your face. “I need your help.”

Finally, you think, brushing aside any feelings his bare body might stir within you. He trusts you and you this is your chance to prove yourself to him. You’re not sure with what yet, but what does it matter?

“Could you help me put on my armor?” he says, handing you a pile of leathers, straps, and buckles. 

Oh.

“Of course,” you respond, working to lay out the armor. You vaguely recognize it, albeit with a few adjustments here and there. Different pauldrons, a few knicks marring its surface that weren’t there 150 years ago, but otherwise no worse for wear. “What else do you need help with?”

“Nothing else,” he says, pulling on a pair of boots you also recognize. “I simply don’t have the luxury of asking my siblings for help currently.”

You stop midway through sorting straps. “Okay, what’s going on Astarion? You can’t leave me in the dark like this.”

The vampire sighs, but lifts his head from his task to look you squarely in the face. “A group of hunters have found the colony. A few scouts found them on our trail last night. We’re preparing to defend it. It might be the biggest group we’ve seen… well, ever since we relocated.” He goes back to lacing his boots as he continues, “Nothing you need to worry about though. You will be staying right here, hiding.”

“Hiding ?” you ask, indignant. “Why would I be hiding when I can help?”

“Because,” he hisses, standing up and walking toward you like a panther. “We are frankly not in need of your help. We have our defensive plans set already, and I rather suspect you may do more harm than good.”

The words sting– largely because of the truth in them. Why should you enter the fray when you hadn’t been preparing to defend the colony? Did a few weeks of desk work amount to an honorary spot on the front lines? Still, the idea that this man– who you had already spent so much of your life with, who you had worked so hard to find– could be in danger? You could hardly sit by and twiddle your thumbs. So you begin your case.

“I may not be gifted in shaping my Evocation spells, but I have plenty of supportive spells,” you say, gesturing for Astarion to sit on his bed, the first undershirt for the armor ready in your hands. “I can create stone or relay messages for you. If none of that is helpful, I can always use Magic Missile– it wouldn’t get in your way at all. Please, let me help.”

Astarion sits there, silent, as you plead and place each piece of armor on his body. Partway through the process, you register that you’ve never done this before– but your memories of your past-life have guided you step-by-step. 

You try to ignore the conflicting feelings bubbling up at that and focus on him, placing both hands on his now-armored shoulders. “Astarion, I won’t get in the way. I promise I will turn invisible or teleport out if anything goes wrong.”

Finally, he speaks again. “I appreciate that you care enough to help,” he starts, though he doesn’t sound like he appreciates it much. “But I’m afraid that you’re still not invited.”

You want to shake him, do something, anything to make him see you as an asset, an ally, someone he can trust with this. “But why not? Why teach me all of these things about the colony only to shut me out when it matters most?”

“Because this isn’t your responsibility!” he growls, glaring up at you through his lashes. “Because you are to remain here, stay safe, and live to see another day, despite all of your instincts to the contrary!”

His anger is palpable, pushing you back, off of him. You want to see the fear underneath his words, and you think you might get a glimpse. You want to understand where he’s coming from, to see yourself through his eyes. But all of that pales in comparison to the frustration building inside of you. Why won’t he take me seriously? “I can take care of myself!”

“I don’t have time for this,” he spits out as he stands up. “Shall I be brutally honest, darling? You’re too weak. You are not the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. And even if you were, I would tell you to stay here. ”

You know his words are meant to injure you, to deter you and keep you hidden away in this mansion, but they don’t hurt any less. You’re not sure what to say to him, can’t bring yourself to look at him as he storms out, toward the hidden entrance to the Underdark.

Just as he’s about to leave your periphery, into the illusory wall, he calls back. “I know you’re angry, but please, stay put. And if anyone other than myself or my siblings comes through that door, you leave.”

With that, Astarion is gone, body melting into the wall, leaving you standing in his room alone, emotions frayed and hands trembling with a silent rage.

You wait about thirty seconds before casting Invisibility on yourself.

You wait less than a minute after that to follow him.

He can treat me like a child all he wants, but I will make my own decisions. Even if those decisions involved diving head first into jeopardy. Watching him climb down the ladder, waiting for him to hit solid ground before you follow, you can't help but think back to your past week here. It had been lovely, born of a promise to forget the past and the spawn, focus on the present with him. But how unrealistic that truly was when faced with real danger.

So you trail him, careful to keep concentration on your invisibility, lest he catch you before you get to the colony. I’ll have to lose the invisibility sooner or later, you think. But I’d rather use it as an opportunity to attack.

You keep a distance between you through the field of Bibberbangs, on the walk toward the keep, but when you see Astarion dashing toward a small contingent, you begin to run after him.

Once you catch up to him, you notice the group appears to be comprised of most of his siblings. Out of arm's reach but well within earshot, you stay and listen to their conversation.

“Did we get a final count from the scouting party?” Astarion asks, and you see a tiefling, Aurelia you believe, step forward.

“A dozen at least, likely more. They’re organized, preparing to strike. Astarion, it’s not good,” she says. From your time with Astarion, you know that she’s been in charge of directing the scouting parties for at least a few decades.

Astarion grimaces but nods, turning to another sibling you recognize. “Leon, where do you need me?”

“The ambush point, if you’re ready. We need to head them off before they get any closer to the colony.” The man has been in charge of coordinating the various groups ever since your past-self died, and, from what you gathered, had grown into his leadership role well.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose. What is our final count?”

Dal answers this one. “Our numbers haven’t improved much since last night. We only have about thirty in any real fighting shape. A few who are willing to fight if it means they feed, but none I would consider strong fighters. There are others on the ballistas ready for support fire though. Petras should be up there with them now.”

Astarion makes an annoyed sound. After helping him with colony logistics, you knew that their fighting numbers were low, too many had died in prior raids, too many had been without blood for too long, but you hadn’t expected it to get this bad. You half wonder if you would do better to offer your body up to them, rather than your magic.

You don’t have time to dwell on the idea before Astarion is asking his next question, “Very well. Violet is with the evacuees, I take it?”

Leon nods, and continues, “Yes. We’ve had more than enough time to evacuate the noncombatants. It’s now just a matter of keeping these hunters at bay.”

Astarion’s posture seems to loosen a bit at that, but not by much. You’ve not seen Astarion this serious since you were fighting a world-ending horror– and even then he had room for jokes. But clearly the man before you was different. Like he’d lost enough, and for the survival of his siblings, his family, he would do what needed to be done.

He turns to look down at his shortest sibling. “Yousen, come with me.”

The gnome gives a curt nod and pulls out his weapon. “After you.”

You’re torn at that moment. You want to follow Astarion, ensure that he remains safe above all else. But you also know that he would disapprove of you joining any type of ambush, that you may truly prove to be a distraction for him. Besides, what kind of wizard gets within stabbing distance?

So you watch him run off, Yousen in tow. As your heart sinks deep into the pits of your stomach, you wonder if the worry you feel is that of a friend. But you don’t have time to ponder anything as trite as your feelings for Astarion– you have to find a position that won’t hinder, somewhere you can help and show Astarion that you are capable of standing by his side. Metaphorically at the very least.

The rest of the siblings disperse after confirming their orders. Leon heads to the front of the keep, Aurelia returns to her scouts, and Dal seems to be heading somewhere secluded. From your dreams and learning of the colony, you know Dal to be a healer, so she ought to be heading somewhere away from the fight. You follow her.

Much as you suspected, she moves up into the battlement of the keep, close enough to provide support, but far enough to stay out of danger. Perfect, you think. You silently thank her, wishing you could send her a message without breaking your invisibility or chirp up without terrifying her. As it is, you have to take your time, wait for the perfect opportunity to be helpful.

The wait is excruciating. You may as well be in the Astral Plane for how little time seems to be moving. 

A level below you, Petras and some spawn are preparing their ballistas. To your side, Dal sorts health potions, arranging ingredients to make more. All you can do is breathe as quietly as possible, rest your arms on the crenel before you, and hope that your spells will be able to reach.

It turns out that your hopes hardly matter in the face of real combat. One second you’re standing there, almost bored, and the next you spot Dalyria’s head pop up like a frightened rodent. “Petras! Take cover!” she yells.

Time seems to stop. You register that she’s diving into cover, that the sending stone she’d been holding had fallen to the ground, and that out of the corner of your eye a burst of bright light is rapidly approaching.

Crap. 

You fall to the floor, hoping that will provide enough protection. Hoping, beyond all hope, that for some reason the Fireball will simply not hit you. Of course that’s not how magic works, you would know. 

Only a split second later, the fiery burst explodes before you. You don’t even have time to feel fear or to react with a spell of your own. Luckily for you, the battlements provide some cover, and you manage to maintain concentration on your invisibility. But gods does it burn. 

You can’t help the yelp that escapes your lips, and you note that Dalyria’s head turns toward you at the sound. She seems to have escaped the blast, hiding behind a wall, but you swear the expression on her face is more wounded than you are. The woman’s face is sad, it’s scared, and so tired.

You’re reminded of the dream you’d had, of your former-self helping to defend the vampire’s previous keep. After nearly three centuries of living in survival mode, the exhaustion in Dal’s eyes is warranted. Frankly, you don’t know if you would have the strength to last as long as she and the other spawn have. But, for at least today, you would muster it.

It’s easy enough to piece together what happened. Dal received a message from the scouts or from the frontlines, they were targeting the support lines, and you needed to get the hells out of these battlements.

You crawl forward, grabbing the Sending Stone before you make your way to Dal’s hiding spot. Making sure you’re out of swinging reach, you call to Dalyria, “Dal, it’s me.” She adjusts her gaze, honing in on where you are now. “I’m here to help.”

The woman nods, clearly too fueled by adrenaline to be shocked by your presence. “I knew you would come,” she says quickly. “Astarion is such an ass sometimes.”

While you agree with her, you decide not to comment on that. He had likely told them you were indisposed or didn’t want to be here, but you need her to know that that has never been the truth. “Of course I would come. Where do you need me?”

“Astarion said they’ve split their forces. The second group has a wizard, that’s where that Fireball came from,” she says, eyes darting back out to the rest of the keep, where the sounds of battle have begun to ring. “Do you have anything that could help neutralize their wizard?”

You think to yourself, wishing more than anything you had prepared the spell Silence. As it is, you have plenty of other, far less useful spells at your disposal. But you’re not about to tell Dal that, not when she’s looking in your vague direction with a set of hopeful, pleading red eyes. Eyes that remind you of the vampire who is also in danger at this very moment.

So you sound far more confident than you feel when you say, “Certainly, I’ll head there immediately.”

Before you go, you try to give her the Sending Stone back, in the event she needs to communicate with Astarion. She pushes the rock back into your invisible hand with a shake of her head. “No, no, you’ll be out there. You need this more than I do. Astarion has the matching stone, call for him if you need help.”

You decide not to tell her that Astarion might just kill you himself if he hears your voice through the stone, and instead thank her, pocketing the stone. “Stay safe,” you say as you hurry toward the stairs once more.

“You too,” she calls after you.

Then you’re running down the stairs, two at a time, no longer caring who might hear your invisible steps. After all, the din of combat is drowning out everything else. A few Fireballs hit the battlements you’d just left and you hear the following cries of those on the ballistas. You had known that fighting would be loud, scary, dangerous–but gods did you still miss the comfort of knowing that at the end of it all you would wake up, untouched.

You don’t know where to go or how to get there, so you find your feet moving on instinct, toward all of the sounds that should terrify you.

Once you’re finally in the fray, you see the two groups, as Dal had described. The group at the mouth of the keep is being held at bay by Leon and his forces, and you can see Astarion’s group dropping behind, preparing for another sneak attack. You hug a wall to get closer to the second group, all the while watching Astarion’s lithe form move in on an enemy.

You can’t help but be in awe at seeing the man in his element.

Armor hugging his body, knives gleaming in his hands, he looks every bit the dangerous, roguish vampire he was when you first dreamt of him. The difference is that now, instead of fear, you feel an odd sense of pride. That’s right, you think. Stab him again!

But you can’t let him distract you, you’re nearly to the second group of hunters. There are at least six to your quick count, each looking as nasty and well equipped as the last. Now that you’re close you can see the wizard, standing in the back, already preparing another spell.

Again, you curse yourself. Why didn’t you prepare Counterspell, you idiot? It’s too late for regrets though, you’d had no idea what you might be getting into when you arose that morning. All you could do was work with what information you had.

Despite all of your memories, nothing can prepare you for this moment, when you finally, truly enter a combat situation. Your mind races with possibilities, and you’re struck by the fact that none of them are the right solution. There is no right solution to a battle. 

So you go with your instinct. 

You run forward, directly in front of the wizard’s line of sight. At the end of your run you slide to the earth, landing a mere few feet away from the group in front of you as you place both palms on the ground.

The invisibility drops as you recite the incantation for Stone Shape and the earth beneath you bursts forth into a large stone wall, at least five feet tall, another five feet wide. It leaves a crater in its wake, pulling from the ground to materialize.

It seems to form just in time as the heat of a Fireball collides with the wall, flames burst out of both sides. Excitement surges through you as you realize your plan worked. You hear shouts behind the wall, the vampire hunters eating a face full of their own fire.

You remain on the ground, now visible, sure that the group on the other side is still alive if their shouts are any indication. Oh this isn’t a good place to be, you think belatedly.

It certainly isn’t, as you hear the hunters make their way around the brand new trench in the ground. I need to get out of here . “Inveniam viam!” Your whole body turns to mist as you step further back into the keep, still feeling naked in how visible you are. 

You take a single moment to assess the situation. The hunters have gotten around the wall, though if their singed armor is any indication, the Fireball certainly helped weaken them. The mage seems no worse for wear, too far back to truly be hurt, but their eyes are now trained on you.

There goes my element of surprise, you think. And they probably did prepare Counterspell…

You try not to think too hard about how disastrous this wizard-on-wizard battle may prove, trying instead to find which group you may be able to support. That’s when you lock eyes with the exact pair of red eyes you had been dreading this entire time.

You’re too far to hear him, but it's easy enough to see his lips mouth your name. He looks angry, angrier perhaps than you’ve ever seen him, and his next stab seems particularly erratic. 

Oh gods, he’s going to get hurt if I distract him too much, you think in a panic. I need to get out of here, give him a chance to calm down. 

“Evanesco!” you call, trying to call forth the magic for Invisibility once more. But of course, you wouldn’t get the chance to try the same trick twice. 

You feel the Counterspell more than see or hear it. It’s like your body rejects the magic as it tries to come out, and you’re left awkwardly standing there as the group of hunters close in on your position. Shit.

For the first time in your life you feel it for yourself: real, unfiltered fear.

You had always been horrified at this possibility. That when faced with actual danger, you would not rise to the occasion. But now that you’re here, you want to smack your legs, you want to jostle your own shoulders, push yourself into the action that you had craved.

RUN, damn you, you think, willing your shaking legs to move. All of those dreams of combat, of fighting by Astarion’s side, could all come true right now if you just moved.

Then you hear a cry. 

It’s not bloodcurdling, it’s not particularly painful, rather a soft “argh” coming from the man you’d stupidly followed into danger. He’d been reckless, gotten himself nicked in his fury. But it’s all you need to jolt into action. 

You’d promised Astarion that you wouldn’t cause any undue damage, no Evocation in the house and what not. But all of your promises were tossed aside the second he uttered a single pained sound.

Holding out a hand, you call out your most destructive spell.

You can feel the mage try to Counterspell you once more, as your magic wavers ever so slightly. But his attempt fails and a massive wall of fire rips out of the ground, like the hells themselves have torn the earth asunder. 

You’d controlled yourself well enough, and you’re almost certain you haven’t trapped any unsuspecting vampire spawn in a fiery blaze. The hunters, on the other hand, were not nearly so lucky. They’d been approaching you in such a way that they all got caught in the Wall of Fire, all save that damn wizard.

Their cries are high-pitched, desperate things, as they run through the wall, stumbling toward you like some sort of twisted Fire Elementals. They refuse to go down without a fight.

Your legs stumble back, as you narrowly avoid a few of their attacks, one glances off your Mage Armour, another catches your robe, leaving a single bleeding line on your arm. You’re not sure how readily they will fall, but you certainly won’t let them take you with them. 

“Tormentum!” you shout, as a stream of glowing darts shoot out of your fingers. You strike each of them as you pour more and more of your magic into the spell. Distantly, you can hear Astarion calling for you.

With your unoccupied hand you grab the Sending Stone, “Don’t come for me. I’m fine.”

His response is immediate, “Like hells I will, you bloody fool!”

You don’t have the wherewithal to know where Astarion might be at this point, but when a single blade bursts out of a man’s neck, you suspect that you have a good idea. A second later a second man collapses, clutching at a dagger twisting between his ribs. 

Astarion stands behind them, silver hair streaked with bloody red strands, his face dappled with scarlet as well. He may be stabbing them, but his eyes are trained on you, fury not diminished in the slightest.

You want to thank him, tell him you didn’t need the help, appreciate that he’s still alive, standing in front of you. But you can’t because another spell is being fired at you– the wizard’s Magic Missile is about to hit when you reflexively put up a Shield spell.

Turning back to the damnable wizard, you call to Astarion, “Yell at me all you want later. Focus on the wizard!”

“That’s probably what they’re saying,” he retorts, but does dutifully turn his attention to the mage.

As he runs and vaults through the wall of fire, landing behind the stone you shaped. All the while, you shoot off a returning volley of missiles, hitting the remaining hunters and the mage in an attempt to provide cover. 

You wish you had more in you, could summon another blazing wall right on top of the enemy wizard, but you’re reaching your limit. You can feel your magic waning– you likely only have a few spells left in you. Better make them count.

You shoot one last magic missile, assuring that the hunters in front of you are well and done. As you do so, Astarion reaches the mage, stabbing at them in two fluid motions. You see the mage Shield in response, hear Astarion’s annoyed grunt.

I need to give him an opening, you think. You’re growing lightheaded from overexertion, and you can barely feel the Weave as you try to summon your next spell. “Non movere,” you whisper, pointing a finger at the mage. 

The spell overcomes them and the mage is frozen in place. Astarion takes prompt advantage of the Hold Person, stabbing him in several vital areas, likely killing him in place.

Fantastic, you think, swaying on your feet as your knees start to give out from under you. The world fades to black as the magic dissipates from your fingertip. The last thing you see is Astarion’s panicked face, slowly drifting out of your view as your body collapses.

___

You can’t recall the start of your seventeenth day in Astarion’s house. At least, most of it.

Everything aches, you hear voices, you feel healing magic, but your mind retains nothing as you slip in and out of consciousness over and over again. The only things you can recall are the sensation of sheets surrounding you, pillows beneath your head and the whisper of your name on Astarion’s lips. 

You’re an elf– this kind of sleep is unnatural to you. Could you be dying? You have a moment of panic during a short burst of clarity, Am I already dead? Is this it? But you fall back into the darkness before the thought can take hold.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity in a ceaseless cycle of consciousness and unconsciousness, you open your eyes to the back of a familiar silver-haired vampire tending the fireplace. He’s dressed once more in his comfortable, luxurious attire, and you briefly wonder if the previous day had been a dream.

You blink, confused at the sudden change in environment. The last thing you remember was letting loose your spell then– well, you suppose you don’t know what happened next.

“Oh good,” Astarion says, walking toward you and sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re awake." Distantly, you remember him waking you up just yesterday with those words. Feels like a lifetime ago now.

You sit up, a bit groggily, stretching out your limbs. They all seem intact, and you don’t even feel injured, all of your aches magically gone. “I am– is everyone alright? What… happened?”

“Everyone is fine. Well, save for the vampire hunters,” he answers. “Your destructive little wall kept them from getting too far. Nothing a few nights of healing and some rebuilding won’t fix.”

Your whole body aches from disuse and you wonder how long you must have been resting. Likely longer than you ever have before. “What time is it?”

“It’s late,” he replies, gesturing toward the darkness outside. “Dal’s been tending to your injuries, and luckily they’re minor, but you still needed the rest. Seems like you used more magic than you were used to, mm?”

His words chastise you, but the look on his face is so muted, his posture incredibly stilted– you have a momentary alarm. Is this really Astarion? “I must have. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he says, crossing his legs and turning away from you.

It’s hard to believe him when he reacts like that. “You don’t seem fine.”

“I just…” He takes a breath, and you can see the way his back rises and falls with a tremble. “I was worried.”

“About… me?” you hazard the question. You know you’d grown closer in the last few weeks, but you also don’t want to presume.

Now he turns back to you with a glare, his red eyes sparkling with rage. “Yes, you! For being a wizard, you’re such a gods-forsaken dunce. I told you not to join us and did you even pretend to listen?”

You had not, so you bear the brunt of his anger with what you hope is grace. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, genuinely apologetic despite your initial gusto at joining the fray. You’d felt the fear in those moments, the first time in your life that this body, that you could have genuinely died. You’re not too proud to say that you hated that fear. “I just wanted to help.”

“That’s always the case with people like you, isn’t it?” he says, leaning toward you menacingly. “Always playing the hero and neglecting to even consider the danger they put themselves in? Did you never once consider that I was trying to keep you safe?”

Every word brought Astarion closer and closer into your space, and you start to sink back into the pillows to get away from his fury. “I know you were,” you say, voice still naught but a wisp. “I tried to be careful.” You had, you swear you had– why does it look like that doesn’t matter to him?

“Careful isn't good enough,” he hisses, his face mere inches from yours now. You can feel the next breath he exhales as he continues, calmer now, “I told you already. I refuse to get attached to you only to lose you.”

Is he attached to me? you think, eyes darting between his ruby ones. He’s dangerously close to you and he’s waiting for something. Your response, you idiot. You think back to what he said, trying to ignore the way his body is angled over yours. “I promise. You won’t lose me.” 

An impossible promise to keep, surely. But it’s exactly what he’d been hoping to hear.

“Good,” he murmurs. Then he closes the distance between you, crashing his lips on yours in a desperation you thought reserved for the starving.

You should pull away, push him off of you, at the very least protest. But after a life or death situation, you can’t help it. Something in you wants the very same solace he seeks. So you close your eyes. You twine your fingers into his hair. You press your lips to his in the same ravenous fervor.

He drinks in your reaction, lips chasing yours as cages you in with his arms. A moment later, you feel the blankets that had so carefully been tucked around you tossed aside, you feel one of his hands find your hip.

Oh gods, what am I doing? I can’t do this. Your mind is racing, trying its best to keep up as Astarion climbs over you.

Why not, you’ve done this so many times in your dreams. Your hands move of their own accord, leaving his hair to run down his arms.

We're not ready, you tell yourself. Astarion shivers at your touch and you feel his hands pulling at the neck of your robe to expose more of your flesh.

Will you ever be? Your head rolls back and Astarion dips his head down to touch his cold lips to your collarbone.

Maybe, given some more time… His fingers pull at the front ties of your robe, as you begin to unbutton his silk shirt.

What's the use of more time? You could have died yesterday. You could die any day. Ties undone, Astarion tugs at your robes a bit more, leaving your chest exposed.

I don't want to ruin this. Your breathing comes out a bit erratic as his lips trail up your neck, sucking hungrily but never drawing any blood.

What's one night of passion? Your past-self had this and more before they so much as spoke a single word of love. Your hands tug at his sleeves, all but tearing off his delicate shirt in an effort to touch more of him.

I'm not them, you think. Halfway through stroking his exposed chest, Astarion’s hand catches yours, pinning it above your head as he pulls you into another searing kiss.

You may as well be. His hand in yours, the way his leg presses into you– it all feels so familiar. So what's the harm in being the Hero of Baldur's Gate? Just this once?

That’s how, after years of silently judging your past-self for their loveless trysts with Astarion, you find yourself in much the same predicament. Only you’re not sure how you feel. You only know that there’s no way that this man, who’s driving force right now is likely fear, will love you come morning.

Who cares? the deepest, most primal part of your mind asks.

As Astarion finishes disrobing you, you wonder vaguely if this is what the hero felt. If near death had brought them to the brink of a terror that they couldn’t overcome, a terror that only Astarion’s cold lips, slick tongue, and nimble fingers would fix.

And by the gods above do they feel like the solution to even the most complex of problems.

His lips suckle at the ridge of your ear, sucking on its tip in such a way that draws a soft, unintentional whimper from your mouth. "Oh darling," he whispers, voice low and taunting. "I knew those dulcet tones would be my undoing.”

You want to retort, to shut his clever mouth up, but before you can so much as collect yourself, his lips are on yours again, opening them in a single, languid movement. His tongue, like the rest of him, is chill to the touch, a refreshing burst of cold as he explores your mouth.

Complaints all but forgotten, you relinquish yourself to him. His fingers leave you squirming under him as he traces the lines of your bare body. They never seem to stop moving, searching for each new piece of your skin that requires attention.

And sweet hells is he relentless in his search. Even if you didn't already know of his vast experience, this would have been a clear indicator. His probing fingers know how to play a body like an instrument, and he was tuning yours to play only the loveliest melody for him.

Astarion finally pulls his hands, his lips away. You want to groan in protest, but you’re enraptured by the stretch of his torso, the way his shoulders flex as he removes the last remnants of his clothing. His form laid bare before you, you can’t help but think that surely you’re paying witness to another’s lurid fantasy. Surely this beautiful figure bathed in firelight, celestial in his loveliness, could not be for you?

But he is, if for the moment.

Even if his movements are too perfect, his kisses too sweet– he feels real in the moment, simply because the sheer desperation never leaves him. His hands squeeze, his teeth bite, his words of passion come hurried and breathy between nips. It's abundantly clear what his goal is to you, as it’s similar to your own. He wants to feel you under him, around him, alive. You’re only too happy to oblige.

So you ensure that each of his movements is matched with one of yours. That when he bites, you lean into it; when his fingers probe between your legs, you buck into him; when he chuckles into your ear 'my, you're an eager little treat', you moan his name into his ear without shame.

You'd been with Astarion in more dreams than you would have been comfortable to admit. But, as with every experience you'd had since arriving here, it was nothing compared to living through it with your own body.

It’s not long before you realize that this body feels each touch differently, its sweet spots new treasure troves for Astarion's searching fingers– ones he seems eager to find for you as new indecent sounds pass your lips.

He seems to devour each sound, eager to consume any bit of you that’s ripe for the taking. That’s when you see past his need to feel you alive. No, he wants you to be his. He wants your noises, your body, your soul for his own.

As he expertly strokes between your legs with one hand, the other squeezes your hip, all but pinning you to the bed. In that moment, it doesn’t feel like he’s loving you. It feels like he’s keeping you in place. Like he doesn’t know how else to make sure that you won’t slip through his fingers, like your past-self before you.

You wish you could reassure him, tell him that you would never make the same mistake twice, but both of you know that’s not true. So instead you allow yourself to delude yourself, for at least this one night.

His body asks the question, “Will you really, truly stay with me, live for me?”

Yours responds with a sonorous, deceitful, “Yes.”

Astarion rubs his length between your thighs, almost teasing in its slow, rolling motion, but his hand never leaves your hip.

He palms himself with one hand, ready for you, but the other never leaves your hip.

Even as he thrusts into you, setting a brutal, punishing pace, his hand never leaves your hip.

It doesn’t bother you, this constant reassurance, but it does stoke the fear that already grips your heart. Despite the kisses he lavishes upon you, despite the sweet words that drip from his mouth to yours– you can’t stop thinking about the fact that you could have died. You could very well have left Astarion alone, again, wondering why he ever let another into his life.

Something about that thought pushes you forward to seek your pleasure, to give him every piece of you that you can, lest you lose it by tomorrow.

You don’t know how many times you lose yourselves in each other. By the end of it all, it all feels like another one of your dreams. But you do know that, for the first time since you regained consciousness, you don’t feel that fear any more– only his body, your own, and the beautiful music that they play together.

The night ends with both of you exhausted, laying on your backs and staring up at the ceiling to the room you used to call your own in a past-life. After two days of some of the most you’ve ever exerted yourself, your nightly meditation comes all too easily. Before you slip into your reverie, your last, fleeting thought is of Astarion: I don’t know how we got here, I don’t suppose it truly matters. But thank you for caring about me, in whatever way you can.

[amberlynnmurdock]

Blind Faith (Ch. 9)

Chapter 9: In Good Faith

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You feel deeply for Mike, but you need something to hold on to.

No warnings, other than a makeout sesh at the end, jealous!Matt, fluff, and a dash of angst.

Tags: @starry-night-20 @sumsytee @queerqueenlynn @mattmurdocksstarlight @marvelcinematiquniverse

Read on Ao3

Office of Nelson & Murdock

10 AM 

Matt’s office felt stuffy today, much like his mind. Only a few nights ago, you had shown Matt your heart on the rooftop, confessing your deeper feelings for him—well, Mike. Matt had been struggling with it ever since; the reality that you could have deeper feelings. Of course. This was bound to happen. But what scared Matt the most, and what seemed to be a trigger for him to stop getting closer to someone, was that he was certain he felt the same way toward you. 

There was a reason why he never stopped visiting you, there was a reason why he continued to come to you with his mask. The reasons were quite simple: he loved the way you spoke, the way you commanded his attention with just a single touch, and how you were completely yourself with him when it was just the two of you on your roof. But something was slowly killing him inside: the very fact that he was still pretending around you—lying to you. What was he to do now? If he confessed his feelings to you on the roof tonight, you'd be sure to ask why you still didn’t know his true identity. What would he say? In the past, he’s told you it’s because of his enemies, but he hardly had any of them anymore, save for the average criminals in the city… it was a tired excuse, he knew that. He could reveal himself to you, but then there’s the question of how you’d react. Would you be mad? Or worse, would you leave? 

Matt rubbed his temples and closed his eyes behind his dark red glasses. There was a lot going on at the office recently, but nothing the four of you couldn’t handle. The firm was going strong, and Matt hardly came home with a scratch anymore, but somehow things still felt like a clusterfuck by his doing. 

He tried to focus on the case he had in front of him. Running his fingers over the braille, Matt began to concentrate, but his concentration was soon broken by the sound of your voice through his office walls. 

“Thank you for calling Nelson and Murdock, how may I help you?” he heard you say into the phone. God, it was difficult to work knowing you were just a few feet away. He could almost feel your body pressed against his, sharing a kiss. Matt paused on the braille he was reading to control his own breathing. Each breath took the memory from his mind. 

“You look like you need a drink,” Matt was so deep in his thoughts of you that he hadn’t heard Foggy walk into his office. Foggy chuckled as he walked over to Matt’s desk and closed his laptop for him. “What’s goin’ on, man?” 

“Hmm?” Matt questioned with a hum. “Oh, nothing. Just a lot of work.” 

“Didn’t really look like you were getting much done,” Foggy teased. “Seriously dude,” he continued in a lower voice, “is everything all right with… you know…” 

“What?” Matt asked in a panic, thinking he meant you, somehow. When realization dawned on him, Matt apologized. “Oh. No, everything’s fine. Not much out there without Fisk,” Matt shifted in his seat uncomfortably. 

“Well, I wasn’t kidding about the drink. Josie’s tonight? I’ll gather the troops. And by troops, I mean Karen, Marci, and __,” Foggy said. Matt inhaled as he leaned on his desk. 

“Why not?” Matt shrugged, “I could use a drink.” 

“Ha! Yes!” Foggy cheered, “T-minus two hours until closing time.” 

Suddenly, Matt sensed another person enter his office. By the sweet smell of marshmallows and the delicate hold on the door, Matt knew it was you. 

“Hey!” Foggy greeted you before you could speak. “Josie’s tonight?” 

“I thought you’d never ask,” you said in a light voice. “It’s been a few weeks since we’ve gone, hasn’t it?” 

“Exactly why I’m suggesting it,” Foggy got up from his seat. “__. Doesn’t Matt look like he needs a drink?” 

You laughed; Matt detected a hint of nervousness in your voice. “I think he does,” you agreed. “I do too, honestly.” 

“Well, that’s one out of three ladies joining us!” 

“Three?” You questioned. 

“Oh, I forgot. You haven’t met Marci yet!” Foggy exclaimed, “she’s my girlfriend. She’s also an attorney. You’ll love her.” 

“I can’t wait to meet her then,” you told Foggy. 

“Well, until we go, I’ve got to finish this brief for the hearing I’ve got on Monday. Adios!” Foggy saluted as he left Matt’s office. Matt noticed you were still in his office. 

“__,” he said your name carefully, “was there something you needed?” 

“Oh, yes,” you stuttered, “I was wondering if you wanted me to get a head start on the cases we got today, you know, translate hem to braille for you?” 

Matt’s heart always felt overwhelmingly warm whenever you inquired about helping him with translating documents to braille. You really didn’t need to, he had his Orbit reader, but he appreciated the extra effort in wanting to help him. But just because you didn’t need to didn’t mean he didn’t want you to. And his next words may be selfish, but it didn't stop him from saying them. 

“Actually, if you weren’t busy, would you mind reading to me what we got in?” Matt asked. 

He couldn’t see it, but he knew you smiled, by the way your heart skipped a beat. It happened whenever he said something along the lines of keeping you safe, during your nightly rooftop sessions. It made him feel good he had that same effect on you at work, despite the circumstances. Except, it was more innocent here than it was there. 

“Of course,” you replied. 

Matt listened as you gathered your notebook, the one he gifted you, and a pen. You softly shut the door behind you, a gesture you didn’t know meant so much to Matt. 

As you began to read off the list of cases you received today, Matt closed his eyes behind his dark red glasses, and let your voice make the two hours the both of you had left pass quickly. 

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓ 

You waited outside the building of the firm with Karen. She looked beautiful, in a black dress, and her blonde hair was pushed to one side. Her bright eyes beamed when she shared a smile with you. 

“I’m sure tonight will be a late night,” Karen predicted, “if anything, we’ll call a taxi home for you again.” 

“I appreciate that,” you smiled. “I’m looking forward to meeting Foggy’s girlfriend. I didn’t know he had one!” 

Karen laughed, “When I first met her, I did not like her. And at the time, Foggy didn’t either. But over time, we found that she was good people. She’s one of my closest friends now,” Karen explained. “I’m sure she’ll tell you their full history tonight.”

“You guys all seem to have a lot of history,” you nodded. A fleeting thought crossed your mind—did Matt have a girlfriend? Not that it mattered, or you cared… you were just curious. “Does… Matt have a girlfriend?” 

It was the way Karen laughed that made you think something happened between the two of them, but you didn’t ponder on it any longer. She shrugged. 

“I don’t think he does. I’m not sure he ever really has,” Karen answered. 

You hummed in response. Suddenly, Foggy and Matt came outside the door. Matt had his cane out in front of him, feeling for the bottom step. 

“Onward and out!” Foggy shouted. 

On the way to Josie’s, it started with the four of your walking in tandem, but after a little bit, Foggy and Karen walked ahead, deep in conversation about Foggy’s brother’s deli shop, leaving you and Matt walking behind. You casually offered Matt your elbow for him to hold onto as his cane guided him forward. He grinned and lightly held on. 

“Are you originally from New York?” You asked him. 

Matt raised his eyebrows like he was surprised you’d start a conversation.

“Born and raised in Hell’s Kitchen. You?” 

“Brooklyn," you answered, “but I’ve always wanted to live in Manhattan.” 

“Hmm,” Matt replied. “And you’ve only lived in the city as long as you’ve been at NYU?” 

“Basically,” you nodded. “I love it here.”

“Can’t take New York out of the girl, I suppose?” 

“Something like that,” you smiled. “I’m sure the same goes for you, since you were born here. Where did you grow up, go to school?” 

Matt made a face like it wasn’t an easy question to answer. 

“After my dad died, I grew up at St. Agnes Orphanage. I did all my schooling there as well.” 

“Isn’t that… a Catholic Church? Yeah, I think I’ve passed by it before. Are you Catholic?” You asked. You couldn’t help but think of Mike. 

“Yes,” Matt answered quietly. “I am. My grandmother is the reason for that.” 

“Aren’t all grandmas?” You laughed a little. 

“Right,” Matt smiled in return. 

“Is it strange to still live in the city you grew up in? I mean Hell’s Kitchen. For me, I wanted to get the hell out of my town.” 

Matt was quiet for a moment. When you looked at him, you could see just behind his glasses. His gaze fell somewhere in front of him. You were so close you could see his eyelashes behind his dark red glasses. You’d forgotten you asked a question when he suddenly spoke again. 

“It’s strange,” Matt replied, “especially when you’ve seen this city at its best, and at its worst,” he finished. “Well, not see in my case, but you get what I mean,” Matt added with a sheepish smile. 

“I get it,” you stated, “you must really care about it to still be here after all this time.” 

“You could say that,” Matt said, “that’s why I wanted to practice law here.” 

“I love that,” you found yourself saying, not thinking twice about your word choice. But Matt didn’t seem uncomfortable at all. 

In the distance, you could see the red neon lights that read JOSIE’S in the dingy window. Part of you was excited, but the other part felt disappointed you and Matt wouldn’t have a one-on-one conversation for the rest of the night. You enjoyed speaking with him alone. You felt like you could ask him anything without hesitation, unlike if anyone else was around. It was hard to deny the bond you felt with Matt versus with the others. 

“Looks like we’re here,” and you wished you didn’t sound as disappointed as you felt. 

“Why don’t you save me a seat while I grab drinks with Foggy?” Matt offered. He started to undo his cane. You took it gladly. 

“Okay,” you smiled as you walked away with Karen. Karen found a table that was closer to the bar, but away from the wall. There were five seats around it. You placed Matt’s cane in the seat next to yours. After taking your blazer off, you scrolled through your phone and responded to one of Emily’s texts. 

EMILY: Wya? Free night tonight, or studying?

YOU: Actually, grabbing drinks with the bosses. Can’t hang. 

EMILY: Wow. Really want that raise, huh?

With a laugh, you click your phone to lock it. In your purse, you feel the emergency phone Mike had given you. You thought it was a blessing you haven’t needed to use it yet. Mike. You hoped to see him tonight. 

“Hello, hello!” A bubbly voice came from behind you. Karen raised her hand in a greeting motion and stood from her chair. Around the table came another blonde, this time bleached, with a bright white smile and sharp eyes. 

“Marci! How are you?” Karen asked, giving her a hug. Marci squeezed her in return, and then her gaze fell on you. You suddenly felt conscious of everything on your body, from your top to your shoes. You fought an urge to fix your hair. 

“And who might this young warrior be?” Marci asked with a warm smile. 

“I’m __. The new legal assistant at the firm,” you introduced yourself and held out your hand. Marci shook it graciously and smiled. 

“I've heard a lot about you from Foggy-bear,” Marci said, and you suppressed a giggle at the nickname. This woman was gorgeous. “If you’re as good as he says, let me know if you ever want to switch teams and work at HC&B,” she winked. 

You cocked your head at the acronym. “Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz? You work there?” You asked incredulously. When you first applied for jobs, HC&B was at the top of your list. That was the law firm to work at. 

“Uh oh,” came from Foggy who carried a tray of drinks. “Marci, you can’t recruit her. She’s ours! She can’t leave us! She’s too good!” Despite HC&B being a dream, you loved how much Foggy loved you at the firm. You wouldn’t leave them in the dust like that. 

“You’re leaving us?” Matt smiled, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “We’d be lost without you.” He felt for his cane on the seat and placed it in his blazer pocket, which was now draped on the back of his seat. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you laughed, “I promise. But hey, it’s good to make connections.” 

“Indeed it is,” Marci agreed. “Seriously babe, I’ll give you my card. It’s always good to have something lined up in the future.” 

You all took a seat as Karen started passing the shots and drinks around. A martini with no olives was placed in front of you—exactly what you wanted, and you hadn’t even told anyone. 

“I thought you’d want that again,” Matt leaned in to speak lowly. You looked at him and nodded. 

“Yes, I did,” you smiled. 

“You're a regular at Josie’s already,” he laughed. 

“Happy to be a regular,” you said. 

“Alright everyone, grab your shots,” Karen announced, “to another successful work week!” 

You didn’t hesitate to take your shot, and you were surprised to taste whiskey instead of tequila. You swallowed it down, not smoothly. You coughed and grimaced at the shot glass.

  “Whiskey?” You frowned, “what on God’s green earth made you guys choose whiskey?” 

“Well, we did say tequila,” Foggy laughed. “Next round!”

Instead of joining in any pool games, the conversation stayed at the table, to your delight. Marci was talking about stories from college—she too went to Columbia—stories of meeting Foggy and partying, studying for school, landing her first big job at Landman & Zack. 

“Landman & Zack?” You questioned. “I think I also applied to work there as well.” 

“Well, it's a good thing you didn’t,” Marci raised her brows as she sipped her martini. “Unfortunately, the place is run by money-hungry, corrupt people.” 

“Wow," you breathed out, “I’m lucky I ended up at Nelson & Murdock.” 

“You sure are,” Marci smiled, “And I hear they’re lucky to have you as well.”

“Oh,” you blushed, “you guys are being way too nice to me!” 

“It’s true,” Matt added, clinking his beer bottle to your empty martini glass. “We are lucky.” 

“Let me get this next round,” you offered, “as a token of my gratitude.”

“Oh, just put it on Foggy’s tab,” Marci laughed, “but I’m ready for another round. Anyone else?” 

Everyone nodded and you took it as your cue to make your way to the bar. It was about time you met Josie. 

The bar was crowded, but nothing you weren’t used to. You understood bar etiquette quite well. There were two gruff-looking men in leather jackets, laughing on their stools. To the right of them were two women who matched their age in the same jackets. On the other side were more people in the same age group, laughing over pints of beer and stale french fries. In the middle were two men, around your age. You squeezed past one of them to make yourself known at the bar. 

“Excuse me,” you said politely. 

The young man who stood next to you moved so you could squeeze in more. “No worries,” he said. He flashed you a smile and in the dim lighting of the bar, you saw that he was quite attractive. Dark brown hair, big brown eyes. Charming smile, a boyish look. You grinned quickly and waited patiently until Josie came around to you. 

“Hi Josie,” you greeted the sour-looking woman, “under Foggy’s tab, the same round of drinks please.” She nodded in understanding and said it would be five minutes. You tapped the sticky wooden bar with your fingers as you waited, pretending to be interested in the baseball game on the TV, ignoring the young man’s gaze in your direction. 

“I’m Logan,” he said.

You looked at him and smiled. You told him your name.

  “You’re here with that crew over there?” Logan asked, gesturing to your table with his beer bottle. 

You nodded. “Yup. Out with the bosses. You?’

“With my buddy, Eric. You’re beautiful, by the way.” 

You blushed, “thank you.” You were used to being hit on, but for some reason, with Mike in the back of your mind, you wanted to avoid conversations like this at all costs. Your heart was taken already. You didn’t have room for anyone else. 

“Do you mind if I take your number? I’d love to take you out,” Logan asked in a genuine way. You smiled at him. 

“I’m actually seeing someone already,” you explained, “but I’m flattered.”

“No worries,” he raised his hands in defeat, “I hope you have a good night.” 

Josie came by again with the same drinks and shots as before. You grabbed the tray and gave her a smile before returning to your group. Marci and Karen had mischievous smiles on their faces. You set the tray down and rejoined them. 

“What’s so funny?” You asked. 

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

“What’s so funny?” You asked. 

Matt’s hand was gripping his beer bottle so hard, he thought it might shatter. To hide his hard expression, he took a sip from his beer and swallowed hard. 

“Was that guy hitting on you?!” Marci giggled. Karen sipped her beer as she too waited for an answer. The way you shifted in your seat told Matt everything he needed to know: you were uncomfortable with this attention. 

“Was it that obvious?” You asked with a sigh. “He was nice, but I’m already seeing someone.” 

“You are?” Karen asked. “You should invite him out to Josie’s!” 

Now, it was Matt’s turn to shift uncomfortably in his seat. Still, he managed to keep a blank expression as he listened to what you were going to say. 

“He’s uh,” you stuttered, “he works a night shift?” Your statement came out sounding more like a question. Matt rubbed his temples. He knew you were a terrible liar, but at least the rest of them didn’t seem phased. 

“Really? What does he do?” Foggy asked. 

“He… works the night shift at a hospital. He’s security there.” Your heart was hammering in your chest, hammering in Matt’s ears. He wanted to place his hand on yours to calm you down, but it took every bit of strength in him to fight the urge. This is my fault. I’m making you lie. 

“Cool!” Karen exclaimed. “Well, next time he’s off, definitely have him come out. You know, he’s got to have our seal of approval.” Marci and Foggy agreed while Matt stayed silent. Despite the torture of listening to you lie against your will, Matt couldn’t help but feel… good that you were loyal to him—Mike. 

But at the same time, it felt so wrong. 

“I actually think I’m going to step outside for a second,” You said. “It’s a little hot.” 

Marci, Karen, and Foggy thought nothing of your statement, but Matt knew better. He listened as you stood up and walked outside, not before asking Josie for a glass of water. After a few minutes, and a side comment he offered to Foggy to not raise suspicions, Matt too walked outside to join you. He tapped his cane in front of him rather hurriedly as he pushed the front door of Josie’s open, the bells ringing in his ears. 

When he stepped outside, he paused to listen for you. By your heartbeat, he heard you standing against the brick wall of Josie’s, head against the wall, eyes closed. By the faint salt in the air, Matt confirmed you were crying. 

“__?” He called your name softly, “Is that you?” 

“Oh, hey Matt,” you covered your sadness as best you could. Matt felt his heart rip in half. He just realized he’s never heard you cry, not even as Mike. Karen was the one who witnessed you upset a few weeks ago after he yelled at you, and now he’s really glad it wasn’t him. Because he really can’t stand it. It hurts him as much as it hurts you. 

“What’s wrong?” Matt tapped his cane until he was standing right beside you. There wasn’t any use in asking if you were okay. Matt knew you weren’t. And he knew it was because of him. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “it's hard to explain.” 

Matt took a deep breath. “Try me.” 

“I can talk to you like you’re not my boss right now?” You asked.

Matt forced a smile. “You can talk to me however you’d like.” 

“And you won’t repeat it?” 

“You’re safe with me.” 

“Have you ever just felt silly for covering for someone else, without knowing if they’d do the same for you?” 

Matt took a step closer. He sighed deeply. What a heavy question to ask someone like him. 

He needs to do a better job, as Mike, to make sure you never doubt his feelings for you again. 

“Yes,” he said, “we’ve all been there.” 

“Oh, great,” you answered sarcastically, “well if you’ve all been there, then I guess there’s nothing I can do to stop me from playing this role.” 

“There’s no role you need to play,” Matt’s mouth tasted bitter as he spoke. “Whoever you’re with, I don’t think he’d want you to think he wouldn’t do the same.” 

“How can I know? All I get are cryptic responses, and yet he keeps coming back to me, for whatever reason. I feel like a toy he gets to play with. He can drop me whenever he wants.” 

Your words hammered down on Matt hard. This was how he made you feel? He wanted you to feel the opposite like you were the only girl for him. Because you were. He wanted you to feel safe when you thought of him, not feel this pain and doubt. Tonight, he knew he’d have to make you understand that you are more to him than just a secret meeting. 

But he has to do it without revealing his identity. 

“I don’t believe that’s true,” Matt spoke honestly. “You’re a smart girl. You’re kind. We all… we all l—really like you. Whoever this is would be an idiot to take you for granted. Maybe he has a good reason to be cryptic. You said he works the night shift, right? He must be tired all the time. Busy protecting people at that hospital. But he makes time for you at night. That’s got to mean something, __,” Matt tried to convince you as best he can. By the sound of your heart and the lack of salt in the air, it was a sure sign that maybe something he said might’ve affected you. 

You were silent for a short while. Matt knew you were taking in the sight of him. 

“Who’da thought I’d be getting relationship advice from my boss?” You laughed, a genuine one, to Matt’s relief. 

“I do more than just the law,” Matt smiled. 

“Thank you, Matt. I’m sorry you caught me at a moment of weakness.” 

“Don’t be sorry. I’ve had my fair share, too.” 

You headed back inside, followed by Matt, and rejoined everyone. Although the night carried on as it should’ve, your words stuck with Matt for the remainder of the night, until he met you on your roof to make things right. 

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

11 PM

Reluctantly, you went on your roof. Reluctantly, you slipped into your silk night dress, the one he liked. Was this all with hesitation, or were you just a little buzzed from Josie’s? 

Talking to Matt about Mike did help, but you needed something to hold onto. Something that made it make more sense than it did. You understood he couldn’t reveal himself, at least not yet, but you needed something to believe it. That it would be worth it in the end. 

And like a shadow in the night, he appears just as fast as he disappears. Mike, in his black outfit and face covered, stumbles onto your roof. You push yourself off the wall and walk toward him, arms crossed. 

“We need to talk—“

Your sentence is cut off with a hard kiss, and strong arms wrapping around your waist to lift you up. Naturally, you wrap your legs around Mike and hold onto him, lips locked on his. He holds you even tighter against his torso, his tongue teasing your bottom lip. When he pulls back, he gently tugs you with his teeth. 

“We need to talk about us,” You say breathlessly. 

“I know,” Mike says in a husky voice. “I need you to know something.” Mike gently lets you down, but he doesn’t let go of you. He runs his fingers down the length of your left arm and intertwines his hand with yours. He lifts it up and spreads your fingers out. 

“When I wake up, I think of you,” Mike whispers, putting his index finger around your hand. “When I’m at my day job, I think of you,” he puts his middle finger down, “After a rough night out, all I do is think of you,” ring finger down. “When I go to sleep, I think of you,” pinky down, “but it’s before I sleep when I think of you, that drives me absolutely crazy,” thumb down, his hand is entirely wrapped around yours. He swiftly brings it behind your back. You want to roll your eyes, this is not what I mean, but his next words keep you from arguing. 

“__,” he said your name in a hushed tone, “you’re in everything I do. Everything I say, everything I feel, it’s all you,” Mike’s lips find yours again, and his kiss puts you in a trance. The way his lips perfectly mold to yours, how his skin feels rough against yours, how he breathes you in whenever he kisses you. “If you need to hold onto something, hold onto this, my Angel,” Mike tilts your head so your neck is exposed. The tip of his nose traces the length of your neck. He kisses you down and then finds his lips on your jaw again, back to your lips. “When I think of you before I sleep, I think of things I want to do with you when you know who I am. I want to wake up next to you and fall asleep next to you. It’s—it’s when my mind goes dark that I can’t help but think of you,” Mike speaks lowly, in your ear. “When I think of you in danger, or sick, or in harm’s way, I—I get this overwhelming sense of dread. I’d die for you, __.” 

Mike takes your hand and places it over his heart. You feel his heart beating fast under your fingertips. 

“Mike,” you whisper, “I…”

“I have something for you,” he whispers. With his other hand, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a long black thread with a cross on it. “I can’t tell you who I am yet,” Mike begins, “I will one day. But until then, I want you to have this, so you know I keep my promise.” 

He places the necklace around you and centers the cross so it falls right over your heart. You’re speechless, watching his movements. 

“I give you my promise,” he whispers again. When you think he’s going to kiss your lips, instead, he kisses your forehead. “I don’t want you to doubt me.” 

“I…I don’t doubt you. Not after this,” you smile, running your thumb through his necklace. “You have my word as well. I’ll wait for you if it means I get to be with you.” 

Mike presses his lips to yours, both his hands holding your face, delicately. 

“You’re my light,” Mike whispers. “I’m… sorry if I’ve ever made you feel otherwise.” 

You turn your head and kiss the palm of his hand with your eyes closed. You needed to hear this from him so badly. You had something to hold on to. 

It was faith. 

[sidthedollface2]

Third Love

Ch: 2 La Maceta

Pairing: Eddie x Mexican Female Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Eddie tries to win over your affection and use you in hopes of getting signed to your dads record company. There's just one problem. Your situationship and a heartbreaking past that threatens to expose the darker side of you.

CW: MDNI 18+ Nightmares, mental illness, Modern au Eddie, fuckboy Eddie. Reader with another man (not cheating).

Chapter 1

You had another restless night, sleep didn't come for you till around 5 am, an hour before sunrise wasn't too bad. Usually you'd stay at Sebastians house or your Dads lavish property, but that home was too large. Glass windows from floor to ceiling. Tall trees and bushes hide the expanse of the lot, it made you uncomfortable since it resembled your old home so much. After a particularly rough panic attack, and the incident with the pool man you and your dad agreed that maybe living with a roommate would lessen the episodes. Luckily, you had found an apartment with a pretty cool roommate, she was similar to you in loving horror movies and video games, and often her boyfriend would spend the night. Last night wasn't one of them, instead you made a comfy spot on the couch and spent most of the time watching 90 Day Fiance and arguing with the TV.

The familiar ding of your phone has you rubbing the sleep from your eyes, arm stretched out blindly searching the top of the coffee table. Unlocking the screen with your thumb print, a new text message comes into view.

Unknown: In the car, I just can't wait, To pick you up on our very first date.

Brows pinched in confusion, and a small smile gracing your face. You think It must be a wrong number. You stare at the message sinking back into the soft cushions of the couch. It's gotta be a joke you think, so you play along, having seen these types of messages before and being immersed in music your whole life you're familiar with the lyrics.

You: Is it cool if I hold your hand?

Shortly after pressing send another ding comes through.

Unknown: Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance? Do you like my stupid hair?

A chuckle leaves your lips and you feel bad for stringing this person along but you continue anyway, enjoying the flirty nature of the messages.

You: would you guess that I didn't know what to wear?

You feel terrible engaging in this cute sharade. Being a hopeless romantic the idea of someone purposely sending you these messages has you kicking your feet. But you know these messages aren't for you, as you place the phone down again another ding comes through.

Unknown: I'm just scared of what you think.

You smile to yourself at the absurdity but one last message won't hurt.

You: you make me nervous so I really can't eat.

Deciding to end the conversation you text back apologizing for wasting their time and let them know they have the wrong number. You see they've read your message and so you set your phone down and walk to your bedroom gathering some clothes from the closet, when you hear another ding.

You quickly turn back to the living room. throw yourself onto the couch, lunging for your phone in anticipation at what was sent and shock is written all over your face as you read the message.

Unknown: "Let's go. Don't wait. This night's almost over."

You Scroll back up and make sure that your previous message was sent and read. It was. You immediately panic, it wasn't like you to make plans and forget, especially a date. You did a lot of networking last night but you made sure every contact had a name and their social media attached so you really had no clue who would be asking you out. Unable to form any more thoughts on the matter you turn off your phone and head for the shower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Fuck! She left me on read." Eddie complained to Gareth as they both sat sprawled out on the couch in the garage,finishing up band practice for an upcoming show.

"How do you date a latina anyway?" Grant inquired, wiping the sweat from his brow and placing his bass down. Eddie turned to his bandmate, eyebrows quirked in a questioning way. "Um. Like any other girl. Man, what is wrong with you?" Eddie huffed, looking at his phone again hoping you'd message him back soon, and that he didn't just blow it with you. "It doesn't matter anyway, Ed just wants to fuck his way to the top. No dating required, isn't that what you said Ed? Gareth stared at his friend, challenging the words he had spoken earlier, before he actually met you or saw you, or felt the way your hand barely touched his sent bolts of electricity through his entire body. Eddie's eyes narrowed at Gareth. "Yea. That's right."

The way Gareth laid it out sounded bad and Eddie knew it, he wanted to do things the right way but he'd already tried that, and he had Becky to thank for ruining morally 'good' Eddie. This Eddie was different, he was more determined than ever in reaching his dreams irregardless of who was in his way or who he'd hurt in the process.

"It's a terrible idea." Standing with his arms crossed Jeff glared at Eddie, ashamed that their frontman even considered such a thing. With his head hanging between his shoulders Eddies eyes met Jeffs and he sighed, running his palm down his face, he shook his head.

"Look, I'm doing it for the band, ok. She could really help us out and get us actual good hook ups. What the fuck have you done Jeff? I'm the one who's been pulling all the weight!"

"You're the reason we're in this mess, you fucked Becky, our manager by the way, and now you wanna fuck this one! Next you're gonna fuck us over!" Jeff scolded, standing toe to toe with Eddie challenging his decisions. Gareth and Grant stand between the two boys, pushing them both away from each other and letting them cool down. Just as Eddie's about to speak again his phone rings. Signaling the boys to be quiet with his pointer finger to his lips he takes a look at the caller id and waves his hand at them in dismissal.

"Hey Red, still gonna make the show?" Eddie had asked Max if she was going to see Corroded Coffin perform, but she had gone on a little getaway with Lucas and wasn't sure when she'd be back.

"Yea, of course You can invite her. The more the merrier." Eddie agreed, pacing the garage as he spoke to Max. "Is she cute?" He asked with a shy smile on his face. "Fine, fine." He continued.

Getting off the phone with Max he checked his messages again and to his surprise you had sent a reply back.

Peach: I have a boyfriend.

"Son of a bitch." Eddie threw his phone on the couch crossing his arms as he glared at the floor. Frustrated that his plan was crumbling beneath him along with his dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hot water sprays over your body as you think of the outcomes if you were to go on this blind date. They never responded when you asked who they were which raised all the red flags and your mind went into a worse case scenario. What if it was Him, the masked man that haunted your dreams still. The therapy has been working, weekly and always on call if you ever needed it, medication changes were few but sometimes adjusting or adding to the list was necessary. So you lied and said you have a boyfriend, hopeful that they would get the hint that you were not interested.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In his bedroom, Eddie sat at his desk, phone in hand open with tabs of all his social media accounts and a calendar of future shows to be played.

"Omg you googled her?!" Gareth chuckled, as he hoovered behind Eddie, who was currently scrolling through your instagram page.

"Nah man, I looked up Glass House and she follows them." Eddie scrolled through all your posts, admiring all the traveling you'd done and how many musician friends you had. There were some that he admired and others that he didn't know. The fancy places you've eaten at were lavish. He was skeptical of some of the dishes but hoped to at least try them one day. To his disappointment, There weren't many pictures of you. He scrolled to the end of your page and didn't see any of your so-called boyfriend, maybe you were a private person and your instagram was only work related.

His finger hovered over Sebastian's page, debating if this was going too far, would he even like what he saw. He wasn't with you so it didn't matter, but why was he so nervous? Cracking his neck side to side, his thumb gently pressed on Sebastian's profile and a flood of images filled the screen.

There you were, your beautiful smile shining bright through his phone, and Eddie's belly flipped as if he were seeing it in the flesh. Through all the music related posts, band practice, live shows and members of the band, were small bits and pieces of you scattered about. Most were candid photos, at the studio listening to whatever played through your headphones, a shy smile peeking through a glass of wine held at your lips, god did Eddie wish he was a wine glass. Zooming into one particular photo he sees your bare back wearing nothing but a black bra and panties that leave nothing to the imagination, you're laying on your stomach on top of a white bed with messy white sheets. He traces over the feminine curve of your back, down to the slope of your waist and above the plush of your ass. His eyes land on your profile and his heart beats wildly at your sleeping form, hair sprawled out like a halo, you're facing away from the camera and Eddie wonders if you're aware of this intimate photo being taken. It suddenly occurs to him that you're in bed barely clothed and his stomach twists at the realization, Sebastian has you and he doesn't.

"He's not her boyfriend." Gareth voiced, startling Eddie who seemed to forget his bandmate was hunched over him. He pulls his phone close to his chest away from Gareth's wandering eyes. "Well, there's pictures of her in bed and them kissing. Last night at the party I saw him with her."

Eddie stood up and laid on his bed as Gareth took a seat at the desk. "Must be complicated," he shrugged. "She just told me she has a boyfriend. Must've been recent then."Gareth snatched Eddie's phone out of his hand.

"Hey!" He snapped. Scrolling through the messages Eddie sent you, Gareth shook his head "Blink 182? Really? God your lame." He laughed, "And you're an idiot. You didn't say who you were." Throwing the phone back, Eddie looks over the texts again and groans. Gareth was right he missed the message where you asked "who's this." While he thought of another response Eddie went back to your instagram for clues as to what type of person you were.

Bringing his face closer to the screen, eyes squinting. 'It couldn't be' he thought. A girl was standing in frame, she wore faded blue jeans with a pale orange top and a blue blouse folded to her elbows. In her hands was a white planter with wild green leaves that brought life to red beautiful flowers, unmistakable red hair flowed down her shoulders and bright blue eyes peeked behind blossoms of red. Eddie looked to the bottom of the photo reading the caption 'look what my roommate grew!.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two knocks, a pause and two more knocks were heard on your apartment door. You heard the key enter, the door knob twist and your roommate stepped inside. "I'm back!" She announced, as she pulled in her luggage from the hallway. Squealing you raced towards her and greeted her with a huge hug that had you both stumbling.

"Max! I missed you. How was the trip? How's Lucas doing?" You questioned.

Exhausted from traveling Max threw herself on the couch and told you how they traveled down to San Diego to see the Battle ships. "We went to this fancy restaurant where they have dry aged steak–"

You cut her off, leg bouncing in anticipation, and not wanting to wait any longer. "Did he finally ask you to marry him?" Max deflated. With a tight lipped smile she shook her head. "No. He didn't ask. But I still had so much fun and I'm sure it'll be soon."

Max had told you all about her on and off again relationship with Lucas, and ever since her accident, as she calls it, they've been together ever since. She told you all about their first dance, the first kiss they shared, the first time they said I love you. It was all so romantic and out of a fairytale. A fairytale that you longed for. She just smiled as you told her all the romantic things you wanted to do and how lucky she was that she had found that special someone. She didn't tell you about all the bad things. She couldn't. Your face lit up at the mention of the snowball dance, and their weekly movie marathons. You were both brought to tears as she recounted the way Lucas was by her side after her accident.

She wanted you to have this idea that love was easy and it would find you when you least expected it. So she couldn't tell you about Vecna or Will. Most importantly she didn't want to tell you how her brother Billy died. How she saw him die. But you needed her to tell you that you weren't alone, that this deep trench in your heart would never mend but if you had found someone that brought you peace on those nights where the screams were too loud and the night too dark. A soul strong enough to carry the weight of your trauma, yet compassionate enough to walk you through the pain. Then maybe they could slowly fill that hollow trench bucket by bucket. Not of dirt or water simply understanding. Understanding that you'll never be who you once were, full of happiness and light. Rays of sunshine peeking through someone's gloomy day. Now, you were the gloom, the dark low hanging clouds full of tears threatening to pour down on undeserving innocents. Who knew whether those drops would be light and just tickle the skin. Would they be heavy and constant for days on end, causing those to witness shield their eyes and run towards a dry, safer climate. At any moment any sudden reminder of that night could trigger a siren of caution echoing through their ears that a violent storm was just on the horizon. Upon Hearing that screeching siren loud above their heads all would run, gathering their belongings and loved ones to escape the danger that was to come. All except one.

You didn't tell Max about what had happened. It's not something to bring up in casual conversation or any conversation for that matter. 'Hey, I saw my mom get shot to death and I held my hands over her bleeding wounds until her blood saturated both our clothes…. No biggie. How was your day?'

There would never be a right time. A right scenario and even if there was you didn't want to relive that night, no one does. So you kept that part of you hidden, shoveled so deep within that trench with a lock and key. Any threats of those tears or incoming clouds were met with scripted phrases.

"I'm just so tired."

"Allergies."

"It's fine."

"Eyelash in my eye"

And the worst of all

"I'm ok."

The day settles to night as you shift under the sheets with your laptop open, preparing your schedules and artists you were going to see for the week when you hear the unmistakable ding of your phone. You find it stuffed between the pillow you're laying on and your shoulder. Upon reading the message your eyes widened at the boldness and your lips curved up into a beaming smile.

Unknown: "Of course someone as pretty as you would have a boyfriend, that's cool I'm not looking to be your boyfriend though. I just thought you might need a husband.

Unknown: "It's Eddie by the way."

You shake your head chuckling at his audaciousness. But he got you smiling at your phone, cheeks heating up and flutters in your tummy.

You: "Oh, that was good. I guess we should go on a date then if you're planning to be my husband."

Eddie: "I thought you'd never ask." 😉

Taglist

@amira0303 @hideoutside @edsforehead @skank-sinatra13 @kissmejoey @ms1oftheboys

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor x MC Westmoon Split Route (Eng Translation)

⌚Warning⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a chapter that is yet to be released on the global server. ♡

Please do remember to read CH 10 before continuing: Here! ♡

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

I’ll be adding bullet point summaries for the parts that aren’t necessarily significant or don’t focus on Victor x MC~ :>

—

✧ [CH 12-2] ✧

It starts with MC staring at the letter her Master left her, asking her to meet him at the Retrobyss.

MC recalls her last time at the Retrobyss, traveling to the past through the space-time rift Victor had opened and everything that happened afterward.

Naturally, MC finds herself in a dilemma about what to do since she can’t trust her Master. At this moment––

–

?? (Victor): You’ve circled the room three times already.

MC: !!

Startled by the sudden appearance of a pair of black boots in front of me, I raise my head and meet the serene, red eyes of the Demon King.

MC: Y-y-you, why are you here all of a sudden?!

Victor shoots a glance at my arm. The answer is self-evident.

MC: But I wasn’t thinking about you just now...

Victor: Are you sure? The Demon King’s Pact doesn’t lie.

MC: ...

When the scene of Victor sending me back in time flashed through my mind, many things about him indeed streaked through even deeper down the road.

Whether his wounds have yet healed or not, whether they will leave scars on him or not... I’ve wondered whether he is bored in the empty Demon King’s palace hall...

Victor: Don’t worry. My wounds have healed considerably.

MC: ...has the Demon King’s Pact been upgraded to be able to read mind now?! I haven’t even said anything yet!

Victor: You kept stroking your arm when you were turning in circles just now. And after spotting me, your eyes have been continuously darting back at my chest.

Victor can’t help arching the corners of his lips upwards as he watches my stupefied expression.

Victor: It’s quite easy to guess what’s on a certain dummy’s mind.

MC: Am I that obvious...

Pouting, I whisper in a low voice. Victor takes another step forward.

Victor: There are things that I can guess, but there are also things that I cannot.

Victor’s eyes fall on the letter paper in my hand. And with just one glance, he’s already seen the content with clarity.

Victor: Retro... who is waiting for you at the Retrobyss?

MC: It’s my Master. But I haven’t decided whether I should go or not...

Victor: Why?

MC: I don’t know if I can trust him anymore, and that place... ngh!

Before I can finish my sentence, it’s as if the delicate threads that bound the originally broken Occulstone together have suddenly disappeared, and a violent throbbing pain abruptly erupts in my heart.

The seal that Master placed on my Occulstone has disappeared.

The meager demon aura permeating the air suddenly becomes incomparably turbulent, roaring like a beast that has caught a whiff of the most fragrant bait.

MC: [in pain]  ...!

In the next instant, Victor’s breath suddenly approaches.

The second his palm steadies my arm, the Demon King’s Pact also radiates a slightly warmed glow simultaneously.

A powerful Occult transmits from the palm of his hand, suppressing the pain of the shattered Occulstone raw.

I slowly raise my head and look into the red pupils of his eyes. They reflect only my figure.

–– the most powerful demon in the world, once again, has isolated me from the demon aura that makes me uncomfortable.

Gradually, the feeling of unease subsides considerably. I finally release a long breath and give him a smile that certainly wouldn’t be very pretty.

MC: Thank you...

Victor: There’s been progress. Last time you were in pain to the point of not being able to endure, but this time you can still stand firmly on your own.

Even though his words are teasing, the palm of his hand is still firmly clasped around me, giving me the strength to rely on.

Victor: Let’s go to the Retrobyss. I’ll accompany you.

MC: Eh?

Victor: In my childhood, I once heard a rumor that in the deepest part of the Retrobyss lies a treasure, a treasure most valuable of all that can subvert Westmoon.

Victor: Not long after this rumor came out, the news was rapidly sealed off by the imperial court. Many people were executed as a result, even including my father’s subordinates.

MC: Do you mean to say that... this rumor is not a rumor?

Victor: Mm. The more someone is trying to hide it to make it more conspicuous, the more the possibility is that you’re getting closer to the truth.

Victor: Combining what we saw the last time inside the abyss with what you’ve seen in the past, I suspect that there is a complete Occulstone in the deepest part of the Retrobyss.

Victor: Even without this letter in your hand, I think it would be a good idea to make the trip.

Victor: If we can find it, perhaps we will be able to restore your Occulstone.

–

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

–

✧ [CH 12-3] ✧

Traces of the last time the demons were stationed near the Retrobyss is remnant here. I reach out and touch the entrance, my fingertips cutting their way through the air.

The formation that blocked the entrance last time isn’t there anymore.

Seeing my particularly cautious and tentative expression, Victor seems to be a little unable to contain his laughter and raises his eyebrows.

Victor: [laughs softly]  How did you get in here last time?

MC: I fused my blood into your formation, then thought of your name. And then I was flown in with a swoosh.

Victor: ...nuisance.

MC: Oh yeah? A certain someone who locked himself up inside the formation to withstand the demon aura is more of a nuisance in comparison, isn’t he?

Victor: [rendered speechless] ...

Victor: The condition of the Occulstone in your body is now worse than the last time. You must remember to stay close to me after we get in.

MC: Yes!

It’s a rare sight to see him choke on his words and divert the subject. In a great mood, I rapidly take two steps forward and take his hand in mine.

MC: Don’t worry. I’ll definitely hold on tightly and stay close to the Great Demon King!

Victor: ...

Victor opens his mouth, wanting to say something. In the end, though he doesn’t bother to pay attention to my teasing, the palm of his hand has already firmly interlocked my fingers.

As soon as we enter the abyss, I notice that something is wrong.

The Retrobyss is the place where all demon aura originates. It stands to reason that the degree of the demon aura should be denser the further down you travel.

But we have already traveled a considerable distance downwards and haven’t perceived the slightest trace of demon aura. At this moment, the bottomless abyss seems more peaceful than the Serenos a hundred miles away.

MC: Victor, it seems like...

Victor: Mm, someone came here.

Victor affirms my notion. His brows are slightly furrowed as he scans the surrounding.

Victor: How long do you think we’ve been walking around here?

MC: Umm... a quarter of an hour?

Victor: I think we’ve been walking for three hours now.

MC: What?!

Victor: Not only time but the space here also has become more chaotic, as if someone has deliberately disrupted it.

MC: Could it have been my Master?

Victor: That’s unlikely. If the Oracle possesses the remarkable abilities you’ve said, he won’t use such tiny mediocre tricks.

Victor: The only trouble is that I perceive time differently than you do, so the perception of distance will be different too.

Victor: There’s no way to determine how far we already are from the deepest part of the Retrobyss, and if we go down any further, we will only be completely lost in the abyss.

MC: Then what should we do now?

Victor: I’ll try to sort out the passage of time here again first.

MC: You’re not going to thrust a double-edged sword through your heart again, are you?

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I receive a not-so-firm-or-gentle tap on the head by his knuckles.

Victor: That was a special case for a certain someone only.

When he finishes speaking, a luminous white ray of light is already condensing in the palm of his hand.

There’s still a desolate, icy, and deathly stillness in all directions, but I feel that something has changed.

It’s as though there are countless invisible knots around us that Victor is undoing one by one, enabling that uncomfortable feeling of alienation to gradually alleviate significantly.

And along with the flow of time beginning to return to the right track, I see numerous gray shadows passing by on either side of us, either hurriedly or slowly.

I also see the craftsmen who had quarried the Occulliths long before, the former Demon Kings who protected the demon race, the Demon Queens who supported the Demon Kings, some of whom clearly weren’t demons...

–

[Notes]: Just to make it clear, MC here is referring to the Demon Queens (她们) who weren’t demons themselves, just like MC herself~ ❤️‍🔥

–

MC: What are these shadows?

Victor: These are people who had come to the Retrobyss at different times.

MC: You’re right! I see you!

Not far away, the mirage of the Demon King shoulders all the responsibilities and loneliness, walking straight into the abyss.

Victor: ...I also see a certain dummy showing off her bravado.

On the other side, my shadow clumsily supports the injured Victor, staggering from side to side, stumbling along on unsteady footing.

MC: [pouting]  That’s because you’re too heavy...

Victor hears my whispered mutterings, the stream of his soft laughter landing on the corner of my forehead.

The past is reminiscent of a vast river of time, weaving all around us as it entwines, and even though inside the icy demon abyss, something warmer blossoms between us.

Unlike the previous abrupt traveling back in time, sorting through time is a very long process.

By the time the last thin layer of shadows has dissipated, there is still a dark figure standing in front of us for a long time.

The dark figure turns around slowly. Even though I’ve only seen that face once before in the blood moon, I already remember it–– it’s the man in cloak!

Man In Cloak: Eh? I thought he said we were to meet up with only the QUEEN. How come there’s another person? Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. It doesn’t affect my restart in any case.

The man in cloak wears a vile smile on his lips as he suddenly raises his hand towards us, a dark aura coalescing in his palm.

Victor: [gasps]  ...!

Victor is the first to react. He pulls me into his arms, and at the same time, reaches out with his hand, trying to strike back.

–

In a split second, the familiar white light envelops me once again.

My eyelids are extremely heavy, and my brain is dizzy.

Something brushes softly across my cheek, carrying with it the fragrance of cosmetics. I hear the crisp sound of young girls’ laughter falling in my ears.

??: Sister MC looks really beautiful dressed like this.

??: Stop looking at her like that. Look at how slow you are! The Sorceress is asleep!

Sorceress?

It’s been a long time since anyone has called me by that name. Struggling with my consciousness a several times, I finally open my eyes in bewilderment.

In front of me is a scarlet dressing mirror, in which I see myself dressed in a gown. My eyes are misty, and I’m wearing a beautiful new make-up, looking just like a bride waiting to be married.

The maidens on either side of me, who are helping with the dressing up, see the perplexed expression written across my whole face and poke me on the cheek with smiles on their faces.

Maiden: Sorceress, have you yet snapped out of it?

Maiden: On such an important day as today, you can’t fall asleep during the ceremony as you did just now.

An important day? What day?

My head is muddled as if I’ve just had an extremely long dream.

The only thing I remember is I met up with someone to do something. And that someone is...

MC: ...Victor?

Maiden: You’re asking about the young General? He should still be in the palace at the moment, discussing some official matters. You will naturally get the time to see each other at the beginning of the ceremony.

Still confused at their words, I can’t help but confirm again.

MC: You guys keep talking about the ceremony. What exactly is the ceremony?

The two maiden’s eyes widen at my words as if they’ve heard something inconceivable, exchanging glances with each other once again.

Maiden: Sorceress, it seems that you’re really in a sleepy daze. Of course, it’s the ceremony to pray for blessings on the account of the General’s departure for the war.

MC: Huh? But I remember that Victor is not the General since a long time ago, but the Demon...

I push up my sleeve as I speak, only to find that my arm is bright and clean.

–

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

–

✧ [CH 12-4] ✧

The flags are fluttering along the long and bustling streets, and the flower petals of celebration are showering down reminiscent of rain.

At the entrance of the palace, the troops clad in their armors are lined up squarely, making it almost impossible for one to see the end of the line at a glance.

The faces of the onlookers in all directions are beaming with enthusiastic smiles as they crane their necks and look around, eagerly awaiting the procession ahead.

Palace Maid: I heard that when the General returns from this war in triumph, he will marry the Sorceress!

All Officials: This marriage has been approved by the Oracle and His Majesty himself! The two of them are truly a match made in heaven, incomparable in all of the lands under the sun. This is a blessing for Westmoon!

Common People: The young General and the Sorceress truly are an ideal couple. The two of them look like the people in the paintings!

Officer of Rites: All the rites are complete. Sorceress, please come to the stage to pray for the three armies––

The female officials laugh and give me a gentle nudge, winking at me.

Female Official: Go on. The next time you bow to each other, it will be the bride and groom’s bowing ritual.

MC: I-is that so?

I awkwardly tug at the corners of my lips, pinch the corners of my sleeves, and walk slowly toward the stage.

Thump thump, thump thump...

The beating of the drums in my ears is in harmony with my heartbeat.

My beloved is waiting for me on the stage, but a sense of dissonance constantly keeps lingering in my heart.

Is it because I’m too nervous? Or is it because of something else...

Could it be that I don’t wish to pray for “this  Victor”?

MC: ABSOLUTELY NOT...!

I’m taken aback by the thoughts in my head, so shocked that I blurt out loud in denial.

Of course, I want to pray for him. I wish for him to return safe and sound, I wish for him to be happy. After all, until now I’ve never been...

Fragments of memories rain down one after another, but the more I think back, the more unfamiliar it seems.

Do Victor and I truly have such a perfect life?

The two of us got to know each other at the Heavenbright Academy, we went through countless twists and turns, and finally, we are blessed with the good fortune of tying the knot, we are the lovers the entire world envies...

But in the deepest recesses of my memory, there is always a black, blurred figure, standing there obstinately and silently, refusing to leave.

As I’m thinking this, I look up at the man who is waiting for me on the high platform.

Victor stands at the very front on the high platform, the silver armor on his body reflecting the cloudless sunny sky. He looks just like a handsome deity who has descended to the world of mortals. I’m unable to take my eyes off of him.

As if sensing my gaze, he turns his head. His flat lip lines curve up in an arc, revealing a gentle smile.

Victor: You’re here, MC.

His expression suddenly freezes after he says my name, his brows furrowing slightly as though he’s remembered something.

Victor: You...

MC: What’s wrong?

Victor: Don’t you feel that this all seems like a dream?

MC: !

I didn’t expect Victor to feel the same way as I did, and I nod my head promptly.

MC: Yes yes! It’s not just the General and the Sorceress, I feel as if... we’ve been through a lot more together.

The blessing ceremony on the stage is being delayed to begin, causing the faint murmurs of discussion to already rise from below.

Victor shoots a glance at the crowd and then turns his gaze back to me.

Victor: Such as?

I try hard to remember, but all I can think of are those perfect and beautiful images. I have no other choice but to shake my head helplessly.

MC: I... I’m sorry. I can’t think of anything.

I look at Victor in a quandary, biting my lip.

MC: Don’t get angry when I say this... I just feel that everything is too beautiful.

MC: Of course, I don’t mean to say that I wish for the two of us to experience some bad fortune...

MC: I just... how do I put it... I hope that we can always be together, even if we are not the Sorceress and the General...

My voice grows quieter and quieter, causing Victor to laugh as he listens to my incoherent explanation.

Victor: You know what I would generally call someone like you? [adorably]  Dummy.

Does he not believe me?

MC: I’m saying what’s in my heart! I really...

Victor: What if... I do wish to experience many more things with you?

Victor interrupts me, holding out his hand to me. His voice is deep as if he is making a bewitching invitation.

MC: I’ll be together with you, of course.

MC: No matter where Victor goes, MC will follow him.

The instant I hold his hand back, a golden circle of light appears on both of our arms at the same time––

It’s the Demon King’s Pact!

The contract that transcends time and space shatters the image before us, and the streamers, the cheers, the blessings of the city–– everything disappears.

The fine light smashes to pieces, revealing the pitch-black reality that lies behind it.

–

Victor and I have returned to the Retrobyss once more.

The man in the cloak is actually still standing there. He raises his eyebrows in the same way, somewhat in astonishment, followed by his smile of ample interest.

Man In Cloak: What? Aren’t you happy in the “New Westmoon Kingdom”? Why did you come out?

MC: What’s there to be happy about that deceptive phantasmagoria!

Man In Cloak: Phantasmagoria? Hahahaha, how can something as unimpressive as a phantasmagoria be called the QUEEN’s power?

Victor: Your Excellency, you really have spoken too much.

Victor stands in front of me, staring coldly at the other party.

Victor: The Occulstone that is the foundation of this world should not be used by you in this way.

Man In Cloak: Ah, as expected of a Space-Time Evolver. You’re smarter than this little sorceress. It’s no wonder that you were able to discover the tampering of the space-time coordinates faster than she did.

Man In Cloak: That’s right, what the two of you have just experienced is the real Westmoon Kingdom, reconstructed in time and space.

MC: What do you mean...?!

Man In Cloak: What are you being surprised about? That’s your own power.

Man In Cloak: It’s just that since you’ve delayed using it, that Eos guy would rather waste over a hundred years here than let you use it, so I might as well use it on your behalf.

–

[Tidbits]: MC’s Master’s name is “Eos” btw, it’s his BS pseudonym tho LOL~ :>

–

Man In Cloak: Anyway, since the incubation of the new Westmoon Kingdom has failed, there’s no need for this old one to exist either. I’ll launch the procedures of its destruction immediately. You two––

The man in the cloak waves his hand indifferently.

Before he can finish his sentence, Victor has already attacked with his sword.

Victor: As I said, don’t talk too much to yourself.

–

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

–

✧ [CH 12-6] ✧

Victor and MC attack the man together, giving him no chance to fight back.

The Occulstone inside the cave suddenly explodes, illuminating glaring light.

Closing her eyes, MC reaches for Victor next to her, only to find herself in a different space the next second (the black cabin)––

MC sees her Master here and finds the cloaked man restrained by some method unbeknownst to her.

Her Master tells her not to mind the man, and Victor is fine. He brought her here to tell her some things.

Enraged, MC doesn’t wish to hear any explanation. But her Master explains nonetheless.

MC’s Master says that the things she saw hundred years back in the past are all true; neither he nor the cloaked man belongs to this world. And MC, the container of the “QUEEN gene,” also known as the Occultstone, is their observation object. Starting from demon aura to EVERY tragedy that has ever happened in Westmoon was “simply” the process of stimulating her awakening.

Naturally, MC lashes out at first. But the anger gradually turns into only pain, asking her Master if he feels even the slightest ripple as he’s seen with his own eyes how the people of Westmoon have suffered, the land he guarded for many years.

Her Master, precisely because he feels something, goes against the premeditated agenda, and asks MC to choose the ending of this world.

He tells her that the Occulstone within her has fully awakened now, and she can do WHATEVER she wishes with it––

–

Master: It means literally. You’re now akin to a god of this world.

Master: As long as you wish, you can change the history of Westmoon so that Occult never existed from the very beginning.

Master: Everything for which you feel pain and sorrow can disappear.

Master: For example, Victor. He may then not need to suffer from becoming a demon, and he will be able to have smooth sailing throughout his entire life. 

MC: Just like the world this guy showed Victor and me?

Master: That’s right.

MC: I...

I’m reminded of that brief phantasmagoria just now. The ceremony of blessing in the presence of everyone, a life without any pain...

I bite my lower lip. What the Master has said is too tempting, and it’s absolutely impossible to not be moved.

Let it all never happen, and have a beautiful beginning... is that really what I wish for?

–– then why did Victor and I come out of that world?

MC: No. I don’t want that.

A rare expression of astonishment displays on Master’s face.

MC: Master, I’m a Sorceress, not a god.

MC: I can’t make that choice for others.

MC: Even the pain, sorrow, despair... are all a testament to everyone’s existence, too. I’m in no position to erase that, Master.

–

[Tidbits from Anika]: Sobbing in hands–– because–– that ‘final sentence’ about “pain, despair... everyone’s existence” MC says the same line in the other routes too. Point to be noted,

In Victor’s R&S “Fleeting,” The first-hand witness to all of Victor’s endeavors, Zero (Time Observer), told Victor that even the gods don’t have a heart of tender affection for the world like him, and in reply, he said, “I never wanted to be a savior. I simply believe this world means something to everyone who’s lived in it, as it does to me.”

These two dummies are each other’s counterparts indeed. 🥺🥹❤️

–

[Back to the story]:

MC’s Master asks about her wish. MC tells him that she doesn’t want to change the past; she wants a future where there will be no prejudices between humans and demons, where no one will turn into demons, and bear the pain of not being able to look back; a world where no one will use the word “fallen” to describe the demons.

MC’s Master objects; because it’s harder than changing the history, she will have to bear and consume all demon aura on this earth.

MC is hell-bent on her decision, and her Master finally gives in.

MC’s Master takes his farewell from his apprentice. There’s a beautiful moment between the two of them. He reminisces how MC was little when he first met her, and how she’s grown up... and says that he will always remember her. Upon MC’s urging, he leaves his final words that perhaps they will meet again in another world~ I see you PG 👀🫣

–

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

–

✧ [Rolling The Curtain] ✧

The moment the Occulstone explodes, dazzling white light floods the entire underground space and forms a huge ball of light.

Victor reaches out to pull the girl back, but he still can’t catch up with the speed of light. The ball of light engulfs the girl within it.

Victor: MC!

No matter what method he uses, he is unable to destroy the ball of light.

For the first time, he realizes how torturous just one breath of waiting is. How is she doing in there... he couldn’t protect her after all...

While all kinds of thoughts are swirling in his head, Victor is surprised to find that the ferocious anger within himself, generated by the bedevilment, is somehow rapidly fading away.

Only the Occulstone can make the demon aura recede... has she done something?

Victor’s heart pounds violently as he once again places his hand on the ball of light with all his might–– 

The sound of glazed jade shattering rings out, and the white light subsides.

The girl he’s been anxiously longing for stands in the center of the light, her head hanging low as if she has just finished a dance. She is so beautiful that one wouldn’t dare to come close enough, as if it’d be blasphemy.

Victor: MC!

Hearing his voice, the girl raises her head and smiles at him.

MC: Victor...

Before she can finish her words, she falls down as if she has lost all her strength. Victor rushes over and brings her into his arms.

Victor: [his voice literally shaking like–– ]  You... what did you do in the Occulstone?

MC: Nothing much. I just... did what the Sorceress should do.

Victor: [voice still shaking]  You’re not the Sorceress anymore. Why do you have to bear the responsibility of the Sorceress?

MC: It’s not the responsibility of the Sorceress. It’s...

A crimson blush spreads across the girl’s face, as if she is a little embarrassed to say the following words out loud.

MC: Aren’t you always calling me a dummy? So, this dummy can only think of such a dummy-like method...

MC: It’s all your fault, Great Demon King.

The trailing note of the girl’s voice is exceedingly endearing. But the more she deliberately makes light of the burdens she is carrying, the more Victor feels his heart being clenched in a death grip.

The girl’s hand brushes up to the space between Victor’s eyebrows, trying to smooth out the creases there.

MC: Victor, do you still feel unwell because of the demon aura?

MC: Although you pretend to be strong every time, I know that the most powerful Demon King must have the most raging demon aura inside him.

MC: You must have endured incomparable pain...

MC: I don’t want you to keep it all to yourself all the time. Tell me about it, will you?

Victor takes the girl’s hand, slowly tightening his grip.

Victor: [HIS VOICE–– ]  It was indeed very painful to bear before. But I feel very good now, in fact, I have never felt better than I do now... it’s all because of you, my wife.

The girl’s face is now red almost to the base of her ears, but the corners of her lips perk up in an extremely triumphant smile.

MC: Hehe, you didn’t use the term “dummy” this time. Instead, you used the other title.

Victor: [HIS VOICE 2.0–– ]  These titles have always belonged to you. As has the “dummy,” and so has “my wife.”

MC: It’s a pact then.

MC: Victor, I’m a bit sleepy now, and I might sleep for a long time...

MC: You must remember to call me that even when I’m asleep... and remember to call me that when I’m awake...

The girl’s voice becomes increasingly softer, but her hand still stubbornly holds Victor’s hand, tightening more and more.

Their finger joints are tightly clasped, a pledge even more indestructible than the “Demon King’s Pact.”

In the moment when the demon aura dissipates, a new world solidifies in the girl’s long breaths.

–

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

✧ [Epilogue, ever after] ✧

West Moon Year 115.

The Retrobyss, which had been traversing the country’s territory for a century, was suddenly closed overnight.

No more demon aura has surged since then.

The coup d’état also came to an end on that same day. It’s been named in the history as “The Transformation of the Abyss and the Moon.”

After the new emperor ascended the throne, he concluded a decree of peace with the Demon King. Initially, even though people around the world were afraid of the consequences, after accumulating years, the two sides have opened official markets for each other, carrying out the mutual exchange of assistance.

“After all, without the demon aura, how different can a demon be from a human being?”

As we’re speaking, there now stands a new city on the former site of the Demon Chasm. Its name is “Beyond The Abyss.” The city has long been a city of trade, bustling and prosperous, sailing in all directions.

“It’s said that, in his spare time, the Demon King travels around the city in disguise with the Demon Queen, resulting in many legendary stories.

Today, we will hear the story of the encounter between the Demon King and the Demon Queen...”

As soon as the storyteller knocks on the wood, the audience listens with rapt attention, enthralled––

Except for a man and a woman sitting at the end of the crowd, the couple looking at each other and smiling––

“Victor, the storyteller says your cooking skill is better than your martial arts skill. Is that right?”

—

[x1702x]

[Lauda Finem]

Summary:

The Provost of Mensis is a very busy man and puts his work over everything, a little sickness is nothing he should worry of. Afterall, it will pass, right?

A/N:

This is the updated version of the fic! Fixed and corrected for your enjoyment <3

CH: 1/?

Ao3

RESTITUTIO AD INTEGRUM

"Recover at its fullest”

The provost of Mensis was at his desk absorbed by a tome, fidgeting with his pen. He was studying a few bird cage diagrams, trying to emulate it on a paper he put aside. He mumbled to himself, fascinated by his small findings as he read. A silver tray sat to the side on his desk, ignored. It was a meal that had cooled down. As usual, Micolash got too invested in his work and tended to forget simple things such as drinking water, sleeping and having meals. Due to his involuntary negligence, his health had wilted time and time again, giving his peers many scares for his health. He has brushed it off countless times, he had better things to focus on rather than a common sickness.

His head felt numb but he just had to stay up just a little more. He swore to himself that it would be just one page more, he was so close-

The door creaked open. A figure emerged from the corridor and entered the room.

A faint scent of rosemary filled Micolash’ nostrils, soothing him a little. The sound of steps slowly approached his desk, a warm presence engulfed him. Micolash’s sight turned towards him: Long and curly red hair that gently rested on shoulders, pale skin, freckles, thick eyelashes, green eyes and small glasses. Doctor Eli Fauchard, his assistant. With a soft thud, a handbag was left on the desk. Micolash averted his gaze. The Doctor glanced at the untouched tray of food and clicked his tongue.

“Skipping meals again?” Eli asked, his tone had a hint of worry.

Micolash leaned back on his seat, finally taking his eyes fully off the book. Feeling a light flash of heat wash over his head, making him shift uncomfortably.

“I was saving it for later. Am I in trouble now, Doctor?” The Provost inquired, a slight grin forming in his face despite the lingering weakness he was now feeling.

Eli rolled his eyes and put the tray away on another table, right next to the terrarium where Micolash kept some specimens. He returned to the desk, opening his handbag.

“Quite, I’ve told you many times that having your meals is important, but it seems that my warnings are to no avail. I’m sure you weren’t saving it for later, you don’t like your soup cold, do you?”

Eli finally faced him, scrunching his nose upon seeing Micolash’ sorry state. Micolash shrugged.

“You never know,” He mumbled as Eli took out his equipment. He pointed at his bag with curiosity. “A checkup, I assume.” He added.

“Yes.” Eli quickly replied, noticing Micolash’ eyebags and frowning. His bedding seemed to be untouched, the rest of his whole room seemed untouched, actually. His desk was the only place that looked used.

“My...You better not be losing sleep again...I don't want to overdose you with sedatives. You need to have some actual rest.” Eli added, pulling out a stethoscope. Micolash adjusted his position on his chair, unbuttoning his shirt a little, Eli pressed the cool stethoscope against Micolash’s skin, making the latter lightly shiver.

“You’re quite overbearing, are you not?” Micolash joked.

Eli only replied with a hum, as he was focused on his task at hand. After a few seconds, he removed the stethoscope from Micolash’s chest and began buttoning his shirt back up.

“You're quite the fuss pot, you worry too much, like a mother, but I'll humor you.” Micolash laughed, taking a lax attitude towards his worrying health. He rubbed his temple with a grimace of pain.

Eli took out a thermometer, placing it on Micolash’ mouth.

“Be quiet for a bit…” He waited and took it out of Micolash’s mouth. Eli frowned upon seeing the temperature marked. “You’re running a fever. I think you should lay down.” Eli helped Micolash to stand up, to which Micolash complained a little, not wanting to be taken away from his work.

Once he was tucked in his bed, Micolash began feeling how his ailment finally took a toll on him. He sighed, looking at his caretaker with a hint of appreciation. Eli kept rummaging through his handbag and pulled out a bottle of sedatives, setting it on Micolash’s bedside table. He then opened it and handed it to Micolash to take.

Once he had gulped it down, Eli retrieved it and put it back inside his bag.

“I'm impressed by how much you seem to care about my wellbeing.” Micolash mumbled feverishly as he stirred in his sheets, giving Eli a tired glance from the pillow.

“No one would. Not even yourself.” Eli replied, his tone slightly cold as he closed his medicine bag with a soft click.

Micolash closed his eyes tiredly, listening to Eli’s movements attentively. He heard the rattling of utensils on the tray. Eli had picked it up.

“Goodnight, Micolash.” The Doctor said as he made his way to blow off the lamp on Micolash’s desk, giving a quick peek at his notes before doing so.

Micolash’s eyes opened a little, taking in Eli’s gentle movements across the room. He wondered what went on inside his head, probably brushing him off as frail and feeling satisfaction in being able to nurse him back to health like he’s a poor animal.

His eyes grew heavy and slowly drifted to sleep once Eli left the room for the night, finally able to put his mind at rest.

[foxgloveprincess]

Seem Like Someone Else

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff x GN!Shapeshifter Reader [First Person Narrator]

Word Count: 3,060

Summary: Pain has been the only thing you’ve felt for so long. Until Bucky and Natasha teach you to feel something different.

Warnings: Emotionally Constipated Reader, Plus-Size Reader, Body Horror (shapeshifting that backfires—disfigurement, no blood, inability to talk, pain), Undefined/Poorly Defined Relationship, Mentions of Abusive/Traumatic Past, Inconsiderate Behavior, Pet Names (sweetheart). Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: This just sorta started spilling out of me one day while I was eating breakfast. Based on quite a few uQuizzes I’ve taken which have told me I change myself for other people. It’s an experiment in a way. And I don’t really know how to define it. All I know is that I want to share it with all of you. Bucky edit in the banner by nixakimbo (on Instagram). The picture in the banner is not indicative of the reader’s skin color (there is no description of appearance in the fic, except to allude to plus size).

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog/comment if you want. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work, at all. I cross-post to my own AO3 account.

I don’t do tag lists, so follow @foxglovefics to sign up for notifications on my fics.

This is not Beta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing themes/dynamics/warnings, thank you!

I go through about 25 transformations a day. Comes with the territory of being a shapeshifter. But it’s bled into my personality, too. Changing the smallest aspects of myself in everyday interactions, hoping to smooth the conversations into something palatable for whoever I’m talking to. 

Sometimes I wonder if the face I return to at the end of the day is really even my face at all—if the person I am is truly myself. 

It’s stopped being a strain—practically organic at this point. Just like the shifting of bones, cartilage, and flesh to form me into a different look. Easy as breathing. 

The transformations used to hurt. I remember that. When it started in middle school, I would scream out in my room at night when my flesh turned against me and morphed me into some other person. Lady B always cradled me to her chest and hummed a solemn tune until I calmed and made the painful transition back to myself. 

Now I change like water flowing from the pitcher to the glass. Know the exact angles. Contorting myself until the change mutes to a small pop. No longer a cacophony of crackles and popping joints. I’ve perfected the art form, transforming in a singular moment from one person to the next.

For most people, it’s a party trick. Entertainment. For my job, it’s a clever evolution of espionage. It’s helped me go far, climbing my way into the Avengers organization and solidifying my skills as indispensable. A way I can support and protect myself. Not everyone accepts a freak in their neighborhoods. 

“Make me into a woman,” Tony requests, lounging back on his sofa with a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. 

Like I said, entertainment. 

My body bends and twists—rather, the body I’m wearing—until I picture it clearly in my head. Tony Stark, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, woman. A deep breath fills my lungs and—Pop! 

It takes a moment to orient myself before my audience. Party goers still milling about the Tower, lingering until the very last moment. I breathe once, ensuring the use of lungs in my body and the beat of my heart—learning from experience to never underestimate the importance of internal organs. 

But there I am, Tony Stark’s spitting image in female form. 

I wait for the next request as comments circle about the voyeurs. Words of intrigue and disbelief whispered from ear to ear. I can’t let them know I’m tired. Most missions do not exhaust me as much as this. Face after face for people to peer at and dissect. I touch my nose, drawing back my hand to check for blood—none yet, a good sign.

“That’s enough,” a voice calls out. “Leave them alone.”

Turning over my shoulder, Bucky glares at the group surrounding me. Perched on the sofa with Natasha at his side, they make the most threatening couple in the room. Lovely, by all means, but deadly—like twining sprigs of belladonna. 

“Come here,” Natasha beckons from her place under her partner’s arm. She gestures to an empty seat beside them. 

Unable to resist the call, I follow and sit. My favorite drink sits upon a coaster, ready and waiting. Though I refuse to let surprise color my expression.

The group disperses, off to look for the next spectacle. I sigh in relief and let my body sink into the cushions, cells buzzing from exertion.

“You were at your limit,” Bucky comments, a hint of disappointment in his tone, “you should have told them to fuck off.”

“I know my limit,” I reply, releasing the tension keeping me in Tony’s face. No longer intent on performance, I let my body shift in gradual motions. My bones clicking back into place, figure softening and rounding, until I sit before them as myself.

“You’re not here for their amusement,” Bucky insists, fists clenching together as he leans toward me. “Why do you let them do that to you?”

“Why not?” I answer, tilting my head to the side. “They like it.”

“But do you?” Natasha gazes at me with her piercing green eyes. 

And I cannot meet them. Because I know the answer, so does she. It doesn’t need to be said, but to meet her gaze would be to admit it. 

“You don’t need to—”

“I know,” I interrupt, face scrunching at the force of my statement. 

They say no more on the subject, keeping me company throughout the rest of the evening. Their presence surrounding me in a protective barrier that no one dare penetrate. Even when curious gazes drift in my direction, the assassins at my side dissuade them of any notions to approach.

“Thank you,” I relent when the party comes to its full close, the remaining attendees escorted out of the building. “It was nice to be myself for most of the night, as disappointing as it may be.”

“Who said you were disappointing?” Natasha asks, her fingers tipping my chin down to see her curious expression.

My shoulders shrug and I step away from her touch. “Thanks again, anyway.” A hasty retreat proves wise as final rounds of farewell take place, whispers following after me toward the elevator. 

“You know,” Natasha says a few weeks later, approaching me at the table while I eat my lunch, “it’s in our blood.”

At the cryptic comment, I raise a brow, pausing with my sandwich halfway to my lips.

“They forced it into us so hard that we can hardly tell how long it’s been there, melding with us, shaping us.” She sits across from me, arms folded on the wooden tabletop and leaning closer to me. “That involuntary notion to always fit. To break yourself a thousand different ways until you can be whoever they want you to be.”

I swallow and push away my plate, no longer feeling the pang of hunger when my stomach turns. “Why are you saying this?” My mouth dries, bile climbing up my throat.

“Because I see you,” she replies, simple as that. As if there can’t be any other explanation in the world. Her hand reaches out to my arm, squeezing the flesh in a comforting grip. “I know what it’s like.”

My eyes meet hers, emotion swelling deep within me and threatening tears. I grit my teeth, fighting against them to say, “What difference does that make?”

“Maybe not a big one. We’re spies, it’s what we do,” she says with a shrug, hand still resting on my arm. “But it doesn’t mean it’s who we have to be.” She pats my arm, standing from the seat. She steps closer, standing over me until I look up. “Or that we have to be alone.”

She walks off and I watch her leave. Each step she takes flaming the desire to rush after her and feel whatever it was that she inspired within me. That swelling rush of clarity that struck me at her concern. Something that felt strikingly like peace. 

Bucky doesn’t approach me as directly. He doesn’t say as much either. He simply finds me after a mission one day and hands me a bottle of my favorite juice. No comments or inquiries about how the mission went. Scaring off anyone who even thinks to approach.

He stays nearby—not hovering, but close and quiet, like a shadow.

He sits beside me while I write up my report. Trying to recall every detail of the mission. Every face I had to don and how many files I was able to copy and scrub. And he doesn’t leave until I drift asleep on my couch, watching my favorite movie and wrapped in a warm blanket. 

The next morning, I wake to him preparing me breakfast in my kitchen. Surprise doesn’t cover the jolt that spikes through my blood, body changing on instinct for an attack. 

“Hey,” he says, turning with his hands held up in placation, “you’re alright. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Then why are you here?” I ask, incredulous at his presence. Surely Natasha would need him more. Or at least expect him so early in the morning.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 

My mouth gapes open, his reasons incomprehensible. Am I some sort of pet project to them? Another amusement to occupy their time? A new way to treat the freak, to toy with me until I’m left shattered by their true intentions.

“You need to leave,” I utter, not understanding the words I say until they’re already hanging in the air between us. “Now.”

Bucky’s brow pinches in concern. He walks forward, skirting around my table and reaches out. I step back. 

“I don’t want to leave you alone,” he confesses, fidgeting with his metal arm and pulling his sleeve over the vibranium. 

“I’m always alone,” I reply with a shrug. “Don’t worry about it.”

He doesn’t move a muscle, staring at me. 

Shoulders tense, that nigh impossible to sense strain on my cells plucks in discomfort. Still wearing someone else’s face, then. Casting a glance to the mirror across the room, I swallow hard. Never worn a team member’s face before—especially not one like Natasha’s. Entranced by her features, I can’t bear to look away for a moment, wondering what it’s like to live in this skin. Everyday, a masterpiece. Fingers touch her cheek, feeling the softness and bone structure beneath.

“Friday?” Bucky calls out, the A.I. replying immediately. “Could you get Natasha in here, please?”

“No,” I cough in alarm, mind unfocused and flickering with images of people. Only one misplaced thought and—Pop!

It takes a moment to realize that the voice screaming in agony is my own. Body an indiscernible monstrosity of misshapen limbs and skin. I choke on air, ill-formed inside as I am out.

“Shit, sweetheart,” Bucky curses, hands hovering over this body I’ve created. “You gotta calm down, shift back.”

A gurgle is the only reply this throat can make, pain lancing through each cell of my being. Yet tears still form in my eyes, dripping down contorted cheeks, hands unable to wipe them away. So much pain, it blinds and burns. Legs unable to collapse from the intensity of it all, the bones fused at awkward angles and supporting me with nothing more than the inability to bend.

“What happened?” Natasha exclaims, rushing into the room in a panic. 

Bucky explains, hands raking through his long hair, pulling at the strands, fear rolling off him in waves. “What do we do?” he asks, looking between the two of us.

Natasha says my name softly, approaching on cautious feet. “Can you shift back?”

An almost imperceptible shake moves my head back and forth, unsure I can focus on anything with this pain consuming every thought. 

Her eyes dart around the room, getting closer and closer. Inhaling deeply, she begins to hum a song. Familiar and melancholy. Her arms wrap around me—as best they can with the disfigurement of my body. Her hands stroke over my twisted spine, a tilt of her head beckoning Bucky to join us.

His warmth ensconces me from behind, surrounding me. My eyes close, fighting back against the onslaught of pain and concentrating. The tension releases slowly, organs shifting and reforming properly before my bones crack and I collapse for the rest of the transformation. 

A gasp punches from my chest, body flooded with endorphins. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks, kneeling beside me and wiping the sweat from my brow.

I nod, delirious. 

Natasha settles beside her partner, resting a hand on his shoulder. They both look to each other, concern flashing in their eyes. They begin to rise, a slow trepidatious movement.

“Stay,” I whimper, reaching blindly to clutch at their legs, “Please.”

“Of course,” Bucky soothes, the tension in the air easing. He bends low and with the gentlest touch he can manage, lifts me from the floor. “We’re not leaving you.”

It happens on the next mission. My arm taking a life of its own. Refusing to turn back to my true form once the quinjet takes off from its landing pad. I stare at the foreign limb—veiny and grizzled. The tension of my transformation melts away. But it does not leave. 

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asks, taking the seat beside me. 

Without words to convey my confusion, I raise the unfamiliar digits of this hand for her to see. She takes it in her own, the touch light and careful.

“How do we fix this?”

“Lady B used to break it when I was younger,” I reply with a furrowed brow. “Something about the pain kickstarted the transformation back.”

“We’re not doing that,” she refuses, sitting back but keeping my hand in hers. “We’ll figure out another way.”

But nothing comes to mind on the journey back to the Tower. I’m left with the strange limb as I grab my gear and exit the jet, disturbed by this turn of events. My feet tread a curious path, seeking the one person I can think of to help.

“Bucky,” I greet, hiding my arm behind me. 

He smiles, standing from the couch and setting aside a thick book scrawled with some foreign language along the spine.

Still in my combat suit and not in the slightest prepared to change until my body gets back to normal—or at least the same figure all over—my attention settles upon the place where his metal arm should hang. It’s missing. 

He fidgets under my scrutiny, reaching up to his shoulder as if trying to conceal the sight of his empty sleeve. A faint thought tickles at the back of my mind, but I shake it away. No time for innocuous matters. 

“I need you to break my arm,” I announce, meeting his eye. “Please.”

His veneer cracks at my nonchalance, smile dropping from his lips. “Come again?”

I sigh, bringing the unsightly limb out from behind my back. “It won’t turn back.” The fist clenches.  “I need you to break it, so I can make it.”

Bucky’s lips open, wide eyes shining in confusion and the barest hint of betrayal. But I can think of no other way and—

“He’s not doing that,” Natasha bites from behind, shouldering past to wrap her arms around her partner and peck a kiss to his lips before turning back to me. “Why would you suggest something like that? After everything?” Hurt shines in her eyes, too, and I swallow around the lump that forms in my throat. 

We stand in silence for a long moment. I know the reason why I’m asking him. Why I told her on the jet. Why I’m coming to them out of every person inhabiting the Tower.

“I trust you more than anyone,” I reply in a wavering whisper. “There’s no one else.” My eyes squeeze shut, head turning away at the confession. Vulnerability more foreign and unsettling than the limb that refuses to reform to my true shape.

A soft sound of realization echoes from the pair. They stand still for a moment before approaching on wary, hopeful steps. 

It takes all night, but we find another way.

“You’re certainly quiet tonight,” Tony says, sidling up beside me and nudging his elbow into my side. “Don’t want to be center spotlight?”

“No,” I reply. A sip of my drink burns and tickles at the back of my throat. Scanning the crowd, I turn away from the man, but he’s not done with me quite yet. 

“Your besties not here yet?” he asks, leaning a smidge too far into my personal space. 

I sigh and move away, hoping he’ll get the hint. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Another sip burns, but satisfies the ire bubbling in my belly. Keeping it from climbing up my throat. 

He hums and drinks from his own glass, stepping aside to give me some space. His brow quirks, examining me like a specimen in a petrie dish. A sensation to which I’ve grown accustomed—with my upbringing and all. 

At least his eyes don’t sparkle with the expectation for amusement tonight, like I’m the main attraction. 

“Can I help you with something?” I inquire with the tilt of my head. 

“Maybe,” he says, smacking his lips. “I’ve been trying to puzzle it out, but can’t quite get the big picture.”

My teeth clench, jaw ticking, waiting for the deep dive into my past that always seems to come hand-in-hand with a scientific mind like his.

“Are you, Nat, and Bucky a thing?” He sets his empty glass down and gestures to me. “And if you are, what kind of thing are you?”

I remain silent, taken aback by his thought, but unable to answer. I couldn’t define it if given the chance. Natasha and Bucky might be able to, though. Yet none of it reveals itself upon my face, a mask of indifference holding strong.

“She’s our partner,” Bucky responds walking up with Natasha on his arm. Looking as elegant and deadly as they are. 

“Partner?” Tony looks between the couple and I, running a hand over his mouth.

“Yes,” Natasha replies.

The billionaire keeps looking, as if the truth will reveal itself without another word spoken. But in the end, he asks, “Romantic or vocational?”

“Yes,” she purrs, wrapping her arm through mine and leading me away without another glance back. When the temptation to gauge Tony’s reaction creeps up my spine, she senses it and soothes, “Don’t worry about him.” Her path guides us over toward a bench and sits us down, taking her place to my side and setting the super soldier on my other. “He means well, but always tries to place labels on things he doesn’t understand.”

Bucky’s fingers weave through mine on the bench, pressing his warm palm to my knuckles. Distracting me from Natasha.

“You look lovely,” he whispers in my ear. 

“Perfect, even,” Natasha adds, resting her head on my shoulder. Though I don’t know how she hears him. 

I don’t question it. Don’t need to. It just makes sense. In this loud and chaotic world, where everyone tries to drag me in every direction, where I must reform myself again and again for the pleasure of others, where they ask only for me—they just make sense. 

And I feel at peace.

[lemongogo]

can i say it .

[ironwoman359]

You Don’t Own Me (You Don’t Even Know Me)

Chapter 4

Navigation: Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6

Summary:  As the son of a Baron, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement rather than true love. Still, when he is sent away to marry an older, more powerful Earl, he is determined to make the best of his situation. Despite the Earl’s indifference towards him, Roman forges ahead and prepares to become the best husband he can possibly be, making new friends along the way. But when his fiancé’s demeanor turns from cold to cruel, Roman must shift all of his focus to survival, and find a way out of his marriage before it’s too late.

Ships: Logince, side Moxiety and Dukeceit

Content Warnings (overall): arranged marriage, abuse, attempted sexual assault, murder, poisoning, character death, hurt/comfort, angst Chapter 4 Warnings: possessive behavior, verbal and physical abuse, angst, allusions to abuse and murder 

Word Count: 4067

Read on AO3: here!

A/N: Co-written with @5-falsehoods-phonated​, check out his masterlist here and check out mine here! 

---

“And when I tried to get down, Remus spooked the pony and it bolted, with me still clinging to the saddle for dear life.” 

Virgil snorted, then immediately brought his hand up to cover his smile. 

“You wound me!” Roman said dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Eight-year-old me was certain that his life was going to end, and you’re laughing?” 

“I can’t help that the mental image of you dangling off the saddle of a pony and screaming your head off is the funniest thing I’ve seen all week,” Virgil replied. 

“Be nice, Virgil!” Patton scolded, even as he fought back giggles of his own. “I’m sure it was very scary at the time!” 

“You’re telling me,” Roman agreed. “I wouldn’t set foot near the stables for a month.” 

“I can’t believe that after all that you somehow grew up to be a competent rider,” Virgil said. 

“Well, I probably wouldn’t have if it weren’t for my older brother Remy. He started taking me with him when he went out on his rides; I felt a lot safer riding double with him than I did by myself.”

“Your brothers sound wonderful,” Patton said, smiling. 

“Oh, they’re the absolute worst,” Roman said. “But also I love them more than anyone.” 

“I hope we’ll get to meet them at the wedding!” 

Roman’s smile went brittle around the edges, and he forced himself to nod. 

“I hope so too,” he said quietly. 

Patton’s brow wrinkled, and Roman knew that look, that was Patton’s “I’m worried about you” look, and as much as he had come to view Patton and Virgil as his friends, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to get into the whole “my twin brother ran away from home to escape noble life and I haven’t seen him in years and might never see him again” topic with them just yet. 

“Well this has been great,” Virgil cut in suddenly. “But it’s getting close to midday; I need to get back to work, and you need to get to your little lunch date.” 

“Excuse you, it is a perfectly professional business meeting!” Roman protested, and Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Sure it is. That’s why you meet with Logan every single day and always perk up or get this silly smile on your face whenever you mention something that he said, most of which has nothing to do with business.” 

Roman gave Virgil a deadpan look. “Do you really want me to retaliate right now?” he asked, glancing pointedly at Patton. 

Virgil’s cheeks flushed pink, and he waved Roman away. 

“Go on, then!” he said. “Go have your perfectly professional business meeting.” 

“I will!” Roman said primly, but as he stood to leave, he shot Virgil a grateful smile, and Virgil nodded in return. 

After parting with Patton at the house’s entrance, Roman made the short trek down to the library alone. He hadn’t been sure how he would manage living at the Howard Estate at first, but his life had settled into a predictable yet comfortable routine since the engagement banquet. 

Patton brought breakfast to his room every morning, and after Roman insisted several times that he preferred the company, Patton now stayed to eat with him most mornings. After breakfast, Roman changed into his riding clothes and the two headed down to the stables together, where Virgil was waiting for them with Angel. Roman took his morning ride, and Patton and Virgil did whatever it was they liked to do when they were alone together. 

When he returned, Roman helped Virgil groom Angel, and the three of them often fell into easy conversation with one another. At midday, Roman took his lunch in the library with Logan, and he spent the afternoons on his own, exploring the mansion or indulging in his creative hobbies. All in all, his days were mostly pleasant, until dinnertime, of course. 

His nightly dinner with Lord Howard was, to his disappointment, the most boring and uncomfortable part of Roman’s day. It became clear to Roman after a few attempts of engaging with his fiance that Lord Howard wasn’t even slightly interested in talking with him; what he wanted was somebody to talk at. Roman sat, night after night, and listened to the earl rant about frustrating business partners, idiotic city officials, and even tiny annoyances like a scuff on his boot or a fly in his office. It was difficult to not feel like an emotional punching bag, and Roman always left dinner exhausted from playing the polite, doting fiance that Lord Howard expected him to be. 

Roman stepped into the library, and smiled when he saw Logan sitting at a table beneath a window, the afternoon sun casting golden beams of light through his long hair.

At least there were more positives than negatives to living at this estate. 

“Ah, Roman,” Logan said, smiling as he approached. “Excellent timing, I was just beginning to review my weekly report for Lord Howard. Would you care to assist me?”

“Always,” Roman said, sitting down across from him. 

They poured over the receipts and summaries and work orders together, and Roman couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer amount of work that Logan did every single day. 

“Honestly, Logan, you do almost too much for the earl. Especially considering what he pays you.” 

Roman had seen the payroll receipts for all the staff, and he couldn’t help but be a little insulted on the servants’ behalf. One of the ways Lord Howard kept costs down was clearly at the expense of his staff. 

“While I may agree with your sentiment, the fact of the matter is that if I did not do all this, the estate would fall apart,” Logan said. “And regardless of any...personal feelings about his lordship, there are far too many people who depend on him and his estate for me to consider stopping.” 

Logan paused, frowning as he scanned a document, then sighed. 

“For instance, his lordship neglected to sign off on a shipment of new armor to the city guard, despite my reminding him to do so three times in the last week.” 

He scrawled something along the bottom of the document and set it aside, and Roman raised an eyebrow. 

“Was that Lord Howard’s name you just wrote?” 

Logan fiddled with his glasses, and he glanced around the room before answering. “This is...not the first time that his lordship has neglected his duties on what he perceives to be minor issues. I, uh...take the liberty of correcting such oversights for him.”

“You can forge his handwriting?” Roman translated, and Logan nodded sheepishly. “That’s amazing!” 

Logan blinked, looking up at Roman in clear surprise. “I...it is?” 

“Are you kidding me?” Roman exclaimed. “Of course it is...you’re so talented, Logan, really. I’m not exaggerating when I say you’re wasted as a secretary.” 

“Oh...well, thank you, Roman,” Logan said, his cheeks flushing slightly pink. “I must admit, you also have far more potential than his lordship would care to acknowledge.” 

“I’ll get him to see sense soon,” Roman insisted. “Then maybe together, we can make some real changes around here!” 

“I wish I shared your optimism,” Logan said with a sigh. “But I am glad to share your company, at least.”

It was Roman’s turn to blush, but before he could think of a reply, the sound of footsteps caught his attention, and he looked up to see Patton approaching their table. 

“Sorry for interrupting, Kiddos, but I’ve been asked to fetch Roman here and get him ready.” 

“Get me ready?” Roman asked, and Patton nodded. 

“His lordship requests your presence at a business meeting he has in an hour with other estate holders. I’ve been instructed to dress you for the event and bring you to his lordship.” 

Roman forced down the twinge of discomfort in the back of his mind at the earl choosing an outfit for him like he was some sort of doll, and grinned as he got to his feet. 

“You see, Logan?” he said. “This is our chance!”

“If it is a meeting with other nobility, then I’m afraid I won’t be present,” Logan said. “Lord Howard does not wish for...commoners to be present at such negotiations. He instructs me on what measures need to be taken afterwards.”  

“That’ll be the first thing we change then, once I make him see reason,” Roman said. “You’ll see, this is going to be the start of something great!” 

“I hope you are right,” Logan said with a small smile. “Good luck, Roman.” 

“Thank you, Logan,” Roman said as he followed Patton out of the library. 

I’ll certainly need it. 

--- --- ---

Roman fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair, shooting a glance over to the earl to make sure he hadn’t noticed. The silky fabric that his pants were made of stuck uncomfortably to his skin and made his legs itch horribly, but he had been in similar attire before and had had plenty of practice in the art of keeping his poise while screaming internally. Thankfully, even though he was seated right next to Lord Howard, he had yet to draw his attention. Howard had been too occupied bragging about his various business exports for most of the meeting to pay much attention to him. 

Even through his discomfort, Roman had been learning a lot about his fiance, dutifully keeping mental notes on everything he heard, from which parts of land he had inherited to which ones he had bought or negotiated into owning. Overseas businesses and local investments both let his power reach farther than one might first suspect, and all that put together was what kept the Howard Estate with its acres of land, sprawling mansion and extensive grounds and highly specialized staff all running smoothly. 

It was a lot to manage, so it made sense that Lord Howard had Logan figure out most of the work and only signed off on the most important things himself. Having someone as competent as Logan run things in the background so the true estate head could make the actual appearances as the business leader was a strategy many nobles used to keep their properties under control. 

Craning his neck to look up at his fiance from his lower seat, Roman furrowed his brow in thought. He wondered just how much Logan did that the earl never saw anything about until he reaped the benefits of it. Sure, Logan was extremely capable, but relying entirely on one person to manage everything seemed a bit foolhardy to Roman.

Tuning back into the conversation, Roman perked up as another lord gestured stiffly at a stack of documents in front of him, smooth calculation clear in his tone of voice. Negotiations were something Roman had always prided himself in handling, and handling well. He had often spoken circles around his own father in their practice debates, and it was rare that Roman participated in a discussion without gaining something in his own favor. 

As neither party at the moment looked particularly stressed, Roman figured with a slight twinge of disappointment that such measures shouldn’t be needed this time. He would have liked to show off just a bit and make Lord Howard see what a useful asset he could actually be in their marriage, but he supposed that could wait until a more appropriate opportunity.

“I have most of the influence in this field anyway. Signing your bit of land over to me now would cause fewer problems for you in the future; especially if I don’t have to take it by force when I’m looking to expand.”  Punctuating his statement with a firm tap to the papers, the opposing lord sat back with a satisfied smirk.

The icy glare Lord Howard fixed him with was enough to wipe the smirk fully off his face, however, and he tilted back slightly as the earl leaned forward to fold his hands smoothly in front of him. 

“I’m not in the habit of signing away what’s rightfully mine, Lord Rilken, Baron of Vilvik.”

Roman flinched slightly at the way he practically spat the other man’s title…a title he shared, and had never once felt insecure about until this very moment. The way he spoke to these men, these people in positions of power, like they were nothing but dirt to be brushed off his own much more impressive riches- it was enough to make Roman want to run all the way back to his own estate and beg for another way, plead to wait for someone else to ask for his hand or to find someone himself. He stiffened in his seat and shook the irrational thoughts away. 

No, this is how one played the game when negotiating important matters. Put up a cold and intimidating front until the other person backed down or bent to your own suggestions. If anything, Lord Howard's act was admirable; it almost immediately shut down any arguments, even if it hardly held any semblance of tact. Realizing this would be a good opportunity to show his skills, Roman leaned forward and placed his own hands on the table in front of him, gaining the attention of the opposing business owners quickly.

“It might prove advantageous to you both to simply form a partnership and share the land and business potential it holds. With as much power as the both of you hold over this branch, you’d be able to expand much faster and reap more benefits than you would if you spent all of your time attempting to take control over the others’ sections.” Pleased with himself, Roman glanced over to Lord Howard, expecting at least to have impressed him since he hadn’t really had the time to explain all that he had been trained in and what he could bring to the estate with their union. 

However, as he met Lord Howard’s eyes, ice ran through his veins. The earl was glaring, staring him down like a particularly resilient bug that he could hardly wait to smash beneath a steel-toed boot. The room went so quiet that Roman could swear that the other nobles were holding their breath, and glancing around in his peripherals, he saw everyone sitting around the table gawking at him as if he’d just committed high treason. Had he really said something so wrong? Was this not what was customary, nay, expected behavior of the soon to be co-owner of the estate? Shrinking down slightly as his ears burned red, he finally lowered his eyes as the earl turned away. Roman heard him take a deep breath before saying in a deliberately controlled voice:

“You must forgive my fiance, he hails from a country estate you see; he isn’t accustomed to the way things work here yet. If you would be so kind as to excuse us for just a moment so that I may explain a few things?” Not waiting for an answer, the earl stood and held out his hand for Roman to take. “If you would step into the hall with me, dearest?”

Recognizing the order under the request, Roman stood quickly and took Lord Howard’s hand, wincing at how tightly he was gripped and practically dragged out of the room. The door was opened just a bit too forcefully to calm his nerves in the slightest and he watched as Lord Howard seemed to barely refrain from slamming it back closed, instead closing it with deliberate calm before whirling around to face him and jerking his hand out of Roman’s to tower before him.

“Let me make this perfectly clear, you do not speak out of turn in these meetings. You do not speak above me or-”

“But I didn’t! I was only-” Roman didn’t register what the dull smacking sound echoing in his ears and making them ring was until pain bloomed and spread from his lower jaw to his entire cheek. Raising his hand to his face in disbelief, he felt a bit of wetness and looked to see blood on his fingertips. Fear and horror twisted in his gut as he realized one of Lord Howard’s rings must have caught on his cheek and opened a cut. His jaw ached and his teeth felt numb; the blow had been hard enough to rattle them in his skull. Romans looked up and flinched as he saw Howard’s hand still raised to strike should he choose to speak again, and he shrunk in on himself in an attempt to seem too small to expend more energy on.

“You,” The earl spat, “do not speak above me, or make suggestions on my behalf. You are not here to offer up useless opinions that were not asked for or needed. You were brought into that room to sit obediently and look pretty on my arm and that is the full extent that your role will ever be. Have I made myself clear?”

Roman hesitated for just a second too long, and Lord Howard reached down to grip his chin, tipping his head so he had no choice but to look his assailant directly in the eyes. “My dear, I believe I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”

Biting back a whimper Roman nodded as much as he could with his face trapped in the steely grip. “Yes my lord, I understand perfectly. I apologize for overstepping, it won’t happen again.”

The answer, as demeaning as it had felt to say, seemed to appease the still seething man, and Howard dropped his chin and stepped back with a wolfish smile. 

“Very good, see to it that it doesn’t. Now, I believe we’ve been here long enough. If you’re done blubbering, you may join me.”

Startling a bit at the choice of phrasing, Roman hesitantly reached up to touch his face, wincing as he realized there was more than just blood on his cheeks. Taking a deep breath, he carefully wiped the tears away before plastering on a small smile and moving to stand just behind the earl. He was loath to go back into the room like this, humiliation and blood reddening his cheeks, but he didn’t dare speak up for fear of more punishment. As Lord Howard opened the door and moved back to his place at the head of the table, he hardly spared Roman another glance, and Roman had no choice but to meekly follow. 

Sitting down, Roman realized most of the people at the table were staring at him like one would a fresh kill, their expressions a mixture of pity and approval while they averted their eyes. Sinking down even lower as the meeting resumed, he realized this was to be the second part of his punishment. He was to learn and remember his role as Lord Howard’s betrothed and eventual husband. Sit still and look pretty, step a toe out of line and be punished, and make sure everyone in the room knew that the power held over him was just as absolute as the power the earl held over everything else. 

“I’m pleased to know some people still know how to keep common folk in line. Truly, the disrespect-” Roman’s ears rang as someone close by whispered to another just loud enough for him to overhear, making him want to sink down even lower and let the floor swallow him. 

The meeting continued on for what seemed like forever, but unlike before, Roman didn’t absorb a single word of what was said. The voices of the other lords washed over him as he sat as still as he could, hands clenched in his lap to keep them from trembling. When at last Lord Howard stood, Roman almost stood up next to him, but caught himself just in time and sent a questioning glance up at his fiance. 

Lord Howard’s lips curled into a smile, and he held his arm out to Roman in invitation. Roman swallowed down his revulsion and stood, slipping his arm into the earl’s and schooling his face into a pretty smile. Lord Howard covered Roman’s hand with his own, and Roman’s skin burned at the touch. 

“Well gentlemen, this concludes our discussion for the day, I do thank you all for coming.” 

One by one the nobles stood, nodding to Lord Howard as they filed out of the room. Roman’s cheeks heated as several of them swept their eyes over him as they passed, their gazes lingering on the bruise blooming on his face. When at last, every one of them was gone, Lord Howard turned his attention to Roman, all false pleasantries gone from his expression. 

“I trust that after today, any...confusion about your role here has been cleared up?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. 

“Yes, my lord,” Roman whispered, and the earl smiled. 

“Good. Now go clean yourself up. Dinner is at seven o’clock sharp, and I expect you to look presentable.” 

“Yes, my lord,” Roman repeated, and as soon as Lord Howard dropped his arm, he practically bolted from the room. 

He hurried through the corridors of the mansion, head down and eyes stinging. When he finally reached his room, he all but slammed the door behind him, and collapsed to the floor, his shoulders shaking as he released the sob he’d been holding back for the past hour. 

He let himself cry, for how long, he wasn’t sure, not only for the sting on his cheek and the shame that came with it, but for every doubt, every grief, every pain that he’d pushed down and bottled up over the past month.  

After everything he’d been through, everything he’d sacrificed, was this really his fate? Chained forever to a man who only saw him as something to own, to display, to use... 

Roman lifted his head slowly. 

“Remember all that we've taught you, and you'll do fine." 

His father had taught him everything he knew about business, about politics, about matters of the state. He knew how to act with decorum, how to spot an opportunity, and how to charm a room while negotiating, all thanks to his father’s teachings. 

But now, with tears running down his face and a bruise blossoming on his cheek, he remembered another set of lessons. 

Lessons his mother had given him as a teenager, after time had run its course and he was no longer the slightly awkward, gangly kid he had once been. 

“You’ve grown into a handsome young man,” his mother had said to him on his eighteenth birthday. “Your father believes that when you are married, it will be purely for political reasons. You need to know that this may not be the case.” 

Roman had tried to forget the lessons his mother had passed down to him, had told himself that he would never need them...but here he was, sobbing on the floor, the first of what he knew would be many marks on his skin if he didn’t tread carefully. 

Roman learned everything he knew about running an estate from his father, but he learned everything about acting from his mother. Thanks to her, he knew how to conceal his emotions, how to smile when his stomach rolled over and how to sigh when his skin burned. He knew how to mold himself into the perfect husband, because if he did not let himself be molded he would find himself broken before it was too late. 

“Too late for what, mother?” the younger him had asked, eyes wide and horrified, and she’d smiled in a way he’d never seen before. 

“Did I ever tell you the story of how your grandfather died?” 

Roman knew what situations were most likely to result in “accidents,” what weapons were easily concealed and what poisons were difficult to detect. He knew how to pluck a nose hair to bring tears to his eyes and slap his cheeks so they appeared flushed. He knew how to appear calm and collected when he was suffering, and how to appear stricken with grief when all he felt was relief. 

He had been preparing for marriage his whole life...every kind of marriage. And now that he knew the kind of husband that Lord Howard really wanted, he knew exactly what kind of husband he was going to be. 

Even if he wouldn’t be one for very long. 

--- --- ---

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[the-modernmary]

my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (ch. 1)

Summary: When Aaron Hotchner ended your affair with him, saying that a serial killer was going after him and his family, you were content with the idea that you’d probably never see him again. Two years have come and gone since then, but when you get dragged into an FBI investigation as a key witness, you and Hotch are forced to come face to face with all the things left unsaid.

Warnings: n/a

A/N: Thank you for all of the love on the prologue!! like WOW i couldn't have expected that big of a response so THANK YOU!!! As a reminder: I already have the first 17 chapters out on ao3, so I will be updating on here pretty quickly! This takes place two years after the prologue, and this is where the actual storyline starts!

masterlist || read on ao3

Anything you say can and will be held against you

So only say my name

It will be held against you

-Fall Out Boy, “Just One Yesterday”

Present Day- Two Years Later

You tugged at the handcuff that was attaching you to the interrogation table, hoping that if you glared at it enough, it would just go away. One minute, you were at your apartment and getting ready to go out with some of your friends, and the next minute Metro D.C. police were banging on your door, ordering you to go with them, no charges and no explanation.

So now you were just stuck, sitting and waiting for somebody to tell you what the hell this all was about. Law school had taught you enough about interrogation tactics, and they were pulling out all of the stops- turning down the room temperature, forcing you to sit in the most uncomfortable chair you’ve ever been in, and just making you be by yourself in the metal room. A small part of you was nervous, but mostly you were just confused. You couldn’t think of anything you’d done that would warrant your arrest.

Just as the isolation of the room was about to get to you, the door swung open and in walked two people. The first one was a petite blonde woman and following her was a younger looking man in a cardigan. You narrowed your eyes slightly at the site of them. You had expected the usual “good cop/bad cop” technique, but neither of these cops looked very intimidating.

“Hi there,” the woman spoke, sliding into the chair across from you. “My name is Agent Jareau and this is Dr. Reid. We’re here to ask you a few questions.”

Her name sounded familiar, but you couldn’t quite place where you knew it from. You raised an eyebrow and jutted your head towards Dr. Reid. “Is the handsome one not an agent?” you asked, leaning back in your chair.

Dr. Reid seemed unphased by your question, as if he was used to that question. “I am an agent. But I also have three doctorates,” he answered.

You just smirked at him before looking back at Agent Jareau. She had placed a file on the table, the seal of the FBI practically staring you in the face. Whatever they brought you in for was an FBI matter? Oh, you were definitely screwed. You tried to keep your cool. “So are you guys going to actually charge me with anything, or are you just going to hold me for 72 hours until you find something to stick?” you accused.

Agent Jareau shook her head, and you were still desperately trying to remember how you knew that name. “The faster you cooperate, the faster we can let you go.” It didn’t go unnoticed to you that she refused to answer your question. She leaned over the table slightly to slide the file towards you and you caught a glimpse of her ID. Everything came back to you at once.

Jennifer Jareau. FBI. Business cards. “You can set up a formal meeting with me at the BAU…” Holy shit, you did know that name.

You laughed softly to yourself and crossed your legs as the memories came flooding back. “Okay, I’ll cooperate,” you agreed, but you were looking directly at the two way mirror. “But only if I can speak to your unit chief. It still is Aaron Hotchner, correct?” Your voice was innocent enough to not be too suspicious, but you knew it would drive Aaron crazy. It was the same voice you would use when he had a fistfull of your hair and you were promising to be his good girl.

You could only imagine what was going on behind that two way mirror; Aaron’s team looking at him with complete and utter confusion, trying to figure out how you knew him, all while Aaron was probably clenching his teeth, red with anger. Maybe if you made him mad enough, he would bend you over the interrogation table once everybody else had left.

Jennifer and Dr. Reid shared a quick glance before looking back at you. Dr. Reid spoke first. “It would be best if we could go over our questions with you first.”

You bopped your head, pretending to think it over. “I get it, the two of you have a job to do and you have a strategy to stay in control, so I’ll give you guys a choice. You can let me speak to Agent Hotchner or I lawyer up and invoke the 5th.”

Like clockwork, the door swung open violently and Aaron stormed in. “I’ll take it from here,” he ordered, and the other two agents quickly shuffled out of the room.

He sat down in the seat across from you and you just raised the hand that was handcuffed to the table, wiggling your fingers. He was pissed, you could tell, and you loved every second of it. You leaned over the table, signalling for him to move closer to you. He hesitated, which earned him a roll of your eyes, but he eventually leaned over the table too.

“If you wanted me in handcuffs again for you, you didn’t have to go through all this effort. My phone number hasn’t changed,” you whispered, low enough so that the group watching on the other side of the mirror couldn’t hear. He refused to answer and instead just pulled back to his normal seated position. Ever the good agent, Aaron’s face went back to it’s normal, stoic look, and it made you pout. You wanted to get more of a rise out of him.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” he said cooly. “Why don’t we get started?” You realized with a sinking feeling that he was already starting to lose interest in you flirting, his attention focused back on the task at hand, attention that you selfishly wanted all to yourself.

You slipped off the heels you were wearing and stretched your leg out so that your foot could brush against his leg. If you couldn’t touch him with your hands right now, you were going to make sure he could feel you in some way. His eyes shot up to yours, giving you a warning look, as if to say “Stop right now or I’m going to make you.”

You knew that look too well, craved for it even. You just responded with a smirk and dropped your foot, relishing in the fact that he actually looked slightly disappointed that you stopped.

“How are Haley and Jack doing, Aaron?” you asked lazily, leaning back in your chair. “Visiting them more often?”

Aaron cleared his throat and ran his hand down his tie to flatten it, as if it had come out of place. He was always so put together at work. “Jack is fine. Haley passed away a while ago,” he said quickly, and guilt immediately engulfed you.

You lowered your gaze so that you were staring at the interrogation table. “Oh,” you mumbled. “I’m sorry.” And you really were sorry. Sure, your relationship, or lack of relationship, with Haley was weird. You were sleeping with her ex before the divorce papers had time to be fully submitted, and even though Aaron was well in his right to be with whoever he wanted, the two of you still found yourselves sneaking around with each other. But you never had anything against her personally- she seemed like a great mother and obviously made Aaron happy for however long they were married.

Besides, you could take a guess as to what happened to Haley. Your fling with Aaron lasted for a fun few months, neither of you ever expecting anything other than sex whenever you met up, so when you and Aaron had decided to stop seeing each other, it was completely amicable. He had explained that the BAU was closing in on a serial killer who was going after him and his family, and you did not want to be involved in that mess. The fact that Haley died right as a serial killer was chasing her… that definitely wasn’t just a coincidence.

The tension was thick in the room as the two of you desperately searched for how to continue the conversation. What were you supposed to say after finding out your fuck buddy’s ex wife was murdered?

You started talking before your brain could even process what you were saying. “Well, like told you, if you ever need somebody to help you pick up those broken pieces...”

He ignored you, electing to direct the conversation in his own direction. “You know, I read the paper you were working on,” he said casually, and that sure caught you by surprise.

“You did?” you asked.

“You piqued my interest,” he admitted. “Your professor and I worked on a few cases together, so he gave me a copy. It was good. You are much more professional on paper.”

“I could say the same about you,” you countered, and he gave you a hint of a genuine smile.

“Although I did notice that you didn’t mention The People vs. Michaelson anywhere in it.” There was something in his voice that put you on edge. You could feel yourself walking into his trap, but you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to know more.

You shrugged. “Well, I got some shit information about the case.”

For a split second, you thought you saw a flash of the old Aaron, but just as quickly as it came, it disappeared, and he was business as usual. “What intrigued me even more, however,” he continued, completely ignoring your previous comment. “Was that you didn’t mention recidivism at all, which is what that case is all about. Your thesis was on jury selection. Why ask me about the case if you weren’t going to use the information for school?”

You glared at him and clenched your hands into fists, your nails digging into your palms. What a dick. He knew why you were interested in the case- it mirrored your father’s situation almost perfectly. You were 12 the first time your father was arrested. When your mom realized that your dad was involved with some shady people, she immediately turned him into the cops to protect you. The prosecutor barely even tried during the case and your dad was in and out of prison within two years. The day he was released, he came right back to your home and killed your mom out of revenge. He’s now rotting in a max security prison for life, but you were still angry that he even had the opportunity to come after your mom. It’s why you wanted to become a prosecutor in the first place, so that you could ensure these criminals were actually brought to justice.

Aaron knew all that. You realized as he began to inch the case file closer to you that he was just trying to knock you off balance. The actual interrogation hadn’t even started yet. “And you say that I’m the one who gets under people’s skin,” you snapped at him.

Aaron humed to himself, arrogance oozing off of him. If you weren’t so angry at him, you would have thought it was hot. “You’re currently interning at DuPont and Associates?” You nodded, annoyed at him brushing off your last comment. “What do you know about the recent string of murders in the area?” Aaron asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed at his question. “Um… Just what they’re saying on the news? Somebody has been killing a bunch of people whose cases were dismissed because of technicalities- their Miranda rights were read incorrectly and that kind of stuff. I haven’t really been keeping up,” you admitted, still unsure of why you were there.

Aaron flipped open the case files, and instead of gruesome crime scene photos, you just saw legal briefs. More shocking, however, was that they were all legal briefs you had helped write. “Each of these victims had their initial cases through duPont and Associates, and we found that you were the only person who assisted on every case. What did you think about those dismissals? Some of these people really should have been locked up, wouldn’t you agree?”

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried desperately to find the words to say. Unconsciously, you started to tug at the handcuff again, as if they would suddenly just release you if you fought it enough. “Maybe, but that’s not really my decision,” you said disdainfully. Then the fear and realization slowly creeped into you. “Wait you don’t… you guys don’t think I did this, do you?” Your voice was rough and panicky.

Aaron placed his hands on the cold metal of the interrogation table, his fingers interlocked. His FBI Unit Chief exterior melted away ever so slightly. “No, I don’t,” he said softly, and his use of “I” instead of “We” did not go unnoticed by you. You weren’t sure if you were comforted by that or not. “But you are our best lead right now, and I think you know more than you realize. We have reason to believe that the unsub works for the law firm you’re interning at and is playing out a vigilante fantasy and considering you are the only one who actually worked on every single case, we need to use you and your position at the firm to get more intel.”

We need to use you. He realized his slip before he even finished his sentence. It was innocuous enough that his team probably didn’t even notice it; He was just letting a potential witness know that they were going to be an important part of the investigation. But you knew Aaron better than that, and you could see the wheels turning in his brain as he tried to figure out how to go back on what he just said.

You gave him a smirk and brought your elbows up on the table, steepling your fingers. Of course you were going to help them, whatever they needed. You’d do that even if Aaron wasn’t involved. But after being forcibly brought to the interrogation room, you figured you could make him sweat a little. “Oh Aaron, I’m flattered that you think I could be an asset to the BAU’s investigation. But if you want something from me, you’re going to have to ask for it.”

You got him right where you wanted him. You knew he wasn’t going to be happy with the roll reversal, using his own words against him. But you missed the playful banter between you and Aaron, and nobody knew how to get you off the way he did. Aaron had quite literally ruined sex for you, much to your disappointment. The other people you had slept with since meeting Aaron all lacked the confidence and intelligence that Aaron brought to every meeting, and they could never walk that fine line of fucking you like they adored you and hated you at the same time.

The way that Aaron would demand you to ask and use your words was more than just a way for him to remain in control, although you knew that was definitely part of it. And it was more than just checking for consent- that always came earlier and you had your safeword. No, it was more than all of that. He wanted to hear you beg for the things you wanted, as if he wanted to be validated; He always wanted to know that you still wanted him, which you did. So you just kept asking him for things, and he happily kept giving them to you.

Aaron looked downright murderous, his eyebrows scrunched together and his breathing getting heavier. He stood up and slammed the case file shut. “I’m not going to ask for anything, because where I’m standing, I have the control here. In case you forgot, you’re in handcuffs and I can walk out of here whenever I want.” But even as he said it, he stayed exactly where he was, his hands on the table and leaning down so that he was closer to you.

In return, you just arched your eyebrow at him, waiting for his question. He had to ask you for the sake of his job and the case and you both knew it, and you got a strange satisfaction from watching him have to ask you for something for once. He stared at you for a few moments, jaw clenching, until he realized the entire BAU team was behind the two way mirror watching this situation go down. “Will you please help us with the case?” he asked through gritted teeth.

You gave him a smug smile, which only served to irritate him further. “I would love to,” you told him, your voice too sweet and too innocent. “Now can you please take my handcuffs off?”

Aaron walked towards you wordlessly, taking the keys out of his pockets. “You’ll still have to wait here for a few minutes so that you can sign some papers,” he told you, keeping his voice even, but it all changed as he kneeled next to you, slowly unlocking the handcuffs. His fingers lingered on your skin for far too long to be considered appropriate. “Don’t get too comfortable,” he whispered in your ear, voice low enough so that nobody could hear what he was saying. “You’re going to be in handcuffs for the rest of night while I punish you for that little show you decided to give everybody. Did you already forget how to not be a brat? Do I have to teach you again?”

His words made your arousal shoot straight to your core. You were released with a soft click! and you rubbed your irritated wrist lightly. “Yes,” you practically moaned, and you were sure that your face was flushed. And just like that, it was as if only a few days had passed since you and Aaron had last seen each other, instead of two years. The two of you fell back into an easy rhythm. “I still live in the same apartment. Five minutes from here.”

With that, Aaron stormed out of the interrogation room, already barking orders at the cops. “Get her processed and out of here quickly, I don’t want to spend anymore time on this,” he demanded, making a beeline to grab his stuff. Unfortunately for him, Rossi was standing right in front of Aaron’s bag, a knowing smirk on his face. Aaron stopped mid step and groaned in annoyance. “Dave, don’t.”

Rossi just ignored him. “Old friend?” he asked, stepping aside just enough to let Aaron grab his bag.

Aaron looked around quickly and was relieved to see that there were no other BAU members near them. “You could say that,” Aaron mumbled and started to walk to the doors.

To his dismay, Rossi just followed him. “She’s pretty,” Rossi hummed, and Aaron hated how easily Rossi was able to keep this conversation so casual. “Not your usual type, though.” It didn’t take a profiler to get the underlying comment: She’s young.

Aaron took an audible breath, keeping his eyes on the exit sign that seemed to be getting further and further away. “Yeah, well…” His voice trailed off, unable to find a good response.

“When did you meet her?”

Aaron paused, deciding how honest he was going to be. He figured that if anybody was going to find out, it would be Rossi, and if he was honest with Rossi now, they would be able to keep it a secret from the rest of the team. He cleared his throat. “An alumni event at George Washington. Before Foyet but after the divorce.” Another pause. “Right after the divorce,” he clarified.

Rossi just nodded understandably, a soft “Ah” coming from his lips. He would push the full story out of Aaron later, but it was obvious that Aaron was just desperate to get out of the police station. “Okay, well... I will let the team know about your emergency meeting with Strauss that she just called, which is why you’re leaving so quickly. And if they ask, from what you’re telling me, Y/N is just one of Sean’s old friends from before he dropped out of law school. I’m pretty sure you never got along with his friends, am I correct?” Sometimes, Rossi was too good at thinking on his feet.

Aaron turned to face Rossi, his mouth open and ready to argue, but he knew there was no point. With Rossi’s lie, it would keep the team from asking too many questions, at least until Aaron got his need for you out of his system. Just one night, he promised himself. That’s all I’ll need. So instead of arguing, Hotch just nodded at Rossi, a hint of a smile on his face. It made it all worth it, in Rossi’s eyes. Aaron hadn’t been this excited about a girl since Haley’s death. He deserved a night of fun. “Thank you,” Aaron breathed before swiftly stepping out of the police station.

[joaquinwhorres]

The Fool (Ch. 6) {Fred Weasley x F!OC}

SUMMARY ››››› After getting tangled up with the Weasley Twins during the events of the Quidditch World Cup, Wren Collings’ life takes a turn for the chaotic. It threatens everything she has going for her, but she’s not convinced that’s entirely a bad thing.

PAIRING ››››› Fred Weasley x Female OC

WORD COUNT ››››› 4,589

WARNINGS ››››› There is no depression or mental health issues in this story, but there are mentions of death, violence, abuse, some PTSD, etc. As most of the specific warnings revolve around major plot points or are found throughout most chapters, I’m just going to rate certain chapters on the movie scale. This is chapter PG-13.

A/N ››››› General plea for validation through reblogs and comments.

Series Masterlist | Read on ff.net | Read on AO3

Wren felt sick all morning.

Ever since Fred and George had been escorted off to the Hospital Wing by Lee Jordan, she felt as if her stomach was twisting in on itself. She supposed this was a natural reaction to sending your friends to the Hospital Wing--a theory that was further solidified throughout the day as it seemed like everybody was talking about the failed attempts to enter the Tournament. Fred and George were not the only ones thwarted by the ageline, but their story was by far the most popular throughout the castle. Wren had even heard a group of ghosts gossiping about it, and several portraits had stopped her on her way to the common room to interrogate her about the incident and settle a debate as to whether their beards had gone down to their waist or their ankles.

The Common Room was not much safer in terms of avoiding talk of the Failure. Lee Jordan appeared to be holding court in the corner, recounting the story from his perspective to an enraptured audience, and even up in her room, Wren couldn't seem to get away from the terrible feeling that had made itself right at home in her core. Even her Potions' homework wasn't enough to distract her from the fact that Fred and George still hadn't made their way up to the common room yet, and it was nearing lunch.

Which was why right before noon, Wren found herself hovering outside the Hospital Wing.

It seemed to be busier than normal, which wasn't that much of a surprise, given how many names of unsuccessful entrants Wren'd heard other students throw around. She had to admit though, that she was a bit surprised at how raucous the noise was. Wren edged a bit closer to the open door, one voice rising above the others in an uncanny imitation of an old Scottish woman. "Albus, last year a known murderer and pack of Dementors roamed the school, and the year before that the heir of Slytherin opened the Chamber of Secrets. Perhaps, we could open it up to all students turning 17 this year?"

A slow measured voice responded, "Now, now, Minerva. Dementors and Basilisks are one thing, but a student died over 200 years ago from this Tournament. And even though it's now Ministry sanctioned, and we could potentially make it a tad bit safer, we must remain true to the spirit of the games, and only students who are of age can enter."

"But Albus, a student died--"

Footsteps rounded the corner, and Wren jumped back whirling on the couple who just came down the hallway.

Not a couple.

The bronze haired boy who was smirking as he said something to the girl walking beside him was Simon. He looked up from the blonde, his eyes landing on Wren who was just a step away from entering the Hospital Wing, and surprise quickly overtook his features. Still, he didn't look quite as surprised as Wendy Fairchild did, her cheeks turning a delicate pink.

"Wren?" Simon said, as if he couldn't believe that she was actually there. Then again, she could count the number of times she'd been to the Hospital Wing over the past six years on her fingers, so maybe it wasn't entirely unreasonable for him to be so shocked. Her eyes were drawn once again to Wendy, who suddenly looked very uncomfortable and very trapped. Simon stepped away from the blonde and towards Wren. "Did something happen? Are you alright?"

Her eyes shifted to the Hospital Wing's door, the noise suddenly quelled by the sound of a sharp admonishment. "I had a stomach ache, is all," Wren said, stepping further away from the door.  "Hi Wendy."

"Hi Wren," Wendy greeted, her eyes darting between the couple as the tension between the three thickened. The blonde Ravenclaw licked her lips, her eyes darting for Simon as if he'd provide a way out of the awkward situation but he was focused on Wren, the worry gone from his face, and a cool stoniness taking over in its place. A small sigh escaped Wendy. "Well, I best be going. Thank you again for the help, Simon," she offered a brief strained smile at the couple before hurrying off down the hallway.

Wren looked down at the stones between her and her boyfriend, eyes studying the grooves and dimples.

"I heard about what happened to Fred and George," Simon remarked, and Wren's stomach rolled. Words bubbled up, excuses and explanations and apologies all at the tip of her tongue as she looked up at him, but he continued. "I'm sure you see now why I didn't want you to do it."

Wren flushed and nodded her head, pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. "Simon I--"

"It's ok, Wren," Simon cut her off, stepping forward and folding her into his arms. "I forgive you." He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hand. "At least you realized how foolish it'd be and pulled out."

Wren offered up a shaky smile which dissolved as Simon bent forward and kissed her, before releasing her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Maybe next time, you'll just listen to me."

The sick feeling in her gut was worse, her insides churning in protest even as she kept her lips sealed shut, keeping her confession trapped inside. Simon looked down at her, seeming to note her silence.

He sighed, withdrawing his arm from around her. "You might as well just ask, I know what you're wondering."

Wren's brow furrowed in confusion as she cast him a look. "What I'm wondering?"

"Wren, I'm not stupid. I saw the look you gave me with Wendy, and I see the look you're giving me now. You're easy to read."

Realization dawned on Wren at what he was implying, and she quickly stumbled over her words. "Simon, I--"

"She needed help with her Alchemy work, and that's it. Nothing happened."

"I know--" Wren started again, but Simon cut her off.

"I made one mistake," Simon said. "One. And you and I both know that you're just as responsible for it happening as I am."

Wren looked to the ground, nodding her head. "I know. I…" she trailed off. "You're right. I shouldn't have even wondered. I'm sorry."

Simon sighed, his arm going around her shoulders once more. "I forgive you, I just wish you'd believe me that I love you."

"I do," Wren said, looking up into his face. "I know you love me."

He nodded solemnly. "More than anyone else ever could," he said before pressing his lips to hers and whisking her away to lunch.

Wren spent most of her lunch picking at her food and absentmindedly listening to Alicia's ranting about her parents and their post-Hogwarts desires for her and to Katie's wondering about whether everything Professor Moody did was strictly legal.

If the other girls noticed that Wren hadn't really touched her food or seemed to be preoccupied, they didn't say anything. It's possible a look was shared, but she didn't catch it.

Instead, she sat there distracted until she noticed her dorm mates getting up from the table, and she did the same, leaving behind a half full plate to follow them up to the common room.

There, she lost four games of Exploding Snap in a row, and was in the middle of losing a fifth when Fred and George burst through the portrait hole, announcing their arrival with a chorus of "Heyyyyy".

Wren's head snapped to them, watching as the twins modeled their newly clean-shaven faces, stroking the smooth skin of their chins to a smattering of applause and laughter.

Fred scanned the common room, his eyes locking on hers once he found her. He navigated his way around the couches and chairs to her. "There she is…" Fred said as he approached, and she flinched. Alicia tapped the stack of cards and looked entirely unapologetic as Wren glared at her.

"Cheater."

"Hardly," the other girl returned, twirling her wand between her fingers.

Fred plopped himself next to Wren as George sat next to Alicia, throwing himself into her lap. She shoved him off, and with a dramatic sigh, he switched to laying in Angelina's.

"About time you're back," Angelina said, tugging at George's ear. He winced, swatting her hand away. "How long does it take to fix a couple of beards anyway?"

"Longer when Dumbledore interrogates us for the secrets of our near success," Fred said, catching Wren's startled glance. "Don't worry--we told him we couldn't divulge any information."

"He seemed to understand but mentioned he'd be much obliged if the recipe  should ever end up under his office door," George said with a grin at Wren.

She flushed, shaking her head. "It didn't even work. I mean you two could have ended up--"

"Maybe it didn't work, Fred cut her off. But no one else even made it through the age line. We're the only ones to have crossed it."

"It was a good bit of magic, Wren," George agreed.

"But it just as easily could have landed you in the Hospital Wing for more than a few hours," Wren argued, and the group exchanged looks.

"I thought we'd been over this," George said, sitting himself up. "It was a minor risk, yeah, but we've taken bigger risks with our own testing."

"Besides, I doubt Dumbledore would have put any enchantment on the Goblet that could harm students if the whole point was to keep underage witches and wizards from entering," Angelina reasoned.

Wren wet her lips, turning this over in her mind. She still couldn't help but feel guilty for her failure, but what made her feel even worse was not the fact that she could have hurt Fred and George, but that she was disappointed her potion hadn't succeeded.

"Come on," Fred said, nudging her shoulder with his own. "You've got to admit, it was at least a bit thrilling to give it a go."

The corner of her lips traitorously twitched up. Around her, her friends made sounds of approval, George even reaching forward to shake her leg excitedly.

"He really came to ask you about the potion?" Wren asked, and Fred nodded solemnly.

"Seemed genuinely interested too," George added.

Wren offered a real smile then, and the group seemed to (accurately) take that as an end to the  conversation.

The rest of the afternoon passed happily. George finally ended Alicia's streak in Exploding Snap and Lee came into the Common Room about an hour later and recounted recent would-be entrants' failures for them. Now that Wren wasn't wracked with worry and guilt with Fred and George, she was able to laugh along with the rest of the group, especially over Lee's dramatic impersonation of Milicent Bulstrode breaking down into hysterics over her newfound beard.

By the time it was dinner, the events of the morning felt like they had passed weeks ago, and Wren traipsed down to the Great Hall with the group more than ready for the Halloween feast.

She wasn't, however, ready for the selection of Champions. Her heart stilled for a moment as Cedric's name was pulled from the cup, her eyes skipping over the group of Hufflepuffs shaking his shoulders and cheering, and instead focusing on Nora.

If Wren were in Nora's shoes, she'd be pale. But instead her cousin was alternating between clapping loudly and cupping her hands around her mouth to cheer.

She was only silenced when a fourth name came out of the cup.

In fact, the whole Great Hall went quiet for a beat. And then another one. And then the whispers started, moving through the room like wind rustling through the trees.

"Harry got his name in?" Angelina hissed next to Wren.

"How?" Katie whispered back, her eyes moving to Wren, but Wren was already focused on Harry, whipping his head around with surprise and saying something hushed and quick to his friends. Dumbledore called him up to the front table and her eyes followed his path, a clawing tightness in her chest as she watched him pass behind Fred.

How had he, a fourth year who by all accounts was not the smartest in his year, managed to get across the age line when the combined minds of her, Fred, George, and Lee hadn't managed it?

Her jaw clenched as a hand closed over hers. "Hey," George said, leaning across Angelina to get her attention. "If You-Know-Who wasn't able to kill him as a baby, you won't be able to now, even with that look."

The joke, coupled with Harry's disappearance into the chamber behind the professors' table, drew the small group's attention to Wren.

"I'm not trying to kill him," Wren protested as Dumbledore and other adults disappeared into the back room as well. With the disappearance of those in charge, the hall grew noisy once more, the chatter electric. "I just don't understand how he got in is all."

The look of mild annoyance on Fred's face melted as he took her in. "She's jealous!"

"Am not," Wren huffed.

"Come on, Wren, a win for Harry is a win for Gryffindor," Angelina said, but her smile was a bit tight, and Wren felt a bit embarrassed at being jealous when Angelina, who had legitimately entered, hadn't been chosen.

"And more than that," Fred said, bending his head forward conspiratorially. "It's a reason to party."

By the time Harry Potter, the guest of honor and very reason for the party, arrived at the Gryffindor common room, the party was in full swing. Students had come together to lay out a solid stash of snacks on a few tables, and Fred and George had procured a few cases of Butterbeer in a suspicious amount of time. This of course meant that everyone was almost vibrating with excitement to greet Harry. Indeed, all of Wren's friends left her the moment he came through the portrait hole to bombard him with well wishes and questions.

Wren, for her part, hung back with Alicia, making her way through a bag of crisps while staring warily at Harry. "Reckon he'll tell anyone how he did it?" Wren asked as Alicia took a long sip from her butterbeer.

"Harry?" Alicia asked, her voice a bit raw from the carbonation. "Probably not. He's rather tight-lipped. It'd be easier to get it out of Ron."

Wren nodded, scanning the room for the twins' younger brother. As her gaze skipped from redhead to redhead, none of them belonged to Harry's best friend. "Where is Ron?"

"This is really bothering you, huh," Alicia asked, her expression sympathetic. "I know you wanted it to work, but honestly Wren, it was always a long shot. The twins knew that."

Wren had no intention of trying to get Ron Weasley to tell her how Harry entered, but she would have been lying if she dismissed Alicia's claim outright.

She had known it'd been a long shot too. She always had a healthy dose of skepticism throughout the endeavor.

But she couldn't get rid of the small, irritating feeling of disappointment that scratched at the back of her mind.

She doubted Dumbledore would want her potion recipe now that someone had had an actually successful workaround.

"Why the long face?" Fred asked, walking back up with George. Over their shoulders, Wren could see Lee tying the Gryffindor banner around Harry's shoulders.

The two followed her gaze and Fred snorted. "Still on about that, then?"

"No," Wren said petulantly. The twins exchanged a knowing look, and she scowled, swatting at them. "I'm not!"

Fred's eyes darted over her shoulder, and she whipped around to catch Alicia mid-nod before pretending she was sipping from her drink.

"I'm not!"

Fred and George exchanged another look, although this one seemed to be more of a conversation between two pairs of eyebrows than just a look.

"Alicia, we're stealing Wren," Fred announced, wrapping an arm around Wren's shoulders and guiding her forward before Alicia could even respond to the statement. George trailed after the two of them, the group stopping in a relatively quiet nook of the common room, away from the thick of the party.

"It has recently come to our attention that you, Wren Collings, are a natural born inventor."

Wren quirked an eyebrow, staring dubiously back at Fred. "What?"

"You're upset that you didn't find the solution to the age line and Harry did," George filled in.

"Plus, you greatly enjoyed the plotting involved in making our potion," Fred nodded.

"So we were talking…" George started

"And we think you'd be an excellent addition to the Weasley Wizard Wheezes product development team," Fred finished with a smile.

"The what?"

"Fred and I have always dreamed of opening a joke shop. We've been working on a few products over the summer," George explained.

"Fake wands."

"Tom-tongue toffees."

"Trick quills."

"And we think that your mind and potions and Herbology expertise would help us with our next  venture," Fred said.

"Your next venture?" Wren repeated.

"Puking pastilles," the twins chorused with a nod.

"Puking pastilles." What they were proposing was so ridiculous, Wren wasn't able to come up with a coherent original thought. Instead she was turning the idea over in her mind--product development with the Weasley twins. It was true she'd enjoyed developing the aging potion with them, but that had been a one time thing. A deal. And even then it hadn't worked. Now they wanted her to come up with entirely original recipes for members of the public to eventually consume? She could poison all of London. Or worse, she could--

"You're spiraling," Fred said matter of factly. "I can see it right here," he said, poking at the crease between her eyebrows, and Wren slapped his hand away. He grinned at her. "Come on Wren, this is an exciting new venture. Nothing to get too in your head about at this stage."

"I just don't think I--"

"If this is going to be another self-deprecating statement, I should warn you. You're wasting your breath," George interrupted, holding up a hand.

"We happen to think you are nothing short of a genius, and there isn't anything you can say to convince us otherwise," Fred added.

Wren blinked at them. "I--" they cast her reproachful looks and she switched directions. "Thank you."

Fred smiled. "I'm going to take that as confirmation that you're in."

Wren shook her head, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. It would be easy to tell them no. To stick to the plan of just studying for her classes and spending free moments trying to track down Simon. But she didn't want to.

"Yeah," Wren said with a tentative smile. "I'm in."

While working with Fred and George on the creation of puking pastilles was fun and often led to Wren laughing so hard her sides hurt, it was still, at its core, work . She was fairly certain she had never used her brain so much. Not even for NEWT-level Potions or Transfiguration.

Still, there were far worse uses of her time than being tucked away in the common room or a corner of the library, drawing up plans and theories with Fred and George and sometimes Lee.

"I need a break," Wren announced, placing her book on top of the stack they had pulled.

"Breaks are for the faint of heart," George said automatically, not even bothering to look up from his reading. It had been the line the three used to keep each other on track.

"I fear I'm going into heart failure," Wren answered, dramatically, dropping in her chair. "If I have to read another line about common Italian plants' side effects, I think my heart will finally give out."

"Alright Georgie, I think a break's in order. We don't want poor Wren's heart to explode," Fred said, snapping his book shut.

"So when Wren's going through heart failure, we get a break, but when I'm dying of boredom, you just eulogize me."

"That's about the size of things," Fred nodded, and George grinned, shutting his book and looking over at the two. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he had the chance, a look of curious confusion crossed his face.

"Hullo," he greeted, and Wren turned to see Simon walking towards the group.

"Hi, love," Wren smiled up at Simon. His bronze hair curled above his eyes, and she reached out a hand for him. He shot a quick look at her and then at the Weasley twins, keeping his hands firmly in his pockets. Wren curled her hand back in, resting it on her shoulder as if that was what she intended to do. "What are you doing here?"

"Searching for my girlfriend," Simon offered a small smile. "Have you seen her?

"Simon," Wren laughed lightly as Fred and George exchanged mortified looks at the excuse of a joke.

"Oh! I hardly recognized you. Haven't seen you in ages."

"Ha ha, very funny," Wren smiled and let out an exhale as if he was joking, but he had that look in his eyes that she knew too well. He turned to Fred and George.

"So you're the reason my girlfriend's gone missing."

"What can I say, our presence is a delight." It wasn't the tone of Fred's voice as much as the look of George's face that made her stomach drop.

"Thank you for sharing Wren with us," George stepped in. "Must be hard to let this one go."

"Indeed," he swiveled to Wren. "Speaking of which, have a second?" Simon asked, flashing a seemingly charming smile. Wren looked up at him, and a flash of fear, which she hoped was unnoticeable, crossed her face. She slowly nodded.

"For you? Always," she said, standing up to follow him. Had he heard about George? What did he want? She had heard that tone of voice before, and it never ended well. She followed him a couple of rows over so that it was deserted and nobody would hear them.

"I didn't realize you three were so close," he commented, his voice still friendly, but in the dangerous phase. If Wren thought that her research was going to give her heart failure, she was certain that this conversation might give her a heart attack. It pounded away in her chest, as she racked her brain for an explanation. She had a feeling after Simon's reaction to the aging potion that he wouldn't particularly care for the truth.

"We're not that close," Wren dismissed. "We've just been studying together this year, is all. They're a whiz at Charms, and honestly this NEWT schedule is keeping me so busy--"

"Wren," Simon stopped her. "Don't insult my intelligence."

"What?"

"You're lying. I can see it all over you. What are you really up to with them?"

"What am I really up to?" Wren repeated, her heart beating faster. "Studying. Simon, where is this coming from? Why are you upset?"

"Why am I upset?" Simon asked. "After how you acted when you saw me walking down the hall with Wendy? I should have seen that you were projecting--accusing me of cheating while you're off spending your  afternoon in a dark corner of the library with the Weasley twins!"

"Simon, it's not like that. You've just been busy and I—" Wren started to argue, jerking away and shutting her mouth quickly as Simon shoved a finger in her face.

"Do not turn this into my fault."

"It's nobody's fault. There's nothing wrong here!" Wren began to grow hysterical. "You're reading into things that aren't there."

"So I'm crazy?" He dropped his hand, but moved closer to her, and she took a half step back.

"No, of course not," Wren held her temples "I just--there's no reason to be upset. I would never choose them over you. I-I'll go tell them I have to go. We can go to the courtyard, or wherever you want. "

"Don't even bother. I don't want to be your pity pick. Just go back to them," Simon scoffed, shaking his head. "At this point, I'm used to being left behind. Makes sense you'd do it too."

"Simon, I'll come with you. Just let me get my stuff. Please--" Wren reached forward grabbing his arm, and he snatched it away from her, sending her toppling into a bookshelf. A few books came loose, tumbling to the floor in a messy pile.

"You always do this," Simon's lip curled. "Make a mess of everything. I wonder if your precious twins will put up with half the things I do." Wren watched him leave, trying to blink back the tears forming in her eyes. He was right. She did always make a mess of things. She knew what she should have done--what she should have said. She should have packed up as soon as he came over. She should have told the twins she'd see them in class and told him she had more than a second--she had hours for him. She shouldn't have argued.

Wren wiped away a few tears as she bent down to begin picking up the books and finding their proper places. Footsteps approached the end of the aisle, and her head snapped, hoping Simon had come back.

"Everything ok?" Fred asked, standing at the end of the aisle where Simon had been moments before. Wren quickly glanced back at the book she was shoving into the shelf, as if that would hide her splotchy red face.

"Fine," her voice came out high and not quite as lighthearted as she'd hoped.

"And that's why you've decided to take up a part time job as a librarian?"

She let out a sigh that could maybe possibly be construed as a laugh. "No, I just--um--we stumbled into the books." She hoped that would explain the red face if not for Simon's conspicuous absence.

"Ah," Fred nodded, and she could hear the disbelief in his voice. "And where is the other half then?"

“He…he had to run off. Prefect duties. I told him I'd handle it.”

Fred's eyes rested on her, as she picked up another book and shoved it between two other ones, not able to even concentrate on making sure they were in alphabetical order. She couldn't understand why Fred had taken it upon himself to interrogate her. He was silent even as she picked up another book, as if for once he were carefully choosing his words.

"Must've run off pretty quick. I came as soon as I heard the books."

It was Wren's turn to furrow her brow at him. "Why?"

“What happened here?” George appeared over Fred's shoulder, stopping him from continuing the sentence.

“Simon couldn’t keep his hands off Wren,” Fred said to George. Wren flushed from the choice of words.

George wiggled his eyebrows at Wren. “Kinky.”

She turned redder if possible and Fred’s jaw ticked.

“Need a hand?”

Despite the fact that George asked the question, Wren looked at Fred. “That would be lovely.”

George moved around Fred and picked up the last few books, sliding them onto the shelf.

“Thanks, George,” Wren smiled. He reached over and squeezed her hand. His brow furrowed slightly. Wren looked over his shoulder at Fred who caught her eye before turning and heading back towards their seats. She looked back at George and offered a tight smile, standing up. "Let's go back to take our break."

[angel-riki]

Dazed & Dreaming {Ch. 2}

summary: Y/N's life was always quite normal, some may even consider it boring. However, Y/N enjoyed her simple life and the little pleasures it brought. Unfortunately, that all changed the day she found out her best friend's biggest secret. Her discovery leads her down a rabbit hole of a new and confusing world she never knew existed. She must now navigate this new life filled with love, fear, and the supernatural. What awaits her down this path?

pairing: enhypen x reader (vampire au)

warnings: light swearing

word count: 1,569

chapters: [Ch.1] [Ch.3] [Ch.4]

~~~~~~~~~~

You bit into your second piece of toast of the morning as your phone buzzed in your pocket. After rummaging around for a few seconds, you retrieved your phone. You smiled at the notification, it was from Jake.

Jake: "We're here :)"

You quickly typed out and sent your reply as you hurried to finish the rest of your breakfast,

Y/N: "Ok, omw!"

One huge bite of toast and a painful swallow later, you were gathering your things and scurrying out the front door. You half-jogged down your driveway until you reached the car, greeting the boys like usual,

"Good morning," you said cheerfully as you climbed into the back seat.

Heeseung had been giving you rides every morning now for a couple of weeks, it had become your daily routine. And even though you insisted that you could walk, the two boys wouldn't take no for an answer. You eventually accepted their generosity, however you still felt a bit guilty. Fortunately, this new routine had allowed you and Heeseung to grow much closer over the past weeks. Now, you considered him a friend instead of a mere acquaintance. This was a relief as you had gotten much more comfortable around him. Although, Heeseung was just good at making everybody feel comfortable. He was just so charming and kind. This made it a lot easier for you to manage your nerves, but a lot harder for you to keep your crush on him from growing.

*****

The bell rang, signaling that it was time for lunch. Relief washed over all of the students' faces as they were freed from a horrendously boring lecture. You shared that relief as you packed up your stuff and strolled out of the classroom. You made a quick pit stop at your locker before heading down to the cafeteria.

After grabbing your food, you walked into the bustling dining space. Gosh it's so crowded, where are they? You scanned the tables until you noticed someone waving at you rather enthusiastically. Shocker, it was Jake. Heeseung was beside him, smiling and waving at you as well. You waved back before heading over to where they were sat. You set your food on the table and pulled out the chair in front of you. As you sat down, you noticed that Heeseung didn't have any food. How strange, you thought.

"Heeseung, where's your lunch?" You asked, knowing there had not been enough time for him to have already finished eating.

"Oh, I'm just not hungry today is all," he said awkwardly.

"Are you sure? You can have some of mine if you'd like," You offered.

"That's okay, thank you though," he smiled.

Something was odd about his demeanor after you brought it up, but you couldn't put your finger on it. You decided to stop interrogating him as you turned to Jake,

"How was that math test you had earlier?" You asked.

"Good! Aaand I may or may not have written down that one formula I can never remember on the inside of my hand..." he replied.

"Smart move," you giggled.

"I know," he said, grinning proudly.

You rolled your eyes as you began eating your lunch. Your school lunches were mediocre at best, but it could be worse. Another day, another stale pb&j. As you ate, the two boys started rambling about their after school plans. Apparently, there were a few other boys that they hung out with quite often. You had never met them, although Jake had mentioned them here and there. Listening to their conversation, you suddenly felt a slight sadness come over you. It wasn't that you were jealous, you were just afraid that one day they would get sick of you and leave you behind. They had other friends, but you didn't. Jake and Heeseung were all you had. You shook your head as you tried to expel the negative thoughts. Why am I getting upset over something that hasn't even happened? They would never do that anyway, you reassured yourself.

Before you knew it, lunch was over and you were running late for your next class. You were speed walking down the hall when you turned a corner and ran directly into something. Or some one, rather. You looked up to see who you had just harshly collided with. You recognized him from your english class, yet you had never spoken to him before. You realized you didn't even know his name.

"Ah, I'm really sorry!" You apologized, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment.

Seeing him up close like this made you wonder how you hadn't paid more attention to him. You had never noticed how handsome he was. He had a very sharp jawline and thick black hair that dangled just above his eyes. You also noticed there was a beauty mark on the side of his nose. Wow, his nose is like, perfect.

"It's alright. It's not every day that I run into a cute girl," he replied coolly.

You thought you were flustered before? Well now you were REALLY flustered. You opened your mouth to respond but before you could speak, he cut you off,

"Your lip is bleeding," he said, his face suddenly full of concern. His skin seemed to be growing paler.

"Oh, I didn't notice," you said, reaching up to wipe your mouth. You must have slightly busted your lip when you ran into him. You looked down and noticed a little trail of blood on the back of your hand. Thankfully, it was only a small amount so you weren't too worried. You looked back up at the boy and you noticed he was staring at your mouth rather intensely, almost as if he was in a trance.

"Uh...well I better get to class. Sorry, again." You apologized one last time before hurrying off down the hall.

Weird.

*****

Your class seemed to go by faster than usual today. Maybe it was because you ended up being almost 10 minutes late after your little incident in the hallway. Or maybe, it was because you couldn't stop thinking about that strange boy. Either way, you were relieved that class was over. However, that relief quickly left you once you realized what your next class was; English. You really didn't want to see that boy again after your previous meeting. You were still quite embarrassed and his reaction just made you even more uncomfortable. You sighed as you reluctantly accepted the inevitable.

Once you were seated at your usual spot, you pulled out your notebook and a pencil. You scanned over yesterday's notes as your teacher began the lesson. Everything was fine for a bit, until you began feeling eyes on you. Maybe you were just paranoid, but you could've sworn you saw that boy from earlier staring at you every so often. You attempted to pay attention to the lesson, but you couldn't. He was making you incredibly on edge. You put your head down in frustration. God, can't this day just end?

*****

You tapped your temple with the end of your pencil as you tried to make sense of your chemistry textbook. Although you were reading the words on the page, you weren't absorbing or internalizing any of it. You sighed and defeatedly closed your textbook as you decided to call it a night. You had been at the library studying for hours, you hadn't even noticed how dark it had gotten outside. You packed up your belongings and threw on your coat and scarf before heading out of the library. A shiver passed through your body as you entered the cold evening air. You began walking at a faster pace than usual, trying to get back to some warmth as soon as possible.

After a couple of minutes of walking, you could feel your cheeks stinging and you could see your breath in front of you. I need to get home faster, I'm freezing. You thought while looking around for a shortcut. You found a path down the edge of the forest that seemed to be the quickest route home. You sighed as you hurried down the deserted trail. As you continued on your way, you started to get an eerie feeling. Perhaps it was just the setting you were in, but you were considerably creeped out. You never liked walking alone at night, I mean, who does? Suddenly, as if on cue, you heard something behind you. You whipped your head around as you scanned the area for any potential danger. You didn't see anything but you could've sworn you heard another set of footsteps following close behind you. Maybe you were just being paranoid again. You turned back around, sufficiently scared at this point as you anxiously jogged the rest of the way. You sighed with relief as you made it to your house safely. You opened the front door and locked it behind you, not daring to look back out into the night. After shaking off your uneasiness, you headed upstairs and changed into your fuzziest pajamas before crawling into your warm bed. You quickly melted into the soft blankets as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ooooh, spooky ending! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter which was full of foreshadowing ;). I know it's taking a while to get all the boys introduced but I promise it'll happen soon! Thank you for reading! I’m also uploading this series on wattpad if you’d like to support it over there!

~Elle <3

[baepsaesbae]

Heal Me, Kill Me Ch.5 (Final Chapter)

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x female reader

Genre— Vampire!Taehyung x Vampire Hunter!reader, SMUT +18, angst

Warnings— Unprotected explicit sex, fingering, blood mentions, death, oral (f and m receiving), creampie, overstimulation 

Word Count— 6.3k

Summary— You’re one of the best vampire hunters in the world. That’s to be expected when your parents are the best of the best. Your life had solely revolved around ruthlessly killing vampires, making you a cold blooded machine. However, things take a turn once you meet Kim Taehyung, your latest target.

A/N— Huge shoutout to @dee-ehn for this beautiful banner! Thank you to everyone who has given this series a read. It’s very special to me and it’s bittersweet that it’s now over. Please let me know what you guys think!

“Let me get this straight, the VEC HQ is completely gone? Wiped out?” you questioned as you tried to grasp the situation.

“Apparently they were hit with a massive ambush. A huge horde of vampires led under a single commander, it seemed like. I got a call during the middle of the raid. All I could hear were screams and the caller’s laugh. I was given a time and place for a meet up,” Yoongi explained further. 

“Perfect, let’s go burn the sons of bitches,” Jungkook got up energetically.

“There are only four of us,” Taehyung observed with a judgmental glance towards the young man. 

“There are only THREE VEC members left. The only reason you’re still alive is because ___ insisted on it. Mark my words, one slip up, and you’re dead. Got that?” Yoongi corrected him. Taehyung solemnly nodded. 

“So, what do we do? HQ is gone, but surely we can contact the other agencies around the globe,” you suggested.

“Already tried that. They saved the best for last. There is no one we can ask for help,” Jungkook shook his head. 

“I can go. Alone, I mean. To the rendezvous point you were given,” Taehyung offered. 

“And do what? Join forces with them?” Yoongi glared. 

“An attempt at diplomacy would be ideal. Should they choose violence, then so be it. If I die, I die. But at least you will be safe,” Taehyung looked at you while he said that last sentence. 

“Sounds good to me--”

“Absolutely not,” you interrupted Yoongi, “If we really are the last people qualified as vampire hunters, I say we go down swinging. I can’t just sit by knowing there are murderous vampires on the loose. We all took an oath to protect mankind. I intend to keep that oath.”

Yoongi and Jungkook exchanged looks. Jungkook was all for it, eager to let out his rage. It took a bit more to convince Yoongi, but he reluctantly agreed. He really took to heart what you said about the VEC oath.

“Here are the coordinates I was given. We have three days to get there,” Yoongi brought up the site on Google Earth.

“What the hell? That looks like an abandoned castle. That’s kind of badass. Major Castlevania vibes,” Jungkook gawked as he zoomed in closer.

“I know this place,” Taehyung said quietly. 

“You do?” the remaining VEC members asked in unison.

“I believe so. And if who I think is involved truly is involved...I fear we may be in deeper trouble than I thought,” he said ominously. 

“Fuckin terrific,” Yoongi grumbled. 

“Thank god Yoongi brought the private jet over here,” you sighed as you watched the trees below you grow smaller and smaller.

“Thank god I have the credit card for the VEC funds. I would be remiss if we lost all that money,” Yoongi called back using the intercom. 

“Flying via private jet is probably one of my favorite parts of the job. Hey, you good over there, Fangs?” Jungkook coined a nickname for his new vampire acquaintance. 

You looked over to see Taehyung’s face paler than usual as he tightly gripped the armrests of his seat. He slowly looked over towards the pair of you and nodded, though he was clearly lying. You couldn’t help but chuckle at him. His fear of flying was adorable, who would’ve known that an undead creature could be scared of planes?

“I’m gonna go join Yoongi in the cockpit, I love the view from there,” Jungkook said to no one in particular as he stood up once cruising altitude was reached. 

You unbuckled your seat belt and went over to comfort Taehyung, who looked queasier by the minute. You handed him a bottle of water.

“Sorry, we don’t have any blood bags on the plane,” you joked.

“I appreciate the gesture, darling,” Taehyung meekly smiled.

“I didn’t know you were scared of flying,” you said with an amused grin.

“I’ve never been a fan. People traveling in the air? It’s just not natural,” Taehyung shook his head in distaste.

“I don’t think you’re one to talk about what’s natural, but I get that. I wish there was a way I could get you to unwind. We have quite a long way to go before we reach our destination,” you straddled his lap and ran your fingers through his hair, “I can get off if you feel like you need to puke,” you quickly added.

“No, I think a distraction is exactly what I need,” Taehyung’s eyes darkened as he unbuckled his seat belt and gripped your hips.

Your hips began to move on their own as they grinded against him. You could feel his clothed erection growing under you, which only spurred you on more. Taehyung leaned forward to kiss you, and accidentally bit your lip in his excitement. He quickly lapped up the small dribble of blood that surfaced, and that alone seemed to make him more ravenous. Taehyung started to guide your hips, pushing you harder and faster against him.

“You want me?” Taehyung exhaled against your lips.

“I need you. Take off your pants, Tae,” you instructed as you climbed off of him.

“The others won’t intrude?” Tae asked with a smirk as he tugged down his pants.

“Yoongi is flying the jet, and I don’t give a fuck if Jungkook walks in on us,” you answered as you sank to your knees. 

You wasted no time in taking a firm hold of Taehyung cock. Your now ice cold hand caused Taehyung to shudder, a feeling he would now have to get used to. Luckily, the friction from your quick pumping warmed him back up, and he was able to fully enjoy himself. How could he not, when he sees your eager eyes gazing up at him with your lips wrapped around his tip. Your tongue swirled around his sensitive head, making a small moan escape from his lips.

“You have to be quiet, or else I’ll stop,” you warned him. It felt good to hold somewhat of a dominant position over him, but also you would rather not be walked in on. Taehyung nodded his head and licked his lips as you returned to the task at hand. 

Drool dripped down his long cock as you bobbed your head up and down. You tried to fit as much of him in your mouth as you could, but his sheer size made it damn near impossible. Taehyung couldn’t help himself as he grabbed the back of your head and shoved his dick further down your throat. You gagged as he took control of your mouth, but he stopped as soon as he saw tears welling in your eyes.

“I’m sorry darling, did I hurt you?” he asked with concern as he stroked your cheek.

“I’m fine, it’s an involuntary reaction. You’re too sweet,” you smiled as you stood up and unbuttoned your pants, “But since you made me cry I guess it’s only fair for you to make it up to me.”

You straddled over Taehyung, teasing your bare pussy over his hard cock. You wanted him to feel how wet you were before he even penetrated you. As much as you wanted to milk this moment, you really would rather for Jungkook to NOT walk in on you in the middle of getting down and dirty. 

You slowly lowered yourself onto Taehyung’s dick, softly gasping as he stretched you out. You both let out a blissful sigh once you reached his base. You took your time fucking him slowly, as this was one of the few times that you had control in an intimate setting. Taehyung gripped your hips harshly; his eyes begged for you to go faster. Lust took over and you gave in. You began to ride him harder and faster, and soon it was a struggle for both of you to stay quiet. 

Lewd wet sounds echoed around the cabin as you hid your face in the crook of Taehyung's neck at a poor attempt to muffle your moans. Taehyung in turn could barely hold back his deep grunts since he took control with a tight grip on your ass as he fucked upwards into you. With Taehyung drilling into your sweet spot with inhumane speed, the intensity made you clamp down on his neck hard enough to draw blood. Taehyung came quickly after you bit him, releasing his load into your ravaged pussy. 

You licked at his wound, his blood only adding to the euphoria pulsing around your body. Taehyung kissed you passionately before you hopped off in search of napkins to clean yourself off with. The sound of the cockpit door opening sent you and Taehyung into a frenzy. Clothes were put back on in record time and you both were sitting properly in your respective seats when Jungkook came to rejoin you.

“You’re looking better, Fangs,” Jungkook observed. 

“I just needed some time to adjust,” Taehyung said smoothly. 

“You guys know we have cameras and microphones rigged around this cabin right? And it’s all viewable from the cockpit?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow.

Taehyung’s eyes grew large and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Neither of you could make eye contact with Jungkook, who was looking at both of you expectantly. 

“This is why I do not appreciate modern technology. Personal privacy is a thing of the past,” Taehyung confessed.

Jungkook burst out into a fit of laughter, clutching at his sides as he tried to talk.

“I was fucking with you. I mean yeah there are cameras and shit but security is in the back and gets sent directly to HQ. Which no longer exists. Fuck, you guys are so horny,” Jungkook laughed.

“Fuck off Jungkook,” you rolled your eyes and turned away to hide your reddened cheeks. 

“How’s it feel being part of the Mile High Club?” Jungkook slung his arms around Taehyung’s shoulders from behind. 

“I am assuming that has something to do with intercourse in the sky?” Taehyung questioned. Jungkook nodded excitedly.

“In that case, I rather enjoyed it,” Taehyungn concluded thoughtfully.

“Tae! You don’t have to indulge this idiot,” you cried out.

“Thanks for being honest. Yoongi and I made a bet. He’s gonna be so pissed,” Jungkook sing songed as he walked back towards the cockpit.

You and Taehyung quietly listened as you heard Jungkook say, “Hey Yoongi, time to cough up that $200!”

“Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell ___! God dammit,” Yoongi exclaimed loud enough to be heard clearly through the door (and with your heightened sense of hearing).  

The decrepit castle basked in the pale moonlight as the four of you peered at it through the bushes. The rest of the plane ride was awkward and Yoongi hadn’t been able to make eye contact with you since. He kept shooting death glares at Taehyung while Jungkook kept making funny faces at the both of you. You sighed knowing odds were that the castle was filled with bloodthirsty vampires guarding the strongest one of them all, and the only ones going up against them was your ragtag team. You suddenly made peace with dying...again. 

“So what’s the plan again?” Jungkook asked.

“I can go and try to reason with them. If you hear the sounds of an altercation then that would indicate your cue to join the fight,” Taehyung offered.

“I’m not risking you turning over to their side just to screw us over,” Yoongi sneered. 

“Yoongi he wouldn’t--”

“That’s reasonable. What other plan do we have then?” Taehyung interrupted your oncoming protest.  

“We go all at once. A cool final last stand thing. The grand finale. I don’t want to go into hiding and spend the rest of my life trying to pick these suckers off one by one. They’re all here. Or at least, the one that matters most anyway,” Jungkook gave his input, “Oh, but you matter to me, Fangs,” he shot a smile at Taehyung, who gave him a small polite bow to show his gratitude. 

“So we go in guns blazing?” you asked to sum up the plan. The men all nodded in agreement. It was now or never. Jungkook was right, this was a prime opportunity to take out the ring leader. 

All of you sported long black trench coats that concealed many weapons. Guns with blessed bullets, blessed blades, and water guns filled with holy water (Jungkook’s favorite) were among the vast assortment. You subtly left out wearing crucifixes as you normally would, hoping that no one would notice. Taehyung didn’t need any fancy weaponry, but Jungkook gave him a coat so that he could “match the team in its kickassery”. 

Yoongi was staring at something in his hand away from the others. You approached him slowly. You didn’t know what to say to him on the potential last night of your lives, but you hoped something would come to mind.

“Whatcha got there?” you questioned, peering over his shoulder. 

“An old picture. Have you ever seen this before? Here,” Yoongi handed you the picture. It was old, and the camera quality was not the greatest. However, you were able to make out a smiling Yoongi off to the side.

“Wow you look the same,” you joked.

“This was my VEC graduation picture. See anyone else you know?” he asked. You examined the picture a second time.

“Mom and dad…” you trailed off. They were practically strangers to you. It was odd seeing them like this; young and happy, not knowing their grim future. Before you knew it, you were crying. You didn’t realize it until Yoongi called your name with concern.

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s going on,” you apologized while wiping your tears away, “I guess I just don’t want to lose you too.

“I couldn’t bear to lose you either, ___. I promise I’ll do everything I can to protect you. But knowing you, you’ll probably be the one saving my old ass,” Yoongi chuckled as he patted you on the back.

“Guys! We gotta go!” Jungkook beckoned.

If this were a movie, the scene where the main characters walk in slow motion like badasses towards the enemy would be playing. However, this was not a movie, and you were scared shitless. Sure, you technically were a vampire now, but that won’t stop them from killing you again. 

“I know I said this place was cool before, but now it’s giving me the creeps,” Jungkook whispered as you all followed the rugged path that led to the stone bridge in front of the main gate.

The once grand door was now ripped off its hinges, laying a few yards away from the entryway as if it was carelessly cast aside. You took a deep breath as you followed Taehyung into the castle. Beams of moonlight illuminated the castle in rays as it shone through cracks and holes in the walls. The castle was oddly bare, most of its belongings were probably looted a long time ago. All that was left was memories of the past that no one cared about and a few rats that have lived there for decades. 

Your party made it to what must have been the throne room. There was not a single sign of life. It was eerily quiet, and the only movements you saw were those of the vermin that dwelled within the decaying walls. The throne room was dark, and Jungkook led the way with a single lighter. 

“What the hell? Is this place really empty--”

“Welcome, honored guests!” a loud voice boomed as braziers suddenly lit up the room. 

You cowered at the sudden brightness. Once your eyes adjusted, you saw a single figure sitting in the throne at the front of the room. One of his legs was slung over an armrest as he rested his chin on his hand over the other. He depicted a spitting image of a cocky King drunk on power. 

“I’m so thrilled you all could join me this evening. Oh, what’s this? An old friend? How serendipitous,” he sat up straight now as he leaned forward to get a better look at his visitors. 

“Why did you summon us here?” Yoongi cut right to the chase. 

“Very blunt and straight to the point are we? You must be the failed VEC’s headmaster. Min Yoongi, was it? I wanted to talk business. But I must say, this is a rather odd bunch you have here,” the man chuckled, “Are you aware that there are vampyres amongst your company?”

“Yes, this one--wait, vampires? With an ‘s’?” Yoongi’s face scrunched up in confusion. 

“Oh yes, that girl over there,” the strange man gestured towards you with his chin.

“What?!” Yoongi yelled with incredulity, “Taehyung, if we get out of here alive I’m gonna murder you myself!”

“It was my decision! I asked him to do it!” you admitted while jumping in front of Taehyung to protect him from a furious Min Yoongi. 

“Hah, I knew it,” Jungkook said with a devious grin.

“You know what? I’ll beat all of your asses after this,” Yoongi hissed before turning his attention back to the man on the throne, “Anyway, what do you want?”

“I simply wanted to negotiate with you Mr. Min. But I believe we’re all in for a rather interesting night,” the man licked his lips, “Tell me, how long has it been, Taehyung?”

In an instant, Taehyung was strangling the man on the throne. He was so fast that you didn’t even register his movement until you heard him yelling.

“You bastard! You ruined my life! Over and over again! Now I can finally kill you with my own hands,” he growled with a murderous look in his eyes that you have never seen before. 

“Taehyung stop! You’ll have your chance with him, but for now we need answers,” you pulled Taehyung away as Jungkook put the vampire in blessed restraints. 

“Ouch, that hurts,” the vampire pouted, “Still just as dramatic as ever I see, Taehyung. I like your spark though. Almost the same as the night we met, all those years ago.”

“I will kill you,” Taehyung threatened. 

“What did this guy do to you, Fangs?” Jungkook asked.

“He’s the one that turned me,” Taehyung admitted. 

“Can you believe that? It feels like it was just yesterday when I slaughtered your little village. How silly was it that all the men were in the tavern, drinking and fucking whores while their families were left unattended. That didn’t sit right by me, I’m a man of morals. So I killed everyone in the tavern after I had my fill of lonely housewives and innocent children. Except Taehyung. He was the only man who was ever able to put a scratch on me. I forgot I could even bleed, it was honestly a refreshing sight. In the spur of the moment, I rewarded him with eternal life. Could you believe my surprise when he said he didn’t want to be my henchman?” the detained vampire explained. 

“You killed my family and everyone that I knew! Of course I wouldn’t want to be your stupid sidekick, you daft idiot,” Taehyung rebuttled in disgust.

“It was a shame. Poor sweet Maggie didn’t deserve what happened to her,” the vampire looked down at the ground somberly.

“You...you did what?” Taehyung interrogated with a shaky voice. 

“I managed to catch a glimpse of you and your happy life in London. Excuse me for being a little petty about you declining my offer to be my travel buddy. I get lonely, you know. Every other vampire I turn becomes such a drag and I end up killing them myself. So I gave a little tip to the VEC and the rest is history,” the vampire shrugged. 

“Hoseok you snake! You’re the scum of the Earth! I’ll tear your throat out,” Taehyung screamed as he shook off Jungkook and lunged at the captured vampire. Taehyung slashed a giant gash in the middle of Hoseok’s chest, spewing blood everywhere.

“If I die, so do they,” Hoseok said nonchalantly as Taehyung was about to sink his fangs into his jugular. That made Taehyung reluctantly pause and shrink back.

“Taehyung, you can have the honor of killing this piece of shit after I’m done talking to him,” Yoongi stated, “Your name is Hoseok?”

“Jung Hoseok, at your service. I’m thinking of J-Hope as a street name if I decide to make my dancing skills public. Not to brag, but I’m also the strongest vampire to ever live. I normally don’t bleed this much, it’s embarrassing,” Hoseok looked away bashfully as blood flowed freely from his chest.

“Why did you say that if you die we die?” Yoongi asked with urgency. 

“Well because there are roughly 100 vampires who haven’t fed in a month waiting at my command. My dominion over them is the only thing keeping you safe. With me gone, they’ll be free from their invisible leashes,” Hoseok smiled.

“Nothing is stopping us from dragging your sorry ass away from here,” Jungkook snarled.

“You think they’ll idly sit by and watch their master be whisked away in shackles? I can tell who wasn’t top of their class,” Hoseok giggled. 

“What was the deal you had in mind?” Yoongi kept up his stoic act.  

“Total immunity. I’ll even have all 100 henchmen kill themselves as a show of good faith,” Hoseok flashed a sly smile. 

“No can do, I already promised Taehyung he could kill you,” Yoongi sighed.

“Is he part of the VEC? The deal would have to last for the rest of eternity between me and the VEC. If I die in a vampire fight then that’s on me,” Hoseok tilted his head in confusion. 

“Give me a minute to discuss this with my colleagues,” Yoongi said before leading you and Jungkook to the opposite side of the room, “What do we do? His offer seems too good to be true.”

“It seems fair since he said he’d kill off his henchman on his own. I’m sure Taehyung can kick his ass,” Jungkook added. 

“And if Tae loses? Then we have nothing that’ll stop him from killing us. It’s too risky. I don’t trust him one bit,” you concluded. 

“We can’t possibly win against him plus 100 starving vampires. We’ll be dead meat in seconds,” Yoongi argued. 

Meanwhile, Taehyung looked down in disgust at Hoseok as they had their own conversation.

“I think we were fated to be together. I never thought you’d be here,” Hoseok batted his eyes at Taehyung.

“You’re lucky they’re here to stop me. Otherwise you’d regret letting me live,” Taehyung snapped.

“So why are you here? I’m guessing it has something to do with that girl. Don’t tell me, did you turn her?” Hoseok’s eyes grew large, “Wow, you’ve grown stronger than I could have hoped! If we combine our powers we can rule this world.”

“You’re delusional if you think I’d join you after all of this.”

“Then I’ll enjoy tearing apart your plaything in front of your eyes,” Hoseok smirked. 

“If you lay a finger on her then I’ll--”

“We’ll accept your terms after a few more clarifications,” Yoongi interrupted, “First of all, we don’t think we can trust you. After all, you wiped out the VEC HQ. I have no doubt that the global branches have fallen as well. There’s nothing stopping you from killing us as soon as we let you free.”

“We both know that you never would have agreed to meet with me if I hadn’t done anything drastic. I needed to get rid of the grunts to get to the King, simple as that. Believe me, if I wanted you dead you all would have been slain the moment your fancy plane landed,” Hoseok shrugged.

“Then why did you let us live? Why go through the trouble?” Jungkook questioned.

“For the drama of it all, dear boy. When you get to be as old as I am, living gets boring. I’m not sure if you could tell, but I live for theatrics and thrill. Oh and I’m planning on taking over the world or whatever,” Hoseok admitted happily. 

“And you think we’d let you get away with that?” Yoongi scoffed.

“I’m simply offering you a little peace offering. Of course I wouldn’t hurt you three, and you’re all welcome to kill any vampires that come across your path. It’s more of a mutual immunity actually. This benefits you people more than me. If you disagree, you’re dead anyway,” Hoseok smiled wide enough to show off his fangs.

“Fine. The VEC accepts your terms. You have my word that the VEC will never harm you,” Yoongi declared, “But first, we must see your troops fall with our own eyes.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, I knew you’d be smart. And that’s fair,” Hoseok whistled and the ground began to rumble as an army of vampires came running into the throne room. 

The soldiers made orderly lines and awaited their orders. Some of them salivated at the sight of your party, but they didn’t dare move an inch without permission. They were the most ravenous vampires you’ve ever seen, and would want to avoid fighting them at all cost.

“My dear underlings. You have all served me well. You’ll be in my heart as I create a new world. I ask one last thing of you. Rip out your own heart to show your devotion to me. May your souls rest in peace,” Hoseok gave a short uninspiring speech.

You watched in horror as the army chanted “Long Live Hoseok” along with random whoops and hollers. They were extremely lively and hyped up as they plunged their own fists into their chests. Fountains of red erupted across the room as they ripped out their own hearts. You let out a sigh of relief as you watched the last soldier fall. 

“That was wild,” Jungkook said with a deer in headlights expression. 

“Really makes you feel something huh? A deals a deal,” Hoseok chirped up expectantly. 

Hoseok was tackled to the ground as soon as he was released. Taehyung yelled with fury as he reopened the nearly healed gash he inflicted earlier. Hoseok reacted by hurling Taehyung into the opposite wall. 

“I haven’t had a real fight in ages. Don’t disappoint me, Taehyung,” Hoseok laughed as he spat out blood.

A rock was hurled at incredible speed from where Taehyung landed. Hoseok was quick enough to dodge the rock, but not Taehyung. Once again, the vampires were on the ground and Taehyung was aiming for Hoseok’s throat. Jungkook shot a blessed bullet into Hoseok’s leg, causing him to howl out in pain.

Hoseok tossed Taehyung aside with newfound strength as his eyes glowed red. He set his sights on Jungkook and his lips curled up into an evil smile.

“You dare to break the contract, boy? I’m gonna make you regret that,” Hoseok warned.

Another blessed bullet lodged itself into Hoseok’s back, making him crumple to the ground. He turned in distress to see you wielding the gun with a cocky smirk plastered on your face. Yoongi kicked him onto his back, and spat in his face. With a quick motion of his arm, a wooden stake peeked out of the opening of his sleeve. With a yell, he plunged the wooden stake into Hoseok’s chest.

“Filthy liars,” Hoseok sputtered as blood dribbled down his chin.

“We agreed that the VEC would never harm you. However, you singlehandedly dismantled the company and the establishment is no more. I was the headmaster, but now I’m just a jobless son of a bitch,” Yoongi said triumphantly as he pushed the stake deeper.  

“We did it Yoongles!” you cheered before you heard the sounds of bones breaking. The smile dropped from your face instantly as you zipped over to Yoongi.

“An eye for an eye. Well played, Mr. Min Yoongi,” Hoseok croaked with his hand buried in Yoongi’s chest.

Taehyung quickly decapitated Hoseok with a strong kick. Hoseok’s body turned to dust as his head rolled across the floor for a few seconds before it also reverted to nothingness. 

“Yoongi! Yoongi!” you cried as you cradled him in your arms. Warm blood gushed out of his chest as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Jungkook sank to his knees beside you and held onto Yoongi’s hand. 

“Taehyung, go start up the jet! We have to get him to a hospital!” you demanded with tears running down your cheeks.

“He doesn’t know how to,” Jungkook said softly, trying to comfort you.

“We have to help him!” you sobbed. 

“___,” Yoongi whispered weakly. 

“Shhh, you’ll be okay. Don’t speak,” you begged. 

“Love...you...Be...happy…,” Yoongi rasped before gagging on his own blood. 

You and Jungkook cried over Yoongi’s body for a long time after it had gone cold. Jungkook held you as you cried into his chest as you soiled his clothes with tears and snot. To be fair, his tears and snot ended up all over your hair. Taehyung wanted to comfort you, but he knew Jungkook was a better fit for this job. Afterall, Yoongi was special to both of you. He was the parent neither of you had, and always took care of you guys in his own special way. 

After the sobs subsided, you and Jungkook stared blankly at the body before you. You’ve always been surrounded by death, it never bothered you. You didn’t need emotions in this line of work. You never thought you could feel pain like this. 

“He was a hero. I’m sorry for your loss,” Taehyung finally spoke as he placed a hand on both of your shoulders to show his condolences.

“Thanks, Tae.”

“Thanks, Fangs,” both you and Jungkook said in unison. 

Yoongi was buried outside of the castle, in the clearing where the private jet landed. There were no fancy rituals or blessings. Only a few words of gratitude uttered by both you and Jungkook. It was still too soon to say much more before either of you would start crying again. The feelings were there, and that’s all that mattered. 

The sun began to rise as the three of you sat inside the private jet in silence. You were lost. The VEC was truly no more. The biggest vampire threat (that you weren’t even aware of until a few days prior) was defeated.  Now what?

“What are you going to do now?” you asked Jungkook. 

“No clue. I guess I’ll travel. I have nothing else to do,” he shrugged, “What about you guys?”

“I think I want to open up a flower shop,” you said absentmindedly.

“A flower shop? Like the one Yoongi set up for you?” Jungkook was confused. 

“Yeah. I can either try to make that one work or start up my own elsewhere. I don’t know. I just think that would...make me happy,” you answered softly.

“Would you like some help with that?” Taehyung asked as he interlocked his fingers with yours. 

“Who else is gonna teach me how to make such beautiful bouquets? Plus I don’t have a green thumb so I’ll need you to help keep the plants alive until we can sell them,” you answered and squeezed Taehyung’s hand. 

“It’ll suck now that we don’t have a job but--wait,” Jungkook scrolled on his phone, “___, check your bank account.” 

You stared in disbelief at the obscene amount of extra zeros that had magically appeared in your balance. Yoongi must have transferred what was left of the VEC funds to you and Jungkook at some point. Thinking about Yoongi looking out for you one final time made you tear up again. 

“I’ll drop you guys off wherever you want. I’m assuming neither of you know how to fly so I’m calling dibs on the private jet,” Jungkook stood up.

“Bold of you to assume I don’t have a piloting license, but you can take it since Taehyung hates flying,” you rolled your eyes at Jungkook before continuing, “Tae do you want to go back to your estate?”

“We don’t have to. I like the idea of starting anew,” Taehyung smiled.

“How does Paris sound?” you offered. 

“C’est magnifique. I’m sure we’ll find a way to start a successful flower shop there,” Taehyung nodded in agreement. 

It had been five years since the VEC was destroyed. You never knew what a normal life was like, but now you wouldn’t trade it for the world. Sure, your new “normal” still technically wasn’t normal since you needed to consume blood to live and the sun was your mortal enemy, but you made it work. 

Business was booming. “Min’s Blossoms” was the name of your flower shop, and every day was an adventure. Having Taehyung as your business partner proved to be more beneficial than you thought. Other than his floral expertise, his appearance is what really got the business off the ground. Apparently, rumors of a mysterious and handsome man who worked at a local flower shop were being spread around the city. Women flocked to the store to catch a glimpse of Taehyung, and soon they all started buying flowers just for a chance to talk to him. Taehyung was worried that that might upset you, but you reassured him that you were happy that the store was doing so well so early on.

Now Min’s Blossoms had become part of the Paris landscape along with all the other little fancy boutiques. Taehyung was in charge of putting together orders, while you handled most of the business side. Your teamwork was impeccable and made even the busiest days enjoyable. 

“Are you happy?” Taehyung asked one morning while in bed.

“Honestly, I didn’t think it was possible to be this happy,” you rolled over to kiss his forehead.

“Do you ever miss your old life?” he prodded.

“Why so many questions today? As much as I loved brutally murdering monsters and constantly putting my life on the line, I would say no. This life is more pleasant. How ironic is it that I had to die in order to truly live,” you stared off into the distance as you uttered that last sentence.

“My apologies, I only wanted to ask since I know you tend to get pensive during this time of the year,” Taehyung stroked your cheek. 

“Thanks for always being so sweet to me. I love you, Tae,” you whisper before leaning in for a kiss. 

What started as an innocent kiss soon turned into something more tainted when your hand found its way to Taehyung’s already hard cock (who knew vampires can still get morning wood?). He didn’t let you take the lead as he pushed you flat on your back and pressed his thigh against your cunt. You giggled as he kissed a trail down your neck and over your collarbones as he fondled your breasts. He latched his mouth onto one of your breasts and his tongue swirled around your nipple as his free hand ripped off your panties. 

Taehyung’s fingers slipped inside you easily since you were already sopping wet for him. He smirked as the curl of his fingers made you moan and squirm beneath him. Taehyung pulled away from your breast with a satisfying “pop” and slid down to face your bare pussy. He licked shallow stripes along your folds to tease you, and let out a low chuckle when you whined for more. He placed a finger on your clit and started to rub it rapidly, not giving you any time to adjust to the intense sensation. It only took a few seconds before you were moaning and shaking at his touch.

Taehyung wasn’t finished. He went back to eating you out while pumping two fingers inside of you. The overstimulation had you seeing stars. You cried out as you came again, drenching his chin with your juices. Taehyung gave you a satisfactory grin as he rose from between your legs to align his dick with your dripping pussy.

You groaned as he filled you up. He went slow at first, his eyes closed with pleasure. You gazed at him fondly while he fucked you. He was so beautiful even when your cum was on his chin and his sweaty hair was stuck to his forehead. Taehyung opened his eyes and looked down at you with a smile. He leaned forward to kiss you once more as he snapped his hips against you. 

“You’re gonna make fun of me for cumming so soon. But I can’t help it when you’re wetter than usual,” he panted as his strokes became sloppier. 

“I won’t complain, you already made me cum this morning, now it’s your turn,” you answered between moans. Taehyung grunted as he came inside of you, his hot semen filling you up. He gave you one final kiss before collapsing beside you. 

“You know, you never told me how I saved your life,” you said after a while.

“Hmm?” Taehyung hummed.

“You mentioned it the night you turned me,” you clarified. 

“Ah, yes. My life had been meaningless for a long time before you came. For a while I was contemplating on ending it myself. But you came along and rescued me. You gave me purpose again,” he explained.

“Wow. Not to be cheesy, but you did the same for me. Honestly my life was mundane before you,” you blushed.

“Surely the best vampire hunter in the world led an exciting life,” Taehyung teased. 

“I suppose I did, but I would take a lifetime with you over it any day,” you smiled, “I love you, my little vampire.”

“I love you too, ___. There’s no one else I’d rather spend eternity with.”

Published December 14, 2020. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2020 Baepsaesbae.

[mcu-fan-fics-blog]

The Helping Hand

Summary: Y/N Krast Illegitimate Daughter of Tony Stark. Product of an unwanted teen pregnancy. What would Howard Stark be capable of doing to assure his sons future? What will happen when Tony meets our Beautiful, young, genius, rich philanthropist.

Word Count: 2000 approx

A/n: I will try to finish part 2 during the week maybe Wednesday or Thursday. I did change what happens in the movie but it will call make sense I promise. See you soon!

Tw: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug use, Drug addiction, Teen Pregnancy. (If there are any I missed please tell me.)

Ch.8

Chapter 9: Civil War Pt.1

Ch.10

Secretary Ross what a bitch. I mean you save the world you'd expect a thanks maybe a parade or something, but no. Instead they ask you to legally give up your rights, your anonymity basically all you value. "We can't seriously consider signing this." Steve spat out. "You're being Hyper nonverbal." Nat points tony out. "That's because he's already decided." Steve points out calmly. "I can't sign… I won't sign the accords." You mutter out quietly. "I'm not even an official part of the 'team'. I don't even have a hero name." Pietro chuckles giving you an approving nod. 

Nat brings you and Pietro back to reality. "You were still there." She points out matter of factly. "Either way that does not change that we have made some very public mistakes." She continues. "We need to be put in check." Tony states. "If we don't do it now they will do it to us later and they won't be asking nicely." He says. "I agree it's better to keep one hand on the wheel, than letting go completely." You're honestly not listening at this point anymore. You jump back in after Visions statistics. "My friends are dead because of you." You point out. 

"You blame Wanda for an accident. When I saw your effect on Sokovia way before you blew it up." You mention spitefully. "If you want to sign because you feel guilty go ahead. I'm not being forced into this..." Tony sighs hurt by your comments' brutal honesty. "I'm just trying to protect Wanda." He says looking at you. "Too little too late… where were you when she was in Lagos." This is when Wanda steps in. "Just calm down okay… Just- lets just hear him out." She says looking at you. "Either we have her here with her brother or they become government property." He continues. "You can't just not sign… think about everything you'll lose." Steve jumps in again. "If we sign, we lose our chance to choose. We work under our own authority now, but people have agendas and you know that better than anyone." Steve points out.

Tony and Steve go at it for a minute when he abruptly leaves. Soon you find out why… Peggy passed. You and Nat flew out to be with him for a moment. After which he told you he was not signing the accords. "Wish you the best Captain Rogers." Is what you said. You hesitated but pulled him into a hug. "If you ever need anything talk to me… I'll do my best to help you out." You tell him and he hugs you back. Nat convinced you to fly to Vienna with her and sign the accords there. So you did and regretted it not long after you arrived. It was a complete bore fest. You let Nat do her own thing and you just walked around like a lost puppy until something called your attention. You rush back to her immediately. "Nat, something's wrong, something is very wrong." You repeat then you look out the window confirming your theory. "EVERYBODY GET DOWN" you yell as you leap on Natasha. She's about to reprimand you for causing a scene when the whole building shakes.

It was a blur and everything hurts. You stand up and all you can hear is ringing and a faint voice. As you stand you hear your name faintly Natasha is calling you but there's something else. Your head begins to throb. The voice it's clear now. It's repeating words. "Zhelanie, rzhavyy, Semndtsat', Rassvet, Pech', Devgat', Dobroserdechnyy, Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu, Odin', Gruzovoy Vagon." You grab your head to try and steady yourself. But the voice gets louder and then you recognize it. "Don't believe what you see… dig deeper Y/n. It wasn't him." Then you're pulled out of your daze by Nat standing before you. "Y/n are you okay?" She asks worried. You only nod turning your head and noticing that somehow you made your way outside. "I umm- I need you to call tony and tell him it happened again." You say calmly she nods and takes off to make the call. As she did that you called Steve. "Yes, Steve I'm fine we're fine… but you need to listen to me."

He was scared and the news spread like wildfire. "It wasn't him… Steve it wasn't him." He's quiet. "How do you know?" You sigh. "I just do Steve okay. I believe in you alright. But you can't look for him. If you find him the rest will find him. Keep your distance a week two tops just listen to me please." You plead with him he eventually sighs. "I'm trusting you Y/n" you sigh in relief. You hang up when Nat begins to walk back to you. "Tony is sending a Plane." She mentions looking around them fixing her sight on you. "How did you know something was going to happen?" Her voice nearly a whisper. You shake your head. "Y/n you told me something was wrong very wrong at least 30 seconds before the bombs went off."

"I-i don't know Nat something felt wrong… off then I looked out the window." You say trying to piece together your thoughts. "Lets go… let me drop you off at the airport." She says helping you up. The drive was quiet and uncomfortable. She wasn't sure she believed you, she saw that you called someone. Her walls were up and your answers were not helping that. She helped you board the plane and said her goodbyes and walked out. The ride was quiet what you wanted. But those words kept circling your mind. You couldn't have heard them more than three times but they were burnt into your mind. Vision and then twins were waiting for you when you landed. "Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner will not get here in a couple of days." You nod taking your time getting off.

"Are you okay?" Pietro asks when you trip down the last step. You shake your head. "I'm just tired, plus it's not everyday that you live through an explosion." You chuckle. "I just need some rest." You finish. Your sleep was not as peaceful as you'd like. Your head kept going back to that state of limbo the same words repeating over and over again. In the morning you're feeling well enough and make your way down to the kitchen. You weren't surprised when you found the Maximoff twins already up and going. "Good morning" you say as you walk up to them noticing Vision floating in a corner. "Good morning do you feel better?" Wanda asks as she flips a pancake. You nod watching Pietro chop vegetables extremely fast. Wanda clears her throat catching your attention. "Your thoughts were very loud last night…" 

"Oh my Wanda I am so sorry if I kept you up." You begin apologizing but she cuts you short. "It's fine I only brought it up because I can hear them… they are there, but I can read them?" She says questioning whether or not you understood. You nod. "Did it happen again?" She asks, worry filling her eyes. "I-i don't know how to explain it. Yesterday I felt something was off. I heard a voice after the explosion." You mention trying to wrap your head around the situation. "It was repeating these words. I can't stop thinking about them." You finish off. She gives you a confused look. "Bruce said it's kinda like the green guy… It keeps me alive." 

"Is that why I can't read you anymore?" She blurts out. "I don't know probably." You shrug. "Nat, she doesn't believe me… I saw it in her eyes." You mention quietly. Pietro rushes over to you and puts his arm around you, messing with your hair. "Well we believe you, isn't that right?" He looks at Wanda and she nods. He has to throw a piece of fruit at Vision. "Yes, I think there is something to your condition." He mentions a smile growing on his face… Or what you think he thinks is a smile. It causes everyone to break out into laughter. After that you and the twins have a nice couple of days hanging out and living in some type of normalcy. You would watch the Dik Van Dyke show and Bewitched per Wanda's request and then one night something was off again. "Wanda… something's off. It's different." Is the last thing you manage to say before Vision rushes over to your side. This time the threat was internal… your heart. 

"Y/n to my understanding your heart is going into cardiac arrest. Stop fighting your mind, it will protect you." He mentions. You clutch your chest and let your mind loose. "Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner have been informed and will be here soo…'' is all your hear before you black out. You're in and put at one point you think you see Bruce but you're not sure. Then you're back in that white tundra and she's there waiting for you with a warm smile on her face. "Why do we keep meeting like this?" You ask as you run towards her. "It's you…" Is all she says hugging you. "Yes, who else would it be." You say playfully. She chuckles but she shakes her head. "It's you we meet on your terms. You only let me in when your guard is down." She steps back. "Are your okay?" She asks cautiously. "I really hope so." You say honestly taking a seat on the floor. "That's not what I meant… I-i um I had to give you a push in Vienna." She sits next to you. "That was you! Of course that makes sense. What do they mean." She smiles. "You'll figure it out… I know you will." She says again and you lay your head on her lap. She runs her fingers through your hair humming. "How long can I stay here with you like this?" You ask with your eyes closed. "As long as your want monkey."

"Where is she, is she okay? What the hell happened?" Tony burst into the compound the anger masking how scared he was. "Dr. Cho is in there right now and she's stable. She's almost done. Dr. Banner is assisting" Vision answers Tony calms down slightly turning to the twins. "What the hell happened?" They both shrug and Pietro speaks up. "You should ask her." He says his head nodding towards Nat. Tony makes a double take when Steve and Sam walk out behind her. Natasha walks up to them "What happened?" Tony only signs "That seems to be the Billion Dollar question." Wanda jumps back in. "She said something was off… something happened in Vienna." Now Pietro get defensive and jumps in to back his sister. "She said you didn't believe her." Tony turns to Nat. "Did she tell you this?"

"What was I supposed to believe Tony… she knew a building was going to explode before it did." Tony is now pacing. "She told you something was wrong… MY DAUGHTER told you something was wrong, that something was wrong with her. And you didn't think to tell me!" Natasha is left speechless and so is everyone else. That's when Dr. Cho walks back into the waiting room. "The surgery was a success and we replaced the damaged heart. She should wake up in a couple of hours depending as their medications wear off." She says not noticing the tension. Tony sighs in relief and Dr. Cho walks off. Tony points at Natasha. "You will stay away from her agent Romanoff." With that he walks off. 

It had been more than a few hours. It had been days and you hadn't woken up. "What is happening to her?" Tony hadn't left your side. Everyone had stopped by everyday their hopes diminished. Bruce calls him over and makes him take a seat. "Tony we have to wake her up soon!" He nods. "Of course we do!" He says looking at Bruce shake his head. "Her medical directives legally bind us to remove all life sustaining measures after two weeks."