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wander-wren · 2 years

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Ok, here goes! I wanna preface this by saying that I've been in a serious writing rut for like the past six months, to the point where I've pretty much given up on my WIPs. It's not that I don't want to write, or that I don't have ideas, but the actual work of sitting down and getting words on the page feels like pulling my own teeth out. So I'm conducting research on writers I admire to see if I can learn anything from their processes. And so, without further ado:

How long have you been writing?

Do you start out knowing what's gonna happen in the story, like with a plot chart and everything, or does the story take shape as you go along?

Do you write in big chunks or a little bit at a time?

How many drafts do you typically do? Is your first draft usually like word vomit or something a little more polished?

Do you have a beta reader?

What's your editing process like?

Is there a certain time or place where you prefer to write?

What do you consider the hardest part of writing?

Have you ever struggled with perfectionism in your writing? Do you have any tricks for bypassing that "EVERYTHING MUST BE PERFECT" wall in your brain and just get words on the page?

That was a lot lol. Of course you don't have to answer all of them, but any insight you're willing to give will be greatly appreciated!

Thank you very much <3

woo okay let’s tackle this!! under the cut bc Long. strap in folks

How Long Have You Been Writing?

in any shape or form: since maybe 6 years old? but i started writing fanfiction at 12, started getting serious about writing in general at 15, and threw myself full tilt into fanfic at 17, so currently i haven’t written original fiction Really since june. which is a complicated answer. you didn’t specify if this is about original stuff or fic, but i’ll try to answer from both perspectives bc my process for each is wildly different.

Plotter or Pantser?

for both original fiction and longfics, i’m solidly in the middle; i usually start with a list of things i want to happen, and i always need some idea of where i’m going to end, even if it changes later. from there, i start writing the first few chapters. when i feel like i have a more solid grasp of where i’m going, i outline chapter-by-chapter through one “section” of the story, however i define that. once im done that section, i outline again. this gives me a lot more freedom to change things as i go and adapt to new decisions i make. i also add random ideas to my masterlist of stuff that i might want to include further down the line as i go.

with oneshots i never, or almost never, have a plan beyond the premise/summary, so they frequently get away from me and do all kinds of random things.

Big Chunks or Little At a Time?

i’m gonna say big chunks? i have adhd so i frequently hyperfixate on my projects and can work on them for hours and hours on end, which i don’t exactly recommend, but it happens. at any given time i have a “main” wip or two that i work on pretty much daily, and then others scattered around that i might pick up for a few hours if i get bored. but i try to finish fics as fast as possible bc if i move on there’s a 50% chance i won’t come back, at least not for months.

How Many Drafts?

for fanfic? one. every once in a while if something is REALLY not working i’ll rewrite sections, so that’s like 1.5 drafts, but it’s free labor i do for fun so while i take pride in it and want it to be good, i’m not going to expend THAT much energy, yknow?

for original stuff, like if we’re talking novels…at least three drafts? i haven’t gotten that far with most of my projects so i’m still learning about myself, but my general process seems to be that the first draft is about getting the main story beats and the emotions down. my first draft is always very heavy on the angst and catharsis, sometimes overdramatically so, bc there’s less plot to hold it up. then my second draft is more about plot and realism and structure, but i tend to lose some emotions in trying to do that. my third draft is about combining the two and continuing to polish stories/characters. i haven’t written any fourth drafts, so i’m not sure whats beyond that.

and my first drafts tend to be very polished. i wrote a little rant explaining the history of that aspect of my writing not long ago, so i won’t get into it again. part of that is just how i’ve always been, part of it is practice. i do feel sometimes that i write pretty enough to cover up structural/realism/continuity issues, which can be frustrating when looking for critique from people who can’t see past it.

Beta Reader?

yes! i have a small group of writer friends that i share things with, but that is pretty much always for cheer-betaing and minor critiques unless i ask for actual criticism, which i only do with my original stuff when i get to the second/third draft, partly bc it’s not ready before then, and partly because it’s a lot of mental work for the other people. shoutout to my main bnha betas, @rangerlexi and @spacetime-enthusiast, who are, as i said, mainly cheer betas, tho mav is also my resident bakugo expert bc he’s very hard for me to write sometimes. getting better tho!

can’t recommend finding betas enough, even if just to cheer you on. hell, i can’t make promises about super long works or original fic, but i’m always down to read fanfiction. i don’t even bite, i swear. obligatory note that you do gotta trust ppl tho yada yada thieves exist and mean people exist etc etc

Editing Process?

for fanfic: typically i reread one or two times right away while all my thought processes are fresh in my head. i’ll make spot edits and add or delete things here and there. then depending on how impatient i am, i wait a day or a few to send it to my betas and/or reread and edit again myself. then i post and i’m done!

for original works: i don’t bother to edit first drafts, or even second drafts sometimes. when it’s time to prep for a second draft, i reread and make notes on what i want to keep and what i want to change, then use those notes to make my next skeletal outline. usually my stories change drastically from one draft to the next, but the last time i did a third draft, i wanted it to be pretty close to the structure of the second, so instead of outlining at all i just did splitscreen and wrote the whole third draft while looking at the second, sometimes basically retyping a page word for word, sometimes going “well, that chapter is pointless” and skipping it entirely. when it came to line editing, i used hemingway bc i don’t trust computers to do my editing, BUT the different colored highlights were helpful to break up the monotony. hemingway is a lot more focused on concise/readable sentences and cutting adverbs than anything else, which was good for me as an overwriter. i cut 22k words the last time i used it, from a 130k draft.

Best Time or Place?

not really? i write everywhere and constantly. the advice about finding your niche of productive time never seemed to work for me because, as long as i’m not blocked/stuck, i pretty much always kind of want to write.

Hardest Part?

DEVELOPING RELATIONSHIPS OH MY GOD IT’S THE WORST. sorry. i hate. doing that. becoming friends? becoming family? falling in love? god. kill me. i love all [thing] to lovers in reading but in writing i tend to drift toward best friends to lovers bc then it’s kind of close. i love writing about people in relationships, tension and banter and softness and fights, but getting there is so awful.

Are You a Perfectionist? Tips?

hm. gonna try to answer this honestly and in the least asshole-ish sounding way possible lmao.

i’m not really a perfectionist? not in writing, anyway, idk about other stuff. but also it’s just like…i know i’m good at what i do. not perfect—i can see flaws in things i wrote even a few months ago—but good. More Than Satisfactory. sometimes fics just don’t work and i abandon them, sometimes it takes me a while to figure out what i’m doing, but i’m not generally paralyzed by the need for anything to be perfect because i’m happy where i am?

that’s a hard mindset to get to, though. and you will for sure feel good about something and then dislike it in a few months or years. that’s just the nature of improving your craft. i think if i had any tips, though, i would say a few things.

watch this video essay, the whole thing but specifically 5:39-9:20. i love cj the x and i agree with many of his takes on art, so. some of his other essays might be helpful as well but that one i know talks specifically about perfectionism.

or if you don’t want to, just have this quote that melted my brain a little when i heard it. “perfectionism is not an inherently bad impulse. but you have to earn that. you don’t get to be a perfectionist if it is unproven up to this point if you can even make a thing.”

read bad stories. like genuinely i’m such a petty spiteful person oops so. i don’t really seek them out much but reading like, really really badly written work is like “well, if that’s the bar, at least i’ve cleared it.” obviously don’t go attacking creators or posting the work to make fun of it, but read it. maybe make notes of exactly why it’s bad for yourself, even, it might help you get better at identifying problems in your own work if you can figure out why things are bad beyond just “i don’t like it.” there, that sounds less mean, right?

just post your shit, tbh. put it out there. most people on the internet, in fandoms, they’re nice, if you curate your space properly. it’s a confidence boost! put something out there that’s less-than-perfect, get a couple of kudos and realize the world didn’t implode, and maybe, maybe it’ll be easier to start/finish next time.

you kinda just gotta accept that you need practice, my dude. like. you can’t closer to perfect without work!! we know this!! just do it. i know i just said to post things but also if you hate what you made no one!! else!! has!! to!! know!! it can be a secret. it’s okay. this coming from a chronic oversharer lol i have the worst time trying not to shove my stuff at people….which, actually, kinda worked better as motivation for me, bc i couldn’t share something unfinished, so i had to Do The Thing in order to get validation/feedback/critique like i wanted. so either way, whatever works better for you.

The End

so yeah, those are my answers, i guess? i hope that makes sense and helps and everything!! i’m really sorry you’re in a rut, that’s the worst. if you have any more questions or just wanna chat about what you’re writing feel free to come say hi again!

#a little birdie asked me #wooo this was fun #i love talking about writing and as such ive already infodumped to most of my friends :((#i love how my approach to og stuff is like so much more meticulous and then fanfic is like #it exists? cool my work here is done #not that i dont care a shitton about my fic. i absolutely do #but i got better things in life (read: more fanfiction) to be working on #i cant be agonizing over here #esp for 0 american dollars lol #wren wrambles #always forget the longpost tag

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galacticlamps · 2 years

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💘🌈🤍 for the fic writer asks? :)

💘Is there any posted fic you want to rework/re-edit/re-write?

Not especially? Little mistakes I'll fix whenever I notice them, even if it's on something that's been up for a long time already - and for anything I'd want to do a major overhaul on, I'm enough of a '2 cakes!' person to be down with writing a new fic on a similar concept, rather than rework one that already exists. Sidebar: that's actually how Shards of Memories & Fragments of Glass and Interrupted initially began, as kinda inverse/incompatible approaches to a similar moment - and I wasn't even frustrated with those, so I can only imagine how much more willing I'd be to write both ideas again if I thought it would be a massive improvement on a story.

((The fics of mine I like the least are also the ones I think about & re-read the least, so maybe there's something in one of them that I would be annoyed by enough to want to re-write, but it just isn't really on my mind? I suppose I look at Reckless and wonder why so little happens in 10k words, or I look at Oh, So Right and wonder if I shouldn't've held off and let that grow into something larger that incorporated more of my headcanons on the subject (I have a lot, but that fic was never meant to be the vehicle for them) - but it's not like I've ruled out doing that some day, so there's no real harm in it already existing as-is. Honestly I think my whole 5+1 series is pretty unbalanced - some like In the Kitchen feel better suited to being a chapter than a whole fic of its own, whereas others feel more like their own independent stories - and I think if I set out to do something like that again, I'd aim for more consistency, but it's not like I want to rewrite those actual fics just so they'd fit together better. If I recall correctly, On the Spot is probably fairly silly, but it's meant to be and there are about a million different versions of proposal & get together fics I have in my head - that one's far from being my favorite version but it doesn't hurt to've gotten one of them out of my system at least.))

🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

See, the thing I struggle with the most is length, and to some extent it really affects everything I write - because it's not as if I'm just anti-long fics, it's that I have a problem with consistently under-estimating what the word count on just about any wip will become. And then I worry if I'm pulling focus & distracting from what I actually want the story to be about with unnecessary word vomit - so I tend to do a lot of second guessing, shortening & looking for things to cut before I post anything, and sometimes I get waaaay too concerned about that, for relatively little payoff. In that regard, it would be much simpler to list the fics I miraculously didn't struggle with lol

But to talk specifics - there's a bit of anti-gravity business in Small Hours in a Wide Universe that I super stressed about narrating, and I sincerely hope no one would ever know - in that case, the problem was that I could see the actions very clearly in my mind & wanted to make sure I articulated it well enough that the reader could too, but the extra dimensions & scifi environment gave me a kind of limited vocabulary to describe movement with specificity. Since I know what it's supposed to look like though I'm not a good judge of if the description I ultimately wrote works well or if it's obvious reading it that I struggled there.

Your Life Begins By Leaving was another that I guess I had trouble with? It spent much longer than usual in my 'on deck' pile, but I wasn't working on it so consistently that it required major trouble to become stalled - again, I was just worried about sort of focus & mood and if I was overshadowing certain things with less necessary bits.

(there are 3 wips in particular that I would love love love to've posted & be able to answer this about one day, because those are truly the ones I've struggled the most with - but right now the only reason no one would know is because they literally don't exist in anyone's minds but my own lol)

🤍what’s one fic of yours you think people didn’t “get”?

I don't think this is really a case of people not 'getting' it as much as people just not caring about it as much as I do, and that's understandable - of everything I've posted, Wedding Colors is probably the most Gen & deals the least in romantic pairings - which a) is already a less popular subject in fanfic, and b) possibly even actively disappoints people by sounding like it would be more overtly romantic, given the title. But that's what I wanted to write, and I did, and I even tagged it as 'one day i decided i needed a Two/Jamie wedding fic that was actually about Zoe and this is that,' so I was kinda as upfront as I could be. (I do find it funny though, because when I'm writing things that are more exclusively Two/Jamie focused, I'll often wonder if I've done a poor job of contriving some reason for the other companions to be absent - sometimes I even feel bad writing them out, bc I think there's a great importance in a healthy romantic relationship also being part of healthy dynamics among any kind of friend group or found family, so I don't want to feel like I'm sidelining everyone because I don't think they're relevant - and yet if we're going by statistics, a fic that does heavily involve those other people & their perspectives on the romance IS in fact less appealing than ones without them, apparently)

The only other one that even slightly comes to mind is Bath Salts & Bruises, but again, saying people don't get it sounds unnecessarily harsh. I did mention once that its stats are pretty unique - if you rank my fics by hits, it's in the top half, by kudos it's in the bottom half, by bookmarks the bottom 4, and by comment threads dead last - which would seem to paint a picture of attracting more attention than it did interest or appreciation - whereas personally, it's a kind of favorite! I'm rather proud of the particular angle I took on their relationship in that one, it's one I believe in headcanon-wise (which I don't always - sometimes I just write things I could see happening because a story seems fun, and not because it's reflective of my more consistent beliefs about the characters) and for something I was a little nervous to write about, I was pretty satisfied with how I executed it too. But again, I don't think this is truly a case of anyone not getting something and more of just varied tastes, and it for sure has some stuff that objectively works against it. It's near the end of a series that took me months to write, versus the beginning installments that you'd expect to receive more attention. Most installments in that series are missing scenes during or after tv episodes - this one's set after a Big Finish audio, and to make matters worse, one that's part of a box set in a relatively unpopular range. Like the wedding one, it might also be a kind of false advertising too - it's a bath scene, the characters are nude for most of it and touching each other and even thinking about sex more directly than usual in most of my stuff - and yet it's not at all steamy or spicy or whatever you want to call it, and nothing ever comes of those thoughts, which could be a let down in terms of expectations/disappointment. And then there's also the fact that this is, I think, the most blatantly ace I've ever written Jamie - which could in itself annoy or even just fail to appeal to people who don't agree with that take - but he's also pretty clearly not uninterested in potentially sleeping with the Doctor. That combination makes perfect sense to me because it overlaps with some of my own experiences as an ace person, but could easily serve to confuse people who've spent less time considering asexuality, while at the same time even alienating other people who are more familiar with its nuances, but whose experiences or perception of the character are at odds with that particular detail.

So I've no reason to believe anyone hates it or is actually super confused by it, but it certainly doesn't appeal to others as much as it does to me (and that's fine, nobody at all could read it ever & I'd still be quite glad I wrote it!)

#ask games #what's the opposite of wips?#oh right #fics

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i-need-air · 4 years

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Hybrid!AU Wolf!Bakugou Katsuki HCs.

Summary: How would Hybrid!Bakugou would react to being adopted by the reader and their domestic life together. Headcanons and believe me, it's a long one... [2k WORDS OF HCS psjxksdj stop me pls] PLATONIC/ROOMMATES HCS, will do a part two later on with continuation and romance cuz 2kwordsbro...

Notes: I love Hybrid AU!s and I want to indulge myself with this. I barely see these in the fandom, so maybe you guys will like it! Also, depending on how it goes, I'm gonna consider making more for other characters, whachu say? Tell me what you thought and I hope you enjoy!~ ♥

Part 2 here!

× he's a wolf hybrid, and the workers at the shelter warn you that he's feral as you pass by where he was locked

× it seems he was in an illegal fighting ring and nobody could get close to him even if his living conditions now were much better than the hell hole he lived in before

× he growled, scratched, yelled, overall he needed so much help

× normally that would've been very intimidating to you but while the workers tried to push you towards some bunny or dog hybrids they had around, you just froze because the mf said they were considering sacrificing him

× like wHat the fuck?? he's a human being?????? sure he has a tail but what????????

× and you just foken went crazy for a moment cuz you didn't even see him in his cage, he was hiding somewhere under the bundle of blankets he had, probably asleep

× so you just went mental, demanding an explanation because hybrid shelters do not and should not sacrifice a person

× and your increasing yelling just made all the hybrids anxious

× and Bakugou heard everything [who wouldn't]

× i shit you not, the employee tried to explain why

× legit said cuz he's aggressive

× Bitch I'd be aggressive too! I'd bite your jugular off

× course, security was called but you already prepared to call the police, Hybrid Protection Services, your lawyer, your friends, the president, you name it

× and that's when you said you're adopting whoever was under the blankets. NOW.

× always hated the word adopting, but you were looking to give a hybrid a chance since you finally had a spare bedroom in your new apartment

× so like security and the worker just look at each other cuz who tf is gonna be the brave soul to go inside the cage to retrieve Bakugou Katsuki and get rid of you both already

× you're just staring at them like u srs bro? so you just send them to do the paperwork while you decide to go in yourself because you needed to get out of that place ASAP to still contact HPS on this shelter

× security stayed by the door while you hesitantly walked towards the blanket bundle [not so brave anymore] cuz why did that dude have his gun out??????

× but when you approached the bundle and kneeled in front of it you noticed movement

× a fluffy sand yellow tail suddenly came to view and it was big, slowly moving from side to side

× so with the gentlest voice you could muster [after screaming your lungs out moments ago] you tried to talk to whoever was underneath

× you introduced yourself and said you're here to take them home but got nothing, just casual tail movement

× Big Hunkus Brutus Security Guardus™ was getting impatient so he told you to just "fuckin put the collar and leash on the stupid beast" and you just 🙃 fucking excuse u?? while turning towards him

× it was a delicate time and you needed to take it slow, and anyway you knew you'd get that crap off your [hopefully] new friend as soon as possible

× what you didn't expect was the guard to freeze and raise his gun again, but was pointing above your head, not even looking in your eyes

× so you turn and meet a naked chest, scarred, with recent bruising on and big

× looking up you see Bakugou Katsuki, ruffled blonde hair, wild in all directions, red eyes harsh and staring at the guy behind you, only some pants on his form and tail still waving very slowly behind him

× while Chunkus Brutus trembled in place, gun shaking in hands, you were in the fuckin middle of it all

× what you didn't expect is the hybrid to take the collar in your hands and wrap it around his neck, now looking at you, expression still harsh but this time it didn't scream murder [and then grabbed a shirt, thank the heavens]

× progress? making friends? good first impressions?

× na lol you wish but that's spoilers 👀

× the process of adoption went smoothly, and when I say smoothly I mean Robustus Dumbus Brutus behind both of you with his hand still on his gun while all the workers gathered around to see the crazy insane person that adopted The Devil™, the guy that told you about the sacrificing was actually filing the paperwork as fast as possible under the intense gaze of the wolf

× and Bakugou was standing very close to you, btw, like i can feel your body heat close

× he was compliant at first, when you got in the car you started rambling about your house and how he has a room while trying to take the collar off him but he grabbed your hands

× like insanely fast, one blink and firm grip on your hands

× "i ain't gon be your fuckin pet, understood?" he growled at you but made no movement to bolt and run away

× and you just wanted to roll your eyes cuz ok he can kill you anytime but like didn't he get the message when you screamed back there? [also there was this sense of security you had around him or maybe you were just really dumb]

× so when you said you weren't looking for a pet but to help someone and maybe a friend and roommate, he just narrowed his eyes at you

× suspish human, wild doggo no trust

× anywho he took the collar off himself [like extra fast] but you explained that you are going to get him a bracelet or something less degrading since he still needed something with the information tag to have on himself so police will know he's no stray and he wouldn't end in the same craphole again

× journey home was silent, like eery silent

× he just looked out the window intensely, you noticed how he focused on every sign and turn

× you considered asking him questions but honestly with his past you doubted he would even answer so you just started to ramble about your home, stuff you could do around the city [which caught his attention], items you'd have to go buy for him, like clothes, shampoo, any special food, the bracelet

× he stopped looking out the window and just looked at you

× ok he was intensely staring at your side, basically drilling a hole in your cheek with those crimson eyes and it was making you N e r v o u s because making new friends is hard when you're just vomiting monologs, all while driving

× buying things was awkward to say at least, special hybrid stores were rare and for a guy his size it was even more difficult to find anything, which ended up in getting normal clothes and deciding to adjust them for his tail

× while grocery shopping you discovered he actually knew very well what he wanted after a lot of questioning from you

× he finally sighed at your persistent act and just threw stuff in the shopping cart, a surprising amount of spices too

× now for the bracelet part... you decided to spend more on a code that could be scanned to identify him rather than the distasteful ones with name and who owns him

× good thing you planned ahead a long time ago and saved money but you did notice his sharp eyes on you whenever you paid

× and his grunts and judgemental looks at other people with hybrids

× it's as if he wanted to say something, anything, but was stopping himself, which lowkey worried you because from what you heard Bakugou's supposed to be very vocal

× maybe he was glad to be out of the shelter, you know you'd be

× you get home and he follows you to your house, again giving him another chance to bolt somewhere away from you but c'mon both of you knew he'd outrun you so why force him, just let him take his time

× "So this is your room" shook him to the core, legit he just stood silent in the hallway as you presented your house calmly

× sniffing around

× so much sniffing around, tail low while he checked every corner

× once he did decide to check his bedroom, he closed the door leaving you to set everything up

× what you didn't know is that he looked around, shaking with anger

× this is what normal people have?

× sat on the edge of the most confortable bed he's ever had and hoped the idiots of his friends managed to get something like this too

× and the shitshow began when you called him for dinner

× not enough salt, not enough spices

× he was a pain in the ass and as he let go, little by little you started to see him for who he was

× this, this was Bakugou Katsuki, the guy that started to scold you because of the seasoning of the food

× it formed a bond between you, the start of you seeing his real personality

× a Mom™

× slowly started owning the house, although you found it hilarious

× next day you found him cooking breakfast with such an ease it shocked you to the core

× "The fuck you lookin' at?" as he puts a plate of pancakes in front of your

× you just lowkey uwu when you realize he's waiting for your approval as you ate and I swear to you, best pancakes ever

× chest puffed when you complimented his food and this was the first time he mentioned something about his past; seems he had to cook for everyone at the fighting ring he was at, but he didn't mention more

× talking about his past took forever, putting together bits and pieces he mentioned, yet they were so little

× he'd go silent after mentioning his [what you assumed] friends

× if you asked or pressed too much he'd click his tongue or snap at you

× not everything was dandy though; yes, he was a good roommate, but he did have THE attitude

× but not as the people at the shelter made it to be, like he'd snap at you from time to time but it would get better as he'd start to trust you

× ok, ok, hear me out,,,,

× play with his hair

× it happened by accident; you started to have this tradition after a couple of months of living together: movie nights

× he really liked action stuff but both your dirty secret was watching those shitty horror movies and make fun of everyone in them, so every Friday Night was Movie Night

× he just threw himself on the couch and his hair looked puffy and those adorable wolf ears were twitching, you straightforwardly asked him if you could play with it

× [ask if you don't want your hand bit off]

× he scoffed

× silence

× when he nodded and looked away, you squealed and started scratching, just playing with his hair, mindlessly doing so while snickering at the TV when movement caught your attention

× he was wiggling his tail softly

× you guys never mentioned it but now he sits down on the sofa head close to you on a pillow and wait for them god sent scratches; will 100% roll his eyes and scoff at you when you start, acting like YOU want this

× TERRITORIAL AS FUCK

× seriously glares at whoever comes inside the house

× has a problem with every single soul since they dirty his home

× you don't notice it first but he finally starts calling your house home and that's the ultimate progress

× boy had a lot of hardships in his life so he appreciates what he has

× yet it is very, very hard to gain his trust at first

× when you finally do though? he's a loyal friend forever

× he's thankful to have you

× will never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever tell you

× his actions speak for him

× you're part of his pack now

× but seriously wash the dishes or you'll die.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #noire writes #hybrid!au #hybrid!bakugou #bakugou x reader

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secretobsessionstuff · 3 years

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52. "You're wound too tight. Just try to relax." - for either Riley or Madix, your choice 🖤

Flick, you must have sent this three months ago and I am so sorry. But it has arrived lol! Prompt is from THIS lovely list.

Everyone will have to excuse the inaccurate representation of graduate exams because I needed to make it fit with the fic.

CW: Alcohol, drunkenness, graphic description of vomiting,

------------------

“Madix, please let me have my phone,” Riley whined as he followed his boyfriend into the bar. They were also joined by Alexi and Micah who groaned at hearing the same plea for the tenth time. Madix wore an easy smile on his face but that was because his phone wasn’t being held hostage.

“Are you going to keep checking if your score is released?” Madix asked, knowing full well what the answer was going to be.

Riley looked down at his feet. “Perhaps.”

“Oh well then perhaps…no.” Madix replied. He walked backwards, if only to make sure that Riley saw the playful grin on his face. Riley’s face on the other hand bore no such expression. His brow was pinched with worry and his lip was the victim of constant abuse by his teeth. His fingernails saw a very similar type of violence, especially his thumbnail that was chewed down to the quick. Madix grabbed his boyfriend’s wrist and pulled his hand away from his mouth. “You're wound too tight. Just try to relax.”

“I’d be a lot more relaxed if you would let me check my phone.”

“Ry, the test is over. There’s nothing you can do about it now. I brought you here to take your mind of it.”

“What if I failed?” Riley asked, picturing all the questions that he was unsure about it. That was always the worst part about finishing a test: going over the questions a million times in your head until you’ve convinced yourself that everything is wrong. Riley was the king at doing just that. Can you blame him? This was the entrance exam to determine if he’d be admitted into his PhD programme. His future was riding on the results on this test. Riley hated the future; why did it never take a break from coming?

Madix grabbed his boyfriend’s face in his hands. “You didn’t fail. I know you didn’t it. Now, why don’t you get yourself a drink. Look, Micah’s already ordering.”

Riley exhaled deeply. He wasn’t going to win this one. “Fine. Do you want anything?”

“No, I’m driving you lot back, so go ahead and drink your worries away.”

• • •

Riley was drinking but his worries weren’t going away. The vodka and coke that he ordered was half-empty, just like his mentality. He swivelled on the bar stool to turn and face Micah who was drinking a very vibrant beverage.

“What did you get?” he asked, not really caring about the answer but wanting to start a conversation.

Micah licked the red from his lips. “Strawberry Daiquiri.”

“That’s nice. Did I tell you that most people lose marks on the neuroscience section because—”

“No, no we’re not talking about that,” Micah said quickly. He spotted Riley’s knee bouncing from where it rested on the bar stool. He appeared to be vibrating in his seat. Also, he wouldn’t stop twisting the chair around. “Dude, you need to chill out.”

“How?” Riley bit the skin on his thumb until he tasted blood. He looked down at his drink, thinking perhaps it would do with a little less coke. “Nevermind, I think I know.”

• • •

There was no more coke in sight. Only clear liquid in shot glasses. Riley downed the vodka, grimacing when the shots left bullet holes in his stomach. He didn’t care.

He didn’t care about anything. For the first time that night, he finally didn’t have care in his head.

“So, you’re a murderer? he asked Micah, much too loudly. The thought of sitting next to his serial killer cousin was apparently amusing because he laughed.

Micah giggled along with him. “No, no I only write about murder.”

“But how do you know so much about blood splatter and body decop-decomp…position?”

Micah shrugged. “I don’t know. Google, I guess.”

Riley nodded thoughtfully. Google. He let that word echo in his head until it no longer made any sense. They both fell silent for a second, looking off at nothing. Riley was unconsciously tilting to one side, but quickly straightened himself. He lifted his empty shot glass and looked to the bartender. “’nother one please.”

The bartender cocked her eyebrow at him. Riley wasn’t keeping track, but she sure was. “This is your last one,” she said, pouring the shot.

Riley pouted. His last one. He had to make this one count. He kept the glass on the bar and stared at it wistfully. As far as he was concerned, he was peering into the deepest wishing well. So far, all his wishes had come true. He closed his eyes, thinking about his last wish.

This wish was important. It held the weight of the future on its figurative back. Riley didn’t seem to care that wishes were intangible concepts or that shots were just liquid. He placed all of his hopes on the shoulders of this moment. It wasn’t entirely true about him not having a care in the world. Anxieties and worries lingered at the back of his mind. Multiple choice numbers floated in his subconscious, and a few of those questions surfaced to the top of his thoughts.

Riley made his wish and downed the shot.

He felt this shot like a tiny wound in his stomach. Or maybe it landed like a penny at the bottom of a fountain. Either way, his belly felt the weight. He hiccupped and put his fist up to his mouth just as Madix came over to the bar.

Madix looked back and forth at Micah and Riley with a smirk. Neither boy could sit up straight or keep a straight face. If Madix were as drunk as his boyfriend, he probably would have laughed at the idea that anything about them could be straight.

“How you guys doing?” he asked, placing a hand on Riley’s shoulder. “You certainly seem more relaxed.”

Riley melted at the sight of his boyfriend. His Madix. This boy belonged to him. It was his most prized possession. Drunk Riley didn’t fully appreciate the concept of autonomy. He grabbed Madix’s other hand and pulled him closer. “Where have you been? I missed you.”

Madix smiled at the idea of being missed while he sat a few feet away. “I missed you too. Alexi and I have been talking to some people at the table next to us. Do you guys want to join?”

Riley frowned for no particular reason. Perhaps he was trying to remember how to politely decline the offer of social interaction. Even while drunk, Riley wasn’t fond of the idea of talking to strangers. “No, Micah and I are having fun talking.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“But the bartender won’t give us more drinks.”

“Is that so?” Madix said, wondering just how much his boyfriend managed to drink in such a short time. “Perhaps we should have done this with more food in our bellies. How are you feeling?”

Riley didn’t try to stop himself from falling forward into Madix’s chest. He was suddenly very sleepy and a little regretful of that last shot. He burped, still with his face smooshed into Madix’s shirt. “I’m fine.”

“Really?” Madix said, lifting Riley up by the shoulders to look at his face better. His cheeks were flushed red. He also seemed to be swallowing excessively. “Maybe a little queasy?”

“Maybe a little.”

“How about we get some fresh air.” Madix looked over at Micah who appeared to be a bit more composed. “Micah, are you coming?”

“No,” Micah replied, standing up from the stool. “I’m gonna sit with Alexi.”

Madix was about to say something in return, but Riley’s hiccupping distracted him.

The boy grimaced, “Madix, my head feels funny.”

“That’s why we’re going outside. Ready?” Madix said before helping his boyfriend off the stool.

Riley stumbled a little before using Madix’s shirt to catch him. He reeled back, blinking rapidly. The standing world felt much different than the sitting world. He didn’t like it as much. “Whoa…I don’t…feel good.”

“Are you going to be sick?” Madix asked with a tight hold on his boyfriend.

“No.” And then Riley promptly threw up at Madix’s feet. It came up so suddenly and effortlessly that he barely had time to realize what he’d done. But he did realize it as he stared at a pathetic puddle of sick on his boyfriend’s shoes. “Oops,” was all he could say before gagging and slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Oh jeez, come on,” Madix said as he dragged Riley out of the bar.

It smelt like smoke outside as Madix and Riley emerged from the doors. They barely made it a few steps before Riley heaved up a much bigger flood of vomit. This time it landed only on the pavement.

Riley bent forward, putting his hands on his knees. He felt the sting of alcohol as it rushed up his throat. It splattered in between his feet in a mostly clear stream. Eventually, it turned darker as he belched up coke and whatever else was in deep in his belly.

“Here we go,” Madix said, patting Riley’s back. “You’re okay.”

Was Riley okay? He didn’t feel okay. He felt the sky surrounding him on all sides, like he was tumbling up against gravity. His stomach squeezed itself, sending up another wave of spiked sick. To onlookers, he appeared to be dancing around, but he was really just trying to stop himself from falling over. Truthfully, Madix deserved most of the credit for keeping him upright.

“Ugh, Madix,” Riley moaned with his head in his hands. “It’s spinning. It’s all spinning, make it stop.”

“I wish I could, love,” Madix said, tossing his coin into the wishing well. Unfortunately, that well water was now splattered across the sidewalk.

Riley coughed harshly which triggered another burp that brought with it a final surge of puke. God, how it burned his nose and made his eyes water. He straightened up while sniffling like crazy.

Madix’s peered at him, waiting to see if there would be another round. When Riley’s stomach seemed to settle down, he grabbed his boyfriend’s arm. “Are you with me, babe?”

Riley closed his eyes, feeling himself sway in Madix’s grip. “That was horrible. Why did you let me do that?”

Madix chuckled. “I told you to drink your worries away, not banish them to the underworld with fifty shots of vodka.”

Riley moaned. He was quickly approaching the realm of regret and self-hatred. “God, my stomach. I feel horrible.”

“I know something that will make you feel better,” Madix said while leading his boyfriend back into the bar. They had their fun, but now it was time to get Alexi and Micah, and go home.

“What?”

Madix couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on his face, even when his boyfriend looked this miserable. Well, he wouldn’t be miserable for long. “I checked your score an hour ago. You passed.”

Riley could only sigh. The tension dropped from his shoulders and his jaw. He felt ten times lighter, no thanks to the copious of vomit he just brought up.

The look of relief on Riley’s face was all Madix wanted to see. Sadly, he could still see the look of someone who was nauseous and tired. “I’m proud of you. And I’m pretty sure you won’t be thinking about your score tomorrow.”

#emeto #emetophilia #emetophile #emetophiliac #sickfic #drunk sick #my ocs #Riley #Madix #Micah #Alexi #vomiting #nausea #drunk #vomit kink

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hyunjilicious · 4 years

Text

would you? [chris evans]

A/n: I literally word vomited this in less than 20 minutes and didn’t proof read it so please be kind lol. Also I haven’t written fluff in ages and I forgot how to do it!

Summary: Chris gets all riled up when you tell him you actually like and would date his character Ransom, from Knives Out. (FLUFF) 1.4k

Warnings: literally none? I think... alcohol if that’s a warning? Oh, and shitty writing. And tons of fluff. Like only fluff. Too much maybe. Really fucking domestic tho. I needed that tonight.

Above anything else, you loved late nights in. Like this one for instance, as it was well past 3am, and both you and Chris were still wide awake. You, in the living room, scrolling through the channels on your rarely used TV, and him, in the kitchen, grabbing glasses, making popcorn and picking the next bottle of wine.

“Baby!” you yelled over your shoulder as you suddenly stopped flicking through the channels and finally settled on one. Chris’s face took up the whole screen as Knives Out was playing, and you couldn’t help but smile.

He didn’t answer.

“Baby!” you called again, this time louder and more determined.

First, you heard a soft clatter and then a deafening bang. “You ok?” you asked, rushing to your feet and sprinting towards the kitchen.

As soon as you opened the door, your eyes landed on Chris. He was sitting on the floor, his back hunched dangerously low.

“Baby, what happened?” you whined, walking over to him. Then you saw it. “Is that my shake for tomorrow?”

Chris looked up, eyes all wide and apologetic as he tried to win you over with his dazzling smile, “I just wanted to taste it”

“You child” you laughed.

“I don’t know why I got so scared when you called me, I fucking dropped it” he confessed, standing up and grabbing a napkin, “You know when we were kids and were doing stuff we weren’t supposed to? That’s the kind of nervousness I was feeling while drinking your shake”

“I thought you were just tasting it?” you pouted.

Chris opened his mouth to respond, but then found himself at a loss for words. “Ok, fine!” he eventually exclaimed, "I don’t know why yours is so much better than mine?”

“That’s because you’ve got no patience to blend properly” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, I blend!” he argued amused, pointing his finger at you, “It’s not the blending, I tell you”

You sighed, unable to hide your smile. Moving to the side to help carry the snacks to the living room, you spoke to him over your shoulder, “I still don't understand why you won’t let me make it for you”

“Because I’m a grown ass man, Y/n” he huffed, still inside the kitchen, “What kind of dipshit isn’t able to make his own protein shake?”

“You apparently” you laughed and then heard him mock you from the kitchen.

Yes, you loved staying in with him more than anything in the world.

A few minutes later, you had both settled on the couch, scrolling through Netflix in search of a movie worthy of your precious time.

Chris took a sip of wine and then nudged your side, “What did you wanna say earlier?”

“What?”

“When I dropped the shake” he clarified, “You had something to say”

You frowned with confusion for a second and then remembered, “Oh, yeah” you giggled, throwing some popcorn into your mouth, “Just how hot Ransom is, that’s all”

Chris narrowed his eyes, “America’s asshole?”

“The one and only”

“You think he’s hot?” he asked. He seemed to have gotten defensive, offended even.

“Yeah, of course” you said, “How could I not…?”

“He’s a dipshit”

“Yeah, he is-” you rolled your eyes, turning to look at him, “But it’s your fucking face Chris, how could I possibly not find him hot?”

He sighed, probably thinking there was no way for him to win this, “Ok, but you just like his face and that’s all. He wouldn’t be able to woo you or anything right?”

“I mean-” you giggled.

“Y/n!” Chris exclaimed, “What’s wrong with you? Tell me that if I didn’t exist and Ransom did, you wouldn’t date him”

“I’d date, marry and die by Andrew Barber if he existed” you laughed.

“Answer my question, baby” Chris said, trying his best to sound serious.

“I don’t know what you want me to say” you whined, cuddling into his side. “I like you” you added, looking up into his eyes.

“I like you too, doll” he smiled, gathering you into his arms and nudging your cheek, “That’s why I wanna know you wouldn’t date someone like Ransom”

“You’re the only I wanna date anyway-”

“We talked about this” Chris laughed, kissing your forehead before returning to look into your eyes, “I don’t exist, he does”

“I’d fucking date him, Chris. I think he’d be capable of loving me. And I think there’s a sweetheart hidden in there somewhere. I’m sure he just needs someone to love and care for him, that's all.”

He remained silent. Looked at you as if you had stolen all the words from his tongue. “Ok, but what if you try to express your opinion one time and he dismisses it in an instant and tells you to eat shit?”

“No one does that” you laughed.

“No, no, no!” Chris jumped, tapping your thigh, “Now I’m intrigued, I wanna see, what would you do?”

“Well” you contemplated, “Since the words would be coming out of your face, I’d probably just drop it and try again later”

Chris looked at you dumbfounded, shaking his head in disbelief as he thought of another scenario. “Let’s say you’re getting dressed to go out with some girlfriends and he tells you to stay at home because he’s horny”

“We’re in the middle of a pandemic, Chris” you laughed, proud of yourself for turning this against him, “He’d just be taking care of me. Who knows who my friends came in contact with anyway”

He sighed deeply, furrowing his brows. He tightened his hold around your frame as he thought of something else, his lips pressing soft, random kisses along your hairline.

“What if he’d talk down to you? I’m sure he’d always do that”

“Well-” you smiled, “You talk down to me and call me all sorts of names-”

“OUTSIDE OF SEX, Y/N!”

You stopped to think, “I’m sure he’d mean them with love?”

His eyes widened with exasperation as he grabbed your cheeks into his hands, “Baby, and I mean this in the most sweet and loving way possible, you have problems up here” he said, tapping your temple.

“Oh god” you chuckled and rolled your eyes, ushering his hands away, “Just let a girl love her man, jesus”

“Yes!” Chris yelled, exasperated, “Love me, not fucking Ransom Drysdale what the fuck!” “You are him!” you yelled back.

“No, I’m not! I don’t exist! We were just talking about that spoiled asshole, not me!” “Oh” you pouted, suddenly looking all confused, “Well if you put things like that…”

“Are you serious!?” Chris exclaimed, laughter interrupting his words, “Have we been having this dumb ass conversation for the last 10 minutes only because you have selective attention?”

“Well.. you know, it’s 3 am and I love you so like I got confused and just went with it”

“I love you too, my angel” Chris said, leaning down to kiss you lips, “I don’t know how you managed to finish college with that attention span but -”

“Hey” you laughed, playfully slapping his cheek.

“I’m kidding!” he shook his head, “You’re smart as fuck, that’s why I was worried you’d ever think some like Ransom was worth your time”

After going off on this topic for just a little bit longer, you decided it was actually time to go to sleep. After cleaning up and tidying the living room, Chris picked you up into his arms and started heading towards your bedroom.

“I love you so much” you whined, kissing the side of his neck.

“I love you too, baby” he said, “And I’m sorry I'm starting this again, but I wanna know if I got it right. The only reason you said you’d accept those things was because you thought they were coming from me?”

“Yeah” you yawned, “Why?”

“Cause that’s not ok either” he countered, walking into the bedroom and placing you on the bed.

“Wouldn’t you? Accept those things from me, I mean?”

“Well yeah, but…” Chris said, placing his hands on his hips as he tried to find a way to make the situation sound reasonable. There wasn’t one. “OK, we’re both mentally deranged” he concluded, and hopped into bed next to you, “Let’s just sleep right now and never talk about this again”

“Deal” you laughed, rolling over to lay on his chest.

#chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale imagine #chris evans fluff #chris evans blurb

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roger-that-cap · 4 years

Text

gold rush

everyone wanted steve rogers. as much as you liked to pretend that “everyone” didn’t include you, it did. but even thinking about being with a person that everyone wanted was more dangerous than everyone else thought, and you seemed to be the only one worrying about it.

steve rogers x fem!reader

word count: 5k!

warnings(not warnings at all): college!au, blink and you miss him charming!steve, very sweet!steve, meddling!wanda, dumbass!reader, this is a fluff show! have fun because i did! this is probably my last song fic for right now lol

all mistakes are 100% mine!

There was nothing about Steve Rogers that was a turn off, or anything about him that was a red flag. He was helpful and considerate. He took himself and others seriously and had a sense of responsibility. He had a great face and an even greater mind. He had the perfect group of friends and the perfect smile. He was a genuinely kind man. Nothing about him was unappealing.

Besides the fact, of course, that there was nothing about him that was unappealing.

The man was perfect. He was a perfect person who had no visible faults, so that naturally brought everyone to his feet, even if he didn’t want them there. There was no shortage of shameless suitors that wanted Steve, and that was the problem.

You didn’t like that, at all. You were never the type to run after someone just because other people wanted them, and you certainly weren’t the type that wanted to chase someone just for the thrill of it, and to maybe be picked by them. You weren’t someone who wanted to be picked, and you weren’t one who would think that you were special for being the one to be chosen over the absurd amount of people chasing him. And, his perfection frightened you a bit.

You and Steve hardly knew each other. You had seen him in passing, just as everyone else had seen him. Your absolute best friend and also roommate, Wanda, was close with some really pretty girl named Natasha, who was from Russia. Natasha happened to be close to Steve’s best friend, James—Bucky—Barnes. Which, by extension, meant that Wanda hung out with Steve all the time.

Wanda just so happened to really want to go to a small get together that Steve was having at the bar down the street. She invited you like she did all the time, and like you did all the time in return, you opted out.

“I’m starting to think that the reason you say no all the time is because you’re avoiding someone,” Wanda sang your way, brushing her hair as she stood in her towel and looked at the vanity. “And I’m usually right.”

“Well, not this time. I don’t avoid anyone.” That was a total lie. You avoided Steve Rogers and his little group like they were the plague, and you weren’t planning on stopping any time soon.

“Did one of them say something to you?” Wanda asked, her brow quirked upward. It was unlikely for any of her friends to be anything less than mild mannered and kind, especially to strangers. Wanda was the company she kept, and Wanda was probably the kindest person you knew.

“No, no, that’s not it.” Damn. You cringed at the indirect admittance of there actually being a problem.

“So…?”

She wasn’t going to leave without an answer. You bit your lip before answering, debating on telling the truth or not. Evidently it didn’t matter, because the word vomit did the work for you. “The people that flock around Steve make me sick.”

Wanda didn’t even wait a moment for courtesy. She bent over at the waist, cackling at the words that escaped your mouth. “Y/N, huh? Flock?”

“They literally surround him like he’s some wizard or something, it’s weird!” You defended yourself, not wanting to back down. “He’s nice, but it’s like he’s a flame and they’re all moths. He’s the sheep herder, and they are loyal sheep. Why does everyone want him?” You knew why.

“I don’t.”

You rolled your eyes at her. Of course she wasn’t a t Steve, not when she had her oddly robotic and smart boyfriend that insisted on being called Vision. He was nerdy and sweet, just Wanda’s type. “Yeah, of course not, but I don’t trust something that everyone wants. It’s weird.”

Wanda made a face at you, looking you up and down twice. You almost grimaced when you realized that she was seeing through you. “I’m starting to think that you’re one of them.”

You made a face that told her that she was way off, even though she was far too close for comfort. “Wanda, no. Don’t suggest that ever again, yuck.”

She cocked a brow at you. “So you think Steve is unattractive?”

No. Of course you didn’t. You found Steve very attractive, actually. Everyone knew Steve was attractive, but that was the damn problem! You couldn’t let yourself be drawn into that, not when you had so much work to do. You had been avoiding being stuck to him like a fly to a web since you first saw him, and you weren’t stopping now. It was almost like a game after doing it for so long, and you weren’t going to lose.

“I know you think he’s hot.”

“So?” Wrong thing to say, totally the wrong thing!

You were worried that you were about to get teased until Wanda just looked at you with a look of minimal pity. “Why don’t you talk to him?” You shook your head hastily. “You might have a chance.”

“A chance,” you rolled your eyes. “Why would I want to be chosen to be with someone? Ever thought about the way people fight over his attention like we’re on The Bachelor? Why the hell would I want to be in line behind people for the attention of one person?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Wanda said teasingly, pulling out her blow dryer and politely waiting for your response before starting it.

“I just don’t see why I need to meet him and be enamored by him.” You knew that you would be. Even from afar, you couldn’t help but look at him and his hair, his eyes, his back muscles. Being close to him would be asking for the one thing you had been avoiding for so long.

Wanda gave you a long look, one that reminded you of one that a knowing mother would give her children when she knew how something would play out. You expected to get a lecture from her about judging people, but then she was turning her back to you, looking at you via the mirror. “Hm.” When she realized that you were still looking at her, she gave you a glance and playfully jumped at you. “Finish your newspaper column, nerd.”

§§§

You were in the café, looking like you had just came out of your dorm and like you didn’t want to be seen. You had your arms crossed because the vents were kicking in there like always, and you were shifting from left to right as you daydreamed.

You moved up in the line and looked behind you when you heard the squeaky door opening, not at all expecting to lock eyes with Steve Rogers. He was next to his best friend directly behind you in line. Bucky was whispering right in his ear. Steve’s blue eyes widened once you turned around and saw him already watching you, and then you gave him a sharp nod before turning away and facing forward again.

How did you not hear Bucky Barnes’ loud ass mouth anyway? He was always the first thing you heard when they were coming, and where he was, Steve was. If Bucky was doing things off campus, Steve was sure to be not even ten paces away. If Steve was doing something four states over, Bucky was probably there, too. They both followed each other like they weren’t allowed to be more than a mile apart before combusting. It reminded you of the way you were with your best friend back at home before you left.

You swiped your card when it was your turn, flashed the cashier a thankful smile, and then walked over to an empty table, opening your laptop and clicking away at the keys once you got into the right mindset to start. This week, you were charged with writing a piece about the swim team and their win, and it would be on the front page of the paper if it was good enough. You were going to make it good enough.

Ten minutes in, you noticed someone’s stare right on your face, burning red hot. You stopped typing and looked up, brows already raised at whoever was looking at you. You connected with Steve’s line of sight again, and he fumbled with his drink at the table he was at and looked away quickly, cheeks starting to glow pink. You saw Bucky laugh before rolling your eyes and mumbling under your breath, cracking your fingers and getting back to work.

You felt his gaze a few other times, well aware of it coming and going, and you were handling it just fine until you finally groaned and shut your laptop, putting it in your bag and rolling up your trash. You stomped towards the trash can than happened to be near Steve and Bucky, threw your trash away, and then went out of the double doors of the café.

The second you saw Wanda, you wanted to ask her what Steve’s problem was with you, but she was actually studying when you walked in. Wanda didn’t study unless she was in deep shit, so you just made a nervous face and sat down, quiet as a mouse out of respect your friend.

An hour passed with you just on your phone before Wanda’s textbook shut. She looked up at you, her face slightly exasperated. She blew a piece of hair out of her face and gave you a tight smile. “You wanted to say something when you came in, I can tell.”

“Yeah,” You said, leaning off of your bed a bit. “What’s Steve’s deal?”

She looked confused. “What about him?”

“He won’t stop looking at me,” You said with disdain, hating the way that your voice was bordering on being a whine. “I couldn’t even write anything good because he was staring holes in me.”

“Well, did you talk to him?”

You made a face. “Why the hell would I have done that?”

“So you wouldn’t have to rely on me telling you the answer to something I don’t know,” She pointed out, and you had to stop yourself from nodding. “Steve’s a really sweet guy. Just talk to him the next time you see him.”

“That would be the opposite of avoiding.” When Wanda made a face that said duh, you rolled your eyes. “And that’s what I do. Avoid.”

“Well, don’t avoid him. It’s mean, and… he thinks you’re… cool.” You couldn’t deny the way that your heart skipped a beat at him thinking about you positively, even if it was a lame adjective like cool.

But, you still hoped that you didn’t see him any time soon. You were certain that he was staring because you weren’t all dressed up and because you looked like trash in a common area, not because he thought you were cool. It wasn’t even that you thought that you weren’t cool, it was just that you definitely weren’t his type of cool.

“He thinks I’m cool?” You repeated slowly, and Wanda blushed a bit as you subtly mocked her. “Did he tell you this?”

She made a noise that meant exactly what she said next. “Not exactly.”

“Hm.” You turned your back to her, gathering papers from a binder and trying to forget about everything that had Steve involved.

“Look. You should just talk to him, it’ll be fun. You might even make a new friend around here.”

“Who needs another friend when I’ve got you?” You asked somewhat sarcastically, but both of you knew that you meant it. Wanda was the best friend anyone could ever ask for. She was protective, kind, understanding, and she could match anyone’s energy.

“Fine. The next time I see him, I’ll talk to him.” You knew that this was most likely a lie, but you had to say something to get Wanda off your back.

§§§

You were reading at the library intently, heavily immersed in the world of fantasy instead of the world of old authors who were already long gone. You had gone for an English assignment, but the Young Adult isle called your name, and it called it loudly. Your book was on the table as you leaned over it and scanned with your eyes, your mind long gone from reality.

“Is the book good?”

You nearly jumped out of your chair at the male voice behind you, and you sighed before turning around to see who it was. “It’s phenomenal,” you drawled, annoyed by the interruption.

Steve Rogers was standing right there in front of you, with his stupid, gorgeous smile and his naturally kind and inquiring yet never pushing eyes. He was standing in front of your sitting form, arms crossed but looking quite the opposite of hostile or standoffish. His hair was perfectly styled despite the way that he was dressed down, the way a college student typically dressed to go read a book at the library that was filled with peers that didn’t give a damn about anything but passing.

“What’s it about?”

Why were you talking to him? Why was he talking to you? It made no sense. He had no reason to approach you with all of his faultlessness, especially not while you were doing something that he no doubt found boring. Why was he even in the library?

You refused to be dumbstruck by him so many times, but there you were. “I- Yep.”

It was his turn to be confused. “It’s called “yep”?”

“Nope.” When you realized that he was actually asking a question that had an open ended answer, you shook her head from the cobwebs of nervousness. “It’s about two girls that fall in love during an apocalypse.”

You applauded yourself for getting out more than ten words in your stupor, and then frowned when you saw him walk around the table that was empty save for you and your things.

“Nice,” He said, and to your complete displeasure, he sat down at the chair right across from you, his kind smile never leaving his face. “Can we talk?” So that meant that he wanted to actually talk to you, not just small talk. Which meant that he had most likely looked for you.

“How’d you find me?” You cursed yourself for your lack of tact.

“You’re usually in the same three places.” It was true. You were either in the library, the café, or in your dorm. “I picked the lucky guess my first time.”

“Uh,” you couldn’t form a correct sentence. “Yeah. What’s up?” You were about to kick yourself.

“I just wanted to make sure that I haven’t done anything to you.” When you furrowed your brows, he dropped the smile and sent you a sincere look that melted your heart. “Wanda told me that you didn’t like me much, but I don’t remember formally meeting you. Have I done something that I don’t remember?”

Was he really asking that? Did he truly care about what a girl he had never had a full conversation with thought about him? And why did you feel like it was more than him just caring about the image that everyone in the small school had assigned to him?

How were you even supposed to answer him? He looked genuinely troubled by the way you had been avoiding him and what you said to Wanda. His concern almost made you go wild. “No. You didn’t do anything. It’s not you.” You scrambled with your book as you stood up fast enough to startle him. “Sorry. Gotta go.” You ran to the check out and checked out the book that you were reading, regretting leaving Steve there with every step you took.

He was too perfect.

§§§

“So don’t be mad, but I got you a date.”

Your head jumped up from your laptop. “What?”

“Yeah, I totally got you a date.” Wanda looked genuinely proud of herself, completely ignoring your horrified expression. “You get to pick the place and time.”

“Um, Neverland and at twenty- five o’clock,” you started, saving your work and closing your laptop. “Wanda, you can’t just get me a random date.”

“It’s not as random as you think.”

“You didn’t ask me,” you countered, giving her a pleading look. “Please cancel it.”

She winced. “About that. Uh, I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I said that you agreed. It took him a minute to believe me, but he said that he was excited.”

“I- why?” You stuttered, shaking your head. “I don’t like dates, Wands.”

“You’ll love this one. It’s basically like build your own date!”

“Yeah, I can choose everything but the person,” you scoffed, going to open your laptop again and sighing. “Please cancel it.”

“What if I told you that this person has had their eye on you for a long time?” Wanda’s words had your hand stopping right where they were. You hated that her words made you curious. She saw that you took the bait. “And has been trying to talk to you?”

You frowned at that. There was no one on the entire campus that was trying to talk to you, so now you knew it was horseshit. “No one tries to talk to me, I’m always in here. On purpose.”

“This guy has,” she insisted, her voice bearing desperate. “Please. He’s really nervous and he just wants to get it right this time.”

Nervous? You were making someone nervous? You were almost embarrassed with how flattered you got at that. “Wait, this time?”

“Yes,” Wanda breathed out. “He’s tried before.”

You went through your memories for a man on campus that tried to slide on you for a few seconds, and Wanda waited patiently. You couldn’t think of a damn one. “I don’t think so, Wanda. I don’t date people on campus. Or at all right now, honestly.”

“No,” Wanda dragged out dramatically, still not giving up. “Please, please, please! When have I ever steered you wrong?”

She was right, dammit. In every instance that Wanda forced you to do something extremely out of your comfort zone, you ended up loving whatever it was. She had you try food from a dirty gas station, something you’ve always been skeptical of, but damn, if that fried fish wasn’t amazing. She made you try a painting class where you drank wine at the same time, and you were afraid that you weren’t going to paint well enough. You ended up getting a membership at the place. She made you try salsa dancing. She made you try a Russian beer that nearly knocked you out of commission, but you still liked it.

There were many other things that Wanda made you try, but she was right. You never disliked what she had forced you to do, and she always forced your hand out of love. She had never steered you wrong once. That thought was made your scale of doubt tip.

“I- can I at least know his name before I go?”

She squealed.

§§§

You were not allowed to know his name, apparently. Not even on the day of the date. It was all a part of the mystery that Wanda set up for you, and she claimed that knowing who it was would spoil the entire thing. Because you were secretly so excited about going to find out who it was that had asked Wanda about you, you asked for the date to be sooner than later.

You were nervous, though. You hadn’t been on a date since high school, and that was just to the movies. You held the girl’s sweaty hand for two hours and kissed in her car until your mom told you that you had to come home. To make it even worse, you weren’t out yet, so you had to pretend that the girl who drove you home was just a friend.

You told Wanda that you wanted to meet the mystery man at a coffee shop. In your head, it was the perfect place. It was a place that you could leave early if the date was horrific, and a place where you could extend it if it—by the grace of God—went well. It also called for casual wear, and you believed that you could tell a lot about someone by their coffee order.

You didn’t even drink coffee. You drank hot chocolate.

It was the day of the date, and it was kind of cold outside. You grabbed a yellow sweater that was near the color gold and some jeans and cute boots, and made an outfit out of it. You were in the middle of leaving when Wanda was entering.

“Ah, you’re leaving!” She clapped her hands twice. “I can’t believe it. Thank you so much for agreeing to go.”

“You know, if this bombs, you’re gonna have a negative one on your record,” you teased, grabbing your small black purse and giving her a look.

“Negative one? Please. It’ll knock me down to like a fifty nine, if anything. But it won’t, because I know it’ll be great.”

“I hope so.” You were on your way out when Wanda called your name again, a hesitant look on her face.

“Just, give him a chance, alright?”

You stared at her for a few seconds. You knew she would never set you up with anyone bad, but that sentence made you hesitate. “Thirty minutes.”

A small smile grew on her face, like she knew that it was enough time. “Thirty minutes.”

It was a little colder than you thought outside, and it wasn’t even dark yet. You cursed yourself as you walked to the coffee shop, wishing you had brought the scarf that matched your sweater. You breathed out and watched your breath turn into smoke, a smile on your face as you pulled the door open and walked into the warmth of the coffee shop.

Everyone there was on their phones or laptops, working diligently. You assumed that he wasn’t there yet and sat down at a back table, so that whoever came close would be the one. You wouldn’t have to look up pathetically every time a person walked past you, and you grinned at the thought and tapped your temple, thinking in your head, smart bitch.

A few minutes passed in the quiet shop while you tapped away on your phone, playing a painting by numbers game that you were obsessed with, and that you had gotten Wanda obsessed with. You were thinking about hot chocolate while you finished coloring in the intricate flower. The chimes of the door went off, twinkling straight out of a fairy tale, and you looked up briefly.

Steve Rogers was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking around the shop nervously until he looked you right in the eyes. You held your breath. No way.

And then he took a step forward.

You kept your breathing as leveled as possible as he approached, walking past everyone else to stand near the table that you were at, eyeing the chair. When you said nothing, a pink flush worked up to his cheeks. “Can I sit?”

You were out of words. All the reading and writing you did was suddenly useless as you stared at him in complete and utter shock, finally closing your mouth again as you grappled for something to say that wouldn’t make you embarrass yourself.

“Yeah, of course.” The words left your mouth and he quietly pulled the chair out, sitting down rather sheepishly right in front of you. You swallowed at seeing him up close again. “Wow.”

“I know the whole one sided blind date thing was weird,” he blurted, some of his words a little rushed as he spoke. “But Wanda and I thought that you were most likely to show up if you didn’t know it was me.”

“Why?”

He took a second before answering. “I don’t think you like me very much,” he admitted quietly, a disheartened look on his face. “I don’t know what I did, but I want to fix it.”

So was this a date or an intervention for your own unstable feelings towards him? “I don’t dislike you.”

“You don’t?”

“No, you’re just…” you prayed that you wouldn’t use a word that was stupid when you stopped to think. “You’re very perfect.” You blurted, and when you saw the slightly startled look on his face, you tried to backpedal. “Not in a weird way. You’re just very um, the opposite of me, and everyone wants you. It’s kind of discouraging.”

“Discouraging?” He repeated, a confused look on his face as he tried to understand your babbling.

“There’s just-” you weren’t going to admit a thing until you heard what you needed to from him. “Wait did you ask me to come here because you wanted to clear the air, or…”

He cleared his throat. “I wanted you to come here because I think you’re cool.” You couldn’t help but laugh. So, he had said that. You smiled at him, a smart retort on the tip of your tongue, holding back the fact that you thought he was pretty cool, too.

But he kept going. “Yeah, I think you’re cool, and that your smile is gorgeous, but I also think that you’re incredibly smart. I like the articles that you write for the paper and that you’re really good with words. I think it’s nice that you tutor people for free around campus even though you could charge a lot. I think it’s cool that you didn’t rat Bucky out about the graffiti even though you saw him do it. I think you’re pretty awesome, and I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now,” He admitted, talking even though your jaw dropped.

You couldn’t believe it. You physically could not believe it. Steve Rogers, the apple of everyone’s eye and honestly the one and only of yours (no matter how much you previously denied it) just gave you more compliments in thirty seconds than you gave yourself all year.

You supposed it was your turn to talk. “I thought you were looking at me because you didn’t like me,” was all you could say, forgetting all about your craving for hot chocolate.

He looked mildly appalled? “No, not at all. It’s just… I always wanted to talk to you, but you’re always so focused, and I didn’t want to ruin it. I felt wrong every time I came up to you.”

The golden boy of the university really liked you? It was too perfect. It was impossible. But apparently it wasn’t. Your heart was nearly beating out of your chest as you registered it all, and then one thought was in your head as you cracked a smile. Screw you, Maximoff.

“Steve I… honestly, you intimidate me.” He frowned. “You’re so- I guess I can admit this now that you said all of that, but you’re perfect. It scared me, and it kind of still does.”

“I have flaws,” he disagreed lightly, tapping his fingers on the table.

“What’s that?”

“I have really bad social anxiety-”

You gasped. “Liar,” when he looked at you like he was offended, you grimaced. “I’m not calling you a liar, I’m basically just saying no way, me too.” He brightened up.

“Really?”

“Why do you think I only go like three places on campus?”

He looked around the coffee shop with a small smile on his face and then looked back to you. “Make that four,”

“Make that four.” You repeated, smiling at him softly. You took a look at your surroundings and noticed that you still hadn’t gotten your drink yet. “Oh, yeah. What kind do you like?”

He grimaced a bit, looking at you from across the table with his pretty, blue eyes. “It’s um, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

You shrugged. “Don’t be embarrassed, I just get hot chocolate.” He leaned forward with a smile and lifted brows, sincerely excited about what she said.

“Me too.”

The rest of the date was nothing short of amazing. They drank two hot chocolates each, he paid for the first, and she the second (even after all of his insisting that he would rather pay). You talked about anything and everything, and you realized that Steve Rogers was actually really smart. He wasn’t as book smart as you were, but he knew a little about everything, and he was apparently a jack of all trades (but he didn't want to admit it, because he hated bragging).

He was nothing short of perfect. The good kind.

You extended the date to about three hours, and when you finally had to head home, it felt like three minutes in his warm presence. He opened the door for you, and you were slammed by the cold.

“Damn,” You breathed out, and he immediately shrugged out of his brown leather jacket and put it on your shoulders. You looked at him incredulously, trying to hide your surprise and the butterflies in your stomach with a question. “You’re not cold?”

He grinned at you. “I don’t really get cold much.” You slowly shrugged into it, and you melted at the warmth.

You walked together to your dorms, picking up conversation from the coffee shop. You couldn’t get over that it was all so natural. It felt so right and so easy to talk to him after that first awkward hump that you two had placed yourselves. It felt like you just, linked, all of a sudden. You adored it. You could see that Steve did, too.

He was standing in front of your door with you when you finally stopped talking, slight disappointment coming when you realized that this was it for the night. Maybe for forever. What if it hadn’t gone as well as you thought it had? Would he want to do this again? You sure did, after all that resistance.

You shrugged his jacket off, but only got halfway when he held his hand out, smiling down softly at you. “No, keep it.”

You felt the whole zoo come out and into your stomach. “A-are you sure?”

“Mhm,” He said, an innocent grin that you were coming to love way too fast on his face. “You look cute.”

Your head shot down as you felt yourself get flustered. “Thanks,” you murmured quietly, smiling again when you heard his hearty laugh. You looked back up at him. “Thank you, for tonight. Thank you for asking.”

“Thank you for agreeing,” he countered, soft voice somehow still echoing in the halls. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date like this.”

“I know I haven’t.” And then, he did what would have made your heart stop, if it would stop beating so fast in the first place.

He took your hand in his and brought it up to his mouth, kissing the back of your palm gently, a fleeting touch that was just enough to make your brain have a malfunction. You swore that you saw a smirk on his face for the smallest of moments, and then he was stepping back with his typical smile. You loved that smile, now.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“G-goodnight!” You replied a little too loudly, causing him to laugh again. You did too. “Goodnight,” You repeated, this time in an exaggerated whisper as you unlocked your door and let yourself in, casting a glance at him one more time before shutting the door behind you.

Wanda’s reaction was immediate, and expected. “Oh my god, you’re wearing his jacket!”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fanfic #steve rogers x you #my fics #marvel au #college!au #steve rogers fluff

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anonniemousefics · 4 years

Note

Can we please get more tfota scenes from cardan's pov? Maybe something from qon this time 🙈

Happy New Year! ♥️🥂

It’s so great you guys are enjoying these Cardan POV pieces! This one sort of follows His Monstrous Bride and this other little continuation -- it’s taken from Chapter 18 of The Queen of Nothing when Jude and Cardan talk about her exile before meeting with the Living Council.

I don’t have a title for it -- let’s just call it His Monstrous Bride Part II. lol

(Also a shameless plug for my ongoing fic The Nine Terrifying Moons, which will feature a Cardan POV chapter coming soon. Wheeeee!)

-----------------------------------------------

Cardan is well versed at hiding his emotions, but it doesn’t hurt to look the part. And the day that his High Queen is finally awakening, once again restored to Elfhame, is a day to dress for a very specific kind of battle. Jude has ignored him for months – now he must be unignorable. He has gold along his cheekbones and caps like gold knives at the tips of his ears. Jude likes knives after all.

He’s flanked by his guards at her door. (Their door? He’s unused to sharing.) The Living Council means to interrupt her convalescence, and he’ll have none of it. He’s there to make sure she is fit and ready, and he doesn’t have to do more than that, he tells himself. His envoy is at his sides at all times now, and still, in this moment, some part of him wishes there were more of them. Wishes he could shrink back from what may lie ahead.

“Your Highness?” His guards are waiting for him to do something. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been hesitating.

It’s just… it’s been months of endless rejection, though he knows now she never received his letters, but still…he’s not sure he can take one more. And his heart is still cracked and raw from her most recent brush with death.

He steels himself. And knocks at the door.

It’s Oak who answers with an innocent smile, which is something of a relief. With Oak around, Jude’s less likely to become stabby.

Although, at least if she’s stabbing him, she’s no longer ignoring him. And Cardan really can’t stand one more minute of being ignored by Jude Duarte.

She’s there now, and the sight of her standing catches him right in the chest. The last time he’d clapped eyes on her, she was bleeding all over his spider-silk sheets. He’d cleaned her blood with his own two hands, but now she’s upright and clear-eyed, dressed in a foreboding black number with silver at her collar and cuffs. Her auburn hair has been braided like a crown, and with smoky traces of rose around her eyes, she looks deadly and formidable once more.

It’s such a welcome sight. He has never been so thrilled to see her. And that’s such a treacherous and terrifying notion, since he thinks it’s very likely she’s might smack him in the near future if he can’t navigate the mess of crossed wires between them.

The thrill lasts only a moment, because then his stomach gives a lurch. He’s just realized that all of her sisters are there, too. And they’re all staring at him. And he’s been staring right back.

Suddenly, Cardan’s on the verge of breaking into a cold sweat.

“Walk with me,” he finally tells Jude, eager to get away from so many Duarte eyes.

“Of course.” Jude’s brown eyes in particular seem uncharacteristically wide and confused.

Vivienne catches Jude’s hand before she can join him.

“You’re not well enough,” she objects. As if Cardan can’t take care of her. As if he hadn’t cleaned up her blood himself.

“The Living Council is eager to speak with her,” he says instead. Jude should be proud of how he’s learned to curb his tongue in her absence.

“The only danger anyone has ever been in at a Council meeting is of being bored to death,” Jude is reassuring her family, before stepping away, the guards folding in around them.

Cardan offers her his arm – he wants to keep her close, and he wants Vivienne to take note. It is different now, and he wants them all to see. Jude is cared for here.

He wants to take his time with her at his arm as they swap neutral business about the Roach, about the Bomb, about Madoc, but he can hardly even look at her. His head is full of visions of those nights he wrote to her again and again, outright begging in the end, and then lying awake, alone, certain his agony would be never-ending. Gods above, he’d even written once that his heart was hers, buried with her in the soil of the mortal world -- and she’d sent no reply. And though he knows now it’s because she hadn’t even received it, he’s still completely unsure of how to act.

It’s extremely unsettling how normal Jude seems in this moment. As if no time has passed at all.

And there are still so many eyes on them. Courtiers bobbing their heads as they pass. The guards just an arm’s length away. This is no place to try to sort through what he had written to her, what she needed to know. So maybe he just won’t, he thinks. Maybe it can just be like this for an eternity and he can go back to drinking away his feelings after this Council meeting. Maybe this is the most he should hope for.

But then, Jude says: “I need to talk to you.”

And his heart plummets to his guts. He’s not sure he can keep the dread off his face.

“It won’t take long,” Jude says, which is maybe worse. It means it’s simple: she wants to end their marriage. She wants to return to the mortal world. Of course she does.

But then, she says: “Whatever your scheme is, whatever you are planning to hold over me, you might as well tell me now, before we’re in front of the whole Council. Make your threats. Do your worst.”

What? What the bleeding skies is she talking about? This is such a mess he’s made. And it is, perhaps, the first mess he’s ever truly cared to clean up.

Cardan turns them away toward a corridor to the outdoors.

“Yes,” he agrees. “We do need to talk.”

He steers them for the royal rose garden, where he knows the guards will stop at the gate and leave them alone. He has only a few steps down a path of shimmering quartz stairs among the roses to decide exactly what parts of his heart he’s willing to reveal today. What exactly won’t hurt so terribly much should she throw it all back in his face.

“I assume you weren’t actually trying to shoot me,” he says, choosing first the obvious and easiest. “Since the note was in your handwriting.”

“Madoc sent the Ghost--” Jude starts, but then stops. Softens. “I thought that there was going to be an attempt on your life.”

This does not mean that she cares for you, he has to remind himself. He still doesn’t want to look at her. The memory of perceived rejection is still too strong, still too bitter.

But he’s not going to live with the regrets he’d drowned in when she’d nearly died. He tries to choose his next words carefully.

“It was terrifying,” he admits, feigning interest in a nearby bush of jet black roses, “watching you fall. I mean, you’re generally terrifying, but I am unused to fearing for you.” He swallows back the memories, threatening the periphery of his mind. “And then I was furious. I am not sure I have ever been that angry before.”

“Mortals are fragile,” Jude shrugs him off. She doesn’t get it.

“Not you,” he sighs. “You never break.”

There. Can that be enough? He’s made it fairly obvious now, hasn’t he? Surely she gets it now – he doesn’t want her to die, he doesn’t want to see her hurt. Witnessing it was the worst thing he’s ever seen. Because he cares for her.

If he has to spell it out, it might kill him. So, he just waits for what she has to say to that.

Jude’s looking at the roses, too, when he glances at her, her thick lashes lowered.

“When I came here, pretending to be Taryn, you said you’d sent me messages,” she says, and oh, please, gods, not this. “You seemed surprised I hadn’t gotten any. What was in them?”

Cardan wants to vomit. No, he needs to vomit. If his nervous stomach would cooperate and vomit everywhere, he could still get away from this with a shred of dignity.

He clasps his hands behind his back so she can’t see how they shake, his smile telling the lies that the rest of him can’t. That he is cool and unaffected, not at all hopelessly in love with the mortal girl in front of him.

“Pleading, mostly.” He tries to say it like it’s a joke. “Beseeching you to come back. Several indiscreet promises.” Maybe that little bit of tantalizing will flatter her.

It doesn’t. Actually, he’s not sure Jude can be flattered. She closes her eyes shut in no small amount of frustration.

“Stop playing games,” she growls. “You sent me into exile.”

“Yes. That.” Right, of course she doesn’t love that he’s beating around the bush. If only he could help it. He’s so goddamn nervous. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said to me, before Madoc took you. About it being a trick. You meant marrying you, making you queen, sending you to the mortal world, all of it, didn’t you?”

The glare she throws him is so very Jude, though he loves it less when it’s directed at him.

“Of course it was a trick,” she seethes. “Wasn’t that what you said in return?”

Well, this is rich.

“But that’s what you do. You trick people.” Though Cardan’s starting to realize just how wrong he’s been about the things Jude enjoys. “I thought you’d admire me a little for it, that I could trick you. I thought you’d be angry, of course, but not quite like this.”

“What?” Jude looks like she could unhinge her jaw and swallow him whole. He might even deserve it.

He needs to put an end to this nightmare. There’s still a miniscule chance she’ll find some part of it amusing.

“Let me remind you that I didn’t know you’d murdered my brother, the ambassador to the Undersea, until that very morning,” he points out. Surely, the context will help his case. “My plans were made in haste. And perhaps I was a little annoyed. I thought it would pacify Queen Orlagh, at least until all promises were finalized in the treaty. By the time you guessed the answer, the negotiations would be over.”

But Jude’s face is unchanged. He isn’t seriously this good at trickery, is he?

“Think of it,” he presses, hoping she’ll follow along. “I exile Jude Duarte to the mortal world. Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown.” Any minute now. Any minute.

“Pardoned by the crown,” he repeats to her blank stare. Right, so, this game isn’t funny anymore.

“Meaning by the King of Faerie. Or its queen,” he explains, watching her eyes grow wider, wilder. “You could have returned anytime you wanted.”

When he’d first envisioned her figuring out the riddle, he’d expected probably a punch in the arm, maybe she would have even drawn her blade again. That would have been delightful. He’d thought about trembling beneath her again, about that searing look she got in her eye just before devouring his lips. That would have been – gods. He might have considered letting her murder more of his brothers to have that again.

But what is happening now is decidedly the opposite. Jude’s breath is quickening, her face flushing, and in the air between them, Cardan feels a rift cracking wider. He hasn’t played a trick – he’s done something horrible.

When Jude begins to back away from him, he thinks back to what it felt like to find Nicasia with Locke. What Jude’s face is doing now – that is what his heart had done then. She is recoiling from him. Jude Duarte is recoiling from him, because he has hurt her.

He honestly had not thought it was possible. He honestly had not thought himself capable. He honestly had not thought she cared enough.

She whirls then and marches away from him, and he has never hated himself more. Stop her, he thinks, but he’s still stunned. If he’d known she cared…

Stop her!

He runs after her. She has to know he wouldn’t have done it if he’d known. She has to know he will fight to keep her now that he knows. But when he seizes her arm, she hauls around and slaps him, hard enough to turn his face.

It’s not the worst hit he’s taken, not by a long shot, but its sting is entirely different. There’s something fiery in her eyes, and, for the first time, he’s aware that he is not the only one who has been in agony these long months. Oh, he would undo it all now if he could. He would pull her in and kiss her over and over until they both stopped hurting.

Except she still looks murderous. Getting close to her face is probably not a good idea if he doesn’t want to be bitten. (He does kind of want to be bitten, just…in a very different scenario.)

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says, carefully, and his hand finds hers. To his great surprise, she lets their fingers lace together, and his heart seizes with a wild hope. It does not mean she loves you, he thinks. He fumbles. “No, it’s not that, not exactly. I didn’t think I could hurt you. And I never thought you would be afraid of me.”

“And did you like it?” Jude asks, narrowing her eyes.

His cheek is hot from the slap of her hand, and now with shame. Because how is he supposed to answer that? He didn’t hate being more powerful for once. He didn’t hate being the one with the answer to the riddle.

“Well, I was hurt.” He’s hesitated too long, and now Jude’s pressing on. “And yes, you scare me.”

Cardan finds himself taking in her full face then, the one that has always seemed so defiant and fearless and headstrong.

“You’ve always scared me,” Jude is saying, and this is what almost undoes him. She repeats it, telling him again and again each moment she had been afraid of him, and with each one, his mind bursts a little more. This doesn’t seem real. “And I am scared of you now,” she concludes, that defiant gleam in her eye til the end.

Cardan is speechless. And Cardan’s never speechless.

There was a time when he enjoyed playing a villain in her heroic story line, but she wasn’t supposed to be truly afraid of him. She was supposed to vanquish him and make him beg for her kindness. (And he would now. He really would.)

(Maybe he will.)

“You despised me,” Jude reminds him, because he does need reminding. He’s not sure now if he ever really did. “When you said you wanted me, it felt like the world had turned upside down. But sending me into exile, that made sense. That was an entirely right-side-up Cardan move. And I hated myself for not seeing it coming. And I hate myself for not seeing what you’re going to do to me next.”

At that, Cardan closes his eyes. Hopelessness is threatening to overtake him. Fear has created this monster before him, the one who irrevocably holds his heart. Is it possible to unmake such a curse? He’s certainly been unable to find a cure for his own fear, lifelong coward that he is.

When she’d first returned and his heart was freshly cracked, he’d thought back to a fairy story about a boy cursed with a heart of stone and the monster he took as his bride. It had been patience and fearlessness that had won over the monster in the end – something the boy had managed only because of his stony heart.

So, Cardan thinks of stones then. Of pulling together all his cracked and raw edges. Of being impenetrable and solid and fearless. He thinks of doing what needs to be done. He needs her, for so many things, and she must know that. Perhaps it is folly to wish for anything more than simply averting a crisis.

But he can’t manage it if he’s looking at her. He releases her hand and turns away.

“I can see why you thought what you did,” he says at last. “I suppose I am not an easy person to trust. And maybe I ought not to be trusted, but let me say this: I trust you.”

Patience. Fearlessness. Deep breath.

“You may recall that I did not want to be High King. And that you did not consult me before plopping this crown on my head. You may further recollect that Balekin didn’t want me to keep the title and that the Living Council never took a real shine to me.

“There was a prophecy given when I was born. Usually Baphen is uselessly vague, but in this case, he made it clear that should I rule, I would make a very poor king.” It hurts more than he thought it would to say it out loud. “The destruction of the crown, the ruination of the throne – a lot of dramatic language.”

He has to be cavalier about it; it stings too much otherwise. It’s been the bane of his existence, this prophecy. It is the reason his entire childhood was filled with nothing but dismissal and cruelty. It’s the very, very low standard he’s spent his whole life trying not to meet. The best his family had ever hoped for from him was his complete and utter disappearance – and he’d failed to do even that.

He turns back to Jude. Patience. Fearlessness. He has so much more to say. He has so much more he wants to be than this. Deep breath.

“When you forced me into working for the Court of Shadows, I never thought of the things I could do – frightening people, charming people – as talents, no less ones that might be valuable. But you did. You showed me how to use them to be useful. I never minded being a minor villain, but it’s possible I might have grown into something else, a High King as monstrous as Dain. And if I did – if I fulfilled that prophecy, I ought to be stopped. And I believe that you would stop me.”

Jude sputters at that, blinking hard.

“Stop you?” she echoes. “Sure. If you’re a huge jerk and a threat to Elfhame, I’ll pop your head right off.”

“Good.” And he means it. To die by Jude’s hand would be a dream. “That’s one reason I didn’t want to believe you’d joined up with Madoc. The other is that I want you here by my side,” and just for good measure, just in case she still isn’t getting it: “As my queen.”

But he can’t read the expression on Jude’s face when he says it – if it brings her joy, if it brings her more distress. He’s not sure what else he could have said to make it any more clear. And now her silence is threatening to eat him alive. This reeks of the beginnings of yet another rejection.

He smiles at her, instinctively, a last ditch effort to make this even slightly less awkward.

“But now that you’re High Queen and back in charge, I won’t be doing anything of consequence anyway,” he promises. “If I destroy the crown and ruin the throne, it will only be through neglect.”

He wants her to smile back. To roll her eyes at him and act like she isn’t amused when she so clearly is. He’s missed that, oh, how he’s missed that.

He gets all that and more when she blurts out a laugh.

“So that’s your excuse for not doing any of the work?” She quirks an eyebrow, and it makes his heart swell. They’re smiling together again. He’d needed that, too, more than he’d realized. “You must be draped in decadence at all times because if you aren’t kept busy, you might fulfill some half-baked prophecy.”

“Exactly,” he says. Exactly… It’s more true than he wants it to be. His smile fades. And Jude is looking more tired than he’s comfortable with. He hopes he has not pushed her too hard. He touches her arm, gently, not thinking. Her gaze catches his, soft and warm. He finds himself leaning in…

“Would you like me to inform the Council that you will see them another time?” he asks. “It will be a novelty to have me make your excuses.”

But Jude is stalwart and determined as ever. He expected nothing less.

He pulls back. She does not need him. Not like he needs her.

“No, I’m ready,” she says.

How he wishes he could say the same.

-----------

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