#if you read all that thanks for doing that. sorry if its muddled also. like i said im not a writer just someone who feels strongly. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

constantinerkives · 11 months

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PAIRING: Yoo Jimin x Fem Reader _________________ WARNING: Mafia AU, gang AU, organized crime, dark Karina, age gap: Karina is in her early thirties while you are in your mid-twenties. Separation of parents, power struggle, corruption, home invasion, blackmail, E2L, TENSION, I made Karina half-Russian so-*gunshot*, but please, let me know what you think of half-Russian Karina - it's for research purposes, usage of Russian endearment, betrayal (not from Karina), Karina is slightly obsessed with OC, OC is reckless but dangerous, suggestive at the end. _________________ SYNOPSIS:

I hate you," You breathe into her mouth, your thoughts are muddled by nothing but her. Her scent, her abysmal eyes, her beautiful black hair, her devastatingly gorgeous face - all of her.

"I hate you so much that I can't think of anything else but you."

Karina chuckles and softly pecks the skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as her hands caress your body.

"If that's the case," She rasps against your skin, and you softly gasp as she squeezes your hips.

"Then give me one night to convince you otherwise, my love."

_________________ WORDCOUNT: 10, 214 _________________

A/N: Sorry for making you all wait this long, my exams were in the last week of May and due to the uncooperative weather - were moved to the second week of June.

Thank you for waiting. Enjoy reading!

And also because:

You asked, I shall deliver

Russian-translated words are here.

Dynasties are a succession of people from the same family who play a prominent role in business, politics, or another field.

And like all dynasties - they fall. Either by sickness or by each others' hands.

In your family's case, however. It's the latter.

Greed and ambition can make a man overlook crucial things, such as researching land in Tuscany before seizing its valuables and burning the farm. And as for the valuables in that mansion, most of them were sold, some were kept, and the rest were disregarded. For months, your family made a fortune out of it.

It was only when masked, tall men broke into your family's vacation home, killed all the guards, and forced you to kneel beneath the barrels of their guns.

Your watch from the back of your parents as your assailants part to make way for a woman, her face covered by the shadows, but you see her eyes. Black and devoid of warmth.

"Who are you?" Demanded your father, "And how dare you attack my family in my home?"

Silence permeates the air. The woman spoke: "Hae Jinwon," Her voice was alluring yet sharp. There was a noticeable rough accent in her tone. "Capomandamento of the Haewon Clan." She mused. "Who the fuck are you?" Your brother spat beside you. The woman moves her gaze from your father to your older brother, Hae Jinyoung. "It was you, who led your father's men to my property in Tuscany, am I correct?"

"Yeah?" He challenged, "And what about it?"

"Ublijudok," She sneers and points the gun at him.

Your eyes widened as your parents spat out cries of panic while Jinyoung visibly pales at the sight of the latter's gun. "Fools," She jeers as she redirects her aim and pulls the trigger. Your ears ring at the sound of her bullet wheezing past you and hitting one of your mother's vases, shattering it; pieces of ceramic fall on the floorboards. Your skin prickles at the sound as the woman points her gun at your father.

"Do all of you have any idea how many enemies came into my home at this hour and threatened my family?" She snarled and walked forward, allowing you to see her face - beautiful and twisted with wrath and contempt. She wore an all-black attire, an overcoat, a turtleneck, trousers, and boots. Your eyes trailed to her gloved hand where she was holding a gun. "For months, we were hunted like animals." She grimaced, "And when they had their fill, they left us to rot. But I refused my family to succumb to that state and found the fuckers behind it."

She circles your family like a lioness examining her prey before killing it.

"It's insulting," She scoffs, "To have everything I built destroyed by a minor family and reaped our benefits." She stops behind your father and digs the muzzle against the back of his skull. "I should kill all of you right here, right now." The perpetrator growls and applies pressure against the trigger.

Your ears couldn't register the cacophony of your family's panicked cries. Only you remained silent, watching with wide eyes as they struggled against their bindings while they plead for their lives. And she cackled - the perpetrator cackled. "That's right," She mused sickly, "Beg for it - your lives until no one understands what you all are saying." She moves in front of Jinyoung and crouches to meet his gaze.

"You're the oldest, right?"

His lips quivered. The woman was losing her patience and glowers at him. "Answer me, svin'ja."

Jinyoung gulped, "Yes,"

"Then that means you'll take over once your father is out of commission, yes?"

"Yes?" He answers tentatively.

The latter hums, "Do you know who I am, Hae Jinyoung?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The woman clicked her tongue, "Answer me immediately, boy." She pointed the gun at you, and you flinched. "Or else your sister's brain will be riddled with bullets."

"No!" He exclaimed, "No, I don't have a fucking clue who the fuck you are-"

She hits him with the butt of her gun, silencing him as your father exclaims. "Jinyoung!" He roared, "You bitch-"

"We're done here," She declared, and her men vacated the house one by one - except for her. "Why spare us?" Your mother questions. The woman didn't say anything at first as she moved her gaze toward you and answered:

"Because it'll be too easy. You took away my family's foundation - so I shall take away yours." A cold smile settles on her lips, "And finally, we're even. What's the fun of ending it quickly when you can leave them alive so they can suffer for it?"

None of you made a sound, and she took it for her cue to leave.

She didn't return after that.

But true to her word, your family did suffer for it.

Enemies came left and right. They robbed your family of its treasures, stole opportunities from the Haewon Clan, and even turned your people away from you. It got to the point that your parents separated. Your father kept your brother. He was the heir: while your mother took you. You never saw your father or your brother ever since. You thought that you'd turned over a new leaf, forgetting that humiliation that left you seething with anger and resentment for your father's stupid choices and for allowing his greed to put you and your mother into that position.

But no, it remained.

Evidence of that showed when your grandfather - your father's side of the family visited you at your university when you were nineteen.

"Excuse me," You blinked at the older man, "You want me to go where?"

"Come back to us, Y/N." Your grandfather coaxed. You scoffed at him, "And do what?" You demanded, "Is my older brother not good enough to lead this god-forsaken family?"

A wry smile graced his thin lips, "Yes,"

You paused, "What?"

A sigh left his lips, "After returning from Italy to fix the mistakes my son and your brother made. I've concluded that neither is fit to lead the Haewon Clan."

You knew where this conversation was going. Yo arched a brow, "And you think I can?"

"An old man can hope." Another scoff of disbelief leaves your lips. "Take your hopes with you and leave, grandfather." You sneered, "My mother and I want none of them." Without another word, you walk past the latter with a dark expression.

"Don't you want to settle the score?" He called out. You stopped.

"Don't you want to get even with the family who did this?" He added, and you ground your jaw so hard that you thought it was going to break. You balled your hand into fists and peered over your shoulder, "What makes you think I'd be interested?"

You didn't move as he made his way to you, "Your eyes say it all, granddaughter. I don't have to explain it, do I?"

You turn to him. Your expression was unreadable, but your eyes burned with vindication.

"Under two conditions."

His eyes light up. "And what's that?"

"Allow me to finish college, and in the meantime - teach me what I need to know." He furrowed his brows, "Wouldn't that distract you from your studies?"

"I'll manage it," You snapped, and he nodded. "Alright, what's the other one?"

"I won't take your name." You tell him firmly, "I refuse to be associated with the name: Haewon. Instead, I'll take my mother's last name, Han."

"Very well," He gives in, "Y/N Han."

And for years, you rebuilt what your family had lost: money, security, fame. While you repair your foundation, you bid your time into researching the family that destroyed you and retaliated. It was small at first until you began stealing their clients, information - all of it. One by one, you stole from them.

It's only a matter of time before the new capomandamento takes matters into her own hands and captures you for your deeds against her family.

Upon further research, the family you're holding a vendetta against is a Russian-Korean family named the Zakharov Clan.

And their two children - Ilina and Karina Zakharov.

Ilina, the woman who broke into your home, died three years ago after one of their men turned against her in an attempt to start a coup by shooting a bullet to her head. But he was swiftly killed by her sister - Karina, earning her Ilina's status and authority as the new capomandamento of the Zakharov Family a week after her sister's burial in Moscow.

Karina is fifth-generation old money. Her family is a mix of Russian kingmakers that made a fortune importing illegal goods during The Great Depression in 1929 and later established a globe-spanning empire in organized crime. A family long since retreated from public view, but their dominance endures to this day.

"The only gap we have in that family is that we don't know anything about the Zakharov's new capo." Your consigliere admits with a sigh, "No photos, records of any kind. Just the name."

You put the dossier down and locked eyes with the latter, "That's good enough for me, Kazuha. Send out the invitations."

She looked apprehensive, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," You tell her with finality. "I've made my move. I will await hers."

Kazuha didn't say anything as she took the dossier, "Before I forget, someone sent you a package." You arched a brow, "A package? What sort?" She shook her head sideways, "I didn't open it."

A hum reverberates from your throat, "Where is it now?"

"I sent it to your room, and before you can ask, it didn't have a return address. I suggest that I open it while you watch." You guffaw, "And I thought you were just a consigliere, not my guard."

"You are my employer and my friend, Y/N." She insists, "And I've made a promise-"

"To my mother, I know." You finish for her as you stand up. She follows your example as you gesture a hand toward your door. "Lead the way, Miss Nakamura."

"It's a dress," You mused as you stood beside her, your eyes lingering on the top cover. "From Givenchy. Is it from Jaehyun?"

The younger woman furrows her brows, "That man can't pick a dress for you to save a life, Y/N." She closes it, "Perhaps he asked a stylist to pick it for you." You hum and gently take the box from her and open it to see the dress. It was a black one-shoulder draped dress in crepe with a fluid skirt and a long slit in the front. "There's also a jewelry set," Your consigliere mused. Your eyes moved to the jewelry box nestled within.

"Jaehyun must've paid extra for these," You remarked as you carefully put the dress down and opened the jewelry box. It contained a necklace with golden-finish metal links and a bracelet in golden-finish metal with Swarovski crystals.

"Return this to him." You put the dress and accessories inside the box and turned away from the gift.

"I already have a dress in mind for next week's gathering." You tell the younger woman as you walk past her.

The first time you met her, she played you at your game.

Music plays through the speakers, accompanied by cheerful yells and self-indulging conversations as you watch all of these play beneath you from the elevated interior balcony of the venue with a glass of champagne in your hand and your consigliere standing to your left, her eyes sharply examining the attendees of the event. For tonight's event, you wore a black deconstructed cape cocktail dress featuring slashes, lapel detailing, and two flap pockets on the sides, finished with a single-button fastening and heels.

While Kazuha wore a navy blue monogram shirt dress and boots.

She leans close and whispers through the blaring music, "How would you know if she's here?"

You take a swig before replying: "People talk big about themselves in events like these, Kazuha. One of them is bound to slip."

The younger woman blinks at you, "You don't know?"

You flash her a grin before descending the stairs. Kazuha follows your figure with disbelief etched in her graceful features. "Y/N, this is dangerous-"

"Jaehyun!" You call out as you see a familiar towering figure donning a two-piece suit and black hair conversing with a group of benefactors. The man turns to you and grins, "Y/N," He then looks at his audience and excuses himself before coming to you with open arms, his double-breasted blazer wrinkled. "My - you look delectable!"

Once you're at arm's reach, he takes your hand and kisses the back of your palm. "To what do I owe the pleasure of having your attention tonight?" He queries as soon as you retract your hand. "How are the acquisitions for the farmland in Tuscany?"

Jeong Jaehyun, a family friend and your business partner since your return, is your man when it comes to international profits and investments. He was also the one who helped Kazuha in finding information about the Zakharov Clan, albeit it had gaps.

"The owners are still deciding on it, Y/N." He says as he walks beside you with Kazuha trailing behind, "But I guarantee they'll sign the papers."

"Good," You peer over your shoulder. "Leaves us, Kazuha. You have the luxury of mingling with our guests." The younger woman doesn't protest and bows before leaving.

You crane your neck to study your attendees. Jaehyun follows your gaze and chuckles. "Looking for Miss Zakharov?"

"I don't even know who I'm supposed to look at," You comment, and Jaehyun frowns, "You're endangering yourself, my friend."

"It's a long shot," A grin graces your lips, "But worth a try." Before he can reply, you cut him off. "By the way, that dress you sent me a week ago was nice." His frown deepen as you continue, "It's a shame that I already have a dress for tonight's event."

He stops, and so did you. "Y/N, what are you talking about?"

You mirror his frown, "You didn't send me a dress?"

Your business partner grasps your arm. "Y/N, I stopped sending you dresses the moment you said my taste for women's clothing was questionable." Your face blanks at the revelation, "So you're not the one who sent me a dress from Givenchy?"

"No," He hisses, "It wasn't me-"

"Jaehyun!" Another voice interjects. You both snap your heads toward a younger gentleman, and he flushes. "What is it, Mark?"

"Mingyu wants to talk to you."

"Alright," Jaehyun sighs before looking at you. "Be careful, Y/N. We'll talk later."

"We will," You tell him, and you steel your composure.

"Now go." The man obeys as the music changes to a livelier beat - on cue, your guests gather to dance with a partner next to them. You watch with a slight smile gracing your lips as you take another swig of your glass before placing it atop a random countertop.

You felt a presence beside you, and with careful eyes, you regard the stranger - a woman with tall stature and pale skin. She wore a black wrap-over top with a plunging neckline, allowing you to see her carved collarbones and pale skin, flared tuxedo pants, a buckle-thin belt, and leather zipped boots. Her hair is black and luscious, cascading down to her waist with her slender fingers securing the stem of her champagne glass.

"You didn't wear the dress I sent for you." She tells you with a distinct accent - Slavic.

You arch a brow; she sent you the dress?

"And who might you be?" You are bemused, and the woman finally looks at you.

Beautiful is an understatement. The woman standing beside you couldn't be older than thirty-three, small-shaped face, a v-shaped jaw, a sharp upturned nose, red lips, and abysmal, obsidian-hued eyes. Beautiful, but there's something amiss.

A smile made its way to her lips as she timely placed her half-finished drink atop the tray of the waiter and gestured an open palm toward your direction.

"How about I answer that with a dance?"

A wry smile made its way to your lips. "What makes you think I'd want to dance with you?"

The latter smirks, "You'll regret it if you don't." You frown at her response.

She turns to you, allowing you to see her perfect proportions. Her attire compliments her lean figure as she places a hand atop her right breast and bows. She lifts her head to look at you expectantly. "So what will it be?" She holds out her hand toward you.

You narrow your gaze at her, "I'm in no position to refuse, am I?"

The woman grins, "Da,"

Without another word, you take her hand, and she swiftly sweeps you off your feet as she leads the dance. Her left grasps your hips while the other intertwines with your right. Your left-hand hooks onto her broad shoulder.

"Your photos don't do you justice, dorogoj," She tells you with a smile, "You look prettier in person."

"Who are you?"

The enigmatic stranger doesn't reply and gracefully spins you, pressing her front against your back, eliciting a sharp gasp from you as she traps you against her body. "Y/N Han, formerly known as a Hae, daughter of Hae Jinwon."

"That information is given." You tell her as you turn around, returning to your first position. "Who. Are. You."

Her lips curl upwards, "Do you know 'The Red Shoes,' written by Christian Andersen?"

"And what does that have to do with who you are?" You retorted, patience waning as she coaxed your body to turn. "Oh, pretty girl." She purred, "It has something to do with your relationship with me."

Your brows furrow, "What do you mean?"

Instead of directly answering that question, she replies with a different narrative:

"The little girl wore her red shoes everywhere she went, even to a God-fearing church. Once you wear those shoes, your feet start dancing on their own. And you can never stop dancing or take off those shoes. But even so, the little girl never gave up on those shoes. In the end, the executioner had to cut off her feet."

Her expression changes to a cold, harsh one as she continues: "But those two feet that got cut off continue to dance in those red shoes."

A blood-curdling smile curls on the woman's lips as you stop dancing. Her hand snakes around your hips, flushing you against her while the other cups your cheek. You stood frozen still as you try to comprehend what she just said.

"You see, dovol'no devushka," She sneers as she caresses your cheek. "You stole from my family - it was small at first, but I began to notice it." You ground your jaw as the atmosphere becomes heavy and foreboding. "I see that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

You sneer at her, and your hands finally move by digging your blunt nails against her shoulder - her pupils dilated with twisted excitement as you lean close, finally smelling her scent; top notes of mulberry and black peony followed by middle notes of jasmine and tuberose with hints of black musk and vetiver base notes.

The scent suits her; sultry, dark, and alluring.

"Karina Zakharov," You rasped, and she grins, "Pravil'no,"

Before you can react, she effortlessly manipulates your body to a dip, just as violins soar higher. Your nails shamelessly claw her attire, and the woman visibly lights up with twisted delight as the shadows mask her face.

"Your obsession with finding me has come to fruition, Y/N." Karina husks as she lifts you back up, "You wanted my attention - fine." She leans close - and you let her. Her cold breath fans the left outer shell of your ear, and you muffle a gasp.

"I shall share your fixation. I'll hold you captive beneath me while I take what you most treasure on this earth."

She growls as she tightens her hold around you.

Karina's other hand goes up to the back of your neck, reaching to your roots and purchasing a handful of your hair, and pulls it back. You muffle a groan as you glare at her while she looks down on you condescendingly with contempt.

"Oh," Her chest rumbles as she chuckles, "Don't look at me like that, moya ljubov. You brought this upon yourself." She leans close, lips almost touching yours as she speaks in full Russian:

"Ty pozhnaesh' to, chto seesh." Karina jeers, "You reap what you sow."

And before you know it, you feel something pierce the side of your neck. You look at her, appalled as the dancers surround you and Zakharov's capomandamento. Your body feels heavy, and your eyelids heavier. You stagger in her grip, "What did you..." You trailed off as your speech slurs. You peer over her shoulder and spot Kazuha and Jaehyun marching toward you with alarmed expressions, your guards following behind them.

Karina chuckles as she brushes a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Your obsession is noble and beautiful, Y/N.”

“What did you do to me,” You stammer as you feel your grip on consciousness slipping.

“And I’ve finally found my red shoes.”

With that, your body shuts down.

The sound of metal scraping the floor jerks you awake, your fight or flight response activates, and blood rushes all over your body - forcing you into consciousness.

Pain follows second.

A groan leaves your lips as your head throbs and your legs feel sore. Your arms were bound behind your back, clasped together by chains that rattle with every move. Flashes of last night's events replay in your memory like a broken record - your face burns at the memory. But rather than throwing a tantrum in your new-found cell, you held your breath before exhaling slowly and examining your surroundings.

Your senses heightened.

Cement walls surround you, four walls devoid of warmth. The lighting is poor, only consisting of a bulb hanging over your head. The atmosphere is damp and cold. You look down at your dress; no doubt it was wrinkled and tattered by the people who dragged you here. You move your head upwards and spot a CCTV camera focused on you.

You hear a set of footfalls approaching from behind. Questions flooded your thoughts - how could you have missed that? This god-forsaken place is dark. You should have heard a sound - anything.

"You're awake," Your skin prickles at the familiar accent. Your expression darkens as Karina approaches you from the shadows. Her features are poised and relaxed in contrast to yours.

"How long have I been unconscious?"

A wry smile graces her lips, "Seven hours - I was beginning to think I overdosed you, dorogoj."

You sit on the back of your legs and shamelessly run your eyes down her body. Unlike her attire last night: Karina's wearing a white, buttoned-dow shirt, black tapered pants, and loafers.

"Eyes up here, velikolepnyy." She mused, "Otherwise people might get the wrong idea of our dynamic."

A scoff leaves your lips. "I'm not interested."

She lets out a dark chuckle as she stalks toward you, the glint in her eyes changing to a menacing gleam as she bends and grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at her - the distance between your faces is only inches apart, and the atmosphere thickens. You held your breath at her proximity as her eyes trailed your features, from your eyes down to your lips.

"I could tempt you," She rasps against your lips, and a wolfish grin creeps on her lips. "But I don't fraternize with thieves."

You mirror her grin, although mockingly. "Oh?"

"$10,000,00.00 Y/N." She bemused, and her eyes shapen with contempt. "That's a large sum of our income." She tightens her grip on your jaw, but Karina doesn't dig her nails against your skin.

"If that's the case, then I'm sorry." You jeer as you dig your nails against your palms.

There's a pregnant pause, and silence permeates the air so heavily that you were tempted to break it, but she beats you to it.

"Don't be," Her tone changes, and those black, abysmal eyes swim with twisted mirth. "If anything - I'm impressed." The older woman lets go of your jaw and turns around. You use this opportunity to stretch your jaw and clamp it shut when she turns to you and folds her hands behind her back.

"Does that mean you're letting me off the hook, Zakharov?"

She guffaws and grabs you by the collar, startling you as she bares her teeth. Your chains rattle at her sudden action.

"Nyet,"

"I'm assuming that's a no," You hiss as she violently lets you go. "You're correct," She fixes her shirt. Before you can choose your words wisely, you blurt out:

"Are you going to kill me for it, then?"

She stares at you, her expression unreadable, before replying in a monotonous tone: "No, but my sister would." She inclines her head to the side, "But I am not Ilina." She leans down. "I am worse, Y/N." Karina chortles, "Why did you have to come back to this kind of life?" She steps back.

"You had your chance to live an ordinary life, dorogoj. You chose this, and now you deal with me."

There's something in her eyes that unnerved you.

"What are you going to do?" You inquired, but your voice sounded distant.

She didn't answer and turned around, "Behave yourself, Y/N. My capo bastone will send you your food. Don't do anything stupid if you want your family to stay alive."

Your face burned at her statement. "Don't you dare-"

"I've told you, pretty girl." She sneers, "You made your move, and I will make mine. You are in no position to threaten me."

Your blood boils as she continues: "Especially when you're the one who is in chains."

Then she walks away from you. You dig your nails against your palms so hard you thought they'd bleed in an attempt to soothe your urge to bash someone's head in anger.

"Don't you dare touch them," You whisper as she leaves you in the dark.

Winter Kim is Karina's capo bastone, the underboss. Short-haired, pale, and brunette - socially inept too, given that Winter's impervious to conversations, only saying yes, no, or I can neither confirm nor deny that.

She's the one bringing you food and water for the past four days.

But you refuse to eat what's being handed to you, even if they loosen your binds so you can eat better. That did nothing. You'd rather starve than be poisoned by your captor.

One day, Winter and a couple of guards enter your holding cell. She stands in front of you while her guards release you from your binds. "What's going on?" You question as they grab you by the arms and force you to stand up, your legs wobbling from sitting and kneeling for the past few days.

"Don't do anything stupid," She replies, "We're taking you to her."

"That's probably the longest sentence I've heard from you." You jeer. The brunette ignores it and gestures a hand toward the shadows. "Take her out."

They obeyed and escorted you outside. The brightness hurts your eyes, and your ears buzz with the sound of nature as they drag you out of your detainment. You look over your shoulder to see the structure of your 'dungeon,' it is a modest-sized house with no second floor.

A few paces later and they take you to an elaborate garden surrounded by gardeners trimming bushes and wiping statues.

In the center seats a figure eating her food with gusto. Your eyes narrow, and you ball your hands to distract your hunger as the figure looks up. "Ah, there she is," Karina puts down her utensils, wipes her mouth with a napkin, and gestured a hand at a vacant seat across from her. "Be seated, Y/N."

The men drag you to the seat, but you stop them with a glare.

"I can do sit by myself - let me go." They look at her for permission, and she permits it with a nod. The guards let go of your arm. You can feel Winter's gaze following your movements as you sit across the older, raven-haired beauty.

The latter gestures a hand towards your plate: "Reverse sear steak," She tells you as you look down at your food. You ground your jaw as your nose catches the whiff of the dish - your stomach growls. "I had my finest chef cook it for you."

You look at her dead in the eye, "I'm not hungry,"

A scoff leaves her lips as the older woman crosses her arms. "That's a lie, dorogoj. You haven't eaten."

Her statement elicits an arched brow from you, "Aw - you're worried."

Karina's lips curl upwards, "I don't have any use of you if you're dead, Y/N." Her gaze sharpens, "Eat,"

"And how do I know the meals you have been sending me aren't poisoned?" You countered. She blinks at you, bemused. "Poison is a coward's weapon, Y/N."

You incline your head to the side, "I need a guarantee, Zakharov, not assurance." The latter hums and uses her fork, wipe it with a napkin, stabs one of your steak cuts, and brings it to her mouth. Her eyes never left yours as she caught the meat between her teeth and ate it.

"See?" She spreads her arms, "Now will you eat?"

Without saying a word, you take your utensils and eat under her watchful eye. "A meal like this instigates negotiation." You put down your fork, "What do you want, Zakharov?"

Karina chuckles, "You're quick. I like that."

A wry smile decorates your lips, "We don't become heads of our families' business for nothing."

"I agree," She knots her fingers together. "Leave us,"

The gardeners and her guards obey, except Winter. Karina looks over your shoulder. You assume that's where Winter is - behind you.

"That includes you, Winter Kim."

You didn't look back, but you heard receding footfalls. "Now that we're alone. I need you to act civil with me."

You cock your brow upwards, "What makes you think I'm interested in being civil with you?"

A chuckle reverberates from her chest, and her hawk-like eyes study your face before speaking: "Because your stunt in stealing my fortune and assets earned us both enemies."

You frowned, "We earn new enemies every day, Karina. What's new about that?" A vicious smile graces her lips as if she knew a terrible secret. Your skin prickles and your gut churns uncomfortably as she drops her voice an octave lower.

"I heard that your grandfather is withdrawing his support after I abducted you, dorogoj. And he's cutting ties with you and stole almost all of your assets-"

"That's ridiculous-"

"Oh," She scoffs, "It's true, and I have the evidence to prove it, Y/N." On cue, she takes out a ledger and opens it. "These are your grandfather's offshore accounts. See the amount? It doubled."

"Impossible," You clench your hands into fists, "My grandfather would never-"

"But he did," She jeers and shuts the ledger close. "And now, he's leaving you with me. Truth be told he is smart for a man going senile, taking your assets assuming that I've killed you, and leaving the Han clan out in the open for everyone to target."

You scowl at her, "My men-"

"Has already defected, dorogoj." She finishes for you, "Even your consigliere and your money man - Jaehyun, was it?"

Your chest heaved as you try to calm your nerves, "Where did it all go wrong? You might ask?" She grins dubiously, "It all started when you planned that event, Y/N." Karina guffaws, "I'm appalled that your grandfather would sell you out. He must've thought that he'd lose like last time."

She returns her focus to your shaking figure, eyes wide and lips formed to a thin line, dark and unreadable.

"Now, don't be sad. Y/N." She cooes, "You have me."

You didn't reply, and her phone rang. The latter takes it while never taking her eyes off you. You sit there and blocked out your surroundings as you feel the heavy weight of your actions taking a toll on your focus as Karina ends the call.

"You know," She sighs and puts her phone on top of the table. "You should count yourself lucky that I've decided to kidnap you. Your warehouses were ransacked by your old enemies-"

"Shut up," You tell her with a shaky breath, "Shut up."

Her face shifts to a faux show of sympathy and concern. "I'm merely telling the truth, Y/N."

"What do you want from me?"

Karina plays with her steak knife. "Your cooperation."

"And if I don't want to cooperate?"

"Oh darling," She purrs, "You are in no position to refuse - this concerns you, after all." Your tongue pokes your inner left cheek, "Give me time to-"

"No," The older woman cuts you off, "It's either you agree or rot while I clean our fifth." There's a dangerous edge to her voice. You give her a dirty look while she shoots you with a challenging glare. "So, what will it be, dorogoj?"

"Fine," You say through gritted teeth.

Karina purrs in satisfaction. "Clever girl, you got promoted from prisoner - to my guest. You will have one of my guestrooms. The rules still apply: do anything stupid, and I will deal with you. Do you understand this, Y/N?"

You felt like a child underneath her gaze, your eyes burned with silent wrath as you answer with a curt:

"Yes,"

"Yes - what, pretty girl?"

"Yes," You hiss, "Karina Zakharov."

"Very good," On cue Karina's guards and Winter return to the garden. She stands up. You follow her example, unblinking as her guards seize you by the arms. You recoil at their touch as if they burned you.

"Be gentle," She instructs them, "She is now my guest."

They acknowledge her command with a bow before carrying on with what they are bid to do.

"I'll cooperate," You tell her, "Under one condition, a simple condition."

Karina clicks her tongue, "Let's hear it, then."

"That you'll protect my mother." The latter pauses, "Very well, your mother will be under my care." She turns to look at the short-haired brunette. "Winter, escort her to her new room. The rest of you, return to your stations."

You allow the second in command to lead you to your new room.

Karina's manor is of neoclassical design. Neat and spacious. You follow Winter through the labyrinthine halls until she stops before an intricately carved white double door with guards standing on both sides.

"This will be your room," She tells you blankly while one of the guards opens the door to reveal a spacious, clean room. "If you need anything, just call for the guards."

Without saying anything, you enter the room and study your surroundings. The door closes behind you - the room contains your typical setting for a bedroom. But still, you inspect the place making sure that there are no hidden cameras.

There was none.

You sink into your knees and let out a shaky breath to calm your nerves. Your body feels numb and lightweight as you try to think clearly, but your mind is riddled - racing with thoughts more than your brain can take.

And you pass out.

For the next 72 hours, you observed the guards standing on the opposite side of your room.

They change shifts, and the time lag is five minutes due to the long halls of Karina's manor.

Darkness has befallen, the white halls dimmed to the color of the wall lamps, and your guards just left their posts.

Five minutes

Your head peeked through your doors, eyeing both halls before slipping out, careful to avoid Karina's men. Your heart hammers against your ribs, and you can feel your pulse pounding against your head as you maneuver silently.

While sneaking out, your eyes caught a huge family portrait hanging near the marble staircase.

It's also been taken recently due to you spotting a familiar face. Karina was seated next to her older sister. The youngest Zakharov wore a black, sleeveless high-neck dress. Her hair was styled to a fishtail bun with her bangs resting on the sides of her face, while Ilina wore a black cut-out midi dress, and her hair was styled to a half ponytail.

You move your gaze to the parents you hailed them.

Karina took her mother's features, while Ilina had their father's. But both sisters exude power and grace, a beautiful, powerful family.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Her voice cuts through the silence, and you swiftly turn to her with wide eyes.

There she stood from behind. Karina Zakharov is wearing a black buttoned-down shirt, straight-cut jeans, and sandals. Her hair was let down.

"It's a decent photo," You stiffly tell her, "No," She scoffs, "Don't I look great in that photo?"

You roll your eyes in reply while she chuckles and stands beside you. Your posture bristles and stiffens as she folds her hands behind her back.

"It was the last photo we've taken before one of her men shot her." She tells you, "I'm sure you're relieved to hear that, am I right, dorogoj?"

The air suddenly becomes heavy and stifling as you feel her move her line of sight toward your unwilling figure. You avert your gaze elsewhere. You don't know how to respond to that. You held your breath as you try to think of a reply but you blurt out:

"My condolences," You say to her monotonously.

She tears away her gaze from you, looks at the picture, and hums a tune that holds no consequence. "I don't need your condolences; she died a long time ago."

Silence hangs between you before she speaks again, "And relax, Y/N." You shift your gaze to her with furrowed brows. "You're free to roam my halls so long as you stay out of our private rooms." A smirk coils on her lips, "And don't do-"

"Anything stupid," You finish for her through gritted teeth, "If that's the case, may I go to the garden?"

The older woman regards you for a moment before nodding. "I'll take you there."

You arched a brow. Karina catches on. "As you can see, Y/N, I'm the only one present in this room - and if I call my men or Winter I'd have to waste my breath and call for them." She pauses, "I think it's perfect that I'll take you there just in case you decide to run away." Her smirk returns, "But if you did, I'll be the one to capture you - I like to give chase."

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, "Shut up and take me to the garden."

She guffaws, "Follow me, dorogoj."

What's with the Russian words? You didn't ask her and followed the raven-haired capo. "By the way," She adds, "My clothes look good on you."

Your eyes subtly widen as you look down at your borrowed clothing. "Your clothes?!" That came out as a squeak. The older woman shoots you a wolfish grin before leading the way.

"It's either that or you walk around my property naked, pretty girl." She teases, and you hold every fiber of your body not to hit her head. "No wonder why they felt big on me." You cringe as your footsteps echo through the dimly lit halls. It didn't take a minute for you to spot a familiar short-haired girl coming toward the two of you.

"Winter," Karina acknowledges while the younger woman bows her head, "We received Giselle's report on the import at Port Elizabeth, New York."

Giselle? As in Uchinaga Giselle? The New York mobster?

"Very well, did you send a copy to my consigliere?"

The shorter woman nods, "Yeji has it. She's heading on her way as we speak." There's a pause. You feel out of place in their conversation and avert your gaze elsewhere. "If that's the case, then you'll entertain our guest here." You snap your head to the two. Winter pursed her lips before bowing her head, "Of course. Where shall I take her?"

"To my garden," She answers before looking at you with a small, distant smile. "Be a good girl, and don't give Winter a hard time, yeah?"

Without saying another word, Karina turns to the opposite hallway while Winter leads the way to the garden. You follow the brunette, but you look over your shoulder, your eyes locked on the disappearing figure of Karina. True to her word, Winter took you to the garden. You sigh as you revel in the cold breeze lightly nipping your skin and the ivory glow of the moon. A refreshing sight from the usual four walls of your room.

A wry smile creeps on your lips at the realization. Despite being moved to a much more hospitable accommodation-

"A golden prison is still a prison." You tell yourself while Winter stands behind you. Her sharp gaze never leaves your figure as you bask in the beautiful glow of the moonlight.

Meters away from the second floor of the manor, there stood Karina on her balcony with her slender, well-manicured fingers holding the stem of her wine glass. Despite Yeji discussing the keys of Giselle's report, Karina's eyes were glued to your figure, before disappearing inside her study.

"Y/N," Winter regards as you get out of your room.

"What are you doing here?" You inquire the younger woman unkindly as you walk past her. The younger woman follows you, "And why are you following me around?"

"Haven't you heard?" You feel Winter's gaze move to your striding figure. "Miss Zakharov has assigned me as your guard." You stop in your tracks to look at her, "She assigned you to be my what?"

"Your guard," She tells you.

You open your mouth but you shut it close and continue to walk. "Where are you going this time, Miss Han? To the gardens again?"

Turns out, you are being held captive in Italy. The northern Italian province of Lombardy is home to Milan and other fashion hubs.

"Where else?" You grumble, "But I'm getting tired of it. Can't a prisoner have something to entertain herself?"

Winter balks, "You're no prisoner."

"A golden cage is still a cage, Winter." You bemused. This is the first time the short-haired brunette initiated a conversation with you.

"Do books interest you?" You scoff at her, "What? I can't use the TV?"

"We don't have that," She tells you honestly, and you gawk at her. "What kind of founding family has all the money and resources in the world but has no TV?"

The latter coughs, "Karina is too busy with her work to watch."

"You make it sound as though I am a lazy capo." You snark before the realization dawns on you. You're not a capo anymore. "Anyways," You quickly regain your composure, "She has a library?"

"Yes, follow me." Without waiting, she turns around, leaving you to follow her.

After minutes of wandering through the halls, she stops before two tall doors and gestures a hand. "Inside, Miss Han."

You regard her for a moment before pushing the door open. Karina Zakharov's library is spacious and shelves rich with books. How could she possess such a magnitude of books?

As if sensing your question, Winter speaks up: "This library was the congressman of Italy's gift for her."

"I see," You mutter as you brush the pads of your fingers against the spines of the books. Winter watches you closely as you turn to the bookshelf and grab two books, one of Slavic folktale and the other a Russian-to-English dictionary.

Winter regards your choice of books, "I'll be outside if you need anything."

You didn't answer and instead take a seat on the nearest couch before burying your head in between the pages, getting lost in a paradise of words to pass the time. You hear the door close.

"You didn't eat the fruits I sent you." An amused voice cuts through the silence, forcing you to tear your eyes from the page and then look up at the owner of the voice.

Karina stood a few meters away from your seated figure with her arms crossed against her chest. Her tall figure leans against one of the bookshelves as her eyes watch you.

Your eyes fall to a tray of cut fruits beside you. One of her men, or Winter must've placed it beside you, you just didn't notice.

"Ah," Is all you can say while the older woman chuckles and strides toward you, and gracefully picks up an apple. You watch her with intent, she holds your gaze as she takes a bite, and hunger suddenly pangs against your stomach, but your lips traverse to her lips as she licks them clean. You clear your throat softly and avert your gaze, you didn't see the smirk playing on her lips.

"What are you doing, Zakharov?"

"Just showing you that it's not poisoned, dorogoj."

Your face flushes at the pet name. You bared your teeth as you snap your gaze toward her. "You do realize that you've been calling me 'darling', right?"

Karina laughs, and your gut churns. "Ah, old habits."

"You call your prisoners that?"

A teasing smile plays on her lips, and you want to smack it out of her. "No, just you." Your cheeks change to a shade of light pink, and you once again look away from the half-Russian capo.

She moves her line of sight to your books, "I see that you've taken an interest in my language and culture. That's adorable."

"Shut up," You snap at her, "I'm reading."

The latter curls her lips upward, "That one's boring, dovol'no devushka." There she is again. The capo of the Zakharov family takes a book near her and approaches you and hands you the book. "Read this instead."

You give her a sideward glance. "What I read is hardly any of your business, Zakharov." She scoffs at your snark, "Just read this, printsessa."

"Don't you have your responsibilities to take care of?" You retort, and Karina rolls her eyes. Her Slavic tongue dominates her English accent. "I have my consigliere stepping in. I gave instructions - they will execute." She waves the book at you, "Now read."

"Fine," You huff as put the book down and snatch the book from her hand. "What is it about, anyway?"

"Why don't you read and find out, dorogoj?"

You scowl at her before opening the first page. "And by the way," You sigh and look at the older woman. "What?"

"The Uchinagas are hosting an event."

"Okay, and?"

"Your grandfather will be there," Your eyes sharpened as she continues, "And so will your father and older brother."

You thread your words carefully. "And what does this have to do with me?"

A sly smirk graces her plump lips, "This is your opportunity to get even." A pause, "You're coming with me to New York as my plus one."

Your brow raises, "Is that your way of asking me on a date?"

The raven-haired beauty chuckles, "No, I'm not asking you, Y/N. I'm taking you." You gawk at her as she walks away. "Our flight's in three days. Prepare your valuables." You scoff. You don't have any as you scheme through the pages while Karina peers over her shoulder and exits the room.

While browsing the pages, your eyes stumble at a sketch. It was a side view of a woman, no older than twenty-five holding a flute champagne, the dress looks familiar, as if you wore it during-

Your eyes subtly widen as you study the details of the sketch - it was you. The night before you were captured.

"What the," You mutter as you snap your head towards the direction where Karina left with your hand gripping the sketch tightly with thoughts racing in your head, and one stands out:

Why would she sketch you?

For the next four days, you observed Karina Zakharov - especially when she interacts with you.

Whenever you throw a jab or a snark at her, she smirks and continues the conversation as if you didn't irritate her. It made the acids in your stomach boil.

You tested her patience, and she merely chuckled or smirked. She'd walk beside you with a small smile creeping on her lips as if she didn't abduct you. It irked you. Because why would she have time to check on you when Winter or one of her guards can do that?

You are merely a capo left with nothing - if it was any capo, they won't even give you a second glance, but why does she-

Why would she give her time to go to you?

Why

Why?

You have nothing to offer, you have nothing left in your name - you are her prisoner. You were just given the privilege of roaming free and reading whatever's in her library.

What is she getting at? What was she trying to accomplish?

What does she want from you?

"Ah, and who is this fine woman you're with, Karina?" You broke from your reverie as a smooth baritone voice fills your ears. You turn to the gentleman wearing a black suit. His hair is styled to a perm. He's handsome, almond-shaped eyes, light brown-hued eyes, an upturned hose, and slightly thin lips. Classical music plays faintly in the speakers, accompanied by the clinking of champagne glasses as the underworld's elite gather to attend the Uchinagas' event - it's to celebrate a successful partnership with the Sicilians.

"Taehyung," Karina regards the gentleman as her hands land on the small area of your back. You held a gasp. Despite the fabric acting as a barrier between your skin and her fingertips, you can feel her cold touch - and it sends shivers throughout your body. "This is my date, Y/N Han."

"Han?" He muses as he looks at you while you regard him with a bow. "My, you're gorgeous!" You reply with a chuckle as Karina looks at you with a well-practiced smile, "Says you, Mr. Kim. You look dashing."

The man shifts his weight to his other foot. "An interesting pair, you two. Have you come to good terms?"

Karina responds this time, "Yes, we've decided that a pointless grudge is a waste of energy and time." You cocked a brow as she continues: "So we've agreed to a truce."

Taehyung hums, "I'll drink to that, have a nice night."

Once he's out of earshot you turn to look at the older woman who hasn't removed her hand from your back but you chose to ignore it.

"Was that a personal attack?"

She snorts, "A - what?"

"Nevermind," You roll your eyes at her as you look around to spot the thieving trio that stole from you. You can feel Karina's gaze and decide to tease her: "Take a photo, it might last longer."

She scoffs, "Why would I do that when I can draw you with perfect accuracy?"

You glance at her, face unreadable. "Yes, no doubt."

She cocked a brow, "Oh - I don't like that tone."

You hid a smirk and grasped her arm, "Let's divide and conquer -or you know what? Leave me to my devices. I'll hunt those three down."

"Alone?" She muses, "I doubt it."

"You wound me, Zakharov." You mocked, "How could you doubt my skills with a knife?" Where's the lie? There's a knife strapped to your thigh - concealed by the dress Karina bought for you, and it is easily accessible via the long slit of your dress.

Her face was unreadable, but you could see the turmoil in her eyes. It made your eye twitch with irritation.

Don't look at me that way. I am capable just as you are.

"Very well," She concedes, "Winter is around to help you if you can't do it."

You scowl at her. Since when did she care?

"Alright," You answer harshly, "Do enjoy the party."

Without waiting for a reply, you walk away from her.

You weave through the crowd like black smoke, your eyes sharp and senses heightened as the event continues. And just when you thought you'd never seen another familiar face, Kazuha shows up. Your eyes widen as you come face to face with the former consigliere of the Han Clan. Kazuha mirrors your shock and her hand covers her mouth.

"Zuha?" You squeak, "Y/N," The younger woman gasps as she grasps both your arms, "How did you-" She sputters, "Oh my god, Y/N I am so sorry, enemies flanked us left and right we had to escape, I'm sorry-"

"Kazuha," You tell her gently, "I understand. You don't have to apologize."

"But-"

"It's fine," You sternly reassured her. "You're better off alive than trying to defend what was left of our business." A bittersweet smile graces your lips, "You look gorgeous tonight. Did you get a new job as someone else's consigliere?"

"Yes," She answers shakily, "As Giselle's consigliere. How did you escape her? Karina - I mean." Before you can explain, you see Kazuha's eyes visibly sharpening, and her resplendent countenance twists to a scowl.

"Karina," She growls as a figure approaches you from behind. Your skin tingles at the familiar touch; the older woman's hand drapes around your waist as she regards Kazuha with a polite smile. "Miss Nakamura," She greets, "A pleasure to meet you tonight."

She eyes her hand around your waist, "I wish I could say the same, Miss Zakharov." Karina's lips curl upward as your former consigliere continues:

"What is she doing being this close to you, Y/N?"

"Relax," Karina jeers, "She's with me as my date."

The younger woman's eyes slightly widen as she looks at you, "Is this true?"

Karina cuts you off, "Yes, it's true - even if you wring it out of Y/N, she'll agree with me." Kazuha glares at her while Karina's beautiful features twist to a challenging look while her hand pulls you closer to her. Your gut churns and goosebumps arise - her touch has you in a trance, tantalizing and blissful.

"Easy ladies," You hissed as you quickly removed Karina's hand from your waist. She looks at you, aghast, but says nothing. "I'll explain everything if we meet again, but for now, I need to find my grandfather and his son and grandson."

"I saw your grandfather in one of the private booths on the second floor."

Excitement drums in your veins, and you thank the consigliere before she begrudgingly leaves you and the youngest Zakharov. You move away from Karina, eyes set on your goal now that Kazuha informed you about your grandfather's whereabouts as you make your way to the marble stairs, your hand is itching to grasp the dagger while weaving through the guests, no longer caring if your brushing or bumping past them.

"Now," You grumble as your eyes study the closed rooms. "Where are you?"

"I don't think charging there with a dagger is intelligent, Y/N." Your face contorts to a scowl at the familiar voice. You snap your head toward her, "This does not concern you, Zakharov." You snark at her with toxicity lacing your voice. "This is between me and my grandfather. Stay out of it." Her face remains calm, and it irked you - so you turn away from her, only for Karina to seize you by the wrist and pull you towards her. Karina Zakharov's face was only inches from yours as her cold breath fanned against your dainty countenance.

"And I'm telling you, Y/N, it's dangerous for you to go there alone."

You bared your teeth at her, "Why do you care?"

She doesn't answer, and your patience thinned. "Let. Me. Go, Zakharov."

The latter ignores this and tightens her grip around your wrist, keeping you in place. You curse at her and snap your head towards the private booths, one opens, revealing a familiar figure that scorned you. Your other hand twitches, you can throw the knife from here. It is thin after all. He's open, and so is your window of opportunity before he surrounds himself with potential collateral damage.

"Karina," You warned without looking back at her, "Let me go."

"What's the use of killing him now," The raven-haired beauty coaxes. "When you can let him live to suffer for it, Y/N?"

You grit your teeth. Those words are familiar to you. "I don't fucking care," You hissed.

"Let me go, Karina Zakharov." You turn to her almost pleadingly, and Karina's face glows with resolve.

"No, Y/N." She tells you, her voice a whisper. "I won't."

And your window of opportunity closes.

You've lost your chance, and you look at your grandfather helplessly, but it quickly dissipates as wrath seeps into your body faster than poison. And without thinking, you swiftly turn to the woman and harshly remove your wrist from her pale hand and use the side of your arm to press it against her throat, startling her, but you don't allow her to think as you quickly push her inside a vacant lounging room and shut it by swiftly pushing the older woman against the door and grab your knife, pressing it against her throat.

Karina's eyes widen with macabre delight and doesn't make a move. Those black abysmal eyes of hers gleam with curiosity...and something else that you couldn't decipher.

No, that isn't the reaction you want from her. She was supposed to look threatened, not curious. She is supposed to beg for you to keep the knife away from her face - to beg for her life.

But she doesn't, and it makes your blood boil and your gut twinges uncomfortably. You ground your jaw so hard you thought your teeth would break.

"I hate you," You spat at her while your eyes burned, "I hate you so fucking much."

A cruel, soft smile graces her lips as she reaches out a hand and wipes-

Your tears?

You gape at her, surprised at the tender gesture as she cups your face. Her skin feels warm against your tear-stained cheek.

"I hate you," You tell her again but this time, your voice sounds distant and meek.

Distracted, the older woman hastily, but retains her grace as she pins you against the door and disarms the knife from your hands, and pins your wrist on both sides as she flushes her body against yours.

You let out a shaky breath while Karina's eyes are glazed and hooded, her breath ragged as she leans her face closer to yours. Her scent invades your sense of smell, intoxicating you. She leans close to the outer shell of your right ear. Karina drops her voice an octave lower.

"Say it to me again," Her Russian accent is hot and rough against the skin of your face.

"What?" You breathe against her as you try to pry her hands off your wrist but to no avail.

"That you hate me, dorogoj." Her voice hoarse, "Say it to me again, moya ljubov'."

"I hate you," You say, but the words come out like a caress. A litany. An enchantment. A ward against what you feel. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you-"

And she cuts you off with a searing kiss, catching you off guard. The older woman tilts her head to deepen it, and it didn't take a while for you to respond by matching her fervor that her lipstick smudges against yours.

She pulls away with a batted breath. Her eyes are dark and ravaging as her grip on your wrist loosens, and you shake it away from her grasp, only to grab her by the lapels of her suit and pull her for another one. She kisses you harder.

Karina's right-hand grasps you by the back of your head while the other rests against the small area of your back, her nails dig against your skin, eliciting a gasp from you, and she uses her opportunity by slipping her tongue, swallowing you whole before pulling away.

"I hate you," You breathe into her mouth, your thoughts are muddled by nothing but her. Her scent, her abysmal eyes, her beautiful black hair, her devastatingly gorgeous face - all of her.

"I hate you so much that I can't think of anything else but you."

Karina chuckles and softly pecks the skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as her hands caress your body.

"If that's the case," She rasps against your skin, and you softly gasp as she squeezes your hips.

"Then give me one night to convince you otherwise, my love."

Fin.

#karina x reader #constantinewrites #aespa x reader #kpop oneshots #kpop imagines #female reader #aespa #yoo jimin x reader #yoo jimin #one for my enemy

576 notes · View notes

xob1tchs · 1 year

Note

hi !! can u do angst for ethan?? where hes really distant & the reader thinks hes cheating because it really seems like it but in the end its all a big misunderstanding! thank you! ♥️♥️

seal your fate

fem!reader x ethan landry

warnings; sexual implications, jumping to conclusions, im no good at angst, litro wrote it and posted it so spelling and grammar errors!

a/n; I hope this is what u wanted, even though I did change it a little, or at least close :p and sorry it’s like super short but I’m really not good at tear jerking angst or like tooth rotting fluff. also title inspired by this

It’s been months since you met Ethan. Months of back and forth, and lingering touches at a frat parties. Compared to the troubles of your past, Ethan had become an easy constant in your life.

Through jokes of more, or Tara and her constant teasing – friendship had grown into a fit of butterflies in the pit of your stomach if he so much as glanced at you. Your friends swore it was obvious that Ethan was beginning to feel the same way; and you’d began to believe that. Now your mind is muddled with doubt, and your finger are wrapped around a solo cup a little too hard.

A ginger has her thin arms slung around Ethan’s neck, the boys back pressed to a door frame. Ethan’s hands are hovering awkwardly in the air, and he looks flustered. He really looks uncomfortable. You just can’t see past the way the girl fawns, glossy lips spreading into a charming smile as she teases him. Blush spreads across his nose bridge, and he does that thing where he chuckles, nervously tugging the hair at the nape of his neck.

Your fingers tingle at a memory the scene strikes, one wherein you straddled Ethan’s lap - and toyed with the curly hair in that same spot, lips slotted between his like a puzzle piece, breathing in his quiet whines and pleas for more.

You turn to the guy at your side, lips etching into a tight smile, before you bid a quick goodbye and head for the kitchen - tossing your full cup into the overflowing trash can and slipping out the patio door.

You’re not even out of the yard when your phone pings from your pocket, a text that has you frowning lighting up your phone

e 😵‍💫 : where r you??

and for the first time in months, you leave him on read.

Weeks of avoiding, and missed calls don’t seem to deter Ethan. He’s relentless in his efforts to get a reply from you, to the point that he has chad questions you and your reasons for ignoring his new best friend. It’s frustrating, and you actually want to laugh aloud when Mindy corners you in the bathroom, prying at you for an answer.

“He’s not as into me as you think okay, just stop pressing me” you rolled your eyes, demanding she not bring it up again. For once — Mindy actually listened to you. Or so you thought.

Walking along aisles and aisles full of textbooks and biographies, you let out a frustrated groan, glancing down to the paper in your hand and back up at the shelf. You squint at the spines, reading off titles and authors quietly until you reach the end of the section your book should be in. Crumpling the paper in your fist you spin on your heel, ready to give up when your slammed into a firm chest, and large hands wrap around your biceps.

Warmth fills your veins, and your body relaxes into the embrace on impact, eye lids fluttering closed when the scent of his after shave fills your head.

Your body collides with the books shelf, his hands caging you in, dark eyes glaring down at you. Rarely have you ever seen Ethan upset. The way his jaw clenched as he contemplates what to say to you has your breath a little uneven, and you can’t help but swoon, you’ve been without Ethan for far too long – even if you’re the reason for not seeing him.

“Why’re you telling Mindy I’m not into you?”

“ ‘cause you’re not Ethan”

“What the hell are you talking about”

“I saw you at that party with that girl, she was very pretty E, you don’t need to act like you’re into me - if you’re worried it’ll make things awkward it won’t - ”

Ethan’s brows crease, a low groan slipping past his lips “What girl? There is no girl” with the way he’s looking down at you, it’s almost easy to believe you could be with him.

“Yes there was. I thought we had some sort of agreement, or that our feelings were mutual. I should’ve expressed I’m not interested in sharing, that’s completely my fault -“

“Good god, Shutup with whatever you’re on about, and please believe me when I tell you; I’m not interested in sharing either, and whatever you think you saw was not what it looked like because I am really fucking into you”

Your lips part in shock, face flushing red, eyes widening as you stare up him, watching as his lips etch into the sly smirk you’ve been deprived of “you want me, you’ve got me” he mumbles, head tilting downwards ever so slightly, lips gently pecking yours.

“but! you can’t introduce me as your boyfriend”

you frown

“it’s gotta go like “this is my husband Ethan” or something”

#scream iv #scream 6 #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #my inbox 🫧#🖤 ; lex talks 2 anons!

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b-o-e · 1 year

Text

kiss farewell

Wally Darling x Reader

Warnings: snugllin, lil smoochy kiss, you're being watched at one point hehe

although it is not necessary, I highly suggest reading my fics in their recommended order for the best experience! here is the link to all my silly lil wally fics in order. this is #8 :)

After a night spent at Wally’s, he walks you home.

“Good morning,”

With a muddled grumble, you rubbed away at the sleepiness in your eyes. Peeking up, you caught sight of the man you’d trapped beneath you, offering a dopey smile.

“G’mornin’, Darling,'” you uttered. Laying your head back down to rest on his belly again, you sighed softly. His hand returned to its spot on your back as you did, rubbing soothing little circles into it.

…

Huh. Sudden wave of déjà vu.

You lifted your head, brows furrowed in confusion, looking at Wally drowsily. He laughed quietly, shaking his head.

“Hi,” he grinned. This felt awful familiar.

“... Hi.” You mumbled, things clicking together as you looked around. “Wally?”

“Yes?”

You looked at him.

“... it wasn't a dream, right?”

“It wasn’t a dream,” he assured, chuckling a little. “I’m glad you didn't describe it as a nightmare, at least.”

“I would never,” you chuckled softly. “Only small portions of it,”

“How did you sleep?” He asked, shifting, trying not to move you too much.

“Wonderfully,” you hummed, “I’ve found my best sleeps have been while in your arms, it seems,”

Wally’s cheeks flushed, surprised by your answer.

“You’re also a bit extra straightforward when you’re sleepy,” he mumbled, making you laugh.

“Sorry,”

“It’s cute,”

“You think so?”

“I do, yes.”

You giggled, pushing yourself up from your lying position and sitting back on your heels, seated in the empty space between his legs.

“I fear if I don’t get up now, I’ll never want to leave,” You joked. Wally smiled.

“Ha ha, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, propping himself up higher.

“I wouldn’t either, but I can’t let myself be so lazy,” you yawned, lifting your hands above your head as you stretched. “I’ve got to get back to my house and change out of these clothes,”

“Allow me to walk you home,”

“What a gentleman you are, Darling,” you smiled, “Sure, if you would like. Thank you for letting me stay,”

“I wasn’t going to let you walk home so late at night. I wanted you to stay. Plus, I believe I was deserving of some compensation,” he quipped, laughing as you covered your face with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” you groaned, the shame from your actions the night prior resurfacing. “It was just– I don’t even know. Instinct, for some reason?” You hopelessly tried to defend yourself.

“Instinct to hang up when someone’s halfway through telling you they love you?”

You stayed silent.

“... yes.”

Wally laughed at you, shaking his head in amusement.

“Whatever you say. No matter, I am happy with how the night ended,”

You huffed, sliding off the bed, though a smile played at your lips.

“Yeah, me too.”

Wally had followed you out of bed, excusing himself to switch out of his sleepwear before taking you home. You plopped yourself down on his armchair, talking to Home as you waited, expressing your thanks for letting you in last night.

In no time Wally returned in his casual clothes, standing before you and offering his hand.

“All set?” he smiled. You accepted his help, standing up with his assistance.

“All set,” you repeated with a nod, heading with him to the door. Home opened it for the two of you, Wally gesturing for you to go on ahead.

“I’ll be back in a little, Home,” Wally waved goodbye as the two of you headed to your house.

“Mornin’, Sally! Julie!” Eddie greeted with a tip of his hat and a smile, digging into his mail bag.

“Good morning, favourite mailman of mine!” Julie returned with a gleeful grin. “How goes it today?”

“Just swell! I’ve got a letter for ya in here, somewhere!” He replied, brows furrowing. “Er… I should, at least…”

“Ooh! Take a look over there,” Sally piped, eyes set on a particular sight. The other two’s gazes followed.

“Well, wontcha look at that,” Eddie remarked, head tilting in curiosity.

“It looks like they’re coming from Home,” Julie noted.

“Wally’s dressed, but they’re in their pajamas. Their arms are linked too, but that’s pretty normal for them, isn't it?” Sally added.

“... you wouldn’t reckon something happened last night, wouldja?” Eddie questioned. “Look at ‘em. Doesn’t something seem different? They seem… lax, less uptight,” he continued, “do you think they’ve finally confessed or somethin’?”

“Well, look at you go. Didn’t know you were a detective on the side,” Julie remarked teasingly. “I do think you’re right, though…”

“Let’s follow them! See if anything happens!” Sally pitched, Eddie’s head whipping towards her with a look of shock. Julie was quick to agree.

“Ooh, good idea, Sally!”

“Huh?” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “Err, I dunno, fellas. Doesn’t that seem a bit… intrusive?”

“They’re in public,” Julie shrugged.

You and Wally walked together, pace slow and lazy, neither of you in a rush to leave the other. You made small talk, commenting on the beautiful weather today and plans for later on.

Far too soon did you make it back to your house, a pit of discontent in your belly as your time together was coming to a close.

You turned your back to your front door, facing Wally with a soft sigh. Noticing his neckerchief being slightly disarray, you focussed your attention on it.

“Your scarf is a little cockeyed,” you murmured, reaching out and carefully untying it, leaning over to readjust it so that it sat right.

Butterflies fluttered in Wally’s belly at the close proximity, the man lifting his chin a little to give you more room to work with. He watched you wordlessly, lips slightly parted, before he pressed them together.

“There,” you pulled away, satisfied with your work. ��All better now, handsome,” you snickered softly, your eyes meeting his.

His pupils dilated when they met yours. You paused, cheeks flushing, realizing how close you had been, up in his personal space.

“Sorry,” you murmured bashfully, stepping back. Wally shook his head, smiling.

“Thank you,” he said, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Where would I be without your help?” He chuckled.

“Somewhere looking like a slob,” you joked, wiping off a fuzzy from his shirt.

“Goodness, it appears so,” he uttered sheepishly. “I suppose I skipped giving myself a once over. I didn’t want you waiting long,”

“For you, I’d wait an eternity. There’s never any rush,” you assured. “However, I’m sure you have other plans you’d best be getting to. Thank you for walking me home,”

“You’re always welcome,” his hands interlocked behind his back. “I’ll see you later, neighbour,” he mumbled.

You cupped his face with one hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips. His body tensed in surprise, cheeks reddening.

“See you, Wally,” you smiled, heading inside.

The door clicked shut behind you, leaving Wally standing there, trying to recover from his shock.

Two fingers touched to his lips where yours had been moments prior, relishing the phantom feeling of them there. Releasing a lovesick sigh, he turned on his heel, ready to leave.

Your onlookers dropped like flies behind a nearby bush.

hello!!! I hope you enjoyed!!! lil snippets, hehe. I'm not too sure what to say today, so I suppose that's all!!! thank you!!!

here is a link to my silly lil wally fics in their recommended order if you would like :) these can also be found on my ao3 B) I also have a ko-fi if you'd like to support me!

likes and reblogs are very appreciated!! have a good day today!! I will see you next time B) MWAH!!

Posted Thursday, May 11, 2023 at 12:22 PM

#wally darling x reader #wally x reader #wally darling #welcome home x reader #welcome home #uggghh i gotta work today #n the next #n the next bahaha #but then I get a little break!!#until next time!! should be out in two or three days :)) we will see how i am doing!!

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fatuifucker · 2 years

Text

stream clip: posting your boobs on twitter so scara can win a twitter poll

PAIRING = streamer! scaramouche x fem-sex reader (they/them pronouns used but mention of boobs)

WARNINGS = boobplay (reader receiving), not canon to sucker series storyline, scuffed writing

W/C = 0.5k

A/N = from this post, yayy congrats on scara for winning and thank you scaranation for helping! also not...very...proud of it though,, despite my love for boobs, i don't read wlw smut so i don't know how to write them :shrug: i'm sorry i'll try harder next time aaaaaaaaa

TAGS = @midnxght-sweet-time, @zen-daydreams, @edenialucas, @huboi, @nejibot, @teallapril, @lovediluc, @yumixxn (i can't tag some of you guys sorry)

scara☆lover @yn-reader

If Scara wins I'll post a pic of my boobs

[stream deja vu!! @best-streamers

round one: 06ScaraBalladeer vs KoushiWhale]

scara-sama @06ScaraBalladeer

They said it! A vote for me is a vote for free boobs!

[scara☆lover @yn-reader

If Scara wins I'll post a pic of my boobs]

—

You: Kuni

You: What did you do?

Kuniku<3: Huh what are you talking about

Kuniku<3: How far are you from home? I want my cake

You: Kuni, you know what you retweeted

Kuniku<3: Oh that…hehe, just a little encouragement to get people voting for me

Kuniku<3: Aka the most prettiest doll in the universe

Kuniku<3: You wouldn't let me lose, would you?

You: Kuni.

Kuniku<3: Besides when I win, we'll get more clout for the channel

Kuniku<3: And you said you'd do anything to help me grow, riiiight?

You: …

—

"Get a good shot. We need to thank them properly, don't you think?"

You position the phone close to your chest — showcasing your assets while concealing your face from view. Scara's signature lace gloves cup your breasts, his breath blowing into your ear as he orders you to take a picture.

"That's good enough," he says, snatching the phone from you and going on your account.

"I'm surprised you're okay with that. I thought you didn't want me to sell my body."

"It's fine, we'll deleting the post in a minute." He removes his gloves and tosses it aside. "And it's not like they'll know that you're my s/o. They'll just think I'm rewarding a fan, probably make some creepy comments, which all means more clout." He taps the post button before leaving the phone on the table and reaching over to grab a bottle of lotion. “Now that’s done…let me appreciate you too.”

Kuni squirts out a few pumps of the lotion, spreading it evenly atop his palms. The delicate scent of rain and lavender is pleasing and even therapeutic; well, you bought it for Kuni because of its calming properties. He shifts his body, spreading his legs as an invitation for you to come closer. Knowing what he intends on doing, you lean your back against his chest.

Kuni’s hands make their way to your chest and gently kneads your breasts. His thumbs dig at the flesh, the pads of his fingers putting the right amount of pressure. He hums as spreads the sticky white substance all over your mounds, and you know he’s smiling behind you.

“Poor thing, look at all this tension you’ve built up,” Kuni coos. “You’ve been working so hard for my sake, haven’t you?” His fingers circle around your areola, making you jump when he roughly pinches your nipples. “What a good little producer I have.”

Burying his face into your nape, Kuni continues to massage your tits, drinking in all your whimpers and cries. The lavender scent — that was meant to calm you down — is hypnotic, the squelchy sounds of the viscous liquid on skin adding to the muddled mess in your mind. You weakly call out his name, but the only salvation you received was a warm tongue gliding the shell of your ear. All you could do is sink into his hold, shutting your eyes as you succumb to the pleasure.

“Hehe, (Name), you truly are adorable.”

#genshin impact smut #genshin x reader smut #genshin smut #scaramouche x reader smut #genshin scaramouche x reader smut #scaramouche smut #genshin scaramouche smut #sucker au #sucker series

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laurelsofhighever · 8 months

Note

Hey, just saw your fic with Maric x Serving Girl Alistair's Mother. I read your author's notes on Ao3, and were you hinting at conflicting information on Alistair's mother's identity? Or is my tired brain misinterpreting? I'm all for writing whatever you want, go nuts, no problem with the fic. But this peaked my interest, because I've never heard of anything disputing Fiona, given 'The Calling' novel. Does it have to do with there being no acknowledgement in DAI if you have Alistair and Fiona at Skyhold at the same time? Any information or clarification you provide would be appreciated. I always loved Maric.

Hi Nonny! This has consumed my entire evening and I hope you’re prepared for the splurge about to be unleashed. Thank you for the ask! The disclaimer at the top of the fic is there because historically the subject of Alistair’s mother has been a… charged subject, for reasons that I won’t get into now because it’s not really relevant to your ask and I don’t have a horse in that specific race.

However, if you look into canon, there is indeed a bunch of conflicting information about the identity of Alistair’s mother – or rather, there’s a bunch of information that conflicts with the Word of God confirmation from David Gaider that Fiona is Alistair’s mother. Which… is also not exactly true. In an interview from 2014 when asked specifically about it, he said (after a long, weary sigh), “I never actually meant for it to be a thing … I thought the book was fairly obvious and then people were asking and I just never confirmed it … it comes up in the game and I will leave it at that” (timestamp starting 35:28 if you want to check it out yourself). Thing is, it doesn’t come up in the game, either in DA:O or in DA:I – which may be the game he’s referring to, since the interview is mostly to hype its release. It isn’t clear.

We do come close to getting in-game evidence for Fiona: in DA:I, the Inquisitor can ask her about her past, and if you read between the lines there is wistfulness there, and she’s sorry he dies, but her comments about it being “too late” to know him could just as easily be taken as being about her time as a Grey Warden if you haven’t read The Calling (TC) – she never comes out and directly says it, and we never witness a conversation between them, even if he’s a Warden presumably curious about how she became immune to the Calling (I have thoughts about this, but we’ll get to that later). In the DA:O end slides, it says someone orders an investigation into Alistair’s parentage that comes back “inconclusive” – but even without the dubious canon of the end slides (given that some, like Cullen’s, got heavily retconned in later games) this is a shaky piece of evidence at best that Alistair’s mother was anyone other than a servant. An inquest is politically motivated, after all, and would have been more concerned with his connection to Maric than the identity of his mother.

So where does this leave us? Well, we could go in circles debating what should count as canon or not, which isn’t entirely useful because people can draw lines in the sand wherever they like to make the points they want. We could argue that BioWare is really good at retconning and muddling its own lore and that the simplest explanation – that the devs made a mistake in some of the details and no one caught it – is the most likely, and that caring about it more than Gaider obviously does (with his well-known dislike of Alistair as a character) is kind of a waste of time.

Unfortunately, you’ve asked me about it, so what we’re actually going to do is go through every relevant piece of Dragon Age media, assume it is all canon, and weigh the evidence in the text to try and offer some clarification. Where things contradict, I will give more weight to the version that targets the broadest possible audience, i.e. the games > the books and novels. Where things contradict within the games, I’ll be considering which source of information is more authentic and direct within the game’s context, i.e. Alistair should know more about his history than a tavernkeep who’s listening to rumours.

Having said this, let’s start with TC, where all of our problems begin. In the last scene of this book, Fiona introduces Maric to a baby she says is theirs, and asks him to find it a home where it can be free of the stigmas of being the child of an elven mage. Fair enough. However, as conspiracy-brained as this is going to sound, there is no direct evidence to confirm that this baby is Alistair, and one or two things that suggest it isn’t. I’m not so shallow in my literary analysis that I count the fact that the baby is never named as one of those pieces of evidence. That would just be petty. Far more compelling is:

Timing: TC is set after Queen Rowan’s death. There’s some quibble about dates in World of Thedas and whether it was supposed to be set in 9:10 or 9:14 bur really that’s a numbers game and it’s beside the point, because it’s built into the plot that Maric decides to go with the Grey Wardens specifically because he’s feeling depressed and reckless through grief for Rowan. This is important because, as gets mentioned quite a few times in DA:O, Alistair was hidden in Redcliffe because Rowan was still alive. This is a conflict of information, and as already stated, games > novels.

There’s no amulet: Giving Alistair his mother’s amulet is a pretty significant moment in DA:O. It’s all he has of hers, and it’s something that ties them together narratively. If this was all meant to wrap up neatly, then the least Gaider could have done would have been to mention Fiona taking off her Andrastian amulet and gifting it to Alistair to be something of hers he can keep even when she’s not with him anymore. The fact that this doesn’t happen makes this scene emotionally empty when we know he got an amulet from a person whom he considered to be his mother. If not Fiona, then where did it come from?

'“He’s human,” [Maric] exclaimed out loud': if there’s one thing a lot of DA fans can agree on, it’s that “human/elf hybrids are totally human” is bullshit. It’s not how genetics works, it has some yikes implications considering how heavily the devs took inspiration from oppressed minorities to create the elves, and it’s not a plot point that’s ever used in an interesting way (we will get to Michel de Chevin in a moment). It’s also not true. In DA2 there is an entire series of quests about a character named Feynriel, who was born to a Dalish mother and a human father, and who is visibly part-elven. He has points on his ears! He has facial proportions halfway between the humans and elves in the game! He’s rejected by both sides of his family because of it! Now, there is also Michel de Chevin, who in The Masked Empire (TME) is revealed to have an elven mother, but this is never mentioned when he appears in DA:I, and is kind of a non-issue in the novel as well. This is the most nebulous piece of evidence by far, as it relies by default on picking which bits of material are canon, which I've already said we’re not doing here, and to be honest the physical differences between elves and humans are only really noticeable in DA2 where there was an effort made to make them look deliberately nonhuman.

Except for the timeline of the book, the evidence in TC is circumstantial. We get to more definite evidence in Until We Sleep (UWS), the third volume in The Silent Grove comics storyline, where Alistair gets to meet and talk with a dream version of his father, Maric. When Alistair asks his father to come home, Maric says, “I had a life. The people I love are all here – Cailan, your mother, Loghain… none of them are in the real world any longer, are they?” (A+ parenting there btw). Since this series takes place before DA:I, Fiona is definitely still alive, so Maric can’t be talking about her. Also, it’s interesting to note that this too is written by David Gaider, so it’s not a case of writers being at cross-purposes or not getting any intra-office memos. There are continuity mistakes in these comics, but these are mostly confined to the fact that neither Alistair nor Isabella match their in-game appearances – and remember, the games have more weight than the comics. Having said that, it does conflict with the "official" story.

With all this said, let’s come to the other beginning of all our problems, most people’s proper introduction to Alistair’s character, DA:O. In this game, it is a significant plot point that Alistair is the son of a servant from Redcliffe: it is explicitly stated in Alistair’s codex entry, and furthermore, it is something that multiple characters assert is true, including Loghain and Alistair himself.

First, Loghain. If you spare him at the Landsmeet, he joins your party and has dialogue options that talk about Alistair and why he was kept at Redcliffe. According to him, Maric nearly acknowledged Alistair, but “had more than his honour to think of”, namely the effect it would have had on Rowan and Cailan (implied: how that would have affected political stability in a Ferelden still recovering from the Orlesian Occupation). He points out that Alistair "would have been a continual reminder to Rowan of Maric’s infidelity”, which as mentioned above, means that she would have still been alive when Alistair was born.

As for Alistair, yes he was a baby at the time so doesn’t really have an objective viewpoint, and it’s not confirmed whether the person he considers his mother died in childbirth or just in his early years – the codex entry says “when he was young”, he says “when I was born”. Nevertheless, it’s clear he’s asked questions about her because he knows roughly who she was and what she did, and also at some point learnt the name and rough location of the person his entire companion quest (and Fade dream) revolves around.

Let’s talk about Goldana.

Really, she is the biggest wrench in the certainty that Fiona is Alistair’s mother, because there’s no way to square away that fact with her existence, and by extension the existence of the servant in Redcliffe who was her (and Alistair’s) mother. But what if she’s just an exceptional liar, thinking she could make a quick sovereign out of the king’s bastard by playing along? It’s possible. However:

When you take Alistair to meet her, she’s the one who brings up Maric (“I said the babe was the king’s, and they told me he was dead, and gave me a coin to shut my mouth”) – Alistair until that point has only mentioned his mother and that she worked in Redcliffe Castle. If she was hedging her bets, wouldn’t it make more sense for her to accuse him of being Eamon’s bastard?

If she were talking nonsense, why would “they” bribe her with hush money? It would be very easy for someone as powerful as Arl Eamon to dismiss or debunk such claims, and he shouldn’t care what a random servant’s kid has to say – unless there’s a kernel of truth in it that he doesn’t want anyone looking at more closely

On that same note, why would “they” tell her the baby was dead if it wasn’t, if it was just some random’s kid? Either there’s an entirely separate baby that Goldana believes for some mysterious reason was fathered by the king, which Alistair – actually fathered by the king – replaced at just the right age that nobody noticed, or they’re the same baby. One of these options is far more plausible than the other

If she’s that good at lying, why is she still just a washerwoman living in a hovel and asking three copper per load? She should be running Denerim!

Facetiousness aside, Goldana’s story confirms that at the very least there was a serving girl in Redcliffe Castle who had a baby at roughly the same time that Alistair was born, and that for whatever reason, she was connected enough to Maric that multiple people in the castle suspected he was the father (and resented Alistair because of it). If this was an entirely separate baby, then it makes Maric an absolute shit of a person to have taken one son and used him to replace one that had just died in childbirth. Either that or a complete idiot for sending his actual son to a place where he’s rumoured to have a son and deciding that’s a secure hiding place – because you can’t tell me Eamon wasn’t aware of what was going on under his own roof. Even the fact that Alistair himself knows and was aware of it from a young age suggests that it wasn’t a very well-kept secret.

So where does all this leave us? From here, things get a little more suppositional, a little more Doylist, and a lot more subjective. To start with, taking into account all of the above evidence, if Fiona is Alistair’s mother, then his arrival at Redcliffe relies on a – I would say – plot-breaking set of contrivances.

1: Fiona, somehow cured of the darkspawn taint enough to have a child, arrives in Denerim with Alistair, who isn’t old enough to be weaned yet, asking for somewhere to put him that won’t draw attention. She does this after walking pretty much all the way across Thedas even though, as mentioned in TC, the Wardens already have procedures in place for fostering children born to their ranks, presumably ones that don’t involve so much steady exercise.

2: Instead of using his kingly resources to track down a woman in Denerim who has recently given birth and telling her to take on an extra kid, Maric decides to send the baby to the other end of the country, to the house of an unmarried nobleman who will definitely not stir any gossip if he shows up on his own doorstep with an infant he wants someone to care for. Where did the baby come from? Don’t ask. Are you happy that everyone will think this kid is your bastard? I’m sure it’s a decision that won’t have any negative consequences for me in the future. But you are going to tell everyone he’s your bastard to keep up the ruse, right? No, now stop asking questions.

2: Luckily, there’s a woman in Eamon’s household who has recently given birth, or is at least close to it, and they can substitute? add? this baby to that baby without having to pay her off, because she’s an employee. The bait ‘n’ switch is timed so perfectly that no one notices that there are in fact two babies, or that the baby is suddenly several months older than it was before (truly, a medical miracle). Unless they’re exactly the same age, in which case what are the odds.

3: Somehow, despite all the secrecy, this woman’s other child knows that the baby is the king’s and won’t shut up about it, to the point where someone has to pay her off and send her packing. But that’s all unnecessary, because the woman – and her original baby I guess? – both die and leave no witnesses.

4: Rowan still manages to be mad about this and everyone is worried for her reputation despite having been dead for two years.

It’s a level of convolution that does not exist with the alternative, which has been pretty common since forever in the real world: powerful man sees pretty woman, decides he’ll have that, doesn’t want to face the consequences, makes everyone miserable in the process. Alistair’s mother being an ordinary person caught up in the orbit of someone she can’t resist is so much more narratively coherent, if significantly less romantic.

And this is where we get into the biggest problem that I have with Fiona-as-Alistair’s-mother: it has no payoff. These are fictional people, structure is important for narrative, and while I’m not saying that every little thing has to have purpose or direction, a pretty significant amount of Alistair’s character arc in DA:O is wiped away if his mother isn’t who he thinks it is. His story is about social class and identity and whether legacy is even worth it: Fiona’s identity means nothing to him, and that’s not something that ever changes. In DA:I she looks a bit sad when she mentions him, but there’s no work ever done to explore that, or to explore how Alistair might feel if his mother is actually alive but abandoned him, and how awkward that makes things for him if he’s king. OR to have him hear that she’s now immune to the taint and be just a little bit curious about how that came about. There’s no conversation, no status quo shift. Instead, the devs rely on the fans who know this metatextual fact to do the emotional heavy lifting for them and extrapolate the consequences they don’t want to deal with themselves.

It is lazy writing.

In some cases I also think it becomes a prop that invalidates the point of his character arc – and even breaks the worldbuilding a little, turning what was originally a struggle to forge an identity separate from people’s expectations, into a straight case of nepotism. The two most egregious examples?

Is he able to use templar abilities without lyrium because anyone with enough training and discipline can do it, and the lyrium is just the Chantry’s way of keeping its army leashed and loyal? Nope, it’s because he’s special because his mummy was a mage and it gave him special latent mage powers. That’s far more interesting than examining the ramifications of a religious order using addiction and brainwashing to make sure its soldiers will commit atrocities without question.

Is he a Warden because of his strength of will and determination to survive, chosen from the ranks of the other potential recruits because he had a spark of something that Duncan knew would be valuable in the fight against the darkspawn? Nope, it’s because his mummy was a Grey Warden and gave him special taint immunity powers, and also she was best friends with the current Warden-Commander so he was picked even though there were better fighters among the potentials competing that day. Don’t worry, this doesn’t mean that all Wardens secretly have Warden blood already because that would be ridiculous, it’s just Alistair who needed that extra leg-up because otherwise he’d be useless at everything.

I promised myself I would rein in the sarcasm but from a storytelling perspective it really annoys me that this shift turns him from an ordinary person into the specialest boy in the world, because it denies him his agency and takes the teeth out of his achievements. I’m not even going to get into how it lets BioWare off the hook for representation, insisting he is half-elven and taking a gold star when he’s never identifiable in-world as a member of an oppressed minority, and it never has any bearing on how he views the world or how it views him. It feels like it’s giving the devs far more credit than they deserve, especially when the effort they put into this (minimal as it was) could have gone into giving Zevran more to say on this. exact. subject. He’s right there, and he is perfect for exploring this aspect of the worldbuilding when he isn't being overlooked.

This is getting a little ranty now so I’ll wrap it up with thanks for your patience, Nonny, if you’ve made it this far. What’s the conclusion? At the end of the day, people can make up their own minds with their own reasoning, all I’ve attempted to do here is lay out the various threads untangled from the snarl that is BioWare’s incomparable ability to fuck up their own lore. Personally, I think Alistair’s mother being an ordinary servant makes his journey and the themes of his character arc more compelling wherever he ends up, and I like that this means his parentage is a facet of his identity rather than the only interesting thing about him. I also think the weight of evidence in DA:O, the game where he’s first introduced, is greater than in a tacked-on scene at the end of a tie-in novel written by a guy who seemed to just think it was a good idea at the time. But hey, I’m not the authority.

However, if there’s one solid takeaway from this then here it is: don’t give BioWare more credit than they deserve, don’t do their work for them, and especially don’t assume they’re leading us down a merry path with super-secret truths for enlightened minds only when the simpler explanation is that no one stopped (in this instance) David Gaider getting carried away.

#dragon age #dragon age meta #bioware critical #dragon age: origins #dragon age: inquisition #the calling #dragon age 2 #alistair theirin #maric theirin #alistair's mother #arl eamon #teyrn loghain

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elytrafemme · 2 years

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hi :]! I am awake at ungodly times but! I’ve been thinking about uhh sibilance (sibilant sounds?) recently and I forgot the words for the other ones bc I know that’s only the repitition of s sounds at the start of a word etc etc. But sibilant sounds and all that -> it makes me think of poetry even though I think it’s more often in prose? or at least I think I saw it more in prose back when I was doing classes on that kinda thing. idk. I keep accidentally doing it though (not just with s sounds) and wondering what that makes the sentence sound like since it’s usually used to give off a particular vibe and I’m not meaning to give it any particular vibe o(-(

was wondering if u had any opinions on the whole thing -> I do like it bc it makes the sentence flow nicely like a little waterfall or something. although some of them aren’t supposed to right? I feel like some are supposed to sound a little harsh. just pulling from my memory though so idrk .Some make a little ssss sound like a snake 🐍 that’s fun

anyway hope u are doing well ! wishing u the best as always :]

HI BRACKETT sorry im just now getting to this HAHA but ty for reminding me to respond earlier :>

I've never heard about this but its super super cool!!!! alliteration is something i only really explore in small doses as the farther i push it i feel like the more muddled your intent actually gets, which i think is sort of similar to this! (since it's like... alliteration with s but more specifically that sound of s, like a hiss) i've never seen it as a vibe giver persay but more as something that drives you forward -- if you think about the rhythm of a piece, it's going to fall in a very specific way when you get to words with alliteration (usually quicker in my experience) which kind of stops you in your tracks while reading and then reorients you as you continue. it's the kind of thing you want to use either as you build up to a very near peak (like the next line or two you say) OR at the height of your peak, though i would encourage the first one more or at least write that way. but with everything its like do whatever the fuck you want etc etc this is just ! my takes and stuff

rhythm is so fucking hard, like the recent stuff i've worked on has been a nightmare in a rhythmic sense because it mostly is meant to be poetry writing in a prose adjacent style. as a whole ive been thinking more about the small choices people make in poetry, though; was reading a poem that had a very specific stanza break while also having enjambment at that part and i was reading it like ... why is that where you put the stanza break? etc it's really interesting and can be frustrating but u gotta just trust that people write what they wanna write and everything!

but yeah! in terms of vibes i also think that alliteration and similar stuff like sibilance give off that sharper vibe -- if we're looking at alliteration with b or p or k or t is absolutely feels like the kind of thing you announce very crisply which is mostly refreshing, versus s and f and so kind of slow it down OR speed it up in a way that feels like it has a drawl to it. maybe just bc of where i live and the kind of peotry im TRYING to get into more but it gives me US southern energies a bit.

anyway!!! srry for the delay i hope this ramble kinda answered what u were trying to ask me HAHA,thank u for telling mea bout this bc ive literally never heard of this before but it is so so cool!!!!! <3333 always good hearing from u my friend

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infizero-draws · 1 year

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Hey! I followed you because I think your art is super funky and awesome and cool and I've been mildly interested in Sonic for awhile now. Most of my content is very secondhand, like commentary videos and the Snapcube dubs.

To make a long story short, I want to get into Sonic. Like for realsies. There's so much content out there and I don't know anyone personally who enjoys it, so how do you suggest I approach this?

Aw thank you so much I'm glad you like my art!!

It really depends on what you're most interested in! Sonic is a franchise that spans different mediums and has been on-going for a long time, so there's a lot of content with very different vibes and varying levels of quality (though that's subjective of course).

I'd say that probably the best way overall to get familiar with the characters and world as a newcomer is to read the IDW comics! They're very well-written, have gorgeous art, and are easily accessible to new fans while still having lots of references to previous installments. They take place directly after Sonic Forces, but they summarize the events of that game so don't worry about needing that context. There's also a couple of mini-series to check out!

There's the games of course, which are the main canon that the IDW comics build off of/are technically a part of. I would personally recommend Sonic Adventure 2, it's my favorite game and though basically everyone calls it their favorite, like, it's for a reason. SA2 for me is the best game overall, as its story is great, the gameplay is fun and works perfectly alongside the story, and it's just full of charm. It's the most cohesive Sonic game imo, everything feels so interconnected and masterfully woven together, I love playing it. Don't be scared off by the "2" in the title btw, though there are some elements from Sonic Adventure that are referenced, you can still totally enjoy it without knowing anything about the first game as it's mainly standalone.

^ (also sidenote but sa2's story got a littleee muddled by the english localization, its not the worst but i'd recommend this video that goes over the story in detail with an emphasis on the original japanese script. there used to be an upload of the jp cutscenes with faithful eng subtitles but unfortunately last year the channel got nuked and there weren't any backups T_T im still not over it)

When it comes to recommending games it sort of depends on whether you plan on actually playing them yourself or just watching someone else play them, because there's a lot of Sonic games that have really good stories but subpar gameplay, or games that don't really have a story but good gameplay. Also everyone has their own preferences when it comes to types of games so there's that too.

Sonic is a franchise that both sort of has an overarching story (or at least they did back in the early 2000s when the games had a story that was built upon with each game, something that we might be finally returning to with Sonic Frontiers!) and also has many games and cartoons where they're kind of separate from all of that and function as standalone stories or just take place in their own universes entirely. There's many different canons across the different mediums, but the main one is the mainline games + IDW + now Sonic Prime on Netflix, which is apparently also canon to the main game canon!

Sorry if this is overwhelming >< it's a big franchise with a lot of different stuff and different canons and a wonky timeline so it's sort of hard to pinpoint the exact things a new fan """"should"""" check out. I'd say check out the IDW comics and then see if any of the games (or just their cutscenes in a compilation on YouTube lol) spark your interest!

And I say this every time I get these kinds of asks about a fandom I'm in, but PLEASE feel free to send me another ask or even shoot me a dm if you're comfortable if you want more specific advice or are confused about something, I literally love nothing more than talking about sonic the hedgehog at length. (Although I'd prefer if you sent them to my main @infizero as I use this account mainly just for art ^_^)

Anyways I hope this helped in some way ToT

#asks #not art #i also love the snapcube dubs 👍

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bobateastay · 2 years

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Hi can I request for a smut one-shot? a dom!hongjoong x f!reader where reader is hongjoong's gf also a producer working with ateez and she gets too flirty with wooyoung and it makes hongjoong jealous and ends up with a rough sex in studio after others left! sorry if its too much I've tried my best to explain TT

kim hongjoong x fem!reader

nsfw content - do not interact or read if you are under 18

cw - smut, mild jealousy, themes of possessiveness, brief impact play, brief choking, studio sex

word count: 3.3k

a/n: first off i want to apologise for taking so long with this request, i really hope that this isn't too late and that you'll still enjoy it!! if not let me know and i'll rewrite it or write something else for you! thank you so much for the request and for your patience <3

Jealousy was too heavy a word for the feeling that would occasionally bubble up in Hongjoong’s chest. Jealousy meant all kinds of things at once, like being insecure or possessive or grudgeful, and Hongjoong was none of those things. He wasn’t envious either - he was more than happy with the relationship he had with you and felt no longing to get from you what you might give to other people in your life but not to him. So Hongjoong wasn’t jealous and he wasn’t envious, but unfortunately he couldn’t really come up with another word for how he felt. In the end it all boiled down to the fact that he liked to remind both you and himself of how much of your trust you placed in him and how much trust he placed in you. Luckily for him, you liked being reminded of those just as much as he did, so it all worked out fine.

Except for days like today.

“Don’t I sound good?” Wooyoung said, exaggerating the words for the sake of joking around with you. “Am I living up to the role of ATEEZ’s sexy guy?”

“Wooyoung,” your voice echoed through the small room, taking on a soft sing-song lilt that made Hongjoong squirm slightly in his seat. You giggled from where you were sitting, resting your chin on your palm as you looked at Wooyoung. “Come on, let’s go through it again.”

Normally Hongjoong was happy to know that you got along well with his members - it was hard to mix personal and work life with his profession but you made it easy for him, although that might largely have been thanks to the fact that you worked at KQ. But watching Wooyoung whine at you and blow you kisses every chance he got, not to mention you reciprocating all the while, was starting to irk Hongjoong. He knew that it was noticeable from the way Seonghwa and Yunho glanced at him every time Wooyoung opened his mouth to speak. The other members were probably doing it too, although Hongjoong didn’t have the guts to check, not when he knew that they would inevitably tease him about it later. So all he could do was stare at the two of you and hope that the daggers he was glaring at Wooyoung weren’t too sharp.

“Okay Youngie, that’s all,” you hummed, turning around in your chair and kicking your legs lightly. It was adorable - even with his muddled mind Hongjoong knew that - but not adorable enough to make him smile like he usually would have. Your eyes met his for a moment and you flashed him a brief smile, only looking away when he nodded slightly to acknowledge it. “Everyone did a good job today, thank you for your hard work!”

The boys were all flattered smiles and thankful words once you’d spoken, the tension in Hongjoong’s shoulders dissipating a little at the sight. Of course he wasn’t lucky enough for it to last.

“Will you walk us out?” Wooyoung asked in the same sing-song tone you’d used earlier, smiling at you as the rest of the members started getting up to leave. You glanced at Hongjoong before answering Wooyoung, waiting to hear his opinion. Hongjoong just shrugged, a pout forming on his lips before he could stop himself.

“Sure I’ll walk with you. Hongjoong and I were going to head to his studio anyway,” you answered, seemingly oblivious to how Hongjoong’s pout was starting to look more and more like a frown.

“Score!” Wooyoung chirped, linking his arm with yours as soon as you stood up. You rewarded the action by ruffling his hair, walking out amongst the other members while Hongjoong stayed glued to his seat, his brain trying and failing to process the cold feeling mixing up with his insides. “You look pretty today by the way!”

Hongjoong mimicked Wooyoung's words under his breath, huffing as he got up from his seat and rushed to catch up with you all. Didn’t Wooyoung know that you looked pretty everyday?

“Hongie,” you called out for him from a couple of meters ahead. When Hongjoong looked up he saw that you were still walking with your arm linked through Wooyoung’s, a wide smile on your lips. “Why are you so far behind?”

Hongjoong made a small disgruntled sound in the back of his throat, trying his best to play it off now that he had the rest of the members looking at him as well.

“I’ll meet you at my studio instead,” he said, giving you and the members a half-hearted wave. He barely paid attention to the confused look that crossed your features, quickly making his way back to his own studio instead of following the rest of you out to the building’s entrance. He knew it was sort of unreasonable but he didn’t care very much either, shutting the door to his studio with more force than was probably necessary before sitting down on the sofa also with more force than was probably necessary, the furniture complaining beneath his weight. He’d wait for you to get here before starting with any work.

Luckily, it didn’t take you very long to get back, the door opening to reveal the half-worried, half-confused expression that took over your features as soon as you met Hongjoong’s eyes. You shut the door behind you, letting out a soft sigh as you leaned back onto it.

“What was that about?” you asked, your voice just as patient as always. It only made the strange, tangled feeling in his chest grow to hear you speak like that. He let his legs fall apart slightly and patted his thigh. Time for the reminder that always made you fall apart beneath his fingertips.

“C’mere,” he said, voice quiet enough that he wasn’t even sure that you’d heard him. But you did as he asked, legs settling on either side of his own so that you were straddling him, the worried part of your expression having melted away to reveal only confusion. Your hands found purchase on his chest and you leaned in to press a kiss to his lips without him asking, which was endearing enough to make Hongjoong smile slightly against your lips. He let his hands rest on your hips, squeezing as he nudged his nose against yours. “So Wooyoung thinks you look pretty today, huh?”

Your eyes widened as you leaned back slightly, searching Hongjoong’s face for any signs that he was just screwing with you but he was as serious as ever.

“You know it’s not anything like that,” you said, lips forming a pout. Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, his hands moving from your hips down to your ass.

“Of course I know,” he said, thumbs hooking beneath your pants and tugging down slightly. “I know that I’m the only one who gets to do this, right?”

He punctuated the sentence with a slap to your ass that was only just hard enough to make you jolt in surprise, lips parting as you inhaled sharply. The action was sudden enough to make you squirm slightly, pushing back into his touch in an attempt to get comfortable again. Hongjoong couldn’t help but smile at the sight, his grip on you tightening.

“All good?” he asked, a small pause to check that you weren’t uncomfortable - all you did was squirm in his lap again in response.

“Yes,” you said, hands moving from his chest to his neck as you leaned in to kiss him again, a little firmer this time. Hongjoong let his fingers push below the waistband of your pants and underwear, cold enough against your warm skin to make you gasp, lips brushing against Hongjoong’s as you did so.

“I’m the only one who makes you gasp like that too,” he murmured, removing one hand from beneath your pants to hold your jaw in a grip that wasn’t quite bruising but wasn’t gentle in the slightest. “The only one who gets to kiss you too.”

You gave a slight nod in confirmation, allowing him to pull you into another kiss. It was messier this time, his teeth pressing into your bottom lip hard enough to make you whine, hips shifting forward on his lap. Your lips were feverish against his and although Hongjoong would have loved nothing more than to kiss you until they were aching and raw there was still work to be done, not to mention the tent in his pants.

“You know what else only I get to do?” Hongjoong asked, lips still touching yours as he spoke.

“Tell me,” you whispered, letting out a long sigh as he slid his hands up beneath your shirt, pushing the fabric upward to reveal the expanse of your stomach and the bottom of your bra. All it took was a raise of his eyebrows for you to lift your arms, letting him remove the shirt and then your bra as well, fingers trailing over your chest slowly before stopping at your waist and squeezing tight.

“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips as he reached up and squeezed your breasts. His thumbs pressed against your nipples and his smile turned into a grin when your breath hitched. “All of these pretty parts of you that Wooyoung will never get to see, hm?”

You nodded, arching into his touch as he squeezed your nipples between his knuckles. The touch was brief though, a slap echoing throughout the room as Hongjoong brought his hand down against the left side of your chest hard enough to make you cry out.

“Take your clothes off for me,” he said, voice firm with the same leaderly tone that made him so good at his job. He slapped the right side of your chest, making tears of shock well up in your eyes. Hongjoong leaned back into the sofa, surrounded by an air of nonchalance even with his dick half-hard in his underwear.

His eyes stayed fixed on your face even as you undressed, only tilting his head when you paused at your underwear, embarrassed by the idea of undressing completely in his studio. You hadn’t even locked the door when you came inside. But you pulled them down all the same, glancing back at Hongjoong to find him chewing on his bottom lip, which was the only real evidence that he was worked up at all. He hummed once you were seated in his lap again, fingers digging into your thighs as though he were inspecting them while he finally took the time to rake his eyes over your body. When his eyes met yours again, he was smiling.

“I’m the only one who gets to fuck you too,” he said. It was the most obvious statement out of them all and yet it still made your hips cant upward, pressing your crotch into his. You could feel the warmth of his erection even through his clothes and it would be a lie to say that the feeling didn’t make you wet. Hongjoong moved his hand so that it was resting between your legs, his fingertips pressing into your clit before he slid his fingers between your folds so that you were both aware of just how wet you were.

“Hongjoong,” you mumbled, a complaint rising in your throat about how slow he was being only for him to push two fingers into you. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, pushing your hips down into his hand in an attempt to feel more of him. It worked, your cheeks heating up at how easily his fingers bent to press against the spot that always made your knees weak, but it also came at a cost.

“Greedy,” Hongjoong reprimanded, his free hand abandoning your thigh to take a hold of your neck. He squeezed with practised ease, cutting off your blood flow as he began to thrust his fingers into you at a pace too fast to keep up with. “I’m the only one who knows this much about you too, isn’t it? Nobody else knows how to make you pass out like this or how to make you cum like this.”

His thumb pressed harder into the side of your neck just as he bent his fingers again, proving his point as you shuddered on his lap, a broken moan escaping your lips. Your thighs squeezed around his when his thumb brushed against your clit, a dull burn gathering between your legs as a third finger pushed into you. Your hips pushed down again and finally he released his hold on your neck, allowing you to inhale as deeply as your lungs would allow you, soft whimpers leaving you now that your voice wasn’t restricted.

“Fuck me,” you pleaded, greedy just like Hongjoong had said. When he only gave you a smile of mock-pity you whined. “Please, Hongjoong.”

And who was Hongjoong to turn you down when you sounded so pretty just for him?

“Condom,” he said, bending his fingers once more before pulling them out of you. He smiled as you got out of his lap, going about positioning yourself on the sofa while he searched his drawers for a condom, dick throbbing at the wet sound of you fucking yourself with your fingers while you waited. The sight he was met with when he turned around, condom in one hand while the other occupied itself with his zipper, made him groan out loud.

“What?” you said from your spot on the sofa, legs spread and two fingers buried deep inside of you as you looked Hongjoong in the eye, not embarrassed in the slightest. “Come on baby, don’t tell me you’re all bark no bite.”

Hongjoong stumbled on his way to lock the door - probably a result of multitasking the undoing of his jeans as he did so - and almost knocked his knee against the sofa as he let the condom land on your stomach, finally busying both hands with his jeans. He let out a groan once his underwear was off too, the head of his dick flushed a pretty red and slick with precum. He grit his teeth as he stroked himself, precum smearing over his fingers and his length as he did so.

“You know what else only I get to do?” he asked, looking at you to find you already tearing open the condom packet, gesturing for him to come closer.

“Everything,” you murmured, helping him to roll the condom over his length. “You get to do everything Hongjoong, I’m all yours.”

Hongjoong smirked at that admission, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips as he pushed into you. You both broke the kiss at the feeling, gasping into each other’s mouths as Hongjoong began to grind himself forward into you, hips moving with an ease that proved he knew how to make you fall apart beneath him with barely any effort at all. He kissed you again, tongue licking into your mouth hungrily and teeth biting down on your bottom lip so hard that you cried out, stunned tears blurring your vision. Hongjoong pushed his hips forward even though he was nestled as deep inside of you as he could get, doing nothing more than grinding into that spot that had your cunt dripping around him.

“Please,” you whispered, chasing his lips for another kiss. That was all the confirmation Hongjoong needed.

He took his time pulling out before pushing back into you with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs, your hands scrambling to find purchase on his shoulders as he set a brutal pace. The pace of his hips gave you no chance to catch your breath, each thrust of his cock inside of you sending jolts of pleasure up your spine, your entire body struggling to keep up with the onslaught. A long moan left your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“What’s wrong?” Hongjoong asked. You felt the words more than heard them, his breath ghosting over your jaw as he pressed kisses there. Before you could shake your head to inform him that nothing was wrong his hands grabbed onto your waist, blunt nails digging into your skin as he pulled you into his thrusts. “Don’t tell me that you’re all bark and no bite dollface.”

“Fuck,” you whined, arching your back in an attempt to get closer to him as though he wasn’t already fucking you hard enough that your mind had turned to a puddle. With each of his thrusts you could hear yourself getting louder, your efforts to stay quiet becoming even more futile when Hongjoong pulled back from your jaw to look at you, your eyes opening to meet his. His hand moved, settling between your legs so that his thumb could rub circles into your clit as he fucked you. His rhythm was messy but it didn’t matter when he was looking at you like he could eat you alive, tongue caught between his teeth and lips pulled into a wide grin.

“Y’know Wooyoungie was right,” he mused. “You did look pretty earlier.”

“Don’t - fuck - don’t talk about Wooyoung when your dick is inside of me,” you whimpered, your voice embarrassingly unsteady. Hongjoong didn’t seem to mind though, rubbing his thumb against you at an angle that made your hips stutter, warmth building in your stomach. Hongjoong wasn’t oblivious to the way your walls clenched around him at the feeling, the lewd sound of skin on skin filling the room accompanied only by Hongjoong’s laboured breaths and your near constant moans.

“But he’ll never get to see you-” he paused his words, thrusting hard enough into you to make you see stars, hands shaking as your grip on Hongjoong tightened. “-when you’re gorgeous like this.”

“I wanna cum,” you whimpered, your thighs trembling as you tried to lift your hips to meet his thrusts better. Hongjoong’s smile returned, only half-mocking you this time. The other half was so loving that it made your cheeks heat up beyond how feverish they already were.

“Go on,” Hongjoong hummed, keeping up his pace even though it was growing sloppier with each thrust. “Cum for me.”

All it took was another thrust to push you over the edge, your body shaking as you came. Hongjoong’s name fell from your lips like a mantra, the feeling of his dick and fingers working you through your orgasm until it all became too much, your clit pulsing as the pleasure turned into overstimulation.

“Fuck,” you managed to get out once Hongjoong lifted his hand from between your legs.

“Only I get to see how pretty you look when you’re like this,” he murmured, his hips stuttering as his bruising pace turned you into a sniffling, whining mess. He grinned at the sight, holding your jaw and leaning in to kiss you. His moans were swallowed by your mouth as he came, hips grinding forward deep into you the same way he’d done when he first pushed into you. You both shuddered at the feeling, your hands shaky as they cupped his cheeks. When he broke the kiss it was to smile at you, making no move to pull out.

“You get that all out of your system?” you asked, laughing breathlessly when he blushed.

“I think so,” he murmured, nosing at your cheek gently. “I didn’t go overboard did I?”

“I would’ve told you if you had,” you reassured him, running your fingers through his hair. He leaned into the feeling like a cat, making you snort. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he murmured, pressing one last kiss to your temple.

☆⌒

taglist: @lovely-ateez @sunsethw4 @seonghwanotes @xirenex @choiberry @peanutpmingib @sannierio @ateezinmymind @demonmatz

#ateez x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #ateez smut #kim hongjoong smut #ateez fanfic #kim hongjoong fanfic #ateez fic #kim hongjoong fic #ateez imagines #kim hongjoong imagines

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merakiui · 3 years

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I was wondering I read the Xiao x a sucidal reader and I was wondering if you could do a imagine for that if this is too much please don’t and stay safe drink water and eat and please enjoy your day ^^

Lantern Rite Wishes

xiao x (gender neutral) reader cw: suicide, depression, angst note - somehow the imagine became longer than intended (・・；)

He was just going to get some fresh air and then he’d come right back inside. There was absolutely no way he was looking for you because it was a beautiful night and the lanterns lit up the sky like pieces of sweet, wondrous dreams—

Xiao shakes his head to dispel such thoughts as he steps out into the open, surveying just how empty Wangshu Inn has become. Everyone who isn’t obligated to work is down at the festival, spending time with friends or taking in the sights as a couple. He was going to watch from the balcony, where he’d be alone and unbothered by the usual hustle and bustle of Wangshu. All those plans seemingly evaporate the moment he notices your figure balancing on the ledge, one foot extended outwards.

He’s not sure what overcomes him when he rushes forward, seizing your arm and roughly pulling you backwards. A yelp escapes your dry throat. Just moments prior you were teetering on the edge, teary-eyed and wondering if anyone would miss you. Now you’re falling into someone’s chest as they wrap their arms around your trembling frame in a bone-crushing hug. Your stomach drops when you finally hit the floor, the wooden boards creaking under the combined weight of two people.

For a moment, you struggle to escape Xiao’s hold, but he remains unyielding. It’s during your hiccuping sobs that you finally hear him.

“Why?”

It’s the only word Xiao can utter. Over and over in a confused, pained loop. The thought of watching you fall to your death hurts him, and even though he can’t fully grasp the reasoning behind that feeling he knows it must be a result of your suicide attempt.

“I...don’t know.” Words weigh heavy in your mouth, and your tongue trips over itself in an attempt to explain yourself. But you truly can’t. Why did you do that just now? Were you actually going to jump? “I’m just tired.”

Tired. A word that holds so much meaning. Tired of work. Tired of mundane schedules. Tired of the disconnection between positivity and depression. Tired of life. It’s all so exhausting and the only solution would be to die. That must be it, right?

“You don’t know?” Xiao’s still holding onto you when he mutters that question, his expression clouded in grief and anger. “Why not? You’re a mortal! You should value your life a little because you won’t get another.”

The harshness to his tone startles you and it prompts more tears. Under the lights of thousands of lanterns, the scene should bring happiness and peace. But you’re just sad and tired and absolutely fed up with life.

“I’m sorry, Xiao. I didn’t—“

“Don’t apologize.” His grip loosens slightly and it’s as if his own composure follows. “Just...don’t do it again. If you’re not going to value your life, I’ll value it instead. So don’t do stupid things you’ll regret.”

It wounds your resolve to hear him refer to impulsive desires as stupid and foolish, but it also warms your heart to hear him say he’ll value your life. And you can’t bring yourself to argue. Had you jumped and avoided his outstretched arm, you wouldn’t have had any time to regret the action. Would Xiao have saved you even as you were falling? You’d like to think he would, but even miraculous fantasies remain within one’s mind. And in this reality a dozen alternate scenarios could’ve happened. For instance, Xiao could’ve avoided the balcony and you would be dead.

Your fingers dig into his backside as you finally return his hug. “I’m just tired. I didn’t know what else to do...” A heavy sigh escapes you in that tense moment. “I wish I didn’t feel so lost.”

Xiao realizes he’s been holding you for quite some time and he pulls away in a barely composed fluster, his cheeks reddening ever so slightly. In an effort to change the direction of the conversation, he latches onto the thought of wishes. “Well... I was going to watch the lanterns from here, but then I saw you. I guess we could go see the festival together—if it’ll cheer you up, that is.”

You look at him in mild shock, not having expected him to take the initiative to invite you. “Oh...”

“But you’re probably still scared after what just happened. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Mortals and fear...”

Your breathy laugh startles him. He’s always referring to you as a mortal, as if that’s all you are in his eyes. Although you’re still shaken after your attempt, you feel a little safer knowing he’s with you. And while you may just be another mortal, the fact that he saved you must count for something. Xiao can go on and on about how useless mortals are, but to step in when one was about to commit suicide—perhaps he does have a heart.

“I should thank you for doing that. For stopping me before I could actually do it, I mean.” Your heart hammers in your chest as you prepare to spill your emotional guts in front of the adeptus. “Truthfully, I haven’t been well in a long while. And I don’t think I’ll get better anytime soon, but...I want to forget about tonight. So maybe seeing the festival with you will chase a few bad thoughts away...”

Xiao’s staring. He realizes he should blink and actually say something, but the words won’t form. You’ve always been an honest person, but he’s taken by surprise at how quickly you agree to see the festival. It’s an ideal distraction, isn’t it? All sorts of negativity muddles his brain and he wonders why you’d want to see the festival with him. He’s not exactly a cheery person and you’re not mentally well either. For some reason, he feels compelled to weasel out of this situation—to deflect and avoid it before he freely allows himself to experience this pathetic thing humans call ‘fun.’

“Actually, I think making a lantern would be nice. I could write so many wishes on it. It might even make me feel better, too!” You’d like to think that a simple lantern wish will solve all of the murky depression in your life, but it’s just wishful thinking. “And you can make one with me! We’ll write our own wishes.”

“I guess...”

“Come on. It’ll be fun.” You stand on unsteady legs—legs that would’ve broke once they made contact with the ground—and offer your hand. “You can’t get out of this one, Xiao. I’m going to drag you there whether you like it or not.”

He deadpans as he begins to regret his own decisions. But his hand still finds yours and he allows you to pull him up from the floor. Your smile might not shine as brightly as it did before, but it’s still a step in the right direction. And you’re a resilient person; you’re bound to bounce back after this. It just takes time and patience to heal—two things he can easily spare for your sake.

Xiao won’t make any wishes for himself. Rather than selfishly wishing to erase centuries of karmic debt, he’ll scrawl something unlikely on the surface of his lantern. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he’d let you fall, and so he hopes that his wish will come true.

And when your lanterns join the others in the inky sky, Xiao feels relieved to have you by his side, your warm hand gripping his and an infectious smile pulling your lips upward. Your life has so much meaning. It’s just a little foggy and you can’t see it, but Xiao will shine a light through that dark fog to help you reclaim that meaning. In due time, you will find happiness and he’ll be there to guide you to it on a bumpy path.

Without realizing it, his love for you blossoms and it’s a quiet flower shrouded in its own darkness.

No matter what happens, give (Name) the happiness they deserve. That’s all I’ll wish for.

#tw: suicide #tw: depression #tw: angst #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #genshin impact xiao x reader #genshin impact imagine #genshin impact fanfic #xiao #all of this xiao writing #is fueling my desire to write modern au xiao

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meruz · 3 years

Text

once again i am answering asks in a big compilation post. included is... gotham, patrick stump, tips about drawing backgrounds, tips about drawing in general, links to my faq, and infinity train

like.... the tv series? No... I’ve drawn dc comics fanart before, though. But it’s been years since I’ve been really into it. I like jumped ship like 10 years ago when the New 52 happened LOL.

AFJHDSLKGH I’m sorry I (probably) won’t do it again??

Actually full disclosure I have a truly cringe amount of p stump drawings/photo studies in my sketchbook right now LOL. He’s just fun to draw... hats, glasses, guitar, a good shape... but I don’t think I’ll rly post those until I can hide them in another big sketchbook pdf.. probably Jan 2022. Stay tuned........ (ominous)

(ominous preview)

These are all sort of related to backgrounds/painting so I grouped them together even though they’re pretty much entirely separate questions.... ANYWAYS

a) How is it working as a BG artist? Is it hard? What show are you drawing for?

I think you’re the first person to ever ask me about my job! Being a background artist is great. It’s definitely labor intensive but I think that could describe pretty much any art job (If something were rote or easy to automate, you wouldn’t hire an artist to do it) and I hesitate to say whether its harder or easier than any other role in the animation pipeline. Plus, so much of what truly makes a job difficult varies from one production to the next, schedule, working environment, co-workers etc. But I will say that I think while BGs are generally a lot of work on the upfront, I think they’re subject to less scrutiny/revisions than something like character/props/effects design and you don’t have to pitch them to a room like boards. So I guess it’s good if you don’t like to talk to people? LOL

A lot of my previous projects + the show I’ve worked on the longest aren’t public yet so I can’t talk about em (but I assure you if/when the news does break I won’t shut up about it). But I’m currently working on Archer Season 12 LOL. I’m like 90% sure I’m allowed to say that.

b) ~~~THANK YOU!! ~~~

c) What exactly do you like to draw most [in a background]?

@kaitomiury Lots of stuff! I really like to draw clutter! Because it’s a great opportunity for environmental storytelling and also you can be kind of messy with it because the sheer mass will supersede any details LOL.

I like to draw clouds... I like to draw grass but not trees lol,,, I like to draw anything that sells perspective really easily like tiled floors and ceilings, shelves, lamp posts on a street etc.

d) Do you have any tips on how to paint (observational)?

god there’s so much to say. painting is really a whole ass discipline like someone can paint their whole life and still discover new things about it. I guess if you’re really just starting out my best advice is that habit is more important than product. especially with traditional plein air painting, I find that the procedure of going outside and setting up your paints is almost harder than the actual painting. There’s a lot of artists who say “I want to do plein air sometime!!” and then never actually get around to doing it. A lot of people just end up working from google streetview or photos on their computer.

But going outside to paint is a really good challenge because it forces you to make and commit to lighting and composition decisions really quickly. And to work through your mistakes instead of against them via undo button.

My last tip is to check out James Gurney’s youtube channel because hes probably the best and most consistent resource on observational painting out there rn. There’s lots other artists doing the same thing (off the top of my head I know a lot of the Warrior Painters group has people regularly posting plein air stuff and lightbox expo had a Jesse Schmidt lecture abt it last year) but Gurney’s probably the most prolific poster and one of the best at explaining the more technical stuff - his books are great too.

e) Do you have tips for drawing cleanly on heavypaint?

@marigoldfool UMM LOL I LIKE ONLY USE THE FILL TOOL so maybe use the fill tool? Fill and rectangle are good for edge control as opposed to the rest of the heavy paint tools which can get sort of muddles. And also I use a stylus so maybe if you’re using your finger, find a stylus that works with your device instead. That’s all I’ve got, frankly I don’t think my drawings are particularly clean lol.

f) Tips on improving backgrounds/scenes making them more dynamic practicing etc?

Ive given some tips about backgrounds/scenes before so I’m not gonna re-tread those but here’s another thing that might be helpful...

I think a good way to approach backgrounds is to think of the specific story or even mood you want to convey with the background first. Thinking “I just need to put something behind this character” is going to lead you to drawing like... a green screen tourist photo backdrop. But if you think “I need this bg to make the characters feel small” or “I need this bg to make the world feel colorful” then it gives you requirements and cues to work off of.

If I know a character needs to feel overwhelmed and small, then I know I need to create environment elements that will cage them in and corner them. If a character needs to feel triumphant/on top of the world then I know I need to let the environment open up around them. etc. If I know my focal point/ where I want to draw attention, I can build the background around that.

Also, backgrounds like figure compositions will have focal points of their own and you can draw attention to it/ the relationship the characters have with the bg element via scale or directionality or color, any number of cues. I think of it almost as a second/third character in a scene.

Not every composition is gonna have something so obvious like this but it helps me to think about these because then the characters feel connected and integrated with the environment.

Some more general art questions

a) Do you have any process/tips to start drawing character/bodies/heads?

I tried to kind of draw something to answer this but honestly this is difficult for me to answer because I don’t think I’m that great at drawing characters LOL. Ok, I think I have two tips.

1) flip your canvas often. A lot about what makes human bodies look correct and believable is symmetry and balance. Even if someone has asymmetrical features, the body will often pull and push in a way to counterbalance it. we often have inherent biases to one side or another like dominant hands dominant eyes etc. you know how right-handed artists will often favor drawing characters facing 45 degrees facing (the artist’s) left? that’s part of it. so viewing your drawing flipped even just to evaluate it helps compensate for that bias and makes you more aware of balance.

2) draw the whole figure often. I feel like a lot of beginner artists (myself included for a long time) defer to just drawing headshots or busts because it’s easier, you dont have to think about posing limbs etc. But drawing a full body allows you to better gauge proportion, perspective, body language, everything that makes a character look believable and grounded.

Like if you (me) have that issue where you draw the head too big and then have to resize it to fit the proportions of the rest of the body, it’s probably because you (I) drew the head first and are treating the body as an afterthought/attachment. Sketching out the whole figure first or even just quick drawing guides for it will help you think of it more holistically. I learned this figure drawing in charcoal at art school LOL.

oh. third mini tip - try to draw people from life often! its the best study. if you can get into a figure drawing/nude drawing class EVEN BETTER and if you have a local college/art space/museum that hosts those for free TREASURE IT AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT, that’s a huge boon that a lot of artists (me again) wish they had. though if youre not so lucky and youre sitting in a park trying to creeper draw people and they keep moving.. don’t let that stop you! that’s good practice because it’s forcing you to work fast to get the important stuff down LOL. its a challenge!

b) I’ve been pretty out of energy and have had no inspiration to draw but I have the desire to. Any advice?

Dude, take a walk or something.... Or a nap? Low energy is going to effect everything else so you gotta hit that problem at its source.

If you’re looking for inspiration though, I’d recommend stuff like watching a movie, reading a book, playing video games etc. Fill up your idea bank with content and then give yourself time/space to gestate it into new concepts. Sometimes looking at other art works but sometimes it can work against you because it’s too close.

Also something that helps me is remembering that art doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking... like it’s okay to make something shitty and stupid that you don’t post online and only show to your friend. That’s all part of the process imo. If you want to hit a home run you gotta warm up first, right? Sports.

I should probably compile everytime i give tips on stuff like this but that’s getting dangerously close to being a social media artist who makes stupid boiled down art tutorials for clout which is the last thing i want to be... the thing I want to stress is that art is a whole visual language and there are widely agreed upon rules and customs but they exist in large part to be broken. Like there's an infinite number of ways to reach an infinite number of solutions and that’s actually what makes it really cool and personal for both the artist and the viewer. So when you make work you like or you find someone else’s work you like, take a step back and ask yourself what about it speaks for you, what about it works for you, what makes it effective, how to recreate that effect and how to break that effect completely, etc. And have a good time with it or else what’s the point.

for the first 2, I direct you to my FAQ

For the last one, I don’t actually believe I’ve ever addressed artwork as insp for stories/rp but I’ll say here and now yeah go ahead! As long as you’re not making profit or taking credit for my work then I’m normally ok with it. Especially anything thats private and purely recreational, that’s generally 100% green light go. I only ask that if you post it anywhere public that you please credit me.

(and I reserve the right to ask you to take it down if I see it and don’t approve of it’s use but I think that case is pretty rare.)

a) @lemuelzero101 Thank you!!! I haven’t played Life is Strange but actually that series’ vis dev artist Edouard Caplain is one of my bigger art inspirations lately so that’s a really high compliment lol. And yeah I hope we get 5-8 too...!

b) Thank you for sticking around! I’ve been thinking about Digimon and Infinity Train in tandem lately, actually. They’re a little similar? Enter a dangerous alternate world and have wacky adventures with monsters/inanimate objects that have weird powers... there’s like weird engineers and mechanisms behind the scenes... also frontier literally starts with them getting on a train. Anyways if anyone else followed me for digimon... maybe you’d like Infinity Train? LOL

c) @king-wens-king I’M GLAD MY ART JUST HAS PINOY VIBES LOL I hope you are having a good day too :^)

a, b, c, d) yessss my Watch Infinity Train agenda is working....

e) aw thank you!! i think you should watch infinity train :)

#ask #trying this new thing where i tag people in the body of the post instead

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deleteddewewted · 3 years

Note

Hey, I just read your Kurogiri omega and was wondering if you could do a part 2, but with Kurogiri remembering his time in the AU when he was Obroro and how he met the alpha reader until the day of his "likely" death?!

I've been trying to find an excuse to continue that, so thank you for being that excuse, anon!

Omega! Kurogiri Part 2

🚨spoilers🚨

Kurogiri x M! Reader

Omega! Kurogiri Headcanons Part 1

TW: Angst, Death, Unhealthy Coping Mechanism

You couldn’t tell him he was your mate. It would place you and him in danger.

You kept going to Tartarus to visit him but decreased the frequency of them.

Kurogiri did not take this lightly.

You were leaving him again.

You both had built something meaningful and you were leaving.

Kurogiri laid down on the bed he was given and stared blankly ahead of him.

The world became dimmer as the time passed. Eventually his eyes closed and he drifted away to the lovely abyss of sleep.

“Shirakumo!” The blue mist haired boy turned around and spotted his two friends call out to him.

Yamada, the loud blond, was dragging the dark hair Aizawa with him. He looked eager to tell him something.

“Hey man! Uh, something going?” He asked. Yamada was way to energetic for it to be his usual and Aizawa didn’t look all that annoyed either.

“You won’t believe it man! One of our classmates is super hot!” Yamadas face held a small blush to it while Aizawa turned his head around to ignore them.

He was also blushing.

Shirakumo laughed at the two and wrapped his arm around Aizawa's neck.

"Oh really? Tell me more." He teased.

Yamada gave him an entire speech about how their classmate was hot as fuck and how the guys name was really pretty. He was fanboying over someone he barely knew.

Shirakumo thought it was cute how affected Yamada was by the new student so he couldn't wait to meet him.

When he did meet you, his inner omega purred.

Everything about you was perfect and beautiful to him.

He wanted to get to know you better.

Thats what allowed a friendship to bloom between you both.

He smiled a lot throughout the day but it became brighter when you would walk into the room.

His omega purred at him, begging him to get closer to you so he could take your scent in. Look at your beautiful eyes and your beautiful face.

You would catch him staring at you, the lingering trail of smokey blue hair giving him away every time.

You also liked him, a lot actually.

Easy on the eyes but with a big personality.

Welcoming, comforting, everything you would ever want in a significant other.

You found it endearing how he took the initiative to keep Aizawa away from rude and mean people.

You could also see how your guys friend, Yamada, would falter. His smile dropping for a moment when he thought no one was watching.

That always happened when Aizawa and Shirakumo were together.

You were all young, so it didn't matter who was dating who or what the future would hold. The now was more important then anything else.

Shirakumo contemplated what he could do to court you.

He jumped to the conclusion of courting instead of asking you if you were wanting to try a relationship with anyone.

He told Aizawa and the black haired boy just looked at him. His eyes saying something that his mouth wouldn't.

Didn't matter how well Shirakumo knew him, he didn't know how to read his eyes.

"Should i get him a bouquet? Maybe his favorite foods? Ah, i dont know what to do! Aizawa help me!" Aizawa recommended he just asked you out.

"You're so not romantic, but i still love you." He missed how much his words affected Aizawa. The black haired boys face was tinted red, his neck taking most of the blush he couldn't show on his cheeks.

Shirakumo made up every possible scenario inside of his own head and instead asked Yamada for some help.

"Yo! You should totally make a dramatic confession!" Shirakumo and Yamada planned everything out.

It did not go well.

You made it clear to him that you weren't looking for anything at the moment and that you just wanted to be friends with him.

Shirakumo and his omega became upset. His spring like scent became muddled, dirty water and a harsh smell overlaying itslef in a thick blanket.

His personality didn't change around you, he was still smiles and laughter.

When class would finish he would walk with Aizawa back to the train station and vent about everything you did that day.

"He looked so handsome eating that pudding and the way he leaned on his arm. So hot." Shirakumo sighed.

Aizawa felt very conflicted. He was happy for his friend but something else made itself present when he spoke about being with you.

Shirakumos pinning wouldn't stop and it finally got to a point were he would openly flirt with you.

You didn't mind it, in reality, you were as much of a flirt back.

This game between the two of you played out with him complementing you with big charades.

You would be more tactile. Occasionally touching his arms or running your hands threw his smoke hair.

It was pleasant. His hair parting into tendrils and at times having a mind of its own.

It would wrap itself around your wrist preventing you from removing your hand.

Enough time had passed that you felt like pursuing something more with him.

Something more romantic.

Shirakumo dragged you to the roof top one day.

All he said was that it was important.

"I like you, a lot. You're just so...handsome and pretty and beautiful and everything else thats good really." He stopped and began to walk around the roof top of the school.

"My omega is going nuts with your scent and it honestly drives me crazy too." Shirakumo danced around you.

"If you only knew how much i want to hold you and kiss you every time you help Aizawa out. That one time you helped that omega by fighting those meat heads off of them. Purring for you, baby!" Shirakumo got close to the roofs edge.

"Everything about you makes me and my omega want you. I-" Shirakumo slipped from the edge and fell.

You ran to catch him, maybe you could save him.

Shirakumo would most likely die, you wouldn't get there on time to catch him.

Your heart pulled with dread and dropped when you heard him scream.

Then, a peak of mist made itself seen from the edge of the roof.

“Shirakumo!” You yelled at him as he floated above you.

He flew around in his cloud, circling around you laughing.

“Was that intentionally?” You asked once he got down from his cloud.

His face became red as he watched you look at him expectingly.

“Ah, yeah?” You laught at his response and pulled him towards you.

You ran your fingers threw his smoke like hair and cupped his cheek in your hand, thumb gently caressing his face.

“You know? You should really stick to just two word phrases. I don’t think you have the mental capacity or brain cells for anything more.” You teased.

He gave you a goofy smile while he practically melted into your touch.

You were heaven and safety for him.

His inner omega begging him to ask you to be his mate. To bond. To do everything with you.

To be yours and you be his alpha.

His mouth a body moved on their own. He couldn't stop himself from getting closer to you and wrapping his arms around you.

"I'm sorry,” He stared at your eyes and admired them more a moment, “but you’re to perfect to just put into two words.”

Shirakumo closed the gap between you two and kissed you.

Both you and him, and your secondary sexes, we’re overwhelmed and overjoyed.

It was a thrilling emotion that coursed through you. The giddiness of being able to say that this was someone you would like to invest all of your time on.

You both loved each other so much, nothing in that moment or the ones to come could ruin that.

Then in your second year, Aizawa brought you Shirakumos speaker.

It was battered and broken. Wet.

Destroyed.

Aizawa said nothing to you, the other alpha walked away from you without batting an eye or even acknowledging the blond beta running after him.

You felt your legs give way as you fell to the floor. Vision becoming blurry and warm streaks falling down your face.

“So what should we do? We both want to mate but we can’t risk our careers.” “Don’t worry about Y/n. You’re already my mate. My omega is telling me that you’ve already been accepted and naturally, I’m always glad to call you mine. Fuck the rules!” “Sure, whatever you say, my mate.”

The happy memories and the planned out future you both had with each other was now just a dream.

It was delusion you had set yourself up for.

Your mate was gone.

“So that’s who you are.” Kurogiri spoke into the empty cell. The dream having woken him up.

He turned to lay on his side and stared at the invisible cell door.

He didn’t attempt to fall back to sleep.

You laid awake in bed, face pressed into an old jacket that was clearly worn down.

It was faded in color and no longer had that signature scent you adored so much.

It no longer smelled like spring.

Or like fresh air.

It smelled like you and your laundry detergent.

Your mate was dead and you both never got the chance to make it official.

Would never have a family of your own. Never have your first anything together.

Never have another moment with each other.

He was gone and yet still here.

Your mate was a terrorist who found no issue in killing others.

“Goodnight…my omega. Sweet dreams, Oboro.” You drifted off to sleep once your eyes closed.

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rommahh · 3 years

Text

I Carry It In My Heart

Word count: 4.7k

I thank everyone who read part one, it meant so much to me to see the love it got. Heres part two, please comment, like reblog, whatever I just wanna hear your thoughts! I also plan on making smaller blurbs of this universe with fratrry. I have plans for a graduation, wedding, babies, and other random blurbs of their lives. Much love, R.

Part One

Y/N’s drive home was quiet. She drove the whole six hours just listening to her thoughts. Thinking about the future of a relationship she had so much hope for. She wanted this relationship so much and seeing Harry before leaving campus reassured her that maybe just maybe, Harry wanted what she wanted too.

Six hours went by and Y/N finally arrived home. She lived on a very secluded farm with her mom, dad, grandparents, uncles/aunts, and cousins. Everyone lived along the property making the family tight knit. She was scared to reveal to her family that she wasn't with Harry anymore. He grew to be a very important part of the family. Everyone saw how beautiful Harry and Y/N’s relationship was. They could see how close they were and how they just shared a really unique connection with each other.

Getting out of her car, Y/N took a moment to stretch her legs before she was bombarded by her family. Hands were pulling her into hugs, kisses were being planted on her cheek- she never felt more loved in her life. She didn't realize she was crying until her mom held her face between her hands wiping the free flowing tears from the young girl's face. The family left the mother and daughter alone to reconnect.

“What is wrong with my baby?” Her mother cradled her face as she sobs.

“Mommy, we broke up. Me and Harry broke up and- and i'm exhausted from exams, and i'm so hungry!” Y/N’s hysterics caused her mom to chuckle. She helped grab Y/N’s belongings from the trunk and then led the girl into the house. As Y/N wiped the tears from her face she hiccuped trying to catch her breath.

With her bags in her room, Y/N sat at the kitchen table as her mom placed a bowl of chilli in front of her. Her mom sat beside her rubbing her back encouraging her to eat and regain some energy.

“Tell me what happened hon?”

“We got in a really bad fight after he kissed another girl. He basically said that I was overreacting. I tried to tell him that my reaction was merely based on how I feel about our future relationship. He laughed at me and said he wasn't thinking about the future of our relationship. Tha-” She choked up again “-that this wasn't a future he wanted.” Y/N sniffled into her food as her mom guided food into her mouth.

“It's ok hon. Let me tell you something, you and Harry will be fine. It may seem like this is the end but it's not. You will get through this because you guys were made for each other. From the way that you guys know each other's thoughts to the way that you both can read each other with no problem- you two were meant to be. Me and your pa went through our own issues but look at us now. We are solid. Baby, you two will be solid.” Y/N’s mom smoothed the hair on her daughter's head smiling at the young girl.

Y/N thought about her mothers words. Hearing her mom say those things about her relationship made her feel a little better. Her mother kissed her on the forehead and told her to get to bed and get some rest.

Y/N walked into her room and immediately her eyes were drawn to the gift Harry got her. She didn't remember bringing it in her room but there it sat in all of its glory. The gold wrapping paper on the box contrasted with the dark wood of her dresser. The envelope adorned with Harry's name written in cursive.

She was tempted to open the gift but at the same time she couldn't bring herself to even touch the gift. She kept thinking about the moment she shared with Harry in the parking lot. How he made time to see her before she left. How he found time to get her a gift and bring it to her. She grabbed the gift, shoving it into the top drawer of the dresser.

As Y/N lied in her bed that night, wrapped in a blanket Harry bought her, she couldn't run her mind off. She wanted to be with Harry but she was scared of his lack of commitment. She doesn't understand his sudden lack of commitment. She mentioned marrying him in the future and he freaked out on her. It hurt to know that in a quick second, he could change his mind.

Closing her eyes she went to sleep thinking about her brown haired, green eyed boy whose heart she carries with her at all times.

Y/N felt better to be back home on the farm. This semester had mentally drained her to the point where she felt like she had nothing within herself to give. She sat in the barn behind the house watching the chickens run around as she remembered the first time Harry visited the farm.

“No Harry, you just grab them from underneath. Like cup your hands and grab!” Y/N hollered to her boyfriend as he chased chickens around trying to grab them. He couldnt get his hands on a chicken but hearing his girlfriend laughing made it all worth it. Here he was dressed in overalls while chasing chickens.

“Bubs, I cant get one.” He pouted walking back over to Y/N.

“You don't have the talent I have.” She walked over to a resting chicken and grabbed it with ease. Tucking the chicken under her arm, she scratched the top of the chicken's head and walked over to where Harry was standing in shock.

“You are something else!” She set the chicken down, watching it run away. Harry grabbed her arm, twirling her around to face him. She placed her arms atop his shoulders, fingers playing with the small curls of his head. His arms wrapped around her waist squeezing her close to him.

It was a beautiful morning on the farm. Fall break on full blast and instead of Harry going back home, he just decided to come see where his girlfriend lives. They were sophomores now, entering almost a year of dating. This had been one the best almost years of their lives.

Harry placed a gentle kiss on her plush lips. She smiled, kissing him back.

“I love you Harry.” She said, staring at his eyes. His eyes opened wide. He stepped back from her and then started jumping up and down out of happiness. He threw her over his shoulder and started running through the blades of grass like the chickens he was trying to catch earlier. Setting her down on her feet she giggled at his antics.

“I cant believe you just said that. Im so fucking in love with you. So in love.” He said squishing her cheeks together, puckering her lips and smacking a wet kiss on her mouth.

“Ew Harry gross.” she giggled as he continued to place wet slobbery kisses over her face.

Y/N was so happy to bring Harry home. She wanted to show her family this new boy that had completely captivated her heart. He fit in with her family perfectly, making jokes, helping with dinner, playing with the little ones. He was family.

Walking into the house, she was greeted with the familiar smell of her grandma's famous peach crumble. She went into the kitchen sitting at one the stools watching her grandmother whip around the kitchen baking a slew of desserts.

“Hey lovebug, you go out and see your chickies?” Her grandmother asked, never losing focus of what she was doing.

“I did, they are all growing up so quick.” Y/N laid her head down on the table staring out of the window. Head fuzzy with anxiety and muddled thoughts.

“What happened to Harry?” Y/N’s head popped off of the table as she looked at her grandmother in confusion.

“How did you know something was up?”

“You're my grandbaby, I know everything about you. You've also been moping around my house so I knew something had happened.” She took a bowl down from the cabinets scooping a hot piece of peach crumble in the bowl and placed it in front of Y/N.

“Yeah, me and Harry split up. We just had a bad fight that put us in a weird place. He cheated on me.” She scooped crumble into her mouth trying to distract herself from her sadness.

“Oh love bug. I'm really sorry about that. Did you guys talk at all?” Placing a pie in the oven, her grandmother took a seat next to Y/N stealing a bite of crumble.

“He actually said goodbye to me before I came home. He gave me a Christmas gift too. I don't know, we didn't really say much. I miss him though. He was drunk when he cheated on me, which isn't an excuse but I think he was taken advantage of. I'm not mad about him cheating on me. I was mad at how he reacted to me. Like I was in the wrong for thinking about our relationship in the long run.”

“I understand. Can I be honest with you?” Crumble gone now, Y/N turned her body to face her grandmother. She shook her head to say yes. “You and Harry will be ok. It feels like the end right now but it isn't. It really isn't. I watched you two all of that one break and I saw a resilient couple who were going to go so far. This bump in the road can be fixed. Baby that boy looks at you like you are the whole universe.” You blushed at her words.

“What do I do then?”

“Well, I think you guys should enjoy this break. Take the time to reflect on what your relationship was and what it could be. Harrys going to go home and be surrounded by family as you are now, just let yourself enjoy that time. When he comes back for school, meet up again and talk. You both are adults- you know what to do.” You took in your grandmother's words. She always knew what to say.

“Why is it that you and mom always give me advice over food?” You laughed as she winked at you kissing you on the cheek.

“Food always makes people listen.”

When Wednesday finally arrived, Harry couldn't have been happier to go home. He had been on campus all alone and just feeling like shit. Maybe it was karma for how he treated Y/N. His heart felt hollow and even though he saw her before she left campus, he knew they still weren't ok. He wanted nothing more than to just be ok with his girl. The girl who makes him feel happiest on his darkest days. He doesn't understand how he would have ruined something so perfect.

At his gate at the airport, Harry sat staring at his phone waiting for something. He didn't know what he was waiting for. He didn't deserve anything, especially because of how bad he messed up. He didn't plan on seeing Y/N last friday before she left but he didn't want to go home without seeing her face. He also spent all night writing her a letter that laid down his thoughts. He also wanted to give her a gift. He bought it at the beginning of the semester back home. He knew it was perfect for her the second he saw it.

“Welcome to British Airways, we are now boarding all priority passengers.”

Harry stood up collecting his carry on and started walking to the line forming in front of the gate. He checked his phone again. Nothing.

As the line moved forward. He checked again. Nothing.

He scanned his ticket. Checked again. Nothing.

Situating himself in his seat on the airplane, Harry didn't even bother checking his phone knowing nothing was there. He clicked his seatbelt over his lap and opened the window beside him to look outside.

His phone buzzing pulled him out of his thoughts. His breath hitched, heart lurching. Pulling his phone out of his pocket he turned the screen on.

To: Harry, from: Bubs<3

Have a safe flight Harry

Harry's eyes welled with tears.

To: Bubs<3, from: Harry

Thank you, love. It means a lot.

To: Harry, from: Bubs<3

I miss you Harry

A few of those tears tipped over the edge now rolling down his face.

To: Bubs<3, from: Harry

I miss you so much baby

And that was it. But that was all Harry needed to feel something again.

Y/N didn't know what compelled her to text Harry. She knows her grandmother told her to take some time but she just wanted to reach out to him. She wanted him to know that she was still here. She was still thinking of him and still wanted this. Whatever ‘this’ was.

Christmas eve came quickly, Y/N’s house filled with family members, food, and little children running around wreaking havoc. Y/N was sitting in her room staring at the drawer where the gift from Harry hid. She was scared to open it. Pushing that fear to the side, she walked over the drawer opening it and grabbing the box and envelope. She put the gift in her purse before grabbing her keys. She couldn't open the gift here. She needed to go somewhere quiet.

She said a quick goodbye to her parents and left the house in a hurry. She found herself parked at a small store's parking lot a few miles away from her house. She kept the car on for the heat but turned off the christmas tunes she had playing low in the background.

She opened her purse to pull the envelope out. Carefully ripping the top of the envelope she pulled out a stack of items. In the envelope were four photos and a handwritten letter. She saved the letter for last.

The first photo was of Harry and Y/N sitting on a bean bag in the library. Harry had the camera outstretched above their heads, Y/N with her face buried in a text book. This was taken in their first year during their first exam week. They were not exclusive yet but their friends knew how close they were- there was no one coming between the two of them. Y/N had been so stressed that week so Harry invited her to the library to eat lunch and study together. He helped her through some science homework which helped dramatically on her exam.

The second image was of Harry and Y/N at their favorite restaurant off campus. It was taken during their sophomore year during their one year anniversary. It was the week before spring break and they had just finished a round of midterms. Harry surprised her with a trip to her favorite restaurant. The waiter offered to take the picture because of how adorable the couple looked. In the picture they were holding hands, smiling wide to the camera. Y/N eyes welled up at how happy they looked together.

The third pic was taken during an event on campus at the end of their freshman year. It was a piece and love festival where different clubs hosted fun activities in hopes of promoting unity on campus. In the picture, Harry and Y/N were holding up braided string bracelets with beads that said their partners name. They always wore those bracelets after that day. Y/N looked down at the slightly faded bracelet on her wrist. Harrys name on her wrist reminding her that he is always with her no matter what. Cheesy as it may be but the cheap string with plastic was something she would never part with.

The last picture was taken on Y/N’s farm. It was by the barn where Harry and Y/N were chasing chickens. It was taken from a high angle from afar. Harry had her on his shoulder and they were both visibly laughing. They had matching overalls with embroidery done by Y/N's aunt. On the back of the picture, Y/N could recognize Harry's handwriting as it said, “Your Grandma emailed me this picture when we got back to campus. She said that she couldn't help but take the picture when she saw how happy you looked.” Y/N laughed at his sloppy handwriting and her grandmother's words.

The last piece of the envelope was the letter. Y/N slowly unraveled the folded paper, smoothing out the crinkles. Taking a deep breath she began reading.

Y/N,

In my eyes, our future is filled with love. I see us buying a small house in your home town because I know you love home. I know you also said you may want to live in a city so if our plans were to change, I could see us living in a small apartment, decorated by you of course, with bookshelves that towered to the ceiling and many plush blankets littering the rooms. I see us working hard during the day and enjoying each other during the evening when we come home. I see bubble baths and fun new dinner recipes. I see me bringing you flowers to brighten your day from a long day of work. I see us travelling to all of the places you have pinned on your “for the future” pinterest board. I see us having a small wedding, my family, your family, some friends and that's it. I'd let you do whatever you like for the wedding because I want to see you happy.

I see little ones. Direct copies of you and me running around in the backyard as we try chasing them and tickling them. I see bedtime stories and fun days at the park. Picnics in the meadow and swimming in the lake. Catching chickens and rough housing with the goats. Pasta sauce around the mouth after a good meal. Frozen yogurt with all of the toppings. I see everything with you. There's not a moment where I don't see us together. I think about our graduation and where we will be after graduation.

I see a future with you and I was an ass to say otherwise. You are everything to me. I should be doing more for our relationship like I used to. I want to take you out on more dates and shower you in gifts because you deserve it. I love you so much. Please don't give up on me and all of the memories we've created. I want it all with you.

School has been hurting me pretty bad and I took it out on you. I cheated on you because I was too drunk to think properly. I hurt the only person whose opinion I hold higher than anyone else's. We built a beautiful relationship of trust and boundaries and I ruined it for no reason. I want to do better. Please let me show you that I can do better.

I found this poem that reminded me of you. I know you like poems and this poem speaks for me wholly.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in

my heart) i am never without it (anywhere

i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear

no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want

no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Have a lovely break and I hope to be able to see you after.

Love Harry.

His letter left the girl speechless. He said everything she wanted to hear. Looking at her phone she checked the time.

7:36 pm

Its about 12 am in london.

Without a second thought she opened Harry's facetime profile and pressed the call button.

Ring. Ring. Ri-

“Love? Are you alright? Did something happen?” Harry was quick to answer, looking half awake and flustered. Y/N broke down in tears immediately. “Y/N are you ok, baby?”

“Harry.” She wailed. It was embarrassing but all of the pent emotion she was holding in finally breached. She couldn't stop crying. Harry sat up from his laying down position in bed holding the phone closer to his face to inspect his girl.

“It's ok bubs, whatever it is, it's ok. I promise it's ok.” Harry tries consoling the girl. Her tears reduced to small sniffles.

“I read your letter Harry. It's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I want it all with you too. I've always wanted it with you. Since the day we met Harry.” He let out a watery laugh so overwhelmed with emotions. She wiped her face of tears looking back at the letter next to her.

“Y/N I love you so much. I do. I know I'm not that good at expressing my emotions but I do want a future with you. I'm hurting knowing I hurt the best thing that's ever happened to me.” His tears continued to flow freely.

“It's ok Harry. I'm not mad anymore. I'm not hurt either I promise. I think I was more upset that we were done. I don't want us to be done. I really don't.”

“I don't want us to be done either. I really want to marry you. Maybe not right now but in time I wanna get married.” He paused, wiping his face. “I wanna get married on your farm, maybe put the chickies in little tuxedos.” She giggled at his proposition.

“They would hate you even more if you did that.” They shared a laugh and then some silence. “I guess it's technically Christmas over there huh? Well Merry Christmas H.”

“It is christmas isn't it? Merry Christmas bubs. Did you open the box?” She grabbed the box next to her to show Harry shaking her head. She unwrapped the paper and revealed a box with a logo she wasn't familiar with.

“What's this?” He encouraged her to keep opening the gift. Lifting the top of the box she let out a loud gasp upon seeing a beautiful gold bracelet sitting on a satin pillow. She placed her phone on the phone stand on her dashboard so she could have both hands to look at the bracelet. The bracelet was gold and thin with a nameplate in the middle. Engraved on the nameplate was Harry's name.

“You went silent on me...Do you like it?” Y/N couldn't stop looking at the bracelet in her hand.

“Harry...It's gorgeous. It's so gorgeous.” She whispered. She slid the perfectly fit bracelet on her hand watching it fall in front of her handmade bracelet. The two bracelets adorned her wrist perfectly. “I love you so much H.”

“I love you too, I do. I can't wait to see you in person and talk.” He replies with his heart clenching in a good way, watching his girl smile happily at her gift.

“Om bubby, I'll let you go to sleep. I love you, spend time with your family and then come back to me as the same Harry I fell in love with.” He smiled, whispering goodnight and hanging up.

Going home that night, Y/N’s family watched her come back into the house walking lighter on her feet and looking happier than she did when she came home from school. She showed her bracelet off to her parents as her grandmother made her a plate of food. She smiled at everyone and talked the whole night. Her grandmother watched from afar feeling her heart fill with joy at her granddaughter's happiness.

As Christmas break went on Harry and Y/N continued to keep their relationship moving slowly. Only calling each other once a day and giving each the much needed space to heal with their respective family. Y/N facetimed him on christmas giving him a youtuber esq. Haul of all of her gifts while he laughed at her silliness. He did the same thing with half the enthusiasm.

As move in day approached, Y/N felt herself becoming worried about her relationship. She worried that when she saw Harry, their relationship would slowly deteriorate. Little did she know that she had no reason to be so afraid. Harry was on his flight back to school ready to hug and hold his girl. He was ready to reunite and be the couple they used to be. He was ready to be a better partner for his girl.

“Alright girly, looks like we got everything squished in your car. Are you sure you've got everything?” Y/N’s mom asked sarcastically. Y/N huffed shoving another bag in the passenger seat.

“Yup that should be it.”

“Ok, well you give me a hug and get going.” Y/N rushed into her mom's arms. Her mom kissed her on the forehead and left Y/N and her grandmother to talk on their own.

“Bye grandma, i'm going to miss you.” Her grandmother held her arms tight.

“You get back to campus and see that boy ok? You go and be in love. You too are old enough to know what you want and this relationship is something you obviously both want.”

Kissing her grandma goodbye, she got in her car and started her drive back to school.

It only took Y/N one trip from her car to her dorm to unload all of her belongings. She was able to snag one of the big trolleys to push her things inside. She watched as friends reunited, she even said hi to a few of her friends but her mind was set on one person. She grabbed her wallet and phone from her dorm and left quickly on a journey to get to Harry’s frat.

The air was cool but Y/N felt warm from how quickly she was booking it to Harry. Harry, just like Y/N, immediately left his room to see Y/N. Having not seen her in a month and some of exam week- he couldn't wait to see her. Harry saw Y/N’s familiar face walking down the sidewalk of his frat and he stopped in his tracks. She smiled her bright, beautiful smile before running over to where he stood. Her arms hooked around his neck as his arms adjusted around her waist. He stumbled a bit from the force of her hug but stood his ground nonetheless.

She held him tight, legs bound around his waist, a few stray tears falling from her eyes. He held her just as tightly, hands tightly holding her thighs and back.

“Hi bubby.” She said in his ear, face burrowed in his neck. He set her down and reached for her face.

‘Hi baby.” She blushed at his nickname. They looked into each other's eyes and time froze like it always did between them. Y/N broke theri moment by pulling his face to hers. They kissed like they hadnt kissed in years. To them the time they spent away from each other felt like years. Their lips fit together like puzzle pieces. Pulling apart, Harry stared down at his heart, tears begging to be free. He opened his mouth to say something and she stopped him.

“It's ok Harry. My baby, it's ok. We are ok.”

i fear

no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want

no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

Taglist: marlananicole17

#harry styles x reader #frat!harry #i carry your heart #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #college!harry #harry styles smut #fratrry #boyfriend!harry

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bestintheparsec · 3 years

Text

Between the Lines

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Summary: A trip to the bookstore brings you more than you’re looking for.

A/N: This is just something short/sweet I came up with (it’s probably the least deep or angsty thing I’ve ever written, unlike my usual). It’s a standalone, but obviously I have a thing for coffee...anyways, I hope you like it!

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: none

(Masterlist pinned to my page)

You've found it.

After countless stops at multiple bookstores, you've managed to track down the book you've been searching long and hard for. It's a new release you've been eager to get your hands on—collector's edition, special content included. Every store you've gone to has been completely sold out of it, but after many phone calls and Google searches you'd found a store, one town over, that still had it.

Determined to get it this time, you'd shown up as soon as the store opened today. Stepping inside you see that it's a fairly big store, but it seems to be a local place since you'd never heard of it prior to your extensive search. You make a mental note to come back here more often, taking in the quaintness of it. There's plenty of books, of course, but there's also a section full of cute memorabilia and stationery, and a cozy coffee place tucked into the back corner.

It doesn't take you long to find the section you're looking for—you easily spot the beautiful cover on a display at the center of the store. There's only one copy left, and you're giddy with excitement and relief as you reach for it, sliding it out of its spot. It's the last one on the shelf, but it's in impeccable condition—no wrinkles or folds on the cover or pages, and not a single fingerprint on the jacket. Usually the last ones to go are ones that have been handled by other readers, shoved aside for a more pristine copy on the shelf. But this is your copy now, and it's perfect.

Smiling to yourself and cradling it in your arms, you walk hurriedly back to the front to pay for it and finally take it home. Turning quickly around the corner and not paying attention to anything else in particular, you wonder how long it'll take you to finish it.

And then you crash into something large and sturdy. The book falls onto the floor with a clunk and you feel something hot splash onto your skin. Someone steadies you, only for a moment before stepping back.

You gasp and blurt out an ouch! before realizing that said large and sturdy person was holding a cup of coffee, which is now spilled all over the front of your shirt and the floor.

“Shit, I'm so sorry, are you okay?” a deep voice asks frantically. Still processing what happened, you haven't looked up, focusing on shaking the brown beverage off of yourself.

Some of the hot liquid is on your arm so you briskly brush it off and shake out the front of your shirt, trying to cool off your skin. It's not until a large pair of hands gently takes your wrist, dabbing your arm with a napkin hastily pulled out of his pocket, that you finally look up at this person—and find an unassumingly handsome, albeit panicked-looking, man with wide brown eyes and a face that looks about as hot as your skin feels. You let yourself imagine that if this weren't an inconvenient moment, you might be looking at him as if something clicked into place.

“I'm so sorry, we should get some cold water on that,” he says again, urgently, wiping away at your skin before realizing he's still holding onto your arm and awkwardly letting go.

“No, it's fine, I'm a klutz, really,” you mutter to yourself, dropping your eyes to the book on the ground. It's covered in coffee now, too, much to your disappointment. Way to go, you chide yourself, deflated at the sight. Not only have you ruined the book you've gone through so much trouble to find, but you've also embarrassed yourself in front of this cute stranger in the process.

This is why you stick to books.

“I've ruined your shirt...and this book,” the man murmurs, bending down to pick it up. His furrowed brows and pursed lips make him appear softer than you might expect.

He meets your eyes, swallowing hard and peering at you with what can only be considered as puppy dog eyes. You really look at him for the first time, noticing the unruly dark curls poking out from under his cap, and the distinctly “outdoorsy” attire he has on, worn-out flannel button-up and suede jacket and all. Honestly, he looks mortified, but it's sort of endearing that he's so concerned when many others would've just muttered a curt apology before leaving you to your business. In any case, you find yourself wanting to know more about him. It's a thought you immediately push away; after all, you'd only just met him and he probably only thinks of you as some clumsy girl.

“It's okay, really, it's my fault,” you shake your head at him. “I'm an idiot, I wasn't watching where I was going.”

“But that coffee was really hot, it might've burned you—” he insists.

“I'm wearing another layer under this,” you reassure the man. Taking the book from his hands, you sigh quietly. “I can't say the same for this, though.”

He looks like he's about to ask you something else when another man, probably his friend, walks up next to him, glancing back and forth between you before making a face like yikes when he sees the large stain on your shirt.

"It's not his fault," you sputter at the same time that Coffee Man mumbles, "It was my fault."

After inquiring if you're alright, his friend reaches down to pick up the now-empty cup from the ground, then playfully smacks the man's arm.

“I can't even leave you alone for one minute,” he shakes his head jovially and you almost miss the mischievous eyebrow raise he gives him before turning back to you. “You know...you should let Francisco here take care of that. He's military—first-aid-trained and all,” the friend says with a grin and knowing wink. Coffee Man's jaw clenches, glancing timidly at you as his friend keeps talking, then shooting him a glare that says please stop fucking talking.

"Now you've ruined my coffee and a pretty girl's shirt," his friend jokes.

Coffee Man tries to smile but is visibly embarrassed as he swats his friend on the arm. “Get your own fucking coffee, then, Santi,” he tells him under his breath, which elicits a grin out of you.

Santi throws his hands up in mock-surrender. “Alright, alright. It was nice meeting you,” he nods and smiles at you before walking away.

“I really am sorry,” he tells you again as soon as his friend is out of sight. He fidgets with his hat, removing it for a second to smooth out his hair and then pulling it snugly back down. “I—I'll get you another copy of the book. And a new shirt…”

You chuckle, trying to put him at ease. “Seriously, it's fine…um, Francisco, was it?”

“Oh—Frankie,” he tells you, the smallest of smiles on his lips. He peers at you with that concerned gaze again and you both keep eye contact for what feels like several moments longer than necessary. Despite yourself, you start to feel heat creeping into your face.

Smiling softly back at him, you suddenly feel self-conscious and hug your arms to yourself. “Well, Frankie, it's no big deal. I was going to go home after this, and this shirt is old, anyways." You examine the damage to the book, flipping through the pages. "Mostly I just wanted this book—it's the last copy in the store...but that's okay, too. There are worse things.”

“What's it about?”

“Hmm?” you reply, looking back up at him.

“What's, um, what's the...book about? It has to be good if you were so excited to get it.”

You hadn't expected him to care what you were reading, and you can tell by the shy look in his eyes that it's a genuine question and not anything more.

“Oh. Well…” you start, and it doesn't take long for you to go off about its synopsis and why you've been waiting forever for it. It takes a while for you to realize that you're rambling, and you stop your muddled train of thought. But by the soft look in his eyes as he listens, you get the feeling that Frankie doesn't mind. That, or he's the kind of person who always makes the people around him feel comfortable.

"Anyways, I should let you go on with your day…" you trail off, but both of you remain where you are, not seeming to want to move.

“Wait—will you let me pay for the book?” Frankie insists. “They'll want someone to cover the damage. It's the least I can do.”

“Actually...I think I'm going to keep this copy,” you tell him. “It's still in decent condition and I can read it while I wait for them to get more in.”

Frankie smiles at you, genuinely and without embarrassment for the first time. “You really are excited for it, aren't you?”

“Yep,” you reply with a nod. “It's the same story, even if covered in your friend's drink,” you tease.

“Okay, if you're sure,” he continues. “I'm sorry again, um…I didn't catch your name.”

You tell him and he smiles again, repeating it.

“It was nice meeting you, Frankie,” you tell him as his large hand shakes yours. “Please don't worry about all this.”

Returning the sentiment, Frankie turns to head back to his friend. For a second you consider calling to him, asking to see him again. Not that you'd be bold enough to actually do that. But he quickly disappears behind the rows of shelves and you figure he has other places to be, anyways.

It's almost a week later when you return to the bookstore.

You'd given the front desk your number so they could call you when more copies came in, so you asked them to hold one for you, which they happily did. When you get to the register you find the same cashier who helped you last time, greeting her with a smile. She knows what happened last time, grinning as she hands you the book carefully wrapped in a plastic bag.

When you reach for your wallet she shakes her head. “Oh, no, honey. You're good to go,” she tells you.

You look at her, confused, and she smiles again. “Think of it as a makeup for the last one you already paid for.”

After her insistence, and many thanks on your part, you take the book and leave. When you get to the car, you take it out of the bag, pleased to finally have it. You find the smooth receipt neatly tucked in between the pages and pull it out.

What you don't expect is, at the bottom, it has some handwriting scribbled in pen along with a phone number jotted down under the note. Warmth sneaks into your cheeks and you smile as you read the words.

Would you maybe like to get coffee sometime? I promise not to spill it on you this time. -Frankie

Perm tags: @immundusspiritu @aeryntheofficial @i-like-those-odds @padlilli @hail-doodles @hiscyarika @taman-a @electricprincess888 @max--phillips @myrin1234 @aloneontheoutside @pascalisthepunkest @ah-callie @fleurdemiel145 @katialvi @murdermewithbooks @pisss-offf-ghostt @kayebede @lamnothome @fan-g0rl @lokiaddicted @mrsdaamneron @poedaneron @wolfshifter4life @dindjarindiaries @rociomz @opheliaelysia @dyn-djarin @randomness501 @unsaidsunset @hayley-the-comet @mrsparknuts @exy-issexy @palalover @forever-rogue @adikaofmandalore @kaetastic @zannemes @mstgsmy @wille-zarr @arabellathorne @f0rever15elf @lv7867 @stilllivindue2spite @urbankaite2 @secretsidereblog

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #pedro pascal x reader #my ff #please see my 2 other frankie works if you want more deepness or angst lol

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marveldc-imagines-hub · 3 years

Text

Subtitles: Episode 3, Now in Color

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: Things are going well between [Y/N] and their new partners but what shenanigans will ensue as the Maximoff baby’s arrival quickly approaches and they’re pulled into the throughs of building a nursery and… child delivery?

Word count: 10,640

Warnings: Cotton candy fluff, chaos, baby. So the usual, plus babies.

Tag list: @madamevirgo @ravennight41 @multifandomgirl16 (It won’t tage you for some reason, I’m sorry ;-; ) @cyanide-mustard @badasspolygenderfriend

~~~

You huffed and sat back on your heels, slipping a sore finger into your mouth. “Stupid bird.”

The bird in question, a pink flamingo made of plastic and wire, seemed to sneer at you from its position sticking a few inches farther out of the grass than it should be. Because of this, you could still see the main stake sticking out of the bottom of the bird’s standing foot, which, much to your distaste, made the pink plastic-feathered creature look like it was trapped on a piece of wood impaled in its foot rather than lounging on one foot in the lush green grass of your yard.

You had spent a good portion of today working on your yard and garden and waiting for a member of the household across the street to step outside and beckon you over. Dressed in overalls stained by grass and dirt, a brightly colored T-shirt, a sun hat, and working shoes, you forced yourself to keep busy by planting new flora and putting down new garden fences and decor while Vision and Wanda were tucked away indoors, preparing for a baby. You were the only one so far to know about the Maximoff bun in the oven outside of the parents and although it seemed like just last week that Wanda had gotten pregnant, the baby had finally big enough that the couple had to involve a doctor to make sure all was going well.

It also felt like not long ago that the couple had asked you out for the first time. Both of them. At the same time. It was news to you that they had felt even remotely felt the same way about you as you had about them but the rest of that conversation had gone swimmingly with you being too nervous and dumbstruck to do much more than blubber questions. The first date and then the second went a similar way, with you not being completely sure that you were on a three-person date or even awake. Luckily, your new partners were just as unnerved as you were and the three of you agreed to simply play it by ear and communicate a lot.

Some time and a few sporadic dates later and things were going smoothly. Almost every bit of free time was spent at either their place or yours; if it wasn’t free time, you were giving Vision rides to work and leaving cute messages in the files you left at his desk—you always hoped they were cute, anyway, and not annoying, only to be reassured when you got a smiley back or your favorite treat from the breakroom left with the file when it was returned—or trying to help Wanda clean or cook or take a break despite her stubborn fussing against it. Vision was the first to give you a pet name, Wanda was the first to hold you in place when you attempted to pull away from a normally quick handhold or hug, and you were the first to press kisses to both their cheeks after walking them home from dinner. Wanda fell asleep on your couch first, you on theirs second, and Vision went ahead and turned cheek pecks into lip kisses. You weren’t quite ready to initiate them yourself yet but you hadn’t been complaining when Vision caught you on your porch steps and kissed you on the mouth; the rain that had just started had either been just a bonus or his initial inspiration.

As nice as everything has been, though, you were still worried about overstepping boundaries with the married couple so when Vision invited you over to be a part of the doctor visit, you politely declined. Instead, after the doctor left, you were to head over and bring your tools to help set up the nursery; it was also your joint job with Vision, who was now a baby book reading master but also increasingly bugged out about Wanda and the baby’s health, to try and convince said woman to relax for once in her life—a task difficult enough to be on the list of Hercules’ Twelve Labors, you were convinced at this point.

For now, though, you were sitting with your feet beginning to cramp and your knees getting damp and most likely more grass-stained, glaring at the devil in pink whose foot-stake had left your finger with a prick from a splinter and whose one visible dark eye stared at you with sadistic mirth.

“Oh, you wanna go, Bernard?” you scoffed at the bird-shaped plastic, dropping your hand from your mouth and pushing yourself up into a squat. “I’ll call you out. Let’s go!” You raised your hands in a fighting stance and bounced on the balls of your feet as you prepared to strike.

The sound of a chainsaw starting up caught you off guard mid-bounce and you lost your balance but what caught your eye when you twisted around while rubbing your now-bruised tailbone was Vision walking outside his front door with an older gentleman, presumably the doctor. However, you paid very little attention to said other man as you laid in the middle of your yard, twisted into what was probably a partial yoga pose, resting your chin on your arm and making lovey-dovey eyes at the former.

Not that it was surprising at all, Vision looked very nice today. He was wearing dark blue pants and a similarly colored sweater over a collared shirt and tie, with a honey-brown jacket topping everything off; you couldn’t imagine wearing a shirt plus two outerwear items in the heat of the day but you certainly didn’t mind seeing him all dressed up. His hair was somewhere between jaw and shoulder length and wavy as ever and while you weren’t a fan of the popular 70s cut, he not only pulled it off but made it look incredibly attractive. He greeted his next-door neighbor Herb, who started up the chainsaw, then spoke animatedly, as he always did, to the doctor. Talking about keeping the baby news to themselves, no doubt.

Vision watched as the doctor walked off down the sidewalk and as he happened to pass in your direction, Vision’s gaze refocused to settle on you instead. The expression on his face changed from purely friendly to something deeper and you felt the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach as he waved over to you.

“Hello, perfectly platonic neighbor!” he hollered, to which you responded in kind after snorting and then disentangling yourself from your strange position.

No response from Herb about the odd greeting. The cul-de-sac, and in Westview in general, people didn’t seem concerned with your trio’s out-of-place shenanigans as long as it didn’t directly affect them, you had noticed over time. You could have probably walked over and planted a brazen smooch on Vision’s perfect mouth while out in the open, with other neighbors milling about, and no one would bat an eye.

But that’s exactly what we’re not going to do, you thought stubbornly as you stood and brushed yourself off. Not yet, anyway. I want to make sure they’re both comfortable with it first.

Vision seemed to grasp what your plan was because he waited for you as you gave Bernard the flamingo a fight postpone notice and then a light kick before walking across your yard and heading across the street. If you had been more rational, you would have grabbed your tools so you could have just come inside when you reached the Maximoff house but your brain, muddled with the pink mist of freshly requited affections, could only think of getting closer to the man, maybe even holding hands or nuzzling noses.

A sound that was equal parts loud and awful caught both your and Vision’s attention as you reached the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Looking over, you both saw Herb cutting away with his chainsaw, only now he wasn’t cutting through bushes but the stone wall separating his and Wanda and Vision’s homes. The stone blocks of the wall weren’t super heavy-duty, you supposed, but the sound made you cringe, and the sight was a little jarring. Herb didn’t seem to realize was he was doing despite the lack of hedges in his path.

“Hey Herb,” Vision yelled over the noise, “think you might’ve taken the hedge trimming a little too far there, old chum!” As he spoke, he glanced over at you and, seeing you nearby, instinctively shifted in your direction; you moved to meet him halfway and you each gave the other’s hand a quick affectionate squeeze, though both pairs of eyes were trained on Herb.

Herb, who looked up, smiled, and responded, “So I have! Thanks, buddy.” Despite saying this, he continued to cut through the bordering wall and stare glassily ahead as if none the wiser.

The expression gave you an unnerving sense of familiarity but you couldn’t quite put a name to the vague memory of a person you’d seen wearing it. Acquiring a migraine medication and forcing yourself to not look too hard into every strange thing that happened in this town helped but your headaches appeared to never quite go away. This was proven by the muted throb across one side of your head that came with looking at the bizarre scene.

“Yeah,” Vision said a little quieter, “don’t mention it.”

The action only happened briefly but when you caught him chewing his lower lip, you felt your innards tie themselves in knots and had a particularly hard time tearing your gaze away. Now that you were closer, you also noticed that the blue and brown ensemble he wore perfectly matched his hair and eyes. That hair that you always desperately wanted to brush your fingers through.

Fingers carefully slipping around your hand, like if they held you any tighter your own would break, managed to catch your attention as Vision turned to lead you inside.

“Oh,” you chirped, tugging your hand back to point a thumb over your shoulder, “I forgot my tools. Meet you in a minute?”

Vision seemed persistent to bring you inside, even going so far as to catch both your arms and doing a playful series of shimmies and sways to dance the two of you closer to the front door. Now that you were out of Herb’s frozen line of sight, the two of your found yourselves standing so close together that there wasn’t a single pocket of space between your bodies. When you inhaled, you smell cologne that wasn’t too light or too heavy and a scent that you could only describe as the heat of a warm, sunny day. Thinking as he would only smell sweat and dirt and grass if he did the same, you blushed and made a note to change before you came back over.

Whatever Vision thought about how you smelled or the clothes you wore, he didn’t seem to care enough, if at all. He took advantage of being out of sight to move his hands from your hours to your waist—a much more convincing position indeed—and nuzzled his nose to your hairline, now exposed as your hat rested farther back on your head.

“You know very well that you can use ours,” he said.

You felt his warm breath on your forehead. If you weren’t standing up and didn’t have the nagging feeling that you were getting dirt on his nice sweater, you would have been perfectly comfortable simply hugging him and dozing off in the cozy embrace right there.

Vision continued in a lilting voice and with an added shimmy that brought the two of you directly to the front door. “They’d love to see you, you know.”

They? Your brows furrowed a bit, then rolled your eyes. Oh, Wanda plus baby.

Still, you steeled your resolve and leaned away from him. He looked at you like he was a puppy that had been kicked, to which you responded with a faux scowl. “Mr. Vision Maximoff, I said I was going bring my tools, and [Y/N] is no flake. Besides,” you paused as your scowl melted into a smile, “I don’t want to get dirt and grime all over the new room. It’ll only take a minute; you act like we can’t see each other through our living room windows if we wanted to.”

Making his last attempt, Vision leaned into your arms, which were now around his own, and pressed his cheek against your temple. Still pouting, he muttered, “It only took Wanda and I going around a few times before we moved in together.”

The idea of you living under the same roof as your couple and their new baby made you giddy as much as it made you feel like you wanted to throw yourself into a lit fire pit to save yourself from embarrassment.

“Ah, yes, a spectacle to behold,” you said as you leaned away again, “A new baby and a new roommate!” You saw Vision open his mouth to speak, no doubt to respond with a quip, and quickly continued, disentangling yourself from him as you did, “Gotta skitty, I’ll be back momentarily!”

“Well,” Vision replied, dragging out the last consonant as if you were going to change your mind if he did so long enough; when you didn’t, he huffed a bit. “Alright then. Hurry back!”

You gave him a smile and two-fingered salute then bounded down the steps and back across the street. You only stopped once on the quick trip back home and that was to give Bernard another swift kick, which somehow lodged the bird the rest of the way into the ground, and a “Fuck you, Bernard!” You heard sputtering laughter from across the street that made you grin as you marched inside to change and grab your toolkit.

The tools were the easy part; they had been sitting out on the table in your dining area since last night when you’d originally suggested the idea so you were sure to not forget them. It took a bit longer to struggle your way out of your clothes, especially while simultaneously trotting to the bathroom to wash your hands and splash water on your face. It took longer still to jog back to your bedroom without slamming yourself into an end table or plant along the way and then also go through every piece of clothes you owned; when bright colors and eccentric outfits came into style, you were, for once, ahead of the fashion game with your regular closet, and your wardrobe only continued to grow as the rest of the country’s interest in the style did. You were particularly interested in peacock fashion and it showed in your array of ruffled, brightly colored, and loudly patterned shirts and blouses.

Of these blouses, you threw on one in a burnt orange and yellow paisley pattern, choosing one without ruffles in fear of ripping them while working. You paired the shirt with matching yellow walk-shorts that ended just above your knees and a pair of honey-brown clog sandals whose color made you think of Vision’s outfit. Thinking about this further, you decided to accent your ensemble with a touch of blue, wrapping your hair that was still damp with sweat back with a satin scarf that was a vibrant blue and some handmade jewelry pieces in the same color to match. Finally, you added a woven belt and, after looking in the mirror for a moment, decided to tie your blouse off an inch above the waist of your shorts instead of tucking it in before booking it back across the street.

Standing at the door of your couple’s house, you took a final glance at yourself in the reflection of one of their windows before knocking. You let yourself in after Wanda invited you with a holler through the door and you were greeted with the interesting sight of Wanda, in all her stunning, colorful, mother-to-be glory standing by the long dark-wood dining table; Vision, half-hidden behind her belly that seemed significantly larger than the last time you saw her, was taking an awkward knee while holding up a variety of fruits.

“I’m never not uniquely surprised when I walk into this house,” you said mostly to yourself and you made your way over. Reaching Wanda, you sat your bag of tools on the floor by her feet and gave her a gentle hug. “Hey, sunshine, you’re looking foxy.”

You certainly had gotten a lot more comfortable with them recently.

Wanda visibly blushed, giving you one of her signature fake irritated looks—a tilted head with tight-knit brows and tight lips that broke into a smile less than a second later—and lightly swatted your arm before carefully returning the hug. “Hey sunshine yourself. Look at you, you’re glowing! And those threads, you’re a regular Casanova.”

She made a point of eyeing your partially exposed midriff and you almost blushed—but not quite.

“Glowing,” you repeated, playfully patting your face, “I’m not even the pregnant one! Thank you, though. Some of the colors were inspired.” You took your turn eyeing her, particularly the bright red of her striped dress that was a common color in her palette, then you caught Vision’s bright blue gaze as he stood and placed a couple of fruits back in their rightful place in the basket on the table. You moved to Wanda’s other side to help him. “Why the fruit?”

“Oh, well, the doctor said it helps the mothers keep track of the baby’s progress.” Vision explained. He added another fruit to the basket’s tower, although he was giving the last one in his hand an odd look.

“What he actually said was,” Wanda added, grasping your shoulder and tugging you over two put an arm around your waist and give you mildly strained look, “it helps make things ‘simple’ for us ‘little ladies.’”

You recognized the glint in her eye and nodded understandingly. “Well that’s mildly condescending, must’ve been just groovy.”

“Out of sight,” Wanda agreed in the same tone. She then looked in Vision’s direction with raised brows; you followed her gaze and saw the man toying with the large green fruit in his hand. “Hey, honey? What’cha doin’?”

Vision met both of your equally puzzled gazes with barely contained glee. Voice tight from holding back a giggle, he raised the fruit and pointed at it. “I can’t wait… to be… a proud… papa-ya.”

Wanda looked amused at the future father’s pun and Vision grinned, clearly happy with the reaction. You actually laughed before quickly throwing up a hand to cover the titter.

“Well, that just proves it,” you said after composing yourself even though your company seemed perfectly pleased with your reaction to the joke, “you’re going to be a wonderful one. Look at you, turning into a proper one already.”

Vision went from smiling to flusteredly chewing at his lip quite quickly; he would always get easily flustered but never enough to blush. Instead, he’d twist his head a certain way and rub his neck and shoulder, maybe even avoid eye contact if he was embarrassed enough. He’d always tug his bottom lip between his teeth too, something you couldn’t help finding just a touch more endearing than the other mannerisms; at least it gave you a much more rational reason to stare at his lips for longer than generally accepted.

“You really think so?” he asked.

You scoffed as you moved to pick up your tools again. “Of course, you and Wanda will make absolutely stellar parents. The two of you are more prepared now than I’ve seen some people after they’ve already had the kids. Now,” you paused as you stood up straight and looked at your couple with a cheerful smile, “shall we head to the nursery?”

You were partially convinced that you had been invited solely to help Vision wrangle his wife. You certainly hadn’t been invited to help decorate; even pregnant, Wanda made faster work of your tools than you did. You were huffing while maneuvering a rocking chair in the room and by the time you got it settled in the corner, Wanda had already pieced together the changing stand that was to sit next to it. You turned to grab a tool to open the cans of paint only to turn back around and see all of them opened and Wanda with a brush in hand, painting away. You managed to get the crib up before she could get her hands on it but when you looked around for the yellow mattress and bumper cushions, you looked up to find Wanda already putting on the finishing touches.

Now, you were kneeling on the ground by the crib and painting a delicately rendered stork while Vision was getting to his feet after reading all the reasons Wanda should be resting instead of doing what she was doing, which was pulling a mobile of colorful plastic butterflies out of a box and shifting ever so closer to a stool so she could hang it.

“Darling,” Vision tried, shifting ever so closer to her, “you should probably sit down.”

“You really should,” you offered your help, almost half-heartedly because you already knew the outcome before she said it.

“Don’t be silly,” Wanda assured him, “all I feel is excitement, happiness, and— huhnf! Oh!”

You were on your feet and spun around to give her a wide-eyed stare before her gasp even finished, but instead of pain or worry, Wanda’s face was lit up with wonder as the hand not grasping a plate fluttered around her stomach. Vision also moved quickly, to step forward and pressed his hand on her stomach.

He breathed, “Kicking already?” and they shared an excited stare.

You stared awkwardly from the side with a paintbrush in hand, feeling more out of place you’ve ever had in your life.

Until Wanda, without missing a single beat, turned her head in your direction and grinned. “[Y/N], you have to feel this!” Then she spoke to Vision, “Oh, it’s such a strange sensation, it’s kinda fluttery!”

She was breathtaking. Then her nose scrunched up and she giggled in a way that could also be described as fluttery, and you were wondering in which states polygamy was legal and where was the best jeweler to get a ring.

Still, you were trying to refrain from overstepping boundaries.

“Oh, I don’t know…” you mumbled, shifting your weight from foot to foot and glancing around the room. You noticed the mobile she had been retrieving the last time you’d looked at her was already hung up above the crib; of course, it was.

Wanda scoffed and made a gesture at Vision, then he was walking over and coaxing you to her side with an encouraging nuzzle to your temple.

“I just don’t want—” you started.

“To overstep, we know,” Wanda finished, the giddy look on her face replaced with a scowl. “Trust me, this is probably the one and only time I’ll ask for someone to feel my stomach while everyone else in the town just does it willy-nilly and besides, you are a part of— Oh!”

Her gasp and glance over your shoulder, combined with the sound of movement behind you was enough to make you turn your head, only for Vision to catch your attention in the opposite direction.

“Another kick!” he exclaimed, just a little too loud. You thought you caught his gaze flitting over in the same direction as Wanda’s but then he was grasping your wrist and placing your hand against Wanda’s stomach. At the same time, his arm that was hovering politely around your back pressed against the naked small of your back as he pulled you closer into the little triangle of space you, Wanda, and he made; the sudden heat there made your blood boil in the best way and when his hand accidentally caught on the hem of your shorts and dipped a little lower over the fabric, you choked while sucking in a breath.

Vision’s hands flew up to the sky and he scrambled away, apologizing profusely. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his hands fluttering around, could imagine his eyes doing the same, and you were vaguely aware of Wanda moving at your other side, the fabric of her sleeve brushing against yours as she waved her arm. You also heard a sound that you chalked up to being a breeze coming from the open window and rustling the drawn curtains. You, usually the final piece of the chaotic puzzle, were instead staring down and softly gasping as the sudden tap against your palm.

“I felt it,” you whispered and the chaos that was happening around you seemed to still in the same moment as Wanda and Vision settled back around you to feel themselves. You repeated the phrase, brushing your thumb across the patch of clothed skin, and the baby responded with another kick a moment later. You couldn’t help looking up at Wanda a face frozen in almost childish wonder, and state the obvious, “You’re gonna have a baby.”

Wanda nodded at you with shining eyes and a wet smile. She wrapped her free arm around her midsection and looked back down on her belly. The expression on her face radiated an intense, loving tenderness and you felt a billion non-plastic butterflies make a comfortable home in your chest.

You followed her gaze and felt your face break into a grin so wide that your cheeks started to hurt almost immediately. Your hand, along with Wanda’s own and Vision’s, created a loose but ever so protective triangular shield over the place where you had felt your first baby kick, promising to move the universe for them should it ever be required. Despite the overlapping mess of fingers, you noticed how Vision’s hand was the perfect size to envelop your own and that even with a ring on one of them, Wanda’s fingers fit perfectly in the spaces between yours.

The nervousness and insecurities that seemed to bounce around your head whenever you observed your couple, in their perfect world with their perfect dynamics, melted away in the comfortable warmth that came from your trio’s cozy huddle. This wasn’t a story about you or them separately but the three of you together and it was a wonderful one in the making.

Then, “Oh.”

Wanda looked up at her husband and echoed, “Oh.”

You looked up second, adding your own questioning “Oh?” before your gaze settled on the butterfly lightly perched on the tip of Vision’s nose. “Oh!” Watching the monarch’s delicate wings fluttering, you were surprised he hadn’t already sneezed.

“Hello, little fella,” Vision softly said. He was the first to separate your group, stepping away and leaning down a bit for your and Wanda’s better viewing. His smile was blinding for the brief moment you caught it, before tilting your head away to snicker at the way his eyes were crossing to view his insect passenger.

Wanda gently coaxed the butterfly onto her fingertip and walked over to the window to release it. That’s when you noticed a group of the bug type coalesced around the same area; the sudden visit from Mother Nature must have been what she had seen earlier.

“Oh, my,” you said, “that’s something you don’t see every day.”

The smile on Wanda’s face tightened for just a moment as her gaze jumped around the baby room, then relaxed as she maneuvered the various colorful butterflies outside. “Bringing good vibes, hopefully. They must have been enticed by the mobile; why, they even tried to free their plastic friends!”

You looked towards the crib curiously and saw that the mobile hanging above it was only a series of transparent hanging strings. Walking over, you found the butterflies that had once been attached to it scattered around the mattress. You picked a couple of them up and carefully pinched the thin material between your fingers. “Hm, strong butterflies.”

“Clearly,” Vision agreed. He walked over to the rocking chair he had been sitting and reading baby books earlier and picked up his most recent read.

Meanwhile, you began gathering up the scattered butterflies, then climbed up the nearby stool to retrieve the rest of the mobile. “You wouldn’t happen to have a good adhesive laying around, would you? I can have this fixed up and rehung lickity-split.”

“Not laying around but I’m sure there’s one in the cabinet under the sink.” Vision seemed to find the page he was looking for. He glanced over the words, tensed up immediately after, and paced over to Wanda’s side as she shut the window. “If that was first kick, that puts you at about six months! Why I can’t keep up!”

Has it been that long already? You silently wondered as you made your way over to the exit, careful not to crush any of the delicate pieces you were holding. While Vision was thinking in terms of babies, you were surprised that you had already been dating him and his wife for almost half of a year.

In a signature dad-to-be fashion, Vision waggled his head down to give Wanda and the baby a kiss. Then he said in an equally identifiable dad’s voice, “Please don’t misinterpret. I can’t wait you meet you, little Billy!”

You leaned against the doorframe as you offered Wanda an amused look; you had been previously graced with the conversation of baby names and Billy wasn’t exactly on her roster.

“Billy?” she questioned, to which Vision gave a smile and an affirming noise. Wanda continued, “Well I was thinking Tommy. Just a nice, classic American name.”

Vision gave an exaggerated, head tilting nod that suggested a mild disagreement. Then the higher-pitched tone he took when he replied confirmed it. “Hm, Tommy! Hm, mm… then there’s Billy, isn’t there? Named after William Shakespeare, all the world’s a stage, all the men and women many players!”

Wanda went to speak but you beat her to it. “You’re sure it’s a boy, then?”

Your partner seemed mildly embarrassed as she turned her attention to you. “Strong intuition?”

You offered casually, not thinking about your lack of say in the matter, “What about Victor? Vin? Little Vinny’s certainly a cute nickname.” Almost immediately after you finished, it was your turn to be the embarrassed one. You stumbled over your words a bit as you started to apologize, only to falter when you saw both Vision and Wanda’s gleeful stares.

“Well, those are wonderful names too,” Wanda assured you, clearly pleased you had chimed in, “but I’m not hoping for quadruplets. I guess we’ll need the next best thing— A girl.”

Your shoulders relaxed from their hunched places that you hadn’t noticed they took. You chuckled and strolled out the door, throwing a couple more ideas over your shoulder, “Vivian! Virginia! Nadia!”

Vision’s voice floated after you as you walked to the kitchen. “Ooh, Vivian’s quite good…”

When you returned to the bedroom with good-as-new mobile in hand, only final touches needed to be added to the nursery, and Wanda and Vision’s excitement over the baby’s coming was suddenly amped up to eleven. The two were pacing around and frantically listing off the all things that they had left to do or buy. It was a very drastic change from the casual playfulness that you had experienced between them earlier, as the new parents were keeping themselves—and you—busy with a thousand new tasks. Eventually, Vision had a list about as long as he was tall of every bottle, diaper, blanky, binky, children’s book, and stuffed animal that they had yet to get.

Deciding you were now the more sane member of the group, you decided to take the list and go shopping for them; if you didn’t, Vision may have been swept up in the baby section of a clothing store and never return. That’s how you ended up where you were now, at the front of an ever-growing line of department store customers, waiting anxiously as the workers tried to get the lights back on and the cash register back in working order.

You rapped your fingernails on the countertop—not intentionally, just out of worry about how your parents-to-be were managing at home—and glanced from your bloated shopping cart to the cashier, who was talking quietly with a manager then back several times. You were antsy about being stuck in a store when you were much useful elsewhere and being concerned about whether you were making the cashier uncomfortable with your mannerisms, for they were probably three times as unsettled as you were, wasn’t doing anything but adding on to the stress.

Finally, the cashier turned back to you and the rest of the shoppers and announced, “Good news, everybody! The register is still down but it’s a quick switch to manual; we’ll have each and every one of you checked out and on your ways home soon!”

A cheer erupted around you but you were too frazzled to join in.

“Unfortunately,” the cashier continued as the noise died down, “we’re not the only store experiencing this. It’s the whole town.”

While the crowd’s disappointed “Aww” only appeared mildly disgruntled, you went rigid and your mind began racing, all thoughts revolving around a particular household.

One random thought of wondering What if Wanda went into labor right now? had the hair on your arms sticking straight up.

You slammed your hand down on the counter, spooking both the cashier and yourself.

“Ma’am,” you started, then paused to quickly apologize for your rudeness before continuing, “I need you to check me out as fast as humanly possible; I think my—” Wife seemed way out of line but girlfriend felt too out of place. “—pah-art-ner’s having a baby.”

You were struggling to your car with a small mountain of baby items in the arms in a matter of minutes, mentally kicking yourself for being bad at talking the entire way there. You threw your bags in the back, scrambled into the driver’s seat, and were getting ready to pull away from the curb when a ringing from your mobile phone sounded.

“Goddammit,” you huffed. One hand was pulling up an antenna and pressing the technological brick to your ear while the other gripped your steering wheel so hard that your knuckles turned three skin tones lighter. “Yeah, hello?”

“[Y/N]?” Agnes’s voice was a welcome surprise but her worried tone wasn’t.

“No, it’s your husband, I’m on my way home now, dear,” you snarked, then mentally kicked yourself again. “Sorry, that was rude, I’m in a rush. What’s crackin’? Besides the town going into blackout, that is.”

“The neighborhood’s flooded,” Agnes said simply.

You blanched. “I’m sorry?”

“The cul-de-sac? Something’s happened and all the pipes have burst. Mine, Herb’s, Dotty’s, everyone’s!”

How on earth the day’s mood has changed so quickly, you had no idea. What you did know is that you desperately had to get back to Wanda’s side, your house be damned.

“Thanks, ‘Nes, good to know,” you hissed through clenched teeth. You rested your phone between your ear and shoulder as you put both hands on the wheel and started driving.

“Do you want me to do anything?” Agnes asked; her voice sounded as frazzled as you and the rest of Westview looked. “Go over to your place, grab anything important?”

You huffed out a sigh as your car flew around a corner. “Agnes, you know I adore you, but I really, really have to go.”

“[Y/N]—”

You hung up and tossed the shoe-sized device in the passenger’s seat.

Vision met you on the curb as you were parking your car and he had the doctor from earlier that day in tow, now dressed in vacationing attire and very seeming very underprepared. Within a few words and as if you had accidentally wished it into existence back at the department store, you were informed that Wanda was in fact about to have little Billy or Tommy or who-have-you. Of course, this messy day would come to a peak in such a way.

The taller man was half-escorting, half-hauling both you and the doctor to the door, and the bags in the backseat of your car were completely forgotten as concern chewed away at your insides. Loud, strained sounds coming from inside only added onto it.

As the three of you reached the front door, Vision flung it open and pressed the doctor inside. Then he grabbed your wrist and began tugging you in after himself.

You couldn’t help your feet freezing to the concrete. “Vis, are you sure?”

The distress on his face softened just slightly and he pressed the back of your hand to his lips. “Of course we are.” Then he wrapped an arm around you and properly, albeit quickly, brought you into his and Wanda’s home—

—where Wanda was laying on the floor, panting and shimmering with sweat and holding a baby wrapped in a blue and white dishtowel while Geraldine perched awkwardly over her.

You and Vision shared a bug-eyed look before Vision’s turned into one of sadness. You wanted so badly to hug him and tell him it was alright but he was already releasing you and slowly walking over; you trailed a couple of steps after him.

“Oh no,” he murmured, “I missed it?” However, when he took a look at Wanda’s softly smiling face and their happily cooing baby, whatever brief grief he was experiencing was replaced by a proud smile and new fatherly glow.

“Hey, doc,” Geraldine spoke suddenly, “why don’t you help me out in the kitchen there?” She nodded in your direction as well.

You wondered why she was there, in Wanda’s home or Westview, at all. The idea made your stomach flip but you just couldn’t place why.

The only response the doctor gave was blubbering about speeding as she took his arm and led him away. You began to follow when Vision stopped you with a gentle tug on your arm.

“No, [Y/N],” he said, “it’s alright. Stay and come see.”

You didn’t even think as you smiled and took his hand. You took a glance towards the kitchen to make sure the other company was occupied, then kissed the back of his hand as he had done only a moment earlier. Squeezing it and letting it drop, you responded, “Go say hello to your baby. I’ll always be here.”

Given the current situation, Vision wasn’t up for arguing much. He gave you a quick peck on the temple before gingerly making his way over to where Wanda rested happily on the living room floor.

You made your way to the kitchen, where you slumped against the kitchen counter as exhaustion overtook you. You were close enough to both parties to hear Geraldine’s blatant attempts at distracting the doctor to your left and Vision and Wanda’s cozy rumblings to your right, but too out of sorts to make out anything tangible. You didn’t realize until now how badly your feet ached from the combination of gardening, decorating, and running around and how your outfit had lost its cute playfulness in place of wrinkles and feeling slightly damp from sweat. You were sure you were looking more worse for wear than Wanda, despite Wanda having had a baby, but when you thought about it for more than a second or two, you felt like you wouldn’t trade the day for any other in the world.

Especially when thinking about that cutie patootie, you thought with a tired smile. He’s gonna have such good parents. Such a good life.

Suddenly, your train of thought was stopped by the sound of Wanda yelling and your whole body jerked in her direction, energetic as ever.

Wanda was going into labor a second time, you could see easily see. Something somehow more surprising was going on in the living area, though, and that something was Vision’s skin. While he still wore his regular clothes, that was the only normal thing about him. Instead of light skin, his flesh was a deep red and you weren’t even sure it could be called skin; it looked more… mechanical than that, with symmetrical lines etched into some places and silver plating covering others. Instead of a full head of wavy hair, he had none, and his ears and parts of his bald skull were also covered in silver. Silver came to a peak at the top of his forehead and at the end of it was a golden gem.

Vision was holding his baby and yelling along with Wanda as she began pushing a second time. He happened to glance up and catch your bewildered eye and then he started yelling because of you.

You stood frozen in place, not sure what to do until you heard a commotion behind you.

“Well, what’s going on now?” Geraldine started.

Your brain kicked back into full gear and thinking quickly and somewhat stupidly, you yelled and pointed in the opposite direction, “Jeepers creepers, is that a stork?” You couldn’t imagine why your poor attempt at a distraction worked but you considered it a success as Geraldine and the still-disoriented doctor’s attention settled elsewhere. Not missing a beat, you grabbed another cloth from the kitchen and raced to Wanda and Vision’s aid, skidding to a halt on your knees.

“[Y/N],” Vision said, though nothing else followed. He stared at you in pure shock, mouth flapping and the bright blue irises of his eyes twisting and shifting like a camera lens as he looked at you. Still, his body worked despite his befuddled mind as he took the cloth you handed him and offered you a newborn baby to hold instead.

“[Y/N],” Wanda gasped through her current endeavor. When you dragged your head to look at her, she was staring at you with a clenched jaw and equally wide eyes, which were filled with a mixture of surprise, horror, and… relief? Then she was screaming and pushing again, eyes squeezed shut, and her hand flew to your own.

You grabbed it and held on tight, even when her fingernails dug in enough to leave marks for days. While a red and silver-skinned Vision handled the delivery like a champ—a bugged out, stammering, robotic champ who couldn’t figure out whether he should be looking at you, his wife, or the baby he was helping into the world but a champ nonetheless—you switched between offering encouraging words to the tiring new mother and cooing calmly at the newborn swaddled and resting cozily in the crook of your arm. Soon enough, Wanda was slumping back into the pillow behind her head and Vision was sitting back on his haunches with another quiet baby snuggled against his chest; your taut muscles sagged and the exhaustion you hit in the kitchen came rushing back.

You made sure Wanda was lucid enough to take her baby back and carefully transferred from your arms to hers. It was only after he was safely in his mother’s grasp that you were able to fully relax, tossing an arm around Vision’s shoulders and leaning heavily against him while you shook out your other hand, which was red and covered in deep, crescent moon-shaped marks.

“So,” you puffed, “Billy and Tommy?”

Wanda’s tired face lit up as she nodded her head towards her baby. “Tommy.”

Vision, who was leaning on you as much as you were on him—something in the back of your head noted that the two of you held each other very well and that something sent a little pang of affection straight to your pounding heart—used his turn to nuzzle the forehead of the baby he held and grumble in a half British, half baby-talk accent, “Billy.”

You hummed while stretching a hand down to give Billy a very ginger boop on the nose; he didn’t seem to mind. Then you said, “Vinny and Vivian will just have to be next time.”

Your group shuddered with a mess of tired, soft laughter. Then you began to relax further but as the excitement of childbirth began to wear off, you a new variation of tension settling into your couple. The new parents were sharing increasingly worried looks and if they were communicating telepathically, and it was then that you remembered that the man sitting next to you was for less human than you’d previously made him out to be.

The realization seemed to hit him at almost the same time because his head swung to look at you just as you had turned to observe his new appearance. On his robotic face—was robotic even the word; was he a robot?—was an expression of outright fear but also something that looked like he was mentally being torn in two different directions. He went to speak several times—his mouth and teeth looked the same, perfect and familiar—only to verbally scramble and backtrack, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders since his hands were too occupied to scratch his neck. Finally, he appeared to get himself in order and he started, “[Y/N], I can— we can explain—”

You ran your hand over his scalp and down to rest at the base of his neck; the silver plating felt like metal, while the thick red epidermis was warm and softer to the touch. Not only warm but damp from exertion, and pulsing softly to some form of a heartbeat where you ran a finger over a common pulse point.

While your mental energy was rapidly declining, you still managed to quip at the man, “As much as loved the idea of running my fingers through your hair, I think I prefer this over that awful cut that’s in style right now.”

That left Vision dumbfounded and silent, his mouth flopping open and closed like a fish out of water. On your other side, who had been otherwise quiet and already snoozing as far as you were concerned, broke into a burst of loud laughter that was music to your ears.

You grinned in response but your muscles were too tired to make it reach your eyes. You shifted over slightly to be closer to Wanda now and brushed your thumb over little Tommy’s cheek before resting doing a similar action to his mother’s. Wanda relaxed her head against your palm and the way she looked up at you from under her lashes made you do mental gymnastics about the ethics of blurting out the L-word then and there.

Unfortunately, the moment didn’t last much longer because then Geraldine’s voice floated over from the kitchen, getting louder as she and the doctor made their way back from the wild stork chase you sent them on. You quickly looked to Vision, only to see him looking as human as the day you first met him, and noted the sad little string you got from seeing simple blue irises instead of the intricately shifting blue ones that swirled mechanically as he focused on something. It only lasted a moment, though, before you and your trio were busy readjusting yourselves into what you considered normal poses but in reality, probably made the three of you look much more awkward than you previously had.

You’d just finished settling as Geraldine and her companion walked into the living room and, thinking tiredly and definitely stupidly, you blurted, “Jeepers creepers, another baby!”

“Twenty fingers and twenty toes, you’ve got two healthy baby boys on your hands.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Wanda responded as the man handed Billy back to her. Vision stood watchfully next to her, holding Tommy.

You poked your head up from behind the second crib you were finishing assembling and as the doctor turned to thank Geraldine for her delivery help, you said to the Maximoff couple, “And a second crib all ready to go. If they’re not fans of sleeping separately, let me know and we can exchange the ones you have for one big one.”

Wanda held out her hand to you as you stood and you walked over to hold it only briefly as she thanked you before leaning over and crooning at Billy and Tommy in turn. You were in the company of others, after all, and there had been enough excitement for one day without revealing your polyamorous relationship to a neighbor and a random doctor.

It was weird how different the energy felt standing with them now than it had earlier just that day alone. Things still felt new and strange but you no longer felt like a separate unit from the household you were standing in or the people standing and smiling oh so sweetly at you. Then again, maybe that’s just what being involved in the arrival of an unexpected set of twins and making a superhuman discovery about one of your partners did to all blossoming romantic triads in the seventies.

Speaking of the doctor, as he began to finish up chatting with Geraldine, Vision beckoned you closer, and after getting an okay to do so, he carefully laid the baby he held in your arms. He gave Tommy a nuzzle and a light tap on the nose, then straightened up and headed towards the door.

He said to the other man, “Allow me to walk you out, doctor.”

“Oh, alright,” the doctor responded with an odd quiver in his voice. Said quiver was confirmed to be restlessness, which you had no doubt was attached to some sort of superhuman business Vision had involved him in when picking him up, when he continued, “As long as we actually walk this time?”

You would definitely have to delve into the mystery of Vision’s sometimes inhuman appearance at a later date but at that moment you were remembering how the entire neighborhood’s pipes had burst. The neighborhood of which your house was a part of and an event you were sure you hadn’t been lucky enough to avoid.

“Oh, shi—oot,” you stammered, “I should probably get back to my own pad and save what I can from getting water damage. I haven’t even been home to see how bad everything is.” You provided Tommy with a very important explanation in very serious baby babble terms before placing him in his crib. “I’ll just leave my car on this side of the street and bring the other stuff in sometime later this evening if that’s alright with you, Wanda?”

When you looked at her, she was giving you a confused head tilt. She blinked, then her eyes shot wide open. “Oh, the pipes!” She paused and turned her gaze to the far wall of the living room as if she could see your house through it, then looked back at you with a smile. “Your house should be fine. In fact, I think the entire neighborhood is back intact!”

Something about the way she looked at you assured you that she was right. You wondered whether Vision wasn’t the only one with a unique secret under this roof and if all the strange happenings that had gone on today couldn’t be traced back to Wanda herself.

Not that any of that really mattered in the grand scheme of things.

“I should still go,” you insisted, “You should really rest for a while, and I am a mess for the second time today. Maybe I can pop back over in a little bit?”

Wanda pursed her lips in a subtle doubt before giving in. She nodded and after taking a glance around to make sure the company was occupied, she grasped your hand and leaned in closer. “Come over for dinner tonight. Stay and help us get the babies settled in? We can talk about today.”

“Wanda, you need rest—”

The woman interrupted, a teasing look making her eyes glitter. “Which is why either you or Vision will be doing the cooking! And you know how much I love the man but there’s a reason the only thing he handles in the kitchen is water from the faucet.”

You had to nod in somber agreement at that statement, then sighed and gave Wanda a pout of your own. “Fine. Now, is anyone looking?”

Wanda was smiling triumphantly. She took another quick look around, then shook her head; her silky hair fanned out slightly from its position perfectly framing her head as she did.

You shuffled a little closer and slipped an arm around her waist in an intimate hug. Leaning in, you gave her one quick smooch on the cheek and another on the forehead then mumbled against her skin, “You did amazing.” Another kiss. “And you’re going to be a wonderful mother. Please, though, promise me that you’ll rest, at least for a little bit. The world will not crumble around you if you take one break.”

Wanda, who had immediately leaned into your embrace and giggled as you kissed her, scoffed slightly. She gave you a tight squeeze and murmured back, “I suppose you’re right. Fine, but only because you promised to cook.”

“Well, technically,” you said as you broke away from her, “I only said I’d come over. I can’t wait for Vision to make us burnt water and boiled bacon!”

Wanda stared after you, frozen in a mock gasp. “[Y/N]!”

You grinned and waved before spinning on your heels and trotting over to where Vision was perched, holding the door. “Bye!”

When you got to the door, Vision’s hand played lightly down your back as he followed you outside after the doctor.

“Well, Dr. Nielson,” Vision said, “I hope you’re still able to make your trip.”

The doctor, apparently Dr. Nielson, slowed as he stepped off the porch and onto the sidewalk. He turned towards Vision with a glassy look in his eye that he hadn’t had before but you’ve been seeing more and more often in Westview residents these days. When he talked, his speech became slower as well.

“Ah, yes, about my trip,” he drawled, “I don’t think we’ll get away after all. Small towns, you know. So hard to… escape.”

You frowned, suddenly uneasy. Glancing at Vision, the man just looked confused.

Dr. Nielson’s glassy gaze shifted from Vision to you. He spoke deliberately to you, “Don’t you think, [Y/N]?” Then he blinked, turned, and walked off down the sidewalk.

You weren’t sure exactly why, but you flinched and reeled back. You would have tripped and fallen up the porch if it weren’t for Vision catching you. Then the two of you stood gripping each other and staring as the doctor disappeared around the corner.

You didn’t even realize that your ears had started ringing until the sound began to fade. You started, “Well, that was…”

“Yeah,” Vision said with a slow nod. “Very. Are you alright?”

“Fine, I think.”

“No migraines?”

“No migraines.”

The two of you stood holding each other for a moment longer before you forced your fingers to loosen their death grip on Vision’s jacket. As the two of you relaxed slightly and readjusted yourselves, several questions rushed through your head, like why was that so unnerving and why did the doctor speak directly to you.

How had he known your name?

A particularly sharp pain made your vision swim temporarily but it was gone as soon as it came. Before you think any further on the subject, other voices floated into your range of hearing.

“What is she doing in there?”

“I don’t know.”

You followed the voices with your eyes and found Agnes and Herb talking quietly by the wall Herb had been cutting into earlier; actually, Herb looked like he’d barely moved an inch, still standing in the gap between his wall of shrubs. At least he appeared more lucid, but now he and Agnes were huddled together like they were having a secret meeting. Neither of them noticed you yet.

Vision decided to change that by throwing up a hand and hollering, “Howdy neighbors!”

Agnes spun around so quickly you were wonder if she’d given herself whiplash, but the strained greetings and even more strained expressions that both she and Herb gave were what really piqued your interest.

Well, not so much piqued your interest than their actions gave you a second dose of uneasiness that made your head spin and filled you with a sense of somewhat morbid curiosity.

Then they stuck their heads back together and continued muttering.

“Did you see her go inside?” Agnes questioned.

Herb responded, “She went right in.”

Vision leaned his head closer to yours; he didn’t seem to catch what they were saying. “Do they seem… a little off to you?”

“Just a tad.”

You silently deliberated with each other before casually strolling over.

“Remarkable day we’re having, no?” Vision tried again.

Agnes and Herb looked up again, also trying to look casual but there was something definitely worrisome about their equally strained smiles.

Vision continued, “Did you lose power too?”

You snapped your fingers, joining in. “That’s right! Agnes, you called me about the pipes bursting. I hope nothing got too damaged?”

“Oh, sure did,” Agnes said to Vision, “but Ralph looks better in the dark, so I’m not complaining. And you’re right, I did, [Y/N]! Luckily, everything’s just fine.”

There was an awkward pause and even though you were out in open air, you felt like you were struggling to breathe in a sauna.

Vision said, “Hi, Herb.”

Herb responded, “Heya, buddy.”

More awkward silence.

“Well,” Vision said slowly, lightly clapping his hands together, “I’ll get back to Wanda. [Y/N], you’re heading home?”

“Right,” you affirmed, a little too quickly.

What is going on?

Vision placing his hand on your back brought back some sense of normalcy as he began escorting you to the curb.

“Vision,” Agnes abruptly said halting your exit. You and your partner turned back to her and Herb and she continued after a long-winded pause and adjusting her awkward stance leaning against the low wall, “Is Geraldine inside with Wanda?”

“Yes. Why?”

Herb piped up, “She’s new to town. Brand new.”

Wait, that’s not right. Your brows furrowed and you felt the sting of your own bite as you chewed your bottom lip. You felt pressure in your skull as you tried to recall where you’d previously met the woman, because you knew you had, but trying to do so had a similar feeling to trying to grip water as it rushed through your fingers.

Agnes went on, “There’s no family. No husband.”

You would have scowled, said something in defense of your circumstances of moving to Westview without a family or marriage, but you were too busy trying to clear away the fog that quickly encroaching your headspace. Vision, on the other hand, was able to say something, “Well there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Agnes hummed, gave a half-hearted nod, then steadily met his gaze. “No home.”

Come to think of it, you knew very little about Geraldine. While you were positive that you’d met her before today, you couldn’t for the life of you place what she did for work, when she first appeared in Westview, what house in the cul-de-sac she lived in—

You could list off the names of everyone who lived in your neighborhood. Geraldine wasn’t one of them.

Your brain felt like it could expand and explode from the intense pressure at any moment but the dread pooling in the pit of your stomach from the idea of not being able to retrieve memories bothered you far more. You couldn’t bring yourself to push the thoughts away and instead mentally leaned into the pain. The harder you pushed, the more pressure pushed back, as if you were fighting against an invisible barrier that was barring you from your own memories.

At the same time, you attempted to keep yourself grounded by staying tuned into the conversation at hand. Vision asked Agnes what she meant by Geraldine having no home and Herb kept stumbling over the same beginning of a sentence—She came here because… She came here because… She came here because we’re all…—like he was a record on a broken player that just wouldn’t let him get out what he wanted to say.

Vision tried to urge him on. “She came here because what? What are trying to tell me?”

With Agnes and Herb bickering briefly about whether or not to tell Vision whatever it was they had been speaking about, Vision completely tuned into them, and you fighting to remember things without succumbing to your migraines, you had an underlying feeling of being out of place. You’ve felt out of place before, of course, but this was something different and weird and wrong. Your entire perfect—but not so much, you were gradually learning—little town suddenly seemed like it was out of place in its state, its country, its world, its reality. Out of nowhere, Westview felt like it was trapped in a claustrophobic little bubble that wouldn’t let anyone escape and the longer anyone was here, the warped things would become—

A memory came rushing back of a black and white talent show and a smashed mirror and an arm oozing blood and color and Geraldine was there but she was an eerie Geraldine, out of place and time and reality and asking if you knew who she was or who you were and you didn’t know the answer and then Wanda and Vision appeared and everything was okay again, and now the name Monica throbbed against the base of your neck and the air around you radiated electricity and it was itchy and no one around you was noticing anything and instead of darkness, a weird bright light was tinging the edges of your vision white and—

There was a crash coming from the house and none of the people standing next to you were any the wiser but even though you felt like you were swimming through honey while doing it, you turned just in time to see a portion of a nearby wall explode as something shot out from inside and continued flying until it disappeared into the distance. Then there was a sound similar to a sonic boom that followed and a wave of nausea crashed over you as the electric air rippled and distorted right before your eyes, and then you could see the dome of TV static-looking energy that encapsulated your town and the dome seemed to peak directly above the Maximoff house.

Your ears rang. Your mouth flapped open closed but you couldn’t force a single word out. You looked around and everyone else in your group seemed trapped in a strained conversation that they couldn’t escape from if they wanted to.

You didn’t so much walk as you floated over to the gaping hole in the side of your couple’s house, or at least, that’s what it felt like as the ground grew soft and wobbly under your feet and you swayed as you moved. You reached the hole and peered through it, then waved aimlessly when you saw Wanda staring wide-eyed at you from a couple of demolished rooms away. She said or mouthed something—she’s sorry? Why?—but you couldn’t tell which it was over the thrumming of your own pulse in your ears. You cocked your head, more out of curiosity than confusion, then blinked and stared glassy-eyed as the hole in the house reversed itself.

“Huh,” you said dumbly as the last brick fell back into place. “Cool.”

Then your body felt as if it were slammed back onto very hard, solid ground and that’s because it was. You weren’t sure if you whined or groaned or screamed as you collapsed to the ground, succumbing to your worst migraine yet.

192 notes · View notes

blackestnight · 3 years

Text

28: road to mastery

Prompt: Bow

Word count: 2204

(n.) a curved stroke forming part of a letter (e.g. b, p ).

(v.) bend the body in order to see or concentrate.

Tome of Botanical Folklore - Norvrandt: Tales gathered from local Vrandtic botanists regarding the location of rare trees and herbs.

Or: in this house we stan Dulia-Chai.

The book was bound in fine leather and embossed with either gold or a very good imitation of it. The edges were cut cleanly, the paper fine and sturdy when Hanami let the pages slide past her thumb.

Dulia-Chai beamed. “I remembered what Alphinaud told me once, oh, moons ago now,” she said, “about you keeping gardens about your house—and I saw this the other day and thought, ‘Oh! Imagine all the lovely things Hanami could do with it.’ I do hope you enjoy it, dear.”

So a book on flowers, she reasoned, chest tight. Maybe. Probably.

“Thank you,” she said, and managed to rein herself in to keep her voice stiff, rather than angry. No need to take it out on Dulia, whose only fault was being a little air-headed sometimes.

Dulia-Chai’s sunny smile faded, just slightly, and her hands loosened where she had clasped them together by her chest. “Oh, goodness,” she said. “Is something wrong?”

Yes was the wrong answer, even if it was the true one. Hanami could no longer tell whether the flash of heat in her chest was from frustration or shame.

“I...cannot read this,” she said, and also couldn’t look Dulia-Chai in the eyes while she said it. She cradled the book like an explosive, painfully aware of the sweat of her palms smearing on the leather.

Dulia made a crooning noise. “Well that just won’t do—I’m so terribly sorry, sweet, I completely forgot about those darling eyeglasses of yours. Let’s go talk to the shopkeep now, perhaps they have a larger print size—”

“No, I—” She swallowed. “I can see it. I cannot read this.” She gestured at the title, and the characters, laid out and beautifully outlined and completely unintelligible.

Because of course Norvrandt had its own language. Why wouldn’t it? And of course all the Scions had picked up on their new home’s tongue without any trouble—geniuses, all of them in their own ways, Thancred with his long practice in navigating unfamiliar nations and Urianger with his nose always in a book about some long-dead culture or another and the twins swapping sigils and spells as quickly as they did textbooks. Even Y’shtola, with her ruined eyesight, had learned to recognize fine lines of aetheric ink in Vrandtic and ancient Ronkan.

G’raha, too. He’d probably been the one to help the Scions learn in the first place. It’s quite easy, Alisaie had said. The structure’s not so different from Eorzean. Which was fine, because Eorzean was her native tongue.

Hanami knew the kana, and most of the kanji that still lingered on the shelves of her mothers’ house. She could muddle through reading Hingan and speak it somewhat better. Her handwriting was atrocious. For all that her mothers had tried to teach her, for all that her brother had insisted she learn, she’d never wanted to bother with scrolls or pens or calligraphy. What use was sitting at a table staring at scraps of paper when she could be outside working or playing? Her talents weren’t in her mind, they were in her hands. And in Ul’dah, at first, no one had given a damn whether she could read or write the language—half the gladiators she camped with couldn’t do it either. She’d only needed Momodi to help her spell out the sounds of her name in the Guild’s registry, when she’d started to take on the sorts of jobs that didn’t flinch at written records.

And then she’d been summoned to the Waking Sands.

Notes littered every flat surface, and hung everywhere else: bulletin boards with announcements and assignments, envelopes slipped under doorways and pressed into open palms, pamphlets left on tables and desks and chairs to be perused by anyone who bothered to look. Minfilia gave her a letter of introduction to a merchant in Limsa and Hanami nodded and prayed to any god that hadn’t yet abandoned her that she could remember the name, because she would never be able to pick it from the scribbles on the front. Alphinaud passed her a list of businesses where she could recruit adventurers and she feigned getting lost to make a guard give her directions.

Because she spoke Eorzean, or it sounded as though she did. Strangers had complimented her accent while she had wondered where they learned the Doman tongue. The Echo was a wondrous curse. What had Minfilia said? She could transcend the bounds of the soul.

Paper didn’t have a soul.

And she tried, by all the merciful kami she had fucking tried. It gave her migraines to force herself to hear the words as they were spoken, rather than as Hydaelyn’s gifts urged her to hear it. But she could do it, slowly, stealing into shops and libraries in the evenings, listening to the patrons talk while her heartbeat crashed in her temples with the effort of not understanding, watching while tutors leaned over their charges to match noises to letters and painstakingly piecing together the puzzle. She’d forced the other apprentices at the smithing guilds to explain order forms and manifests to her, to match the names of the metals she hammered into submission to the letters that made them on the pages. And Ishgard, somehow, had been worse, because she was so obviously an outsider and there were so many smug nobles happy to rub it in her face that she had never so much as touched a prayer book that every true Coerthan child had memorized by the age of ten. The higher she climbed in the city, the fewer Eorzea signs there were, until the richest shops only boasted lettering in the old Ishgardian tongue.

Edmont had been gracious, for all that he didn’t entirely understand what the Echo did to her. He’d read aloud anything she’d asked of him, without question. Lucia had explained the names and implications and references of the Halonic faith in the plainest terms she could, wherever they cropped up—which they did, often, in a city that had stewed in its religion for a thousand years.

So she’d tried, again, and learned, again, ilm by painful gods-damned ilm, teaching herself how to detangle the foreign words of two separate languages written in the same alphabet, sneaking primers from the shelves of Fortemps Manor and glaring at labels in shop windows, willing them, slowly, to make sense.

Alphinaud had stopped giving her lists. Minfilia had stopped giving her anything, except heartache.

It had been a perverse sort of relief, to sail to Hingashi and then Yanxia, to suddenly be the native guide for bumbling tourists, but of course the twins took to the language like fish to water, and Tataru bent the merchants of Kugane around her little fingers, and even Lyse had learned, chattering away with Yugiri and Gosetsu and Hien and anyone who would practice with her late into the night.

And Aymeric—he tried, too, the unbearably sweet man. Had begged lessons of Yugiri, or Hozan, any time they made their way to Dragonhead, once he’d realized he couldn’t learn shit from Hanami. Had watched in fascination when she traced the characters of her name out for him a dozen times, until he could recognize them on sight. But he couldn’t use her as a conversation partner, and she couldn’t correct his slips, and even when he came with her to Doma—her mothers had been forced to learn the languages of their conquerers, while they’d been conscripted, and Haruki had always had sympathy for the poor foreign soldiers who trudged out from their castra, and even Mune’s school taught Eorzean now, out of respect for the refugee children who had spent so many of their learning years on distant soil. They were just as eager to speak to Aymeric in the common tongue they already shared as he was to try to learn a new one.

She had a trembling grasp of Eorzean, now, and could force her way through the most basic childrens’ books in Ishgardian. And always, at the back of her mind, she had a cold, deep-seated fear. Hanami was reliant upon a gift she could not control or understand—could not trust, just as she couldn’t trust anything that she didn’t choose. And she had to live with the knowledge that, if it was ever stripped from her, she would be stranded, set adrift with only her fumbling, feeble tongue and shaking fingers to speak for her. How much could she do on her own, without the Echo slotting grammar into place, or smoothing over mispronunciations? How many of her friends would become strangers to her?

Aymeric loved her humor, her dry jokes. Coaxed long-winded stories from her by firelight, enticed her to tell him everything she saw on her travels while he sleepily mapped the ridges and valleys of her spine. And it would only take a second for her to be muzzled. Unable to carry out the most basic conversation.

Norvrandt had put her back to square one. Less than. It didn’t have the same fucking alphabet. Maybe she’d lost her temper, with Thancred, when he had sent her around Twine to take notes. Maybe it was cruel of her to throw fistfuls of clumsy kana in his face. But she was so, so tired of feeling so stupid, of having to break down everything she saw by sounds like a child, of having to reconstruct every sentence in her head twice over, of sweating and bleeding for every scrap of progress on her own.

And now Dulia-Chai had tried to give her a nice damn gift, and here she was trying not to scream instead.

“Sorry,” she said, mortified to realize that her throat was swollen halfway shut.

One of Dulia’s hands appeared in Hanami’s periphery, settling over the cover of the book.

“Dearie,” she said, gently, “is that all?”

Hanami found her jaw clenching before she could think—barely restrained the urge to snap. All? That she didn’t even have the comprehension skills of the youngest students in the Crystarium? That Moren had to take time out of his duties to make up for her shortcomings with picture books, while Alphinaud and Alisaie scoured the Cabinet for hours on end?

“What do you mean,” she rasped.

Dulia-Chai’s hand fluttered up and away, to press to her own cheek; Hanami watched her pleasant smile return, the same sort of halfway apologetic smile she took on when she talked about Eulmore’s halting progress under Chai-Nuzz’s mayorship. “Only that I shouldn’t have been so thoughtless!” she said. “I am sorry about that—I keep forgetting you’re not from the Crystarium, silly me. Of course this must all be elvish to you. Oh—no, dear, there’s no need to be upset, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Her eyes were watering, Hanami realized, which was mortifying, because Dulia was right there, and so was half the city, it felt like, walking past the parlor to look in on her shame. “But I—”

Dulia wagged her finger. “I won’t have any of that! Do you really think you’re the first Eulmoran not to know her letters? Half the folks out of Gatetown never learned either—because of our neglect, I’ll admit. Why, just since you’ve visited last we’ve opened up a whole wing of night schools for the adults who work the trades. No shame to be had in catching up on the things one’s missed, I say.

“But of course you’re so terribly busy,” Dulia went on, ignoring Hanami’s silent gaping. “With all your blowing thither and yon, you surely mustn’t...well, then, that settles it,” she said, merrily skipping through an entire argument with herself. “I’ll simply have to rustle up a slate and some chalk, and whenever you have time to visit we’ll sit down with a nice pot of tea and have a go at it ourselves.”

She said it like it was easy. Like that was all it took, time and tea and...and patience.

“I have—” Hanami swallowed. Tried again. “Trouble. With learning. Because of the...way I can speak, like this. You hear me in your language, but I hear you in mine. It makes it hard to learn new words.”

A headache. An ordeal.

“Well, we’re a couple of smart cookies, you and I,” Dulia-Chai said, apparently unbothered. “We’ll work something out. Quitting when things got tough didn’t build us a Talos that could touch the sky, now, did it?”

It wasn’t the same, not remotely, the giant Talos had been an act of desperation, a miracle wrought by a dying world, thousands of hands for a common cause. Something important. Worthy of the time and effort.

“I would not ask you to do that,” Hanami said.

“It’s a good thing it’s an offer, then!” Dulia-Chai patted Hanami’s arm, her broad hand folding over her elbow. “Keep the book for now, it’s a lovely table piece if nothing else—we’ll make it a goal to be a bit more useful than decoration though! In the meantime, dear, you’re looking a bit flushed. Let’s get some refreshments in you and we’ll work on our plan of attack, and then you simply must fill me in on how our young Alphinaud and his friends have been doing.”

#ffxivwrite2021 #final fantasy xiv #oc: hanami hagane #dulia-chai #CAT MOM I LOVE YOU.#things that haunt me: the specific function of the echo autotranslate #also the fact that apparently only 50% of eorzeans are considered literate #and yet the quests always just Assume you read whatever in-game text they give you #writing - mine

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