#practically the only one I mourned for in the entire book

[yanaromanov]

my sweet assistant

- professor!natasha x lawyer!wanda x reader

part summary: you take a position in assisting professor romanoff after classes to make up for a missed assignment. your flustered state only continues as you’re forced to spend one-on-one time with her, even more so when her wife is introduced into the equation…

part warning(s): teacher/student relationship, age gap (r is of age), power dynamics, married wandanat (no cheating), pet names, mentions of anxiety, mentions of bad family relations, minor death, funeral etc. minors dni

authors note: this took me a bit longer to write and release than i would have liked thanks to my broken arm and writers block so apologies for that. but even tho i kinda hate it, it’s here now, so i hope you enjoy! :)

part two of the inescapable love series

inescapable love series

･ ｡ﾟ*. 18+, minors DNI . * ｡ﾟ･

11.5K words

People say life comes with its ups and downs, something you had come to learn was rather true, but why did it always seem the downs came at the worst of times? A call from your mother was never really a good sign to begin with, usually her nagging being the only thing waiting on the other end of the line, but this time when you picked up and heard what she had to say, not good turned to terribly bad. It wasn’t the extent of the problem as such that worried you, more so the timing. Your Russian class had an assignment coming up, due in less than a week, and thinking you had enough time to get round to it, you still hadn’t started. Something that would have been totally fine if not for your mom’s name popping up on your phone last night and sharing news that would throw your entire schedule off.

The way your mom had picked up the phone had immediately informed you something was wrong, but a death announcement was certainly the last thing you had been expecting to hear on a Sunday night. It was your grandmother, on your dad’s side. She’d passed away over the weekend, finally giving up on the hospice care she’d been dependent on for months. The news itself hadn’t been too much of a shock, the old woman’s health deteriorating for years, and it didn’t much upset you either. You’d never really been close to your grandmother, your brother being the one favoured from your family, keeping you distanced whenever you visited her house. Your teenage self had already mourned for the relationship you had never had and that felt more painful than the actual loss in front of you now.

The main thing concerning your mind now was how you were going to complete your assignment. On the phone, your mom had told you she’d already booked the flights for you coming home, prepared for the funeral just that week, a quick turn around due the arrangements been made in advance from the anticipation of her death. It would see you in England the entirety of the week, leaving tomorrow afternoon and not returning until late Friday evening. Even with the extra days you had at home, the funeral tea and family gatherings would no doubt leave you no time at all to complete your assignment.

You knew what you had to do now, had done it many times before for other classes, but something about this time felt more intimidating. As you sat in the lecture theatre, watching your professor teach at the front of the class, your heart pounded in your chest at the thought of asking for the extension. More time alone would have to be spent with your Russian professor, the last time still lingering unwanted in your mind. The thought of speaking to her one on one once more was enough to send your anxious mind into a frenzy.

Desperately, you tried to cling on to the reality of things as your lesson continued. It was the day of the week where your class would practice your Russian speaking, conversing with one another whilst Professor Romanoff would walk around, listening in and correcting any mispronunciations. In the end, it would build up to the speaking exam the end of semester held, a private conversation that each student would have with your professor which was then graded alongside your written tests.

The girl sat beside you had claimed the spot as your partner when the first speaking lesson had started up, thankfully not the same girl who’d passed you dirty looks after your perfectly scored paper. The two of you worked through the worksheet in front of you, sounding out the words and building them up into a conversation. Your partner seemed slower than you to grasp the concepts, but you found you didn’t quite mind, allowing your thoughts the moments in between to plan exactly how you’d make your request to Professor Romanoff.

When the class had finally drawn to a close, everyone began packing up their things, worksheets handed back down towards the front. Professor Romanoff stood against her desk, collecting papers as she shouted out across the clamouring hall. “Remember your assignment is due on Friday everyone. Do not use google translate. I can tell!”

It seemed your class wasn’t paying her announcement much notice, instead focused on making it out of the double doors and out into the corridor. Like you had done before, you packed away your things slowly, lingering in the row of seats until almost everyone had left the room. Only when the last few stragglers were close to the door, did you begin your descent towards the central desk. Professor Romanoff stood wiping clean the board once again, back facing you. This time, however, you cleared your throat to make your presence known. The woman’s face was slightly bewildered as she turned, melting away immediately as she spied you standing across the way, a smile appearing on her lips instead. “Miss Y/L/N,” she said, wiping the chalk dust away from her hands and turning back to close the distance between you. “Is everything alright?”

"Uhm, yes," you said nervously, watching as the woman came to stand in front of you. "Well...no, but-" You shook your head, attempting to dispel the anxious thoughts that clouded your brain. Fingers began to fidget as you looked back up at your professor with a nervous smile. "I was wondering if I could possibly get an extension for the assignment?" The redhead in front of you raised a single brow, looking inquisitive to your scenario and hence, drawing more of and explanation from your chest. "It's just my grandma passed away and I have to fly back to England for her funeral this week. I'm not going to be back till Friday night and with all the travelling and family stuff and jet lag, I probably won't have enough time to do it." Your hands gestured about, trying to find anything else to do rather than anxiously pick at your nail beds. "I don't need a long extension, maybe just till Monday? I can get it done over the weekend when I'm back."

The spill of words finally fell short in the silent room, your blurting echoing ever so slightly in the emptiness of the hall. Professor Romanoff stood in front of you, today wearing a matching black skirt and blazer, a white shirt neatly tucked in. "I'm sorry to hear about your grandmother." Your gaze raised up to the pair of green eyes as she spoke, a soft expression held between her features. "Are you doing alright?"

The question had came unexpectedly. You shook your head as you answered. "Oh yeah, I'm fine." You smiled sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders. "We were never close."

"Well," Professor Romanoff replied, gaze softening further. "I'm still sorry to hear about her." She passed you a gentle smile as she stepped towards her desk, leaning against the front of it like it seemed she had a habit of doing. When she looked back up at you, her expression had changed. "As for an extension..." Her emerald stare met yours, always seemingly able to make you shy away. "You're a good student Y/N, so I'd really like to say yes, but unfortunately I have a policy against extensions."

Your memory fleeted back to the first day of class, suddenly recalling the rules your professor had set out. Extensions would only be given to those with medical absence, provided they had a document signed by a health professional. Only remembering that now, you felt entirely stupid for asking for the extension in the first place. "That's right," you blurted. "I'm so sorry, I totally forgot. Listen, forget I even said anything." You adjusted the straps of your backpack as you made to turn your body towards the door. "I'll try get it done on the plane or something. Thank you anyway."

You made it about three steps away before you heard your name being called out from behind you. Slowly, you turned your shoulders, looking back at the woman who still sat against her desk. "Yes, Miss Romanoff?" you called in response. A single manicured nail raised up, the finger curling to beckon you back in the direction you'd came. Biting down on the skin of your cheek, you turned fully, slowly closing the gap that had formed between you and your professor. When you stood in front of her again, you began to rub one of your arms nervously.

Professor Romanoff inclined her head towards you, a faint smile on her painted lips. "I can't give you an extension but I can offer you an alternative. Some extra credit that will cover the assignment, worth the same percentage of your grade. And I'll even give you the full marks."

Your head angled in both curiosity and uncertainty. The prospect of the extra credit sounded like just what you needed, but you couldn't quite grasp the notion that your professor was suggesting. "Full marks?" you asked. "As in, a hundred percent on the assignment?"

A painted smirk pulled at the corner of your professor's mouth, her body leaning ever so slightly closer to yours. "Don't act like it's such a miracle, sweetie. We both know what you're capable of, hm?"

As her words hit you, you could immediately feel the warmth they brought to your cheeks. Face feeling flushed, you tried to distract your brain, unfocusing on the perfect pair of lips still smirking in your direction. "What would I have to do for the extra credit?"

Professor Romanoff sighed, adjusting herself on the desk. You diverted your eyes as her arms crossed her body, once again pushing her slightly-revealed cleavage up against her chest. "Well, my assistant for this year pulled out on me last minute, which has left me just drowned in work." Green eyes met yours as a wide smile spread across the redhead's lips. "So, just give me a helping hand after class for a few weeks and the credit is all yours."

This proposal seemed almost too good to be true. Simply helping out your professor in turn for a perfect grade? It almost didn't seem fair. As you thought over her offer, the idea couldn't help but make you feel a little flustered. After all it would entail spending time alone with the red haired woman, something that seemed to leave you an oddly ruffled mess. But the entire thing sounded far too good to pass up, an opportunity practically laid out on a silver platter. Sounding easy enough to follow through with, you nodded your head with a smile. "Yeah, I can do that."

The smile on Professor Romanoff's face widened at your agreement. "Perfect," she said, green eyes glinting. "Can I see you back here next Monday? Say...three pm?"

You nodded once more. "Yeah. That works for me."

"Alright then," the redhead replied. She stood up from her desk, smiling down on you from the height accentuated by her heeled boots. "Don't you worry your pretty head about the assignment and I'll just see you here next week."

The words seemed to wash over you with a flush, something igniting inside that you couldn't quite put a finger on. Nervously, you looked to the floor, picking at the ends of your jumper while Professor Romanoff moved to stand behind her desk, seemingly unaware of your heightened nervousness. Before you could properly formulate a response, the other woman was already speaking once more. "Go on then. Don't want to be late for your next class do you?"

Her words seemed to shake you back to the present, that nervous little smile appearing on your face again. "Right," you said, adjusting your backpack. "Thank you, professor."

She smiled back at you. "It's no problem, honey. Now run along."

You found yourself nodding as you turned to leave, urged on by her commands. A few steps away she called out to you. "Take care of yourself, Y/N."

You looked back over your shoulder, flashing a small smile. "I will Miss Romanoff. Thank you." And with that, you were walking out the door, headed towards your next class with you mind focused on what exactly your assistant duties with Professor Romanoff may entail.

———

"When are you back again?"

"Friday night. About nine-ish?"

You passed the raven-haired girl a quick glance over your shoulder as you continued to fold the items of clothing in your hand. A loud sigh filled the space as you heard Kate roll over in her bed, rustling the top of her sheets. "That's four whole days of you leaving me completely alone."

As you placed the last of your clothes into the open suitcase, you swiveled around to look at Kate. Your brow furrowed as you noticed your best friend sprawled dramatically across the covers. "Kate, you do realised we have other friends?" you replied with a soft sigh.

But it seemed the girl took no notice, throwing her hand up to cover her eyes as another noise of discomfort slipped from her lips. "I'm gonna look like such a loser at breakfast." The truth was that the pair of you did have more friends at university, with whom Kate could definitely speak to while you were away, despite how the majority of the time it was always just the two of you. This could be down to the fact you were the only ones still sharing a dorm on campus, most of your friends having moved out to apartments around the city. You and Kate had looked into that option but your loan wasn't enough to cover the rent, so you'd both settled to remain in the on-campus accommodation, still sharing your meals in the wide dining hall.

You sighed again. "I'm sorry my grandma dying is such an inconvenience to you." At that, Kate shot up in bed, immediately looking less irritated and instead concerned. The way you smiled playfully back at her, however, made her brows drop ever so slightly, the fear of her actions hurting you slipping away. You'd already told her you weren't all that bothered by the passing, more so annoyed by the bother of it all, but it seemed despite how dramatic she could be, Kate was still worried about your feelings. "Relax Bishop," you said, a gentle smile tugging at your lips. "You know I'm kidding. I hate the fact I'm going just as much as you do." With all the hustle of trying to get through your work that day, you hadn't had much time to think about the reality of going home. Now packing your things, the dread of it all was beginning to settle on your shoulders. Still, you forced a smile on your lips as you walked across to Kate's bed, sitting yourself down next to her. "I'm sorry I'm leaving but I'll make it up to you, yeah?"

Just then, a spark seemed to light up in Kate's eyes. She turned to you, a wide smirk plastered on her lips. "Will you come to a party with me?" The proposal was one Kate often brought up, and one that was just as often shut down. Whenever Kate was getting ready to go out for a night, you were always cooped up in your textbooks, ignoring her complaints of how you studied too much and focusing instead on memorising every piece of material on the paper. For three years, your best friend has had to drag you to every party you'd ever been to, sometimes even snatching the book from your hands and then pleading you with puppy dog eyes. Those same eyes looked at you now, silently begging.

"Fine," you said finally, causing Kate to throw her hands up in the air. You raised your hand before her excitement could get out of hand. "But only one and not until after midterms."

The girl looked slightly disheartened but her smile still remained wide. "Fine," she replied, looking to already be planning the event she'd drag to you in a few weeks time. As Kate settled herself back in her bed, you stood to cross the room, returning to your almost-packed suitcase. You placed the last item in one side - a long black coat Kate had let you borrow to wear to the funeral - then zipped up the first half. All the other half was missing was your toiletries bag, of which would have to wait until the morning to be packed. As you were closing things up, you threw a comment to Kate over your shoulder. "I spoke to my Russian professor today about that extension for the assignment, remember?"

You heard Kate's head turn towards you, becoming distracted from her party planning. "Oh yeah, what'd she say?"

As the final zip on your suitcase closed, you turned back around to your best friend. "She doesn't really do extensions so she said I can help out after class instead to make up my grade."

Kate's brow furrowed. "What, like an assistant?"

"Yeah, exactly. Hers apparently dropped out so I'm filling in for a few weeks." You bent down to push your suitcase under your bed, ready to go tomorrow morning, then stood again, shrugging your shoulders. "She said she'll give me the equivalent of full marks for the assignment."

"Wait, what?" Kate shot up in bed, her jaw hanging slack. "You just help her plan a couple lessons and get a free ride to a perfect score?"

You breathed out a laugh, not only at Kate's theatric tone but also at the improbable truth of the scenario. It hadn't really hit you until now how easy you had it, an exceptional gateway to an easy 'A'. "Yeah," you giggled out, taking a seat on your bed. "I mean, she said I'm a good student so she expected me to do well anyway." You tried to ignore the strange tingle in your head as you recounted your professor's words, instead focusing on Kate who flung herself up in her bed.

"Dude," she said, looking at you incredulously. Her eyes shifted, looking down to the floor. "Maybe I should have taken Russian this year."

Another laugh spilled from your lips as you stood, closing the gap between you and your best friend. "I think you should focus on the classes you're already taking." Your hand reached out for Kate's pulling her up from her bed before she could get a chance to reply. "Now, let's go get dinner. I'm starving."

———

The setting sun streamed in through the wide windows of Natasha's office. The entire room was painted in a soft orange glow, guiding the redhead as she finally began to pack up for the night. Today had been a long day for her, her daily schedule packed and evening full of essay marking that needed to be completed by tomorrow. Finally, Natasha had managed to get finished up, closing her laptop and packing away her notes for the night. She tucked them away into her bag to bring to work the next day before shutting off the lamp inside the room and retiring from her office for the night.

Her feet padded across the wooden floors as she made her way out of the home office. The sun's glow followed her, let in by the expansive windows her and Wanda's house contained. When she reached the living room, Natasha spied her wife curled up on the corner of their sofa, a blanket draped over her legs and an open book sat in her hands. Her footsteps were silent as she made her way over to the other redhead. Though she imagined her wife had still felt her approach, as she didn't flinch when Nat's hands came down for a hug from behind. Natasha's arms wrapped around her wife, a small hum escaping her lips as she pressed a gentle kiss to the pulse point of her neck. "Baby," Natasha whispered, her voice low. Wanda simply hummed in response, her eyes still focused on her novel, her attention only slightly skewed when Natasha leaned in closer, pressing more kisses down the skin of her neck.

"I need to speak to you about something." Natasha's voice remained low, her words fanning out on to her wife's collar bones. She'd been waiting for this moment now for a while, anticipating just the right time to bring up her scenario to her wife. The thoughts had been circling her head for a small while now, perhaps longer than she liked to admit, but she found she couldn't wait any longer to share.

"What is it, moya lyubov?" Wanda's eyes finally raised from her book, head turning over her shoulder to look up at her wife. Though, this position didn't last long, as Natasha lifted her legs and swung herself over the back of the couch, landing in a position beside her wife. This was a habit Wanda hated, forever telling Natasha to 'use her legs like an adult', but this time she didn't have time to pester the redhead as she'd already began to speak. "Do you remember that student we spoke about? The one that got the perfect score."

The slight look of annoyance from Nat's behavior was quickly replaced by an inquisitive expression as Wanda furrowed her brow. The redhead finally closed her book on her lap, sliding a bookmark into place. "Yeah, I do. What was her name again?"

"Y/N Y/L/N."

Wanda hummed, a small smiling appearing on her lips. "That's it. Cute name. What about her?"

Natasha inhaled, her mind passing over the already scripted conversation she'd created. "I spoke with her again today. Came in asking for an extension for an assignment." The redhead smiled, remembering the interaction from that morning. She took another deep breath before she uttered the next words from her mouth. "I think I've maybe taking a liking to her."

"Oh?" Wanda's eyebrows raised, her expression changing to one of surprise. It wasn't new that the couple were searching for someone else in their relationship, the openness of the topic having been in circulation almost since the two had first got together. But the surprise came from the fact Nat had perhaps found someone she believed could slot into their duo, her and Wanda's standards usually far too rigid to find anyone to spend more than a night with. If Natasha was bringing up a girl like this, she must have seriously considered the possibility of a longer association, and that thoroughly intrigued Wanda.

"Now," Natasha continued. "Of course I don't want to do anything we don't both agree on, but..." She paused for just a moment, smiling a little up at her wife. "I would be lying if I said I hadn't already been playing around with her. Just a little bit." Natasha held up her fingers, signaling the small amount of teasing she'd subjected her prized student to. "You know, I didn't want to come asking your permission for a girl who turned out to be a bore."

The more Natasha continued to talk, the more Wanda became interested and invested by the conversation at hand. She slowly slipped her book to the couch beside her, leaning in closer towards her wife. "And is she?"

A wide smirk appeared on Natasha's lips as she relished in her wife's question. "Not in the slightest." Her expression only deepened as she recalled the little moments of you she'd been observing in class. "She's so fucking cute," she said, stating the obvious right off the bat. "She's always early for class and always paying so much attention. She shows up in the sweetest little outfits, like she doesn't even know how good she looks." The redhead smiled as she remembered the sight of you in your small summer dresses or slightly oversized sweaters. "Oh," she said, reminded of her favourite bit of all. "And she has this adorable little English accent."

With the last of her wife's words, a similar looking smirk began to appear on Wanda's own face. "Well now I'm intrigued.”

Natasha smiled back at her words as she shrugged a shoulder. "As I said, I played around a little bit and Wands..." The redhead had to suppress a sigh as she reached for her wife's hand. "I just know how much fun she'd be," she continued, her voice almost a whine. "I mean, she gets flustered so easily. One little pet name and she's already hiding away her flushed face."

Wanda's smirk deepened as Natasha continued to talk, stirred further by the slight desperation she could hear in the redhead's voice. She had to wonder just how long she'd been wondering about this one student and just how much fun she was getting to have without her... "Go ahead, malysh," Wanda replied finally, squeezing her wife's hand gently. "I trust your instincts. You'll just have to introduce me sometime soon."

Natasha's brows shot up. "You're sure?"

"Yeah," Wanda chuckled back slightly, amused by the excitement underlying Nat's voice. When she spoke again, her lips had formed a devilish smirk. "It'll be fun. It's been a while since we had somebody to play with."

———

The funeral was awful. Of course, one never expects such an event to be the epitome of joy, but this particular funeral was like your own personally curated hell. Your entire family was gathered in one place, meaning not only were your parents’ critiques breathed down your neck the entire time, but they were also joined by those more distant. Grandparents and judgmental aunts seemed to team up on you, all obsessing over your university career and what your future plans were. Many pestered the question of your singularity, claiming that ‘a pretty young thing like you should have been swept up by a man a long time ago’. Unfortunately, the almost-compliment that could be found in their talk, was quickly diminished by the discussion of how it must be something wrong with your personality rather than your face, comments all whispered from where they thought you couldn’t hear.

There was no escape from the constant berating, your schedule full of family meals and teas, and far too lengthy conversations around the fireplace, of which you could not be excused due to your mother’s abhorrence of anyone ever thinking of her children as rude. To make matters worse, you were exhausted from jet lag and the flight, something certainly not helped by the endless hours of socializing and pressing on a smile for your family.

Still, you pushed through like the perfect daughter you always tried to be. You sat politely at the funeral, wearing an old black dress and Kate’s coat, the perfume of your best friend aiding a little to your torturous discomfort. Though your family cried, your eyes remained dry, silently staring at your feet and trying not to draw any attention to yourself. At the funeral tea, you shook hands and smiled softly at family members, answering any questions they asked with the grace your mother had forced upon your shoulders at a young age. Of course, she found her usual pride in parading you and your brother around like a pair of trophies she’d spent hours shining. The entirety of every event was exhausting.

Even at the will reading, there was no break to be given. Your late grandmother had graciously scattered her belongings to her loved ones, though seemingly biased to those who she deemed more palatable. Your brother received a chunk of her money alongside her old ring, something the family gushed over due to the prospect of his long-term girlfriend who he could now finally pop the big question to. Your rolled your eyes as they pandered over him, all blatantly dismissive of the old bible you’d been left, with your grandmother’s handwriting inside with a note of how she wished for it to be read out of at your wedding when you finally found yourself a suitable husband. You had simply rolled your eyes and shoved it to the bottom of your bag.

All that being said, it was a huge relief to you when you finally made your way back to the airport. Though you’d had to spend the journey constantly criticized by your mother about your uni work, as soon as you stepped on to the plane, relief was flooding over your shoulders. As the sky came to fill the widow, clouds passing by, you were more than grateful to be heading back to the true place you thought of as home.

Kate came to pick you up from the airport, hugging you immediately and beginning to rant about the idiots she’d encountered in the car park as she pulled your case towards the exit. The pair of you went straight to a mcdonald’s drive thru, your hunger unquenched from the bad aeroplane food you’d been offered. Fries and hamburgers were shared in the front seat of the car as you relayed back your awful week to Kate, telling her everything that you hadn’t even had the chance to text her due to your family’s never-ending nagging.

That weekend was very stressful. Due to the packed schedule you had followed back in England, you’d had next to no time to complete any of your work from that week. So, from morning until night, you cooped yourself up at your desk and ground it all out. At times, Kate had to drag you down to the hall for some food or persistently remind you to even go to bathroom. In the end however, you managed to get it all finished. By eleven o’clock Sunday night, you were finally all caught up from your missed classes and had completed all your deadlines. The light in the room were low, only your small desk lamp lighting up the space. Kate slept in her bed, hair fanning out across the pillows. You were quiet as you cleaned your space, eyeing the untouched plate of food Kate had brought up for you after you’d refused to go down for dinner. It was long cold now and you felt a little guilty throwing it out, but you were far too tired now to think about eating. Instead, you simply turned off the light and slid yourself into your bed, finally letting your mind rest and prepare itself to return to your regularly scheduled classes the next morning.

———

"Alright everyone, that's all for today's lesson. Are there any questions?"

Like always, the bustle began began your professor could even finish his sentence. Everyone was already packing away their things, drowning out the teacher's voice with their own hustle to leave. It happened almost every class, and almost every time you felt bad, one of the only people who remained still until they had officially dismissed you. But today, you found yourself following the crowd more than you usually would have. See, your professor had droned on a bit too long that afternoon, moving into the passing period you had between classes. Most times that wouldn't have been a big deal seeing as it was your last class of the day, but today was the day you were supposed to meet Professor Romanoff and thanks to your English professor's extensive elaborations, you were left with only a few minutes until you'd be late. So today you put your cares aside and as the class packed up, so did you, stuffing everything into your backpack and throwing it over your shoulder before joining the crowd exiting the lecture hall.

Your English building was on the exact opposite side of campus as your destination, so your feet held a quick pace as you flitted between the crowds of students on your way. Pathways were held up by casually conversing people, all relaxed now their days were over. They all annoyed you severely as they slowed down your journey, obviously uncaring that you still had places to be. By the time you had reached the building in which your Russian class was held, the clock was already a few minutes passed the scheduled time. You almost burst in through the doors of the hall, ever so slightly out of breath from your fast paced journey across campus. As soon as you entered the room, you spied the redheaded professor sat at her desk, head buried into her laptop. She looked up to you as you walked across the floor, nervously adjusting the backpack straps on your shoulders. "Hi," you breathed out, trying your best to seem casual despite your racing lungs. "I'm sorry I'm a little late. My last lecture ran over a little."

A pair of perfectly white teeth smiled back in your direction, Professor Romanoff looking you over. "Y/N," she said, her gentle voice falling upon your ears. Something about it in that moment made you realize you had almost missed it over your break, but the rational part of your brain soon took over and told you you were being ridiculous. "Don't worry about being late, you're barely two minutes over." She smiled again as you closed the final distance between you, moving to stand by the edge of her desk. She stood as you did, displaying today a pair of grey slacks and a soft black jumper, all adorned with delicate gold jewelry. Her smiling face looked down at you, that forgotten odd feeling of warmth spreading through your gut. "It's good to see you again. How are you? How was your trip?"

You ignored the sensation in your stomach as you smiled back at her. "I'm good. The trip was fine. A little boring but fine." There were many worse words to describe your trip than ‘boring' but you decide to settle for that, not wanting to bother your professor with the complicated details of your family and more so, simply wanting to leave the entire week in the past and not think of it again.

“That’s good,” Professor Romanoff replied with that same easy smile. “I’m glad to hear you’re alright.” Her hands lifted from the pockets they hid in, reaching out to open a drawer of her desk. You wondered for a moment what she might be looking for before she pulled out a small stack of papers, extending them out towards you. “These are some extra notes from last week’s lectures.”

You smiled, slightly surprised. “Oh, thank you.” Most of your university work could be found online for both absence and revision purposes, but it never was quite the same as attending the classes themselves. Usually you hated using just the online notes to catch up, never grasping the material as well as you’d like, but this weekend you’d had to make do. That was, of course, until Professor Romanoff handed you the extra notes. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Well,” your professor replied. “I wouldn’t want my best student falling behind, would I?”

Her words worked to form that warm sensation across your cheeks, the given title heating up your insides with flustering pride. You were grateful the woman had started to busy herself at her desk with something else as you tried to brush off her compliments as smoothly as possible, attempting to hide the flush of your skin.

“You can grab a chair from the side. Bring it over.”

You nodded, almost snapping back to reality once more with Professor Romanoff’s words. You placed your backpack down beside her desk, quickly slotting the extra notes into the large pocket before moving to grab a spare chair from the edge of the room. When you returned, your professor had seemingly found what she was searching for, a large stack of papers now sat in the centre of the desk.

“Sit,” Romanoff beckons with a smile, gesturing her hand towards the front of her desk. You pull up your chair, positioning yourself across from her own seated position. “These are tests I need marked. They’re all multiple choice and there’s a marking scheme.” The redhead lifted a single piece of paper, handing it over your way. “So you’ll just have to see if the letters match up on both papers. That sound okay?”

You nodded once more, her instructions seeming simple enough. “Yeah, sounds fine.”

“Great.” With a smile, Professor Romanoff slid the pile of unmarked papers across the desk towards you. She explained that if you needed any help, just to ask, and that she’d just be busying herself on her laptop. You nodded again, reaching into your backpack quickly for a pen before you began to work away.

It was an easy job really, simply matching the circled letters on the quiz papers to that of the marking scheme. In truth, it was almost relaxing to have something to do that didn’t require much brain power. Professor Romanoff sat across from you, typing away on her laptop. Occasionally, you’d look up to take a glance at her, catching moments of concentration or boredom on her face, but your eyes would never linger long, too scared of getting caught looking her way. She’d turned on the radio to fill a bit of the silence, music humming softly from a black stereo on the edge of the desk. All in all, the endeavour was a blessing in disguise - much simpler and easier than the effort the equivalent assignment would have took.

“You getting on alright, milaya?”

The voice brought you from the almost trance you’d put yourself in as you marked the set of papers. Your head rose from them, more than half the stack already complete as you smiled back at your professor. “Yeah, all good.”

She nodded, smiling at you with her perpetually perfect red lips. Under her gaze, you felt your eyes drop back to the papers, for some reason feeling entirely too see every time she looked your way. She went to turn back towards her laptop, your hand reaching out to continue marking, but a lingering question had been vibrating in your head. You had been too afraid to ask before, to be the one to break the soft silence of the room, but now was your opportunity. “Are these law papers?”

Professor Romanoff looked back at you, her expression soft. “Yes,” she said, simply. “I also teach a beginners law class alongside my usual Russian.”

You felt your eyebrows raise, unexpecting of her answer but also rather impressed. Now it made sense why the papers you were marking were not at all taking about Russian vocabulary but instead legal terminology.

“I studied a law major at college,” the red haired woman continued. “It was going to be my career until I decided to teach instead.”

“Huh,” you hummed, interested by the new information you were discovering about your teacher. “Why’d you decide to switch?”

Romanoff shrugged a shoulder. “Honestly, I love teaching.” A small smirk then appeared on her lips as she leaned in closer across the table. “Besides, my wife is a lawyer and just between me and you, I’m not sure I’d like her as my boss. She can be a little scary sometimes.”

There was a playfulness to her tone that you easily pick up on, the entire interaction meant as a jest, but somehow it left you with a strange feeling in your chest. You listened to your professor’s words, but your mind seemed to stick on one. Wife. In that moment, you suddenly realised you hadn’t pictured her being married - not that you had pictured her at all, your mind chided in defence. Now you quickly realised that she was indeed with another person, and not just that, but with a woman. Suddenly you had to push your mother’s berating thoughts from your head.

“So what about you?”

“Sorry?” you replied, mind crashing back to the present moment. Professor Romanoff looked back at you with an almost playful looking smirk. It only added to that strange feeling inside your chest.

“What’s your major?” the redhead elaborated.

“Oh.” You sat up straighter, trying to adjust your jumper in an effort to conceal the fact you’d gotten lost in your thoughts once more. “I’m an English major.” Romanoff raised a brow, the smirk on her face widening to almost a smile. You sighed softly, throwing your head to the side. “You can make the joke if you want, everyone does.”

An English girl studying English. You’d heard almost every variation of the joke, mostly from drunk boys at frat parties that thought they were the pinnacle of humour. Shouldn’t you already be an expert at that? Wait, they don’t teach you English in England?

You were expecting some similar turn of phrase to escape your professors lips, following in the footsteps of everyone you’d had this conversation with before. But to your surprise, she simply shook her head, frowning ever so slightly. “I think I’ll refrain,” she said, frown turning into the same wide smirk. “I hate being unoriginal.”

A laugh bubbled up in your throat, pushing out through a smile and into the air. Your professor followed, chuckling with you. After a moment, she stilled, looking back at you curiously. “So, tell me,” she said, leaning in closer to the desk. “What does bring you all the way to America to study?”

Because I can’t stand being at home with my parents. “Experience, I guess,” you said with a shrug, hiding away the truth behind a smile. “And I got a full scholarship when I applied so…” Your words died down, not quite sure how to finish your explanation.

Thankfully, your professor seemed to pick up the conversation easily. “A very smart girl, hm?” Her lips met as she hummed and it seemed you could feel the vibrations running down your spine. Your eyes fell back to your lap, trying to hide the awkward smile her praise had brought. You were unsure of what exactly you should do, contemplating if her question was rhetoric or not, and praying the former due to your inability to think of a response. Blessedly, Professor Romanoff cut through your mind’s distress with another question. “You’re in fourth year, right?”

Your eyes picked back up, meeting hers. “Yeah.”

She smiled, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared back at you intently. “And what exactly lead a fourth year English student to my beginner’s Russian class?”

You were getting a little bit of deja vu of the conversation you’d had with Kate multiple times. This time, you settled on the short answer. “I thought it sounded interesting,” you said simply, smiling as you shrugged your shoulders.

Professor Romanoff seemed amused by your answer. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

You felt yourself smiling back in response. So am I, your brain mused, but your consciousness refused to let anything move past your lips. Instead, Romanoff was picking up the conversation once again. “What’s your plans for after?”

Your eyebrows raised, suddenly surprised by her question. “Sorry?”

The redhead chuckled. “Once you graduate, sweetheart,” she said, voice sounding slightly amused. “What do you plan to do with the rest of your life?”

“Oh right,” you fumbled. You felt a little stupid for thinking she ever meant anything other than that. “My, uh…my mum wants me to go to law school actually…”

A red brow raised in your direction. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded, reminiscent of your previous chatter with your professor. A funny little coincidence that you two may be following a similar path. Although in that moment, you couldn’t help but be a little jealous. She had eventually fallen away from law, moving to a career she was truly passionate for. You were unsure if you’d ever get that opportunity. It had taken months just to convince your mother to let you major in English, claiming it was good for getting into law school after college. And after three years, you still hadn’t been able to convince her away from that same dream of hers, now unsure if you ever would.

“And what to do you want to do?”

“What?” Your professor’s words took you by surprise. When you looked up, it felt as if her eyes had seen straight through you, like she’d been able to hear your every thought.

“Your mother wants you to go to law school,” Professor Romanoff reiterated. “What do you want to do after you graduate?”

Your voice was unsteady in your response. “Go to law school?”

Professor Romanoff raised a brow as she angled her head. “Are you asking me?” All you could muster was a shrug, feeling suddenly very small in the large hall. You didn’t much like talking about what you wanted to do in your life, haven forgone the gesture years ago due to your mother’s constant coercion. But then your professor leaned in slightly, a small smile crossing her lips. “You can tell me the truth, sweetheart,” she said. “I’m very good at keeping secrets.”

The endearment fell on your already blushed cheeks. Most times you wouldn’t have said anything at all, hidden behind the lies your mother had constructed about your person, but something about the redhead’s smile almost drew the words directly from your mouth. “I guess if I could do anything, I’d be a writer,” you said, playing at the sleeves of your sweater.

“A writer?” Romanoff repeated, raising a pair of curious brows.

You felt yourself nodding as a small smile crept on to your lips. “Yeah. I love books and writing, and I guess it’s what I’ve wanted to do ever since I was a little girl.”

“Why don’t you do it then?”

Her words came as a shock, your system unsure of how exactly to respond. You shrank back under the redhead’s gaze, reminded of the words you’d been told so many times they were engraved into your mind. “It’ll be good for me to go to law school. My mum says I’ll get a better job.”

“Maybe…” Professor Romanoff hummed. Then her expression changed to something you couldn’t quite understand as she leaned in closer, her emerald eyes trained on your face. “But do you know what my birth mother used to say about me? She used to tell me I was useless little piece of shit that wouldn’t get anywhere in life.” Your eyebrows raised slightly in shock as you heard her words, especially on the fact she’d cursed so easily and how oddly good it sounded coming from her lips. Then her expression shifted again, an almost smugness taking over that drew your attention away from your own thoughts. “Thirty years later I’m a professor at one of the most prestigious universities in America. I’m married to a very successful lawyer, and living quite frankly an amazing life with a pair of adoptive parents who love me very much.”

Professor Romanoff finished with a small smirk, seemingly unaware of how her words settled on your shoulders. The entire statement was so weighted, so much shared about her as a person in so few words. Something in you felt slightly honoured that she could be that vulnerable around you, or perhaps her story wasn’t one she kept bundled up in her chest like you did, like a weighted lock on your heart. Still, you felt a sense of solace in learning more about your professor, a sense of trust being built in up inside. Her smiling eyes met yours as she leaned in even further on the desk. “Don’t let people who don’t know the real you keep you from what you want. We only get one life, Y/N. Don’t waste it trying to be someone you’re not.”

Her words settled in your stomach with an odd sensation. Her reassurance felt like another brick added to that wall of trust, perhaps her intention to try and learn more of your story. But maybe that trust wasn’t quite strong enough yet.

You shied away, unwilling to share more of your story despite how open Romanoff had seemed, years of criticisms sitting heavy on your shoulders. “Maybe,” you said lowly, picking up your pen once again. But you knew you’d never truly be able to follow through with what she was proposing you should, knew your future fate was already sealed by the woman who’d brought you into this world. She’d have a perfect daughter with her perfect career and wouldn’t settle for less, no matter how it made you feel. For now, all Professor Romanoff’s words could provide was a little fuel to that already dying fire of a dream inside your heart.

The pair of you quickly fell back into the steady silence of your work after your conversation, you pen dotting over papers as your professor turned back to her laptop. The radio played quietly in the background as you tried to push whatever words lingered in your head, both from your mother and the redhead in front of you, too many feeling provoked from the subject to allow you to focus properly. Dispelling them from your mind, you trained your eyes on the marking schemes in front of you, though having some of the answers memorised by now, and continued to work away at the stack of tests on the desk.

Time passed quickly once more, your speed increasing as the papers became more familiar in your hands, easily noticing the same mistakes made over and over. Occasionally you heard Romanoff begin to hum along to a song on the radio, focusing momentarily on her soft voice before refocusing on your work. In your mind, you became determined to finish them as quickly as you could, absentmindedly hoping to impress the woman they were for.

You were almost finished your task, down to the very last paper when a shrill sound cut through the soft atmosphere of the room. Both you and your professor’s heads shot up from your work, eyes turning to your backpack from where the loud ringtone emanated. Shit, you thought, obviously accidentally turning on the ringer that you always kept silenced.

“I’m sorry,” you said, glancing over at your professor in slight fear of her reprimand. But in return, you were only met with a soft smile.

“Don’t worry, milaya,” Romanoff replied gently. “This isn’t class time. You can answer your phone.”

Relieved by her answer, you let out a soft sigh. Reaching over, you began to dig through your bag to find your mobile, the nonsensical tune still ringing out. With no suprise, when you found it, Kate’s name and profile picture covered your screen. Quietly, you apologised again before accepting the call, slightly turning away in your chair as you held your phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N!” Kate’s voice replied back from the other end of the device. She sounded slightly off but you couldn’t quite tell why.

“Are you okay? What’s up?”

A small sigh sounded in your ear. “Okay, please don’t get mad at me again but-“

You were replying with a sigh of your own before Kate could even finish her sentence. “You forgot your key again, didn’t you?”

“I’m so sorry,” the girl on the end of the other phone pleaded.

You sighed again, shaking your head. “Kate, how many times-“

“I know! I know,” she cut off. “I’m the worst person ever. But I slept in this morning and just forgot to put it in my bag. I’m sorry.”

Your sigh turned less frustrated. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” At your core you weren’t a confrontational person. You could never stay mad at anyone for long, especially Kate.

“Well, I came back to the room and you’re not here,” your best friend continued through the phone. “I thought you were finished english at three?”

“I am,” you replied. “But I’m helping out Professor Romanoff, remember? I’m in her class right now.”

You could hear Kate’s realisation through the call. “Shit. I am so sorry.” There was a pause. You could picture Kate dancing on the heels of her feet, the same way she did every time she needed to ask you a favour. “Uhm, could I possibly swing by and pick up your key then? Please Y/N, I really need to finish my computing assignment. It’s due at five.”

If there was anyone who would leave their work until one hour before the deadline, it was Kate. Another soft sigh escaped your lips. “Fine.”

Kate’s smile could practically be heard through the phone. “Thank you! What room are you in?”

“Language building, room ML4.”

“Okay,” Kate replied. “I’ll be right there. You’re the best, I love you.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little as you responded. “Love you too.”

With that, Kate hung up the call. You pulled your phone away from your ear, switching it off and throwing it in your pocket as you turned back in your chair. “I’m so sorry,” you began, facing back to your professor. “It’s my roommate, Kate. She’s locked herself out again.”

Romanoff raised a curious glance. “Again?”

“Bad habit.” You smiled back sheepishly, shrugging your shoulder. “She’s just going to stop by and pick up my key, if that’s alright?”

The redhead smiled back at you. “Of course. That’s perfectly fine.” A small sigh of relief escaped your lips, glad that the encounter wouldn’t be a problem. “But I think we’re actually almost done here,” Romanoff continued. “How are you getting on with those papers.”

“Oh, yeah,” you replied, pulling yourself back towards the desk and the stack of papers sat atop of it. “I’m actually just on the last one.”

“Well if you just finish that up, you can run along with your friend when she gets here.”

“You’re sure?” you replied, looking up. You didn’t want Kate’s endeavour to disrupt any of the help your professor needed. But the redhead simply nodded in response.

“I’m sure, Y/N.”

“Okay then,” you responded, nodding your head softly. A small smile was passed between the two of you before you were grabbing your pen once more, reaching out to finish marking the final test in the stack. Your hand moved quickly as you corrected any of the mistakes, flicking through the sheets of paper at an impressive rate. It was just as you were marking the last question that the noise of the hall doors opening drew your attention.

Clamouring in, Kate appeared inside the hall, her backpack momentarily getting caught on the handle before she was able to free herself. She stood sheepishly inside the room, looking across the way and spying you and your professor sat at the desk. “Uhm, hello,” the girl announced. You could tell she was trying to play it cool but she had that same almost awkward look she got whenever a girl she liked try to talk to her. “I’m, uh, Kate Bishop. Y/N’s roommate.” Her finger pointed to you, as if trying to prove she hadn’t barged in for no apparent reason.

Professor Romanoff had stood from her desk as Kate had entered, her hands finding a place resting inside her pockets. Now, she smiled across at her. “Yeah, she mentioned.”

Kate gave that awkward little laugh of hers and you had to refrain from not giggling at her yourself. “Sorry to just barge in on you guys. Are you still…” Her hands gestured towards you and the desk, trying to gage where you were with the work.

But Romanoff simply shook her head in response with a short smile. “No worries, Miss Bishop. We were just finishing up.”

Kate’s eyebrows raised. “Great,” she replied, sticking one of her thumbs up.

You had to stifle your laughs at her awkwardness. Was this how she interacted with all of her professors, or just the ones she didn’t know? As you hid your smile, you tidied up the stack of papers on the desk, piling them up neatly before rising to your feet. “Okay, Miss Romanoff,” you said, slightly pushing them in her direction. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do for you?”

The woman turned back to you with her gentle smile, her voice soft. “That’ll be all for today, Y/N.”

“Okay,” you replied, adjusting your jumper as you reached down for your backpack, throwing it over one shoulder. “Well, thank you again for this.”

Romanoff smiled. “No, thank you. I’d be drowning in work without your helpful hands.” A smirk seemed to form on her lips as she sent an emerald wink your way.

The action left you suddenly stuttering for the right words, embarrassingly affected by such a simple action. “Right,” you finally managed, voice jumbled. “I’ll uh- see you on Wednesday?”

Thankfully Professor Romanoff didn’t seem too bothered by your flustering state, if anything you might have said she even looked amused. “I’ll see you in class, Y/N,” she said, smiling down at you.

You returned the gesture as you turned away, walking to close the distance between where you and Kate stood. As you met the raven-haired girl’s side, a voice called out to the both of you. “Have a nice night, ladies.”

You turned briefly to Romanoff, smiling as you and Kate hummed a thanks in unison. As you passed through the doors to the hall and exited into the corridor, you felt your shoulders loosen ever so slightly, that perfect emerald stare still lingering in your mind. You couldn’t quite understand why you left that class always feeling so worked up.

This time, however, there was little space for you to think about it, as merely a few steps down the hallway, Kate was grabbing hold of your upper arm. “Holy shit, that’s your Russian professor?”

You turned quickly to your best friend, both startled and shocked by her sudden comment. “What? Yeah?”

Kate breathed out a laugh. “Y/N, you never told me she was hot as shit.”

“What?” you stuttered, taken about by Kate’s choice of words. “She’s not- I mean -I-I never noticed.”

The girls hand shook your arm slightly as the pair of you continued to walk. “Never noticed? Y/N, you must be blind because that was one of the most attractive women I’ve ever seen.”

The words come as a bit of shock, not expecting Kate to think so highly of the woman you’d been spending the last weeks of lessons with. The raven-haired girl began to mumble on about how she should have taken Russian and how it was unfair how she always got the old, ugly professors. But in all honeslty you weren’t paying her much mind, instead focusing on the words that had spilled from Kate’s mouth previously. Sure, Professor Romanoff was a nice-looking woman, you’d noticed that the first time she’d walked into the room, but that didn’t mean you should be attracted to her. That was wrong, she was your teacher, she was married for god’s sake. You shouldn’t be thinking about her in that way. You weren’t thinking about her in that way. Sure, she made you blush every time she spoke to you, and her stare made a strange warmth pool in your stomach, but that didn’t mean you found her attractive. Right?

———

Term continued on with its usual snowballing effect. The next couple of weeks began to fill up with more and more work as you progressed further into the year. You and Kate spent many of your time outside of lessons bundled up in the library, spending hours revising for your upcoming midterms. The pair of you were also beginning to write your final dissertations, the main project that would lead to your graduation at the end of the year. You'd had your topic picked for months and had already started your research over the Summer, which left you room to help Kate find something she could write about, having struggled finding a topic she didn't find extremely boring.

Your usual meal time chatter turned away from mindless gossip and instead to lesson content, both of you complaining about how many assignments you had due. The carefree start of term was officially gone and the usual endless list of deadlines had crept back up on you just like it always did. Luckily for you, you'd managed to maintain the rigidness towards studying you'd possessed since doing your exams in secondary school. You could maintain focus for hours, staring at your laptop or notes until everything was photocopied into your mind. Sure, it sometimes meant you'd miss a meal or a few hours of sleep, but it was all worth it for the perfect grade you were determined to achieve in the end.

Your sessions with Professor Romanoff continued on over the next couple of weeks too, still just an hour after your final class on a Monday. You'd offered her more help if she'd needed it but the redhead had politely refused, claiming she didn't want you wasting your time when you had exams to study for. In fact, she told you that she'd only require your help for a few more weeks, just up until the midterm, then you were free to go with that easy 'A' tucked into your pocket. Surprisingly, when you heard the news, you found yourself feeling slightly saddened. Over the time you'd spent with Professor Romanoff, you'd rather enjoyed yourself. It wasn't that the work was particularly exhilarating or you two ever did much other than look at papers, but the small moments you'd been able to find in between had been rather pleasant. Whether it was the soft lull of the radio music that you both would hum along to, or the small conversations she'd have with you about your home or your studies, the time you spent with the redhead somehow always left you with a warmth in the pit of your stomach.

One particular rainy Monday afternoon, the pair of you were comfortably sat at her desk in your usual positions, your chair across the way from hers. As she often did, Romanoff typed away on her laptop, while you sat stapling together test papers for her advanced Russian class, having previously just photocopied the stack. The paper was still warm against your skin as you organised them into the correct order, the feeling almost soothing you into a trance-like state. You hadn't even noticed it at all until it was suddenly shattered by a soft sound echoing through the room.

Your head picked up, readjusting itself to the real world before turning to the right where the sound emanated from. The sight that befell upon you caused your brows to raise ever so slightly in surprise. As the door to the lecture hall swung closed, a tall, unfamiliar, but smartly-dressed woman entered through them. Her heels clicked confidently across the floor, eyes trained on your professor who sat at the desk. You watched as the redhead stood when the woman reached her, smiling softly. "Detka, hi." Romanoff placed a small kiss on the woman's cheek as they hugged briefly.

"I tried to call but it went straight to voicemail," the other woman replied. She stood a few inches taller than Professor Romanoff, her hair a lighter shade of red straightened almost perfectly down her back. She wore a deep copper suit with a crisp white shirt, a designer handbag thrown over one shoulder. In all honesty, you couldn't tell if she'd came straight from work or a catwalk. When her body turned to stand side by side with your professor, you noticed her eyes shimmered down at you with a soft olive green. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise you would still have company."

At that, you noticed Professor Romanoff turn towards you, as if she had just remembered you were there. She smiled as she gestured to the taller woman. "Y/N, this is my wife, Wanda."

Right, wife. The idea she'd slipped a few weeks ago had almost left your mind entirely. Now that said woman was standing directly in front of you, looking down with an expression you couldn't quite read. "So you're the star pupil my wife has been telling me about, hm?"

Her voice was playful when she spoke, but at the same time low and almost sultry. Everything about it, including her words, left you stuttering over what to say. Had Professor Romanoff really been speaking about you to her wife?

"This is she," the redhead replied, covering for your inability to form a full sentence. She looked back at you with that same easy-going smile that seemed to make you shift in your seat.

Wanda passed you a similar expression as she inclined her head towards you, smirking just slightly. "Well then, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Thankfully, in that moment, your ability to speak seemed to return. "It's nice to meet you too, miss."

A small chuckle escaped the older woman's lips as you spoke. She glanced at Natasha, the pair sharing a look you couldn't interpret, before her sparkling eyes were back on you. "Oh please, honey. You can just call me Wanda." Just then you realised it wasn't only your professor's use of nicknames that seemed to send a shiver down your spine, Wanda's words setting your nerves on edge as you felt the heat flush to your cheeks. You looked down to your lap in an attempt to hide it, not wanting either woman to see your embarrassed state. From the corner of your eye, however, you saw Wanda wasn't going to let you hide that easily. She sat herself on the edge of the desk, leaning in closer to you and the stack of papers close by. "Working hard, are we?"

You looked back up to meet her eye, the action seemingly stripping away your speech once more. Thankfully, your professor stood up to answer for you. "Just getting some papers organised for my lesson tomorrow," she said, sitting herself down at her chair once more. Her eyes met her wife's. "Sorry, I didn't realise we'd run so late." Just then, you assumed why Wanda had shown up so unnanounced. Professor Romanoff had mentioned in passing that her wife would sometimes meet her after work, meaning that your sessions couldn't run any later even if she did need the extra help you offered.

"No, need to apologise," Wanda replied with an easy smile. "I don't mind sticking around while you guys finish up. Especially when your little assistant is so cute." Her eyes turned to you, a smirk playing on her lips. The entire action seemed to freeze you in place, entirely unsure of what to say or do.

"Cat gets her tongue sometimes."

Your eyes flicked to your professor as she spoke, a very similar smirk appearing on her face to match her wife sitting next to her. The taller redhead hummed lowly at her comment, her gaze tracing over you. Sat in that chair, you felt entirely too seen. Your eyes darted around, unsure of where exactly to look while the pair of older women watched you. If there was something you were supposed to say, you mind could not conjure it. In that moment all you could do was sit awkwardly as two pairs of green eyes traced your every movement.

But then, a familiar tune rang out to your rescue. When before you'd cursed your forgetfulness to turn off your ringer, now you silently thanked yourself. Your eyes rushed to your backpack, then quickly back to your professor and her wife. "I'm sorry," you stuttered out. "Could I?"

"Go on, milaya."

You tried your best to ignore your professor's comment as you reached into your backpack for your phone, quickly holding it up to your ear. To no surprise, it was a familiar voice singing a familiar tune. Still, you found the situation grateful for its diversion from the stalemate conversation you'd been stuck in beforehand. As you hung up the call a minute later, you turned back to the desk with a sheepish smile. "It's Kate, she's locked herself out again."

Professor Romanoff raised a perfect brow. "That really is a bad habit of hers, hm?"

You fought back a small chuckle at her words, surprised she even remembered you'd said that. "Yeah," you smiled back, then dropped it into a small frown. "I am so sorry-"

Before you could even finish your sentence, the redhead was holding up her hand to stop you. "Don't worry about it, milaya. You can run along. I'll catch you in class on Wednesday."

Your eyebrows raised, not wanting to be an inconvenience to her yet again. "You're sure? I can easily-"

"I said it's fine, Y/N," Romanoff reiterated, her voice coming out more stern. It wasn't quite angry, just firm, but it was enough to shut your mouth right up. You looked back, eyes wide, afraid that you'd annoyed her by leaving early twice due to your roommates negligence. But at your response, the redhead simply smiled down softly at you angling her head towards the door. "Go on. I can handle the rest."

You found your head nodding almost on its own accord, directed by not only your professor's watchful eye but now that of her wife's too. Your words came out little and few, a mumbled thank you and another apology spilling from your lips as you packed up your bag and threw it over your shoulders. One last reassurance and smile sent you walking out the door, headed back to your dorm where Kate would be waiting for you. As you went, you were hyper aware of the two sets of eyes trained on your back, picturing the two redheaded woman still sitting at the desk watching you walk away. What you weren't exactly aware of was how their gaze dropped even lower, both staring at the short black skirt you'd decided to wear that day, watching how the material grazed lightly against the back of your tight-covered thighs. When you exited out the door, you couldn't see the way the taller redhead turned back to her wife, looking down at her from where she still sat on the desk, a wide smirk appearing on her face as she bit into a perfectly painted lip. You couldn't see the way the pair looked at each other, leaning closer in, nor hear the words Wanda uttered back to her wife before their lips met in a kiss.

"You're right, she is cute. Let's keep her."

#inescapable love au #professor natasha romanoff #lawyer wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat x reader #wanda x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #platonic kate bishop x reader

[iovetecchou]

Three Is A Crowd ⧸ Geto Suguru & Kenjaku.𖥔 ݁ ˖

༞ Contains...! smut. dubcon, manipulation, corruption kink, vaginal and anal sex, lube, prep, fingering, multiple orgasms, dumbification, choking, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex (don't practice this irl)

༞ AFAB Reader.

༞ 2,729 words.

༞ author's note: since its not exactly kenjaku's body but he's the one using suguru's "parts" the smut from his pov is written *slightly* in third person!

kinktober masterlist!

You mourned the loss of your long-term boyfriend, Suguru. So, when he showed up on your doorstep, looking like Frankenstein's monster; to say you were surprised was an understatement.

“Suguru—! I thought you were…”

“Shh… I know darling, I know. I’m here now.”

Was all he said, before enveloping you in his arms. It was really him; in the flesh. Suguru carried the same warmth he always radiated, one you grew to memorize and adore. But, his grip was… different. Brash, and thoughtless.

In your gut, you knew something was off, but you brushed those feelings aside. Just having Geto back in your arms like this was more than you could have ever asked for. But, what you didn’t realize was that your beloved boyfriend was long gone— and the man standing before you was nothing but a monster in the shape of your Suguru.

You were hesitant, and Kenjaku began to pick up on that. All of his advances toward you were rejected or reciprocated with apprehension. He’s been pretending to be your doting boyfriend for months now, and yet you still haven’t warmed up to him.

Kenjaku thought someone as foolish as you would have fallen for it by now. But, that small voice in his head, the one that still remained after Suguru's passing kept telling him, “She’ll never believe you’re me. You don’t touch her like I used to.”

It was evident that you were needy and craved your boyfriend more and more as time passed. You only went as far as kissing ever since Suguru showed back up in your life. You couldn’t bring yourself to do more. Something felt wrong about this whole ordeal, and the black stitchings along your beloved’s forehead were a constant reminder of that.

One evening, Kenjaku’s patience went right out the window. You kept denying him and he decided, Suguru was right. You wouldn’t ever believe him to be your beloved. So if he couldn’t pretend anymore, then there was no reason to keep up this little charade.

His hand ran up your thigh as you both sat in bed. You were wearing your comfiest nightgown as you read a book you've been fixating on as of late. You jumped slightly from the sudden contact but didn’t give it much thought as you continued to indulge in your book. However, when your lover’s hand trailed higher up your thigh, dipping underneath your nightgown and fumbling with the hem of your panties; you couldn’t ignore his touch any longer.

“Suguru, not tonight…” You squeaked out. Placing your book down beside you, letting your eyes trail up to his. His expression was neutral, making it nearly impossible for you to read.

“That’s not my name.” You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion at his words before blurting out, “What?”

The man before you let out a maniacal laugh, still fumbling with your panties as he retorted, “I said, that’s not my name. I may look like your precious Suguru, but he is long gone.”

Your blood ran cold in your veins as you backed yourself up against the headboard of the bed. Trying to put as much distance between you and the man who didn’t look like a stranger; but entirely was. “I don’t understand—“

“My true name is Kenjaku, and I’m using your little boyfriend here as a vessel. I thought you would eventually warm up to me, but it’s been months now— and you have not. I guess Suguru was right about that, you never would believe I was him.”

Kenjaku leaned in closer, nose nearly brushing yours as you cowered in fear. “What do you mean Suguru was right? How could you have spoken to him if you… you…”

“You mean, If I hopped inside his body even after he was dead? Hmm… can I let you in on a little secret, darling? He’s still somewhat present. Right… in… here!”

Kenjaku tapped his forehead in between his words, accentuating his point. “But, how is that even possible?”

You blurted out. Nervous eyes scanned over his face for any trace of your Suguru. “I don’t exactly know myself, but this is the first in all my years that a vessel has resisted me even after death. But, Suguru is here all right. So stop resisting him, stop resisting us. Stop resisting me.”

Kenjaku captured your lips to seal his words. Your eyes flew open at the suddenness of the kiss. Your hands pushed Suguru's chest, hard. Pulling away from the intimate embrace with a gasp. “Darling… stop fooling yourself. I know you’re needy, do you think I’m some kind of idiot?”

He sighed, moving Suguru's other hand underneath your nightgown. Kenjaku tugged your panties down your thighs, then your calves, before pulling them off your legs entirely. “I’ve caught you pleasing yourself countless times now, not being able to get yourself off properly with your puny fingers. They just don’t feel as good as these, do they, darling?”

You gasped as Suguru's middle and index finger slid through your folds. Kenjaku smirked at the feeling of your arousal coating Suguru’s digits. Your body gave you away. “See? You’re all pent up. Don’t you think Suguru would want me to take care of his precious girlfriend’s every need? Why don’t you let me do that for you, darling? Stop rebelling. Give in to temptation.”

A loud wine escaped your lips as Kenjaku bullied both fingers inside your dripping cunt. Your hips lifted off the bed from the pleasurable feeling of being stretched out by your beloved’s fingers. You didn’t think you would ever be able to feel this type of pleasure again, you gave up hope after Suguru’s passing. But, here he was—physically. Pleasuring you once more.

It felt the same, but not. That gentleness that Suguru carried for you was long gone. Kenjaku fucked Suguru’s fingers into you with a skilled, yet brutal force. It felt amazing nonetheless, but you were so confused about how you were supposed to feel. “Atta girl… that’s it, keep moaning for me just like that. You missed these fingers huh, sweetheart? I can tell by the way you’re clenching around them.”

You couldn’t deny yourself any longer. You needed this— you needed him. Even if your Suguru wasn’t fully here with you anymore, just knowing that there was a tiny trace of him still left was enough to justify this in your mind. You leaned into the man’s touch, pushing your hips impossibly closer to Suguru’s thick fingers. “Such an obedient little thing. Suguru thinks I’m being too rough with you right now, but I’d say you like the harsh treatment I’m giving you.”

Kenjaku chuckled wickedly as he picked up his pace. Curling both fingers upward, slamming into your sweet spot perfectly. You could feel your orgasm approaching and fast. You barely had a moment to hold back before you were grabbing the man by his silky black locks. Pulling him in for a deep kiss. You whined against his all too familiar lips as you came around Suguru’s deft digits. Your thighs shook as you rode out your high, eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy as Kenjaku shoved Suguru’s tongue past your parted lips. Deepening the kiss.

You whined against your beloved’s lips as you felt Kenjaku pull Suguru’s fingers out of your twitching hole. You were too lost in the kiss to realize the man before you was fumbling with his boxers, ridding himself of them. Kenjaku pushed them down Suguru’s thighs, just enough for his cock to spring free. Kenjaku couldn’t help but smirk into the kiss. Of course, this arousal he was feeling was partially his own, but for the most part, it was that trace of Suguru getting so worked up after Kenjaku made you cum so hard.

You pulled away from the kiss with a loud whine as you felt Kenjaku bully Suguru’s cock into your needy pussy. He let out a deep grunt as he buried Suguru’s length to the hilt inside you. Balls kissing the underside of your pussy as Suguru’s cock throbbed wildly inside you.

“Suguru!” You cried out, pushing your hands against his lower abs as Kenjaku began fucking into you roughly. You tried to push him back slightly from the sudden harsh thrusts, but it was futile. The man towering above you was relentless. “Ah, ah, ah… Suguru isn’t the one fucking you right now. It may be his fingers, his hips, his cock… but I am the one making you cry out in pleasure. Don’t moan his name again, or I’ll stop. Scream mine instead.”

Kenjaku demanded, never once letting up on his brutal thrusts. You could feel another orgasm sneaking up on you and the way this man kept prodding your g-spot with each rough snap was becoming increasingly too difficult to keep up with. You threw your head back as you clenched tightly around Suguru’s cock, pulling another grunt out of Kenjaku. He could tell you were close with the way your greedy pussy kept sucking Suguru’s cock in deeper.

Kenjaku brought Suguru’s fingers back to your cunt. Relentlessly circling the pad of his thumb around your puffy clit. That was all it took for you to topple over the edge once more tonight. “Ke-Kenjaku!” You cried out, toes curling and thighs twitching as you lost yourself in pleasure. You squirted all over Suguru’s lower abs as Kenjaku's thrusts began to slow down. A low whistle could be heard from the man above you as you made a mess all over Suguru’s cock and the bed beneath you.

Your mind was dizzy, you couldn’t remember the last time you came that hard. Your eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment as you let out a small hiss when you felt Kenjaku pull Suguru’s cock out of your spent pussy. You felt the bed spring up slightly, assuming Kenjaku had gotten off the bed. But when the bed dipped again a few minutes later, signaling you that the man had returned your head lulled forward. You slowly peeled your eyelids open, you noted that the man before you was now fully undressed and still as hard as ever.

You jolted forward when you felt a cold wet digit circle around your butthole. “You ever been fucked in this hole, sweetheart?” Kenjaku questioned, slowly pushing Suguru’s index finger into your tight ass. You gasped from the foreign sensation scoring your bottom lip with your teeth as you shook your head no. “S-Suguru and I promised we would save… that one… for our wedding night.” You confessed, your mind too hazy to filter your words after your last orgasm.

Kenjaku smirked wickedly from your pure and honest words. He squirted a bit more lube down between your parted thighs, letting it settle where he was plunging Suguru’s thick finger into your virgin hole, before adding a second one. Gliding into your ass with ease from the additional lubricant. You assumed he grabbed it from your night table when he got up to undress himself entirely only moments ago.

You let out little whines as Kenjaku picked up the pace. Stretching out your tight hole perfectly as Suguru’s cock continued to throb with need. This went on for a few minutes more before Kenjaku’s patience wore thin. “I think you’re ready for me, darling. Spread your legs some more for me, yeah?” With your mind still drunk off pleasure, you did exactly what the stranger asked of you. Spreading your thighs nice and wide for him.

Kenjaku grasped Suguru’s cock firmly, prodding the head of it against your puckered hole before pushing in, slowly to start. You both moaned in unison from the overwhelming new sensation. Kenjaku chuckled as he pushed into your ass inch by inch with a little bit of reluctance. You tilted your head in confusion when Suguru’s hips kept jolting back, not entirely allowing Kenjaku to fill you to the hilt. “What’s wr-wrong?” You babbled out, bringing your hands up to grasp Suguru’s waist in an attempt to pull him deeper into you.

“Seems as though your beloved Suguru is against the idea of me fucking you in this hole. He’s mad that he wasn’t able to do it first.” Kenjaku couldn’t hide his smirk as he uttered those words, finally filling your ass to the brim with Suguru’s cock. You let out a sharp gasp once the man above you began to fuck into your tight little hole. Kenjaku started off shockingly slow, pulling back until only the head of Suguru’s cock was being squeezed by the tight ring of muscle, before slowly stuffing you full of your beloved’s cock once more.

But once you got used to the pleasure of him fucking into your ass, his pace became brutal. Kenjaku’s thrusts were sharp and calculated, leaving you breathless. You tried to close your eyes and imagine that Suguru was actually the one in control of his own body right now, that he was the one fucking you so good. You imagined that this was your wedding night with him, finally taking things to the next level just as you promised ages ago. A small tear slipped past your lash line and down your cheek from the thought alone.

Kenjaku halted in his movements. The sound of him coughing and choking caused your eyes to shoot wide open. You gasped slightly as you saw Kenjaku seemingly strangling himself. He brought one of Suguru’s hands up to the one that was wrapped around his own throat. Kenjaku tried to pull it away, in an attempt to ease up that feeling of not being able to breathe. But what shocked you the most was the chuckle that followed after Kenjaku realized his attempt was futile.

“Oh, amazing! Suguru really does not like this at all. He went so far as to fight back against his own body— how wonderful!” Kenjaku exclaimed, you whined as you felt Suguru’s cock throb from where it still was nestled inside your clenching hole. There was no doubt this rush of arousal was all Kenjaku’s. Perhaps the man above you enjoyed this resistance from Suguru a lot more than he should have.

Guilt pitted in your stomach from the realization that your beloved Suguru was resisting Kenjaku’s actions this severely. But that guilt was quickly replaced with arousal when Kenjaku finally freed himself from Suguru’s tight grasp. Opting to bring his hands down to your pussy instead. Kenjaku inserted one of Suguru’s fingers inside your dripping cunt, plunging in and out of you wickedly. Kenjaku brought Suguru’s other hand to play with your swollen clit, rubbing the pad of his thumb in quick tight circles.

Before you knew it you were cumming for the third time tonight. Triggering Kenjaku’s own prolonged release. The man above you groaned lowly as he came inside your tight ass. The clenching coming from both your holes as you came all over Suguru’s fingers proved to be too much for Kenjaku. He slowed down his movements substantially as he reveled in the feeling of filling your tight ass to the brim. You could feel the cum dribbling out of your ass and onto the bedsheets below you amid your post-orgasm haze. Your breath was labored as your thighs twitched wildly from the intense feeling of Kenjaku cumming in your ass.

Your eyelids felt heavy, you closed them slowly. Letting sleep envelop you before you could even stop it. The conflicting mix of emotions and pleasure took a toll on your mental and physical. Kenjaku smirked as your breath grew heavy and small snores escaped you. He slowly pulled Suguru’s cock out of your spent hole. Admiring the way the last of his cum trickled out of you. Another whistle escaped him as he brought one of Suguru’s hands up to push some of the silky locks out of his face.

“I told you she would give in one way or another. She can’t resist her lover's body even if you aren’t the one in control anymore, Suguru. Next time, I’ll cum in her pussy. Breed her the way you never had a chance to do. Oh, and that part about saving her asshole until your wedding night was quite adorable. Too bad you never had a chance to get married before your puny life came to an end.”

HUGE shout out to @stinkyme for discussing this idea with me and helping me out of my writer's block i love you <3

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru smut #suguru geto smut #geto smut #getou smut #getou suguru smut #suguru getou smut #kenjaku smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #suguru smut

[thethiefandtheairbender]

as a lifelong ATLA fan who narrowly had ATLA dethroned as my top show by The Dragon Prince steadily over the past 5 years, the similarities between the two have very little to do with the surface level parallels that get regularly drawn between them.

Like ATLA, TDP has Books for seasons and chapters for episodes, but unlike ATLA, which only touched on storytelling sparingly as a theme, TDP is obsessed with interrogating storytelling and history and the presence of unreliable, biased narrators throughout many of its episodes (most notably 2x05, 2x06, 3x06, 4x04, and 4x07 among them). Half of what you learn in the 1x01 intro ends up being a lie once you reach S3, with more being steadily deciphered.

Yes, TDP has different magics with people living under those umbrella terms... for the elves. Humans are coming culturally at things from a completely different angle, and the elves' connection to their primal sources are discussed philosophically in detail, informing their practices and their culture first hand, including the way they chafe against humans, who are arcanum-less. Many animals in the world are also connected to magic, which influences both their design and which ones get hunted for humans' more 'clever' solution in dark magic, including each other.

The core issue of the Puppetmaster, down to being a coercive magic formed by someone deeply resentful of their imprisonment? Said puppetmaster is the main endgame antagonist of the entire show with all of S4 onwards being exploring the ethics of controlling people against their will in various methods, and the entire show itself being a thematic battleground of fate (imprisonment) vs free will for virtually every single character.

Where ATLA mostly concerns itself timeline wise with ending the war, very little thought is shown by any of the characters as to what they'll do after the war. This isn't a problem (as it reflects the sheer domineering scope of the conflict) but even Zuko being firelord is only ever really addressed with 2.5 episodes left till the finale. TDP, meanwhile, ends its 'war' in s3 and s4 opens up with dealing with the old wounds festering between people with centuries of history, the struggles that come when people aren't able to let go and believe they're safe or mourn in a healthy manner, and the religious/cultural clashes that may occur when trying to integrate different groups of people.

TDP also has an evil father with a devoted daughter and a brother who eventually defects, but it explores the reality of an abusive parent who loves/will sacrifice for you and your right to leave regardless, even if that means leaving the sibling you truly deeply love and who loves you in turn. Which means that when you and your sibling are on opposite sides of a deep ideological conflict, it actually really fucking hurts bc we've seen first hand just how much they love each other and also how and why everything fell apart not in spite of that love necessarily, but also because of it.

Is this to say that TDP is a 1:1 with ATLA or that it's better? No, not at all, and the latter is subjective. I prefer TDP, but I think they're about on equal ground when you look at each show currently as a whole (although TDP has two seasons left to go).

But TDP takes a lot of what ATLA was doing thematically with some of its most interesting beats and then builds or expands upon them further. It talks further and more consistently about the cycles of violence; in many ways, Jack De Sena's character, Callum, begins the series largely where Sokka had ended (and he's not the most like Sokka anyway; very much his own thing); we get Faustian bargains and centuries' long grief and fucked up people who are trying both succeeding and failing at not doing fucked up things. There are antagonists, but it is very hard to actually label anyone at this point a straight up villain. Moral greyness is where the show starts, and it just continues from there.

That's not to say the show is nothing but dark and depressing - like ATLA, there's a steady thread of hope and humour even as the show gets steadily closer and closer to its 11th hour point - but the show is usually emotionally heavier. There's more blood and potentially disturbing imagery with body horror and on screen death. There's so much foreshadowing you basically can't go more than 5 minutes into any episode without having something that's going to come back around or be referenced again like 3-5 seasons later.

Just to be clear - TDP is like ATLA, but it's like ATLA in interesting ways beyond the more shallow surface level that usually gets attributed to it, while still very much being its own show and its own thing. And that is why I tend to recommend it to people who like ATLA.

Thank you and goodnight

(Also, the fandom doesn't have any ship wars, and the show is queer as fuck)

#tdp #atla #the dragon prince #avatar: the last airbender #mine #parallels #analysis series #also betrayal. tdp talks a lot more about betrayal #now im trying to think if there's any character in tdp who hasn't felt or been outright betrayed #i. DON'T THINK SO?? #atla meta #tdp meta

[magnetothemagnificent]

I've seen goyim push back against us Jews rightfully telling them they can't learn Kabbalah by saying "b-but learning isn't the same as practicing!!"

Congratulations, you just showed your culturally Christian ass.

In Christianity, practice is only about belief and acts of faith, like praying and attending Church. While Bible study is important, it's not integral to being a Christian. Most Christians don't have a library full of medieval Christian literature.

In Judaism, learning material is *part* of practice. If you walk into the home of a practicing Jew, chances are they will have bookshelves of books, even if they're not Rabbis or educators. Learning Torah is part of practicing Judaism, just as learning Kabbalah is part of practicing Kabbalah. We collect books because books are part of our practice.

In Judaism, learning is a holy act. Before we start learning, we say a special prayer thanking G-d for gifting us His words. In some communities, learning Torah is forbidden on days of mourning like the Shiva period and Christmas Eve, because the holiness of Torah shouldn't interact with the sadness of the time. We also have times when learning Torah is especially meritorious, such as the night of certain holidays and before one's wedding. When we complete our study of a book of Jewish texts, we have a special celebration to commemorate it.

We have a holiday called Simchat Torah where we celebrate completing the reading of the entire Torah scroll all year, and celebrate re-rolling the scroll to the beginning, where we begin reading it from the start all over again. A Torah scroll, on that note, is given immense status. Many times Jews will risk their lives to save Torah scrolls- for example, after the recent earthquakes in Turkey and Syria, Jews risked entering an unstable historic synagogue to rescue the Torah scrolls inside.

And all Jewish texts are treated with care- if a book or text is damaged beyond repair, it can't be thrown out, it must be buried like a human body. On first glance, a mass-printed Tanakh and mass-printed Christian Bible may look similar. Except if a Tanakh is dropped accidentally, it is kissed, and if it's damaged beyond repair, it is buried with full respect. This is because learning is *integral* to Judaism. Studying our texts is integral to our practice. It's not enough to attend synagogue, you must make yourself familiar with the texts.

Learning Kabbalah is practicing Kabbalah, which is why we say that no, goyim shouldn't learn about Kabbalah. Is it not enough that we say it's wrong for you to listen to us? I think part of the reason goyim are so entitled to our texts is because deep down, they believe that we're hiding something in them, and they don't trust us. We're not hiding something, we just have our privacy and our boundaries and you are not entitled to everything.

#jumblr #antisemitism #cultural appropriation #cultural christianity #Christianity #judaism #pagan antisemitism #occult antisemitism #kabbalah appropriation #kabbalah

[foxglovebells]

Lost Star (Part 2)

Azriel x Reader!Sister Reader

Summary: Rhys’s mother and sister, Y/n, were kidnapped and murdered by Tamlin’s family centuries ago. Everyone mourned their deaths but especially Azriel. His mate’s death had changed him and he was never truly the same, he still held onto the hope that you were still alive. Turns out he was right.

Warnings: Trauma

Notes: This ones a bit shorter, but I wanted to put out Y/n’s POV separately. Also ignore any typos😅Enjoy:)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

****************************************************

The room was cold. That’s the first thing you thought of every morning before every single memory leading up to that very moment rushed back to you. Lingering between dreamland and reality was the only peace you were offered.

The room wasn’t large by any means, but it wasn’t the usual cramped space that a cell normally would be.

It had a bed shoved into the corner of the metal chamber. The cold from the walls radiated throughout the entire room, not even the small stove on the opposite wall could warm it.

The room was similar to a studio apartment. There was a bed and a kitchen. A bathroom the size of a closet with a shower that hardly had enough room to turn around it, let alone produce any hot water.

If you hadn’t been able to magic your wings away before you were trapped in the magic less cell, you wouldn’t have been able to fit in your bed, and definitely not the tiny bathroom and shower.

There was a single blanket, thinned and filled with holes after centuries of use. A book shelf was there as well, filled with ancient texts that had been placed there by generations of spring court high lords.

You had read each one front to back, hundreds of times, memorizing the words on each page as if they were permanently ingrained into your mind. One book it particular had ancient spell magic, used by witches before they had been wiped out.

So you studied it, it was your only reprieve. That and training your body to exhaustion so that you could pass out and fall asleep, sleeping passed time much quicker. You sat and practiced the magic, trying desperately to break though the magic binding walls. You could feel it humming within the room, but never seeping out.

For years you tried, you tried astral projection, meditation, astrological magic—which was ironic considering how far beneath the surface you were. You tried strumming the string of your mate bond. Attempting to reach out for him, because the box blocked even soul magic.

You not only tried magic, but also force. You tried to find a door, nothing. A crack even, indicating a hidden exit. You tore off the carpeting. Moved the furniture, tapped every object for at least a hint of the exit, but you came across blank every time.

So many times you wanted to just give up. He’s forgotten you. It’s been too long. He’s moved on. I just want him to be happy. The repetition of thought clouded your brain. Should I just give up now?

That mindset never lasted for long though. By the next morning you were back to trying. Even if your mate moved on, you wanted to see him happy one last time. You wanted to see your brother, had he finally found his mate? Had Cassian?

The thoughts of your friends encouraged you to try harder. One day, you had a breakthrough.

It was just a simple hum of magic, hardly anything. But to you it was the biggest piece of hope. Because the hum wasn’t coming from your magic attempts inside the box like normal. No, it was coming from the outside, you could feel magic from outside the box.

So you ran with it. You conjured the words of the spell in your mind as you lay on your bed.

“sicut me somnus vincit, spiritus surripiant me, surgam et appaream in mente alicujus prope.”

You repeated it over, and over, and over, and over again. Until you feel your mind drifting, falling into a slumber.

And then suddenly you’re looking through someone else’s eyes as they walk down a hallway. The spring manor hallway.

“Help me!” You bang against her mind

“Help me!” Again.

“Help me!” You push your magic harder to get through the walls of magic confined by the metal.

And then you’re no longer looking through her, you’re looking at her. You’re begging her, telling her to help you. The girl is human. How can a human help you?

You don’t question it for longer than a second, someone knowing is better than no one. But you feel the magic inside you fading. Turns out it takes a lot of power to get through a box made to contain powerful magic.

You panic and try harder to stay. When you realize you won’t succeed you try to say one last thing, “I’m in the—”

“—back estate.” But you were awake now. And your message hadn’t been delivered.

“The back estate! Through the trees, behind the manor! Down the stairs, beneath the basement!” Your voice cracks as you scream, tears pour down your face, you bang your hands against the metal walls until they’re bloody, as if somehow she would be able to hear you.”

“Help me, help me, help me.” You keep repeating as you curl into a ball and sob, rocking yourself back and forth, trying to imagine Az’s arms around yours, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he sends love and reassurance down the bond. The bond that is gone, the bond that you can’t feel anymore.

And so you cry yourself to sleep on the floor. You don’t get up the rest of the day, or the day after that, or the one after that. The last of your fight is gone. Centuries you had spent trying to get someone to help you. If someone didn’t know by now, they probably wouldn’t know ever.

#azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel #rhysand sister #magic #spring court #Acotar #night court #foxglovebells

[not-wholly-unheroic]

A Comparative Analysis of Hook’s Ship and Cabin in Popular Media Portrayals

Part 5: Peter Pan & Wendy (2023)

For the final part in this series, I want to take a look at Disney’s most recent live-action retelling of Peter Pan. While the film itself isn’t perfect, I will say that at least in terms of its external appearance, this is one of my favorite representations of the Jolly Roger because of the intricate details included. They’re subtle—blink and you’ll miss them entirely—but they tell an interesting story.

First, let’s take a look at that figurehead, shall we? Unlike so many other versions of Hook’s ship, this time, it isn’t a menacing skull or claw but a lady. While this wouldn’t be an uncommon sight on a ship, this particular lady is not a saucy mermaid or proud goddess… Instead, she appears to be in mourning, her left arm raised to cover her eyes while her right is extended longingly toward the side of the ship. Zoom in and you’ll see why. Carved into the wood is a row of children. We can see the wooden children again in a brief close-up near the end when the ship is flying and nearly runs into the cliffs. This figurehead is a mother weeping for her lost little ones. And if that doesn’t break your heart and make you seriously think on what this version of Hook’s mindset must be like, I don’t know what will.

There are even children’s faces—or rather, a specific child’s face—carved into the railings on the ship. We can see it in a few scenes but this is one of the clearer images I could find. Does this look eerily like Molony’s Peter to you? Because I think it does. But maybe that’s just me.

Then we get to the outside of Hook’s cabin—which unfortunately is never really clearly shown in the film. However, we DO have some behind-the-scenes images of it and OH MAN…. This part of the ship very clearly depicts Peter chained to a tree while four mermaids reach out to him, attempting to offer comfort and aid.

If you’ve ever seen the original cover art for the novel, this seems to be a nod to it. On it, Peter sits on a rock playing his pipes while a mermaid approaches on either side and the crocodile lays curled up beneath, Hook’s claw poking out of its mouth.

That Hook would have such artwork blatantly referencing his time on the island as a part of his ship tells us a great deal about how effected he was by his time there. This ship seems to be one that Law’s Hook himself designed very intentionally. Despite all his hatred for Pan, he keeps his long-lost friend close at all times and openly bears his grief over the loss of his mother and Peter through the artwork that surrounds him.

In contrast to the ornate decorations on the outside of the ship, the inside of this Hook’s cabin is surprisingly sparse and practical. It is probably more realistic than any other version we have seen thus far, but it feels strangely empty and dark for a Hook’s residence. The bed is—much like in Disney’s animated film—a simple cubby built into the wall with only a thin curtain to separate it off from the rest of the room. There are a few books on the shelves to the right of the bed and some bags of what I assume may be rations stacked to the left.

What’s really interesting, though, is what we see in the brief close-up shots we get of the shelves near the doorway. There are all kinds of things in jars, preserved presumably in alcohol. One jar noticeably contains what looks like an octopus (or part of one)…possibly in passing reference to Hook’s animal antagonist in Disney animated sequel…while at least two others contain human hands. Right hands, to be specific. One of the hands is actually even labeled with a name—Stubby Bartholomew (?). According to an interview, Law seemed to indicate that his Hook was looking to see if he might somehow replace his own missing hand. Regardless, though, I want to know the stories behind these hands. Who were the men they were attached to? Why was Law’s Hook fighting them? Did they know he was going to save their hands, once severed? Did he just take the hand of the person or did he kill them and remove the hand after death as a kind of sick trophy? This is definitely one of the creepier things that we have seen with any Hook.

Speaking of creepy…on another wall, we see a dried fairy corpse pinned up like a butterfly. We don’t often see Hooks being completely ruthless on-screen, but this one definitely gives off a threatening vibe from all the dead things he has collected within his cabin walls.

There’s even a dead crocodile… Not THE crocodile, of course, but there IS a large skull which we can see he keeps underneath his desk. It shows up again later more noticeably and in a comic fashion in the finale when the ship is being turned upside down and the skull becomes stuck on his head…but it’s there even in the first shot we see of his desk. There’s also an hour-glass… Not a clock, of course, but the time theme is still present.

And then there is the gramophone, which once again, clashes with everything else about this Hook (clothing, a more classic wooden ship, etc.), which otherwise suggests someone from the earlier part of the Age of Sail. Unlike the ones in Hoffman Hook’s cabin, though, this gramophone is pretty obvious because Law’s Hook is actively listening to something on it when the kids first enter his cabin. A friend did a great write-up on the significance of exactly what he is listening to that you can read about here. Suffice to say for our purposes here, though, that the opera he is listening to wasn’t written until 1853, and gramophones themselves were not around until even later in the 1800s. Law’s Hook does mention that his mother is long gone by the time he leaves Neverland and goes looking for her, though, so perhaps his ship and belongings are reflective both of the time period of his youth and a later time period when he returned to the “real world.”

Then again, Smee is said to have pulled Hook out of the water as a child, and Smee seems intimately familiar with the older wooden style ship as opposed to steam ships, which would have been becoming pretty common by the mid to late 1800s, so it’s hard to say for sure. (Bonus content not entirely related but just because it’s cool… In a few shots of Mr. Smee, we can see there is a very small tattoo on his right hand. It’s a teapot. Which is just…such a perfectly Mr. Smee thing to have a tattoo of, and I love it.)

While Law’s Hook was disappointing for some fans of the more classic elegant, over-the-top versions of the character, he’s undoubtedly intriguing, particularly when we examine his Roger. This Hook is unlike any other. He wears his heart on his sleeve—or rather, his ship—and surrounds himself with reminders of Death and Time, as if he knows his own symbolic significance as a manifestation of the doomed Old Man going up against Youth. And yet…in this version, he is not quite so doomed, returning in the end, to make peace with Peter and accepting that one can be “old” while maintaining a spirit of youth.

#captain hook #peter pan #disney peter pan and wendy #peter pan and wendy #peter pan & wendy #david lowery #jude law #jude law hook #James hook #captain james hook

[katy-89]

I loved Cersei in the show, but damn, Cersei in the books is….HOLY SHIT.

She's insane! Basically, in the books:

-The relationship between Jaime and Cersei is completely one sided. Her affair with her brother is simply an extension of her narcissism. Cersei is Jaimes worst trait.

-She blames her washerwomen for “shrinking her dresses” because she refuses to admit she’s gaining weight 😭

-She thinks that Tyrion is hiding in the walls, after he killed Tywin 😭

-When she was trying to seduce NED of all people i was like "no way!" i wasn't expecting it. It was just a power move, yeah, but girl….it's NED LOL

-Her obsession with Rhaegar Targaryen OMG i had no idea! She said he's more beautiful than Jaime :O The mourning dress that Cersei is wearing when they summon Sansa to write the letters is all black with red rubies on it . . . just like the armor that Rhaegar was wearing when Robert killed him IMAO she was cosplaying as Rhaegar. I'm surprised me how much Cersei thinks about him 17 years after his death, she looked like….a normal person.

-Alienating competent people who would have been loyal, like Kevan and Jaime, and instead surrounding herself with fresh faces of dubious loyalty like Aurane Waters, the Merryweathers and Qyburn.

-Alienating the Tyrells who are literally her only ally, feeding the entire city, and saved her ass from Stannis. She's actively planning their entire downfall DAMN

-Using the money the crown owes to build a fleet for the bastard from a rebel house who vaguely resembles Rhaegar. Aurane Waters LEAVES with the fleet under her nose 😭 How did Rhaegar make HER that delusional? 😭

-Making an enemy of the Iron Bank NO WAY

-Overturning the prohibition on the Faith Militant, thus allowing a fanatically true believer she was always going to be on the wrong side of an army.

-In addition to the Iron Bank and rearming the Faith, she was setting up Tommen for disaster by never letting him practice, like, being a king. And not even for the right reasons! It would be one thing if Cersei just wanted Tommen to be a kid or whatever, that would be a sympathetic reason (although still short-sighted), but she just can’t bring herself to do anything that might mean sharing her power.

..........

She's so different than show!Cersei omg

I AM the biggest fan of Cersei. She is the most entertaining villain in the series. It's internalized abuse that you can sympathize with, which humanizes her, but also her very own vanity and greed and paranoia, so you can revel in her failures. It's absolutely phenomenal.

One of her most savage moments is when she "consoled" Margaery by saying she'll make sure Loras gets the greatest monument when he "dies" 🤣

HAIL THE MOTHER LIONESS 🦁

#asoiaf #cersei lannister #game of thrones #jaime lannister #rhaegar targaryen #house lannister #house tyrell #got #tyrion lannister

[animeomegas]

Oh my god Im not sure if you have written this before, but Royal AU headcanons where (sasuke, neji, shino, naruto, and itachi) are super scared to meet emperor/empress alpha after finding out they’re engaged, but the alpha takes the omega out on a date and it’s super cute and now they are excited to get married ?

Cute request! So, I decided to write the moments each of them figured out that their royal future spouse wasn't as bad as they were worried about :D

I didn't do them all because it got a bit long, hope that's okay!

Sasuke:

"So, what hobbies do you enjoy?" you asked lightly, taking a sip of your tea.

This was it. This was when you were going to realise that Sasuke wasn't the perfect little cookie cutter mate that you might expect from a family like his. He didn't care though; he was going to be himself no matter how much shit you gave him for it. No alpha was going to control him.

"I like training with swords," Sasuke said, voice firm and with a hint of a challenge in it. He looked you dead in the eyes as he spoke, watching your reaction. "Although any kind of blade is something I enjoy as well."

Sasuke wasn't expecting you to brighten.

"That's great!" you said. "I was asking to see if I needed to bring any new hobby things in to the palace before our wedding, but the palace already has a state of the art training facility with plenty of weapons and grounds to practice."

Sasuke blinked at you. Was this a joke?

"And hey, I used to train with swords as a kid, it would be fun to spar, if you're okay with that."

"You... want to spar... with me?" Sasuke felt like his brain was malfunctioning. Were you really okay with his 'alpha' hobbies?

"If you're okay with that," you rushed to say. "And I doubt I'd put up much of a fight if you've been training a lot, but it could still be fun anyway!"

You not only seemed to have no problem with his hobbies, but you wanted to do them with him...and you admitted that Sasuke would probably beat you with no hurt ego...

"Hnn," Sasuke agreed, embarrassed. He picked up his tea cup to give himself something to do.

Maybe... maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

Neji:

"This is the final date before your wedding," one of his family's elders whispered in his ear, tightly gripping onto his shoulder. Neji didn't give him the satisfaction of flinching though; he was more than used it. "If you mess this up, I can guarantee you will regret it."

Neji kept his face impassive. He'd heard this speech four times since this morning. So far, he'd only met his future alpha in group settings but today would just be them (and a chaperone of course.)

"You're hurting him."

A voice suddenly interrupted them. It was your voice, coming from the doorway where you had appeared as if by magic.

The elder let go of Neji as though he were burning, laughing awkwardly. Neji rolled his shoulder gently, encouraging blood flow where it had been cut off by the tight grip.

"Ah, my apologies, sometimes I forget my own strength," he laughed nervously. "It comes with old age."

You only hummed, clearly unimpressed, but you let the matter drop and turned your attention to him.

"Come darling, let's not delay our date any longer," you smiled at him and held out your arm for him to take. "I'm most anxious to give you your gifts."

"Gifts?" Neji asked bashfully, walking with you and away from the elder.

"Yes, after our discussion last time on the books you wanted to read but that your family did not allow, I took the liberty of ordering them for you," you spoke easily, as though you weren't shattering his whole entire life into pieces in the best possible way. He didn't want that life anyway, he would hardly mourn for it.

"You didn't have to do that," Neji said politely, trying to keep his strong emotions off of his face.

"Of course I did," you denied, squeezing his arm in yours lightly. "You are to be my husband, spoiling you is my job. Now then, how would you feel about a stroll in he gardens?"

Yes, Neji thought, following you into the gardens, his old life could shatter, because for once, he was looking forward to the future.

Naruto:

"How are you enjoying the boat ride?" you asked him, jolting him from his thoughts.

"Huh? Oh! Yes, it's great! Thank you for taking me!" Naruto wasn't lying, the lake was truly gorgeous, but he had to admit his mind was elsewhere.

Before arriving, he'd been worrying nonstop about meeting you and making a good impression, but the journey here had made him realise how far from home he was going to be... Would he be lonely here without his friends? How often would you let them visit before you had enough?

"What's on your mind, Naruto?" you asked softly, taking his hands. "If you don't like the boat, it's no big deal, we can head back and spend the afternoon doing something else."

"No... it's..." Naruto hesitated. He could feel his etiquette teaching crying at what he was about to ask. "When I move in here..."

"Yes?"

"When can my old friends come to visit?"

You blinked at him as though you found his question confusing.

"What? It will be your home too, Naruto. You can invite whoever you want, whenever you want, as long as you let the guards and staff know in advance so they can prepare."

"Really?" Naruto asked, feeling his heart swell.

"Yes, of course! As long as you avoid massive parties close to other big events, there's no problem with you having guests."

Naruto grinned and, again hearing his etiquette teacher crying in his mind, threw himself at you for a hug. The boat rocked slightly at the movement, but you caught him easily, and although you seemed shocked for a moment, hugged him back before long.

He really had the best future alpha ever!

#au theme #omegaverse #hcs #a/b/o #headcanons #alpha!reader #naruto #reader insert #sasuke #neji #neji x reader #sasuke x reader #naruto x reader #royalty au

[soulmatebracket]

Soulmate Bracket: Round 1 [Side A — Part V]

Provided reasoning under cut:

Wei Wuxian & Lan Wangji

They are canonically called soulmates!! In the live action this is platonic due to censorship and in the book it is romantic but the term actually used is zhiji (知己) of which soulmate is the closest english translation but is more literally like. the mirror to your soul. your own self in another person. i am not good with translations only wei wuxian dies but lan wangji mourns him for thirteen years (despite wwx being hated and despised by the world) because he can never love another. when wwx is brought back he recognises him instantly despite being in someone else’s body. they literally would find each other in any time or place

Oh boy. Ok. They're not explicitly called "soulmates" in the show/book but Netflix does use that categorization in its description of "The Untamed". Nor are either of them technically reincarnated BUT Wei Wuxian does get resurrected in another man's body through some shady necromancy, which is pretty darn close. They've got a fascinating relationship journey (basically enemies/rivals to lovers) Mr. Follow-All-Rules-To-The-Letter Lan Wangji meets Mr. Break-All-The-Rules-In-The-Name-Of-Fun-And-Showing-Off Wei Wuxian at teenage exorcist summer camp, they go through some sh*t, Wei Wuxian dies, Lan Wangji spends over a decade trying to find any sign of his lost soulmate while raising his adopted kid, then the shady necromancy happens and Lan Wangji IMMEDIATELY clocks that this guy simultaneously solving exorcist issues using slightly questionable means and causing shenanigans is Wei Wuxian. He might be in a different body pretending to be another crazy man, but HE KNOWS it's his guy because he acts the same and he knows the secret love song Wangji wrote for Wuxian that he shared one time in a cave during one of their near-death bonding experiences. Then history starts kind of repeating itself, only this time they stick together and make sure EVERYONE knows that they've got each others' backs, and they are absolutely legendary. Also Wei Wuxian is INCREDIBLY dense and it takes him just about until the end of the story to realize they're both gay and in love. They're complex and fascinating and tied to each other by the red string of fate so tightly that they are incomplete without each other. That's destiny, baby. They're soulmates, always and forever. (Possibly literally as the proper practice of exorcism (called "cultivation" in this world) can lead to immortality, and you know Mr. Follow-All-Rules-To-The-Letter Lan Wangji has the potential, and he will drag his guy along with him so they are never separated again.)

Okay so I feel like it could be argued if they count but the Netflix description of the show calls them soulmates and WWX *did* get reincarnated and then almost immediately run into LWJ who had been mourning him for 16 years. LWJ composed a little musical theme for them that ties them together and WWX playing it on a super out of tune flute is what let LWJ fully recognize him. Their magic which comes from their souls is very compatible and neither of them have ever been normal about each other in their life even though WWX spent a long time being extremely dumb and repressed about his very gay feelings (they are romantic soulmates, just takes them a bit to get there). Big "you and me against the world" vibes once WWX becomes the number 1 wanted guy in the entire universe due to dabbling in dark magic even though WWX was like "lan zhan if someone has to kill me i want it to be you" (LWJ did *not* want it to be him and did his very best to keep WWX alive even though it meant betraying his clan and the world as a whole). They got fake married as teens back when LWJ didn't even like WWX. There are multiple moments where they parallel other soulmates/soulmate-coded characters (song lan and xiao xingchen, baoshen sanren and lan an). They're the only two characters who get to be happy at the immediate end of the story and that's because both of them being alive and together and getting to wander around fighting monsters and playing music and being grossly in love is all that they both need.

Utena Tenjou & Anthy Himemiya

[SPOILERS] at the end of the series, it is revealed that they weren’t living in the real world this entire time. Utena was sent somewhere else. Anthy goes to find her in the movie, and Utena has lost all of her memories of Anthy in that world. At the end of the movie, they end up escaping to the real world

Utena falls in love with Anthy on first sight and makes sure she becomes her prince without even remembering who she is. They're stuck in a timeloop and eventually find themselves together near the end escaping from the horrors theyre trapped in. (Spoilers kinda) Anthy is hinted to have came back to life after being burned st the stake for being seen as a witch so the reincarnation exists,,,(they're in love your honor vote for my silly sapphics)

Every version of RGU is the narrative repeating itself. Devouring itself again. The serpent eating its own tail. Utena fights for Anthy again and again. Anthy betrays Utena, or lies to Utena, or cannot save the both of them quick enough. Anthy escapes, or they both escape, or they both get trapped again, and the story repeats, and Utena is winning the hand of the rose bride, and Utena cannot escape the narrative. Each time the story is told again Utena cannot quite remember how she got here, but it gets more familiar each time. RGU is a time loop that the characters can hardly escape. In every version, Anthy and Utena find each other. Betray each other. Find each other, again.

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #revolutionary girl utena #soulmatebracket #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #utena tenjou #anthy himemiya #utenanthy #id in alt text

[justkending]

Found Memories. Chapter 2.

Finding Memories Sequel: (I advise you to read the 1st series for context).

Series Summary: Following the aftermath of Finding Memories, Bucky tries to complete goals he feels she would have discovered for herself as a way to let her memory live on. However, he never expected to find someone very close to who he believed she would have been if given the chance of normalcy. A journey of mourning someone he lost turned into a journey of discovering someone new happens upon the soldier. Maybe this whole normal thing isn’t as bad as he had pictured it in his mind. Maybe he had a better shot at it than he ever tried to imagine.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (Teacher) Reader 

Word Count: 4700+

Playlist Song: Magdalene by: The 502's

A/N: I know I said I wouldn't post another chapter until I finish writing the entire series, but I checked the follower count for the first time in a while and realized we passed 3000 followers recently!!! So I'm posting this in celebration of the 3155 people that have been kind enough to follow my writing journey and interact with stories that I put a lot of my time and effort into :) I can not explain how thankful I am for each and every one of your support!! XO

Chapter Notes: This chapter is written from the perspective of the reader. Each chapter will (for the most part) switch back and forth from Bucky and Y/N Clark's 1st person. I've read some books recently that did it in this format, and it was fun to read that way and see all points of view ;) Plus, I thought it was only fair that we saw Y/N's perspective from the last chapter, and you can get an idea of the character she will play. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it because this REALLY IS THE LAST chapter I'm posting until the series is complete. As always, please feel free to comment, even if just emojis or a few words. They all mean the world to a writer!!

Chapter 2:

I hadn't planned on going to the compound anytime soon, but Tony Stark had proved to be a sneaky man when it came to getting his way. 

When I saw Morgan Stark on my enrollment sheet, my principal made a special visit to my room during the last week of summer when we reported before the kids. I was nervous about the kind of parent relationship that was to come after how serious she made the endeavor.

My principal, who is also one of the reasons I'm not staying at this school for another year, made it a big deal and practically scared me shitless that if anything was not to Mr. Stark's liking when it came to his daughter's education, it was on me to fix or else I'd be screwed.

It was a lot of pressure, considering this was a man who had saved humanity more than once and was likely to continue to rack up that number. 

But the pressure was quickly taken away when he showed up to meet the teacher, and he and his wife, Pepper, were nothing short of kind and supportive parents every teacher hopes to work alongside of. 

Now was he a little forward and slightly egotistical? Yes. But I was prepared, considering his reputation. Pepper balanced him perfectly and quickly put him in his place if he started getting a little too brash. 

And it was quickly shown during any minor and major holiday that they were big-time gift-givers and loved to shower those that worked with them with random treats and thoughtful, yet overpriced, 'appreciations' as they called them.

I remember getting a card during Thanksgiving break that seemed simple and like any other card a parent sends as a thank you, but inside was a gift certificate for a spa day. 

And no, not just a mani and pedi or a massage. It was an entire spa day treatment including; mudbaths, facials, full body massage, hot rock therapy, mani-pedi, acupuncture, and a list of other things I had never even heard of or knew as options. They had already paid for and scheduled it for me, and they had handed it to me like a Mcdonald's gift card. 

I didn't feel right taking something like that from a parent even if I knew they were billionaires and it was equivalent to a Mcdonald's gift card to them. So I attempted to give it back and handed it back to Happy, who usually picked up Morgan and told him it was a kind offer, but I couldn't accept it. 

The next day I had a bouquet of flowers waiting for me in the front office and a card that said;

"Sorry for leaving Tony in charge of your holiday gift. He doesn't realize how intense he gets in that department… But please do treat yourself to a spa day! I changed the package so that you and your sister can enjoy it together, and it's not nearly as overwhelming as the things he added to it. We appreciate all you do for our family. You deserve the pampering!"

It was a sweet gesture, and it felt rude to not take it after they had sent it back to me. I asked my assistant principal about it, who had Tony as a parent for the last 5 years, and she also said to take it. I wasn't used to the private school demographic as much, and she assured me that though it was nicer than what most parents gift, she's seen him gift more outrageous things that Pepper had to fix in the past. 

"I had to talk him down from donating a hot air balloon ride for our field day last year. A spa gift certificate is nothing compared to what I've seen that man do…" she had said. 

So though it still felt weird, I took advantage of it and took my younger sister to the spa, and we enjoyed the massages, mani-pedi, and facials we were kindly given.

All that to say, I've learned this semester that Tony was an ornery man. He reminded me of my father when it came to how he joked in conversations and how blunt he could be about his thoughts and ideas. 

I had thrown something back to him during our first parent-teacher conference by the complete mistake of not filtering my thoughts. And when I thought I was going to get fired, he let out a loud laugh and told Pepper, "Finally, someone who can dish it back and not get butt hurt," he had laughed with a giant grin. 

I apologized quickly and rambled about how he has remarks like my dad, and it was just a reflex to say what I countered with, and Pepper laughed too. 

"It's ok, Ms. Clark. Tony needs the sass to keep him in line as often as possible."

"Yeah, it gets boring when people walk on eggshells around you. Where's the fun in etiquette?" 

That got a quick eye-roll from his wife and a slap to the arm, which he laughed at, and we continued our meeting.

Since then, I have kept a professional demeanor around him, but I also don't hold back when he needs a quick sarcastic remark to put him in his place. 

Now his sliding a resume into Morgan's homework folder was also on the list of things I was not expecting. Right next to the custom-made Stark iPad he gifted me for Labor Day. (Which who gives gifts for Labor Day?)

The resume was an offer to be a personal tutor for Morgan once she got to middle school. She was in 5th grade right now, and she was a bright girl. I don't know why he was worried about her having the extra help, but nonetheless, he offered me a job to be her full-time one-on-one tutor for next year. 

He was willing to pay me enough that I wouldn't need a second job as a teacher. I would solely be Morgan's tutor, and the benefits and pay would be enough for me to work little hours for a salary that a top surgeon in New York would make. 

A part of me struggled with the offer. I knew money-wise it would take care of everything I struggled with; rent, medical bills, helping my sister through college, and the list went on. 

I should have jumped at this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work under one of the wealthiest and most admired men alive, but my heart could never accept something like that merely because it was such an outrageous opportunity to fall in my lap. 

I kept saying in the back of my head that I hadn't joined this career for the money. It was never about the money.

The only reason I took a private school job this last year (which a friend was kind enough to get my foot in the door for) was that money was tight, and I needed the slight boost that public school funding couldn't give me. But I wasn't giving up teaching; I was just moving to a different group of kids to teach. A lot more privileged and supported demographic, but I was still influencing kids' lives.

Though after the last few months, I realized it wasn't a fit for me. As much as I wanted to make it be that and push my morals aside to continue so I could keep paying for things without going into debt, deep down, it wasn't what I signed up for. 

I was meant to help the underprivileged and poverty-level kids. I was that kid that grew up with one parent working more than one minimum-wage job to make ends meet and the other being underpaid as a school teacher themselves for most of my life. The educators who aided and encouraged me to be where I am now made me passionate about the same efforts. 

With all that to be said, I was moving back to the public school in New York after this year, and Tony had found out. 

It wasn't that I didn't care for the kids at this school. I loved them. My group of 5th graders had become 18 of my own personal children. I wanted the world for them and everything in between. The difference was they could have the world and everything in between. They had access to those resources. 

The kids I was going back to had lived in a world I knew far better than the one I was in. I wasn't of major aid to my upper-class students as much as I was to the lower class. And at the end of the day, my job wasn't about the money; I continued to remind myself. It was about the next generation getting the support they needed and deserved. 

So when I saw that Morgan had left her sweater in the classroom before the break and I had the resume in my hand, I called and asked if I could come to talk with him about it. 

I hadn't been to the compound, and the size and security of it all was nerve-racking. The number of guards, levels of clearance, and private entrances I had to go through just to meet him in the lobby was intense. 

I couldn't help but marvel at the architect and the sufficiency the place ran on while walking up the steps outside into the building. 

People were walking around in grey and neutral-colored attire, and I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb with my bright red and checkered winter coat. Though I like neutral colors, I was never one to keep strictly to that. It was near impossible for me to pass up an accessory or statement piece that popped with color. Hence why I always got the comment, "Oh, you're an elementary teacher? You definitely have the wardrobe for it." 

Thank God I spotted Tony only a few seconds after entering the foyer because there were three different reception desks, which I'm sure went to all kinds of departments of the massive establishment, but I wasn't sure which one to approach. 

He approached me with open arms and gave me a hubristic smile as I gave him a keen one in return. 

"The homework folder is meant to hold Morgan's work. Not your side hustles," I said with a raised eyebrow as I handed him a new folder with just the resume in it.

"It's work from a Stark; does that not count?" he said back, his grin never leaving. 

"Yeah, but the work I'm supposed to review is usually based on story elements and division facts. I don't think Morgan is worried about salary levels and insurance benefits at her age."

"With a work ethic like her mother and a brain like her mother… She'll be managing a place like this in no time," he placed his hands in his pockets, not taking the folder just yet. 

I handed off the sweater instead and held onto the folder, knowing I wouldn't be leaving with it either way. 

"That I can't argue. But she may want to get her math down before she starts something like that up," I held onto my tote bag with one hand and dropped the other with the folder. 

"Which is why I had that in her folder, so math and whatever else she needs help in, she can have you to h-." 

He was cut off when a tall, dark-skinned man approached abruptly. I recognized him as one of the Avengers but didn't want to seem shocked or freaked out, considering I was in their home, basically. 

"Hi," he said. 

Running to his side was a second Avenger I somewhat recognized, but he seemed more hesitant and nervous compared to the man with a sweet gap-toothed smile in front of me. 

Tony's light and teasing mood seemed to disappear with his interruption, and he took a breath before saying, "I told you I would help you after I talked with-." He was cut off as the man patted him on the arm and went to introduce himself. 

"Sam Wilson," he smiled kindly, offering his hand, which I smiled back and took. 

"Y/N Clark. Nice to meet you." 

Sam seemed to give his friend a silent look that communicated something else, and the blue-eyed man extended his hand as well. 

"James Barnes," he gave a tight-lipped smile like he was being forced to converse, but I returned a firm handshake and responded. 

"Mr. Barnes. Nice to meet you." 

I realized then I had seen this man earlier today at the coffee shop I stopped at before my errand here. I didn't have my head on straight at the time cause my sister had called saying that the repair man who was supposed to fix our balcony door had once again canceled and rescheduled. This was the fourth time now, and it felt like our apartment was crumbling beneath us with the 20 other things my landlord had kept pushing off. 

I thought I saw him staring then too, but like most strangers, I see in public, I just gave a brief smile and moved on with my day. Though in New York, I'm still learning that isn't a regular thing here. Many native New Yorkers could go the whole day not making eye contact with a single soul on the overpopulated streets. 

I brushed past the fact he was studying me like I was him, as if we were both looking for an answer to a question we didn't even know.

Tony turned all of our attention back to him as he introduced me to them briefly and promptly gave them death glares. Clearly, they were waiting on something from him, and he wasn't showing patience for what I assume were usual antics between the two with how they talked to each other. 

"Cyborge and Birdman, this is Ms. Clark. She's Morgan's teacher. Ms. Clark, these are two of my most impatient co-workers. Who I asked to give me a second before I talked with them…" 

"Thank this one for the interruption," James said while childishly shoving his friend to the point he teetered on his feet. 

"Just seemed rude to not introduce your colleagues," Sam gritted. 

"It's fine," I spoke up, attempting to break some of the tension building. And instantly, Mr. Barnes's eyes were back on me like they had been in the coffee shop. But I acted like I didn't notice and turned to Mr. Stark. "I was here to just drop off these two things anyway." 

I handed the folder off successfully this time since his attention was turned to the other two, and he took it while staring at them still. 

"Yeah, well, I had a few things I wanted to discuss without… This interruption." If looks could kill, his co-workers would be in a casket 6 feet under right where they stood. 

"I appreciate what you're offering, but I've already told you I have a job set with another district after this year."

James Barnes was grinning like a child who just got revenge, but why, I wasn't sure. 

"Yeah, but… Money." Tony said the last word like it was a magic word that would make me reconsider everything instantly and fold. 

"Money is great and all, but it's not what this is about, Mr. Stark." I couldn't help but laugh even if deep down I knew the risk I was taking not accepting his proposal. I went to readjust my tote on my shoulder as a nervous tic. "Maybe after winter break and I get some paperwork back from the new school I'll be at, we will better understand what I'll have on my plate."

"That sounds like a well-worded way to put this conversation off," Tony smirked. 

He wasn't wrong. I had worded it specifically as a way to keep it on the table for him knowing he'd never relent, but also to be able to walk away from the conversation and not get convinced out of my already made-up mind.

"It's Christmas break, Mr. Stark. Have a great vacation with your family, and happy holidays," I nodded, starting to turn out to walk, but before I was completely turned back, I looked at the other two men. "You two as well. I hope the world is kind enough to give you all a break as you deserve during this time." 

It was true. Crime and bad guys never ended, from what the news showed, and I couldn't imagine what big holidays looked like around here. 

"If I know anything about teaching, I know you'll need a break just as much," Sam shouted towards me after I was a few feet away, making me laugh.

"Happy Holidays," I said a final time before moving for the exit, thankful that the two men were there to distract Tony from trying to convince me to join his payroll. 

___________________________ 

"Oh sweet loving sister of mine, I'm home," I shouted in a sing-song voice but was abruptly cut off when I shut the door, and she stood on the other side like a damn statue. "Mother Fu-! Hallie!" I shouted after a scream let out of me first. "Why the hell are you acting like a Victorian ghost-child and standing there like that?" 

"Why didn't you tell me where you were going?" she said, quickly bypassing how she made my heart practically stop beating for 5 seconds too long. 

"I told you I was going to run errands," I answered vaguely, already knowing where she was going with this but not wanting to give her the advantage. 

"Yeah, errands don't normally involve going to the Avenger's Compound!" she shouted with her arms up as she watched me walk into the kitchen and follow me. 

"Jesus, lower your voice. We have neighbors," I grumbled, throwing my bag on the hooks on the wall and taking my coat off as well. 

"Answers, please," she crossed her arms like a mother who had just caught her daughter sneaking out to a party. 

"I had to drop off something that Morgan left at the school. I figured she'd want her coat for winter break," I answered honestly, just leaving out a few other details. 

"Like she wouldn't have a whole room for winter coats alone. Why did you really go?" Hallie continued to interrogate. 

I looked at her, and she was unwavering. I let out a huff of air, going to the fridge to grab a Dr. Pepper and the sweet cream to make my favorite drink after an eventful day. 

"I'm not lying when I said I went to drop that off," I said, pouring the soda into a glass and waiting for the foaming bubbles to go down. "And you know exactly why I didn't tell you I was going there." 

"You act like I'd go insane if I stepped a single foot on that estate," she groaned, pulling a stool out at our island/ kitchen table in the tiny New York City apartment we shared. "Even if Captain Roger's has walked on those tiles and maybe breathed in the same air and all…" 

"Here we go…" I mumbled, shaking the creamer bottle as I waited for what I knew was to come. 

"And so what if Natasha Romanoff has probably sat in the chairs or road the elevator that leads to what I assume are suites and apartments they have to themselves on the top levels?" she paused for effect as if waiting for me to confirm or deny as if I would know. But I just stared at her, and she continued without hesitation. "It's no big deal that Sam Wilson has probably flown the EX0-7 Falcon wingsuit in the field that surrounds the compound. Or maybe even hearing Steve playing an old jazz record. I know that cause there was a girl who used to live on his street when he stayed in the city, and she said there were a few nights that he would play all kinds of old songs with beautiful trumpet solos. Oh, and!" 

I absentmindedly poured the practiced amount of sweet cream into the Dr. Pepper, grabbed a straw to stir it, and took sips of it as I patiently waited for her to finish her fantasies. 

She went on about Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff, and any other Avenger that came to mind until she noticed me stop sipping my drink and start to slow-blink at her. 

"Stop. I know that look," she pointed, stopping in her rant abruptly. 

"What the you-just proved-my-point look?" I fluttered my eyelashes at her and took another sip. 

"Shut up," she sneered, even though she knew I was right. 

As if he had just realized people were home, her small senior brown-haired and deaf dog came hobbling around the corner and yipped when he looked at me. 

"Hey, Chuck Norris," I sighed, and he came up to me, barking at my leg like I was an intruder in my own home. "I still don't think he's used to me."

"You say that like you didn't live with him for 10 years," Hallie laughed, walking over and picking him up with one hand and cradling him in her arm. 

"Three of those years were just visits back home. I figured after a month of you being moved in here, his memory would catch up to realize I'm still the same person when we first rescued him." 

Chuck Norris was a tiny little mutt my sister had found behind a dumpster in the parking lot of a Cracker Barrel close to where we lived when we were younger. 

The vet had said he was already about four or five when we brought him in, but he had no microchips or anything showing he belonged to someone. He was also malnourished from only eating scraps that fell out of the dumpster since he wasn't big enough to scrounge through it himself. So he came with a laundry list of things he needed fixing with his tiny weak body. 

We only ever had one cat growing up, so it was a responsibility my parents weren't too sure about taking on. But my sister being who she is, made a presentation the next night and was able to persuade them to let her keep him for at least a month to show she could handle it. 

After a month, they saw how special of a dog he was to her and how she was practically the only one he trusted, and they couldn't just send him to the pound after that. 

The laundry list of illnesses and help he was going to need to get him back on his feet led to a lot of medical bills in his future. But luckily, an old friend of mine I had gone to high school with went into Veterinary school and helped my family out a few times since we were still close. 

Now Chuck Norris lived here, and he didn't care that I, even if I was paying most of the bills, lived here along with him. He only trusted one person wholeheartedly in his life, and that was my sister. 

Now being 14, possibly 15 years old, his eyes weren't great, and he was almost a hundred percent deaf besides sharp noises he happened to hear every once in a while. I'm almost positive he had some form of dementia, too, cause he treated me like a stranger most of the time.

He must have been sleeping when I came in cause a lot of times, if he sees my walk in, he's at my feet barking and acting like he's going to be the one to bring an end to the big monster that teases and picks at his mom. 

As for the name… Don't ask. My sister's an anomaly, and that's the only answer I have to give for that.

"Back to the question at hand," my sister continued, and I groaned overdramatically before walking to the couch with my drink and turning the TV on. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to see the Tony Stark?!"

"First off, I think you answered that question when you went on your little tangent of extremely specific details. You've for sure daydreamed about the Avengers, you nerd," I started, looking up at her where she stood by the coffee table with the glossy-eyed brown mutt in her hand, who I couldn't tell was looking at me or the window that was behind me. "And second, who's to say I even saw Mr. Stark? I was just dropping off a sweater, and I could have very well just left it at reception and carried on with my day." 

"It's the fact you're saying it all as a 'could have' scenario instead of just saying you did," she deadpanned. 

She had me there, and that one was on me. 

"It's not like it's the first time I've ever met him. He is the parent of one of my students, so it's not a big deal to me anymore," I brushed it off and looked to the TV, and started mindlessly scrolling through the evening shows. 

 She immediately cut off my view by standing right in front of it.

"Move," I said, peeking my head around her body, which she quickly blocked again. 

"Once, I'm asking once, that I get to meet him," she bargained. 

"Eventually. Just not before the break. We're all tired and have been busy, him, I'm sure more than anyone, and I don't think the compound is where he wants to worry about crazy obsessed fans bombarding him," I looked at her with a big-sister stare. "Now, the whole thing is already over and done. Can I please just drink this and watch an episode of this documentary I've been waiting to decompress to all day?" 

As if I was asking too much and the universe needed to humble me, the coat rack I had hung my coat and tote bag earlier fell to the floor with a harsh crash. 

I didn't even look in the direction of the latest home improvement added to the list, but instead closed my eyes and sat up some. 

"Classic," I mumbled and started to move to the closet we kept our toolbag in, but before I could stand up, Hallie stopped me. 

"Don't. I bargained with the building repair man to come tomorrow instead of making us wait another week," she said, looking back at the damage. "He can do that as an extra fix for being an ass."

"How'd you manage that?" 

I looked at her, impressed, considering the guy was a nuisance and very much a man's man. In other words, "How could two girls on their own ever manage without a big strong man to come and save them when things fell apart?" I think he got off on being able to make us wait for him when it came to things we couldn't actually fix. Talk about a savior complex.

"I said I had to bake some cookies for one of my classes and said I would bake some extra if he came sooner," she shrugged. 

"You're a musical theater major. What class is having you bake cookies?" I gave her a weird look. 

"None. I just didn't want him to think I was baking them just for him," she said with a witty smile. 

"Attagirl," I chuckled, patting the couch next to me. "Just for that, I'll let you pick which documentary we binge tonight." 

"Why is it always with the documentaries?" she huffed, sitting next to me despite acting like she was upset with the option. 

"Don't lie and act like you don't get sucked in." I stood up and put the now half-empty drink down. "I'm going to change, but look through the ones we've already started and pick from those."

"Does Unsolved Supernatural with Shane and Ryan count?" I heard her shout as I turned into my room. 

Normally the answer was no, but I could go for something fun and not so serious. 

"Sure, but pick a good episode!" I shouted back. "Let Christmas break commence…" 

The tags have not been acting right as of lately, so if I tagged you and you did get a notification, please let me know! I'm trying to see if people are getting the notifications or not. Thank you!

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#found memories #bucky barnes x reader series #bucky barnes x reader #finding memories sequel #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #justkending #marvel series #marvel x reader series #reader series #reader insert #reader insert series #friends to lovers #sequel #justkending series #marvel x reader #bucky barnes x reader insert #bucky barnes series

[glitchtricks94]

Ache

Gyokko x Reader

I feel like crying, so I made him cry too. This is an angst post, hurt/no comfort I am wanting to make him bleed right now and since I can't sort my other fic, this is how we're doing it. Yes, I know I'm just having a bad day but if I'm gonna be sad, I might as well put it to use! Anyways, kick back, relax and enjoy the pain~ -Glitchtricks

He didn't think the ache would be this strong.

He never thought that humans could hold so tightly to a feeling, he thought them to be as fleeting as the clouds in the sky on a warm summer's night. Never once did he expect to miss you so dearly. Gyokko sat at the foot of the lake he found all those nights ago, strange, honeyed eyes staring at the water’s glasslike surface, sorrow washing over him as he looked on. Where he would normally be thinking of ways to cloud the liquid in a myriad of colors, his mind only focused on  the being that had enchanted him so many moons ago, how he had found them on their knees simply gathering water for their own needs. The Upper Moon remembers how wide you smiled at him, kindness blinding you. He remembered how excited you were to simply meet a demon like him, explaining how his kind fascinated you. You were unusual, but not quite unappealing.  He liked that. Your warmth stuck to his mind so annoyingly well, like an ink stain that cannot be removed. Gyokko didn’t think he’d long for it after you were gone. He recalls how for ages, each night, you’d be here, waiting, even calling out for a demon to approach you. Strange, but he supposed your tactics worked as less then a moment later, the Upper Moon Five found himself before you again, a delighted squeal leaving your lips. Gyokko was at a loss when you threw your arms around him, cheering about him coming back to you. He swiftly moved out of your arms, glaring at you. “Don’t touch me like that!” He spat. If only he knew how much he’d miss that familiarity.

Gyokko shook his head when he realized that tears were dripping down his chin, spattering on the vase that held his usual form. No, no he can’t think of you, he can’t lose himself like this, not over a human. He was a being of divinity, of talent and breathtaking skill, a being that…felt empty. So very empty since he saw you last. He clenched his fists, trying to shove away the pain, the agony in favor of rage, resentment. No, he can’t mourn you, you and him were far too different! So why did the bittersweet memory of you guiding him to your home come to mind? That affectionate smile of your beaming at him the entire way as you nattered on about your own life, your own form of art that took shape in the words you scribbled down in empty books and scraps of paper was all he could see, all he could hear. He couldn’t forget that, especially not the joy that you exuded from just showing him the meager poems you wrote. He didn’t know when he had shown up at your abandoned home, looking up at the sad structure from his pot. He knew you weren’t inside, so why did he cruelly hope you’d come out, greet him like you always did? He’d always found himself drawn to your presence after you began discussing a hopeful romantic novel of star crossed lovers, your inspirations being the Shakespearian tragedy of Romeo and Juilet. You had many inspiring ideas, ones Gyokko would take back to his own sanctuary to create his own art from. The way your eyes lit up when he first presented a vase to you, painted with the silhouettes of the lovers from your story was etched into his demonic heart. You were practically screaming with utter delight at the gift, being the most enthusiastic person to ever accept such a thing from him. Not even the ever so carefree Douma had ever come close to emulating such joy, however, yours could never be emulated, you were far too genuine for such a thing. Your scent still clung to each corner of your home, despite months having passed. Gyokko felt a pain in his chest as he wandered through your home, the memories of your sweetness tormenting his brain wherever he looked, the lights that used to illuminate the halls and rooms now like that of a fleeting dream. Changing to his true form, Gyokko found it easier for himself to get lost in everything that was encasing his senses. Looking to the ground, he saw one of the many bits of scrap paper you used to write your poems of love and infatuation upon, still stained with splotches of ink. He couldn’t resist, he was always weak for you. Plucking it from the floor, he began to read. “Stepping through the mist, like midnight’s spell

He afforded no opportunities to fleeHer mind was encapsulated by him, her heart his to control

Fate so harsh on the pair, he was ripped away

The tides of time carried the maiden far As night always intertwined with day.” Tears settled on the paper in his webbed hands, sorrow crashing into him at full force. Was this how you viewed him and yourself? He wished he could ask such a thing, he wished he could just hear that sweet, fluttery voice of yours just one more time, to hear you prattle on about why you chose the words you did, how you planned your tales. He just wanted you back. Gyokko carefully traced the kanji of your handwriting, your name falling from his lips in a whisper, soft and desperate. Part of him wished you’d appear before him, lovingly wrapping your arms around his large frame with a joyous titter. Wishful thinking. Slithering deeper into your home, your scent grew stronger as he reached your bedroom, which remained empty, and well kept, thanks to the care he found himself putting into the place. It was almost like a monument to you now, a tribute of sorts, perhaps even a way to say sorry despite you having vanished out of his life forever. Another wave of agonizing sadness filled the demon’s chest as he moved to your large, western style bed, a stack of old journals laying at its side. Gyokko got onto the bed, coiling around himself as the smell of you flooded his senses, new tears cascading down his face as the more painful memories began replaying in his mind like they always did on nights like this. The cruel words he spewed at you, the tears that flooded down your soft cheeks, the look of utter betrayal in your eyes as he brought down the hammer of his misguided wrath upon you, tearing away at everything you loved, everything you cherished. He remembers ripping up your pride and joy that was your novel, screaming at you about how you were nothing but a sniveling worm, how he couldn’t understand why he wasted his time with someone like you, and overall just ripping your heart to ribbons. Your pain screams still rang in his ears as you cried out, yelling at him to leave, leave and never come back, how cruel he was to you after you simply wanted to connect, how you thought you had connected with him, forging a friendship of sorts. All of it filled Gyokko with so much sorrow and regret. He never meant any of what he said, he truly would even go as far to say he didn’t wish to break your spirit like that, not when you managed to become so much to him, not even batting an eye whenever he’d appear after feeding, fresh blood staining both sets of teeth. No, you always welcomed him with open arms, telling him your stories, speaking to him enthusiastically and listening to him so intently. And he just drove you away after everything. He couldn’t stop himself from beginning to sob as everything replayed in his mind, bowing his head in shame and regret. “My sweet muse, I’m sorry…” He wept, shoulders shaking, chest aching in his remorse. “I never meant to say such things to you, you were never a worm, you were a goddess, something as divine as I…And yet, I ripped you apart…My heart, please let me apologize, please come back, please. Every moment without you is pure agony.” He pleaded, voice now breaking as he sobbed harder, knowing that you would never hear his pleas, knowing that you had vanished from his world. Gyokko was left alone, aching for you, longing for your sweet touches and honeyed praises. All he saw when he closed his eyes was your smile, and it burned him like fire. All he heard in the silence were the memories of your voice, which stung like a slice of a sword. Everything about you that was left behind tormented him mercilessly. Deep down, he knew he had earned this, he had earned such a drastic loss. Everything was dreary for him, nothing truly sparked his enthrall anymore, nothing that didn’t feel like you would have liked. The ache in his chest would never leave, for you had carved a hole in his heart, leaving a chasm that can never be filled.

#glitchwrites.notepad #gyokko x reader #demon slayer gyokko #kny x reader #kny angst #gyokko angst #angst fanfic #angst fic #I'm sad and wanted to cry so I made this #gyokko x reader angst

[strangelock221b]

E3 now. "She is still crying. When will she ever stop?" Please, this is Marianne we're talking about -- she'll cry until she's dehydrated, drink some water, then the cycle will repeat. :P

Mrs. Dashwood has no backbone, honestly. Elinor is the parent in this family, not her, and frankly, that's a toxic arrangement. Elinor shouldn't be the one to keep the family above water and out of scandal. Yes, Mrs. D's in mourning BUT SO IS ELINOR. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if Elinor was the parent even before Mr. Dashwood died.

Can someone PLEASE buy the Dashwood ladies a spyglass so they'll know who a visitor is before they actually arrive and not get their damn hopes up (looking at you, Marianne)?

Edward's back. He addresses the girls as "Miss Marianne, Miss Elinor." Excuse you, Ferrars, that's "Miss Marianne, MISS DASHWOOD" to you. Give Elinor the respect she's due as the oldest.

"Dear, dear Norland." Marianne, get over it. She's still acting like Norland is sentient. I get that's she's *sensitive* and a capital-R Romantic, but this is getting ridiculous.

Ugh, the lock of hair. I believe '95 leaves out that detail entirely. Marianne and her overactive imagination. At least Elinor's sensible enough to know it's not hers.

Sir John invites Edward to a party at his place and in practically the same breath he mentions the Steele girls. Edward's big secret is taking away even momentary happiness.

This Charlotte Palmer is sweet and silly, just like she should be. Meanwhile, her husband reminds me of '08 -- boring. Where's '95's sarcasm? Lady Middleton's looking down at the Steele girls for their upbringing. Bitch. Ah, Mr. Palmer does have more to say. He's crosser than '95. Dude, I seriously doubt she was the only eligible woman when you were wife-hunting. You should've married someone more your type, so don't be mad at her for your blunder.

At least Charlotte is enjoying her marriage. I guess "asshole" is her type.

Oh wow, Lucy's a bitch. Claws in, girl, you just met Elinor. Is it in the book that Lucy is fond of yellow? '24 also has a pretty yellow dress.

You can tell Anne and Mrs. Jennings are related.

Marianne, at least put on a smile when you're at a party and asked to dance by your host. She may think emotions are everything, but she should be able to fake some once in a while.

Anne has no idea she's making things super awkward for Elinor and Lucy, for slightly different reasons. But then, I get the feeling Anne making things unwittingly awkward is a constant in her life.

Lucy's no fool, she knows Elinor has feelings for Edward, so she's playing all her cards at once -- secret longtime engagement, "thinks of you and Marianne as his sisters," "you don't know him like I do," "don't tell anyone." I hear the book ends with Lucy and Robert making each other miserable. No one deserves a bad marriage more than this bitch.

Wait, Lucy is okay with Edward becoming a clergyman? I guess she assumes that as long as he's on his mother's good side, he'll get the money no matter what. Can you imagine this woman as a clergyman's wife?

Elinor's putting Mrs. Jennings down? She's giving you a Season, her son-in-law is letting you stay in his cottage, show at least a little gratitude, girl.

"I would put up with any unpleasantness to go to London, and I shall." Marianne, are you threatening your sister? Well, at least it's better than sulking.

At least Elinor and Mrs. Dashwood are both well aware why Marianne's eager to leave -- Willoughby. I wish Mrs. D wasn't so eager to push her into his arms. But at least she's doing it because it would make Marianne happy, not just to have a daughter married. *side-eyes Mrs. Bennet*

#sense and sensibility #sense and sensibility 1981

[cassieuncaged]

WIP Thursday

thank you @kyber-infinitygems for the tag!

No pressure tags: @emotionalcadaver, @roofgeese, @illiana-mystery, @emilynightshade89, @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky, @voidika, @captastra, @aceghosts, @detectivelokis, @confidentandgood, @neonneurons, @unpetitoiseau, @poisonedtruth, @spacestephh, and anyone who'd like to share!

I'm working on my Grave Bound redux so please enjoy this excerpt from Book 2 because I'm not writing anything chronilogical.

Spoiler: they will end up together. I just really want to focus on the hurt/comfort and angst of reuniting under less than perfect circumstances.

The bitter wind whipped at a stubbled jaw as he leaned onto his cane. Teeth ground into each other. Was it because of the cold or the anger that had begun to settle in bitter bones?

Elias was unsure as they both froze in the frigid winter.

"You're just going to stay with him?" Striking crystalline was glazed with desperation, brows knit as he searched her inviting face for any sign of faltering. Yet a stony expression remained painted over soft features.

"Yes." she admitted curtly. Elias pushed a wave of tawny behind one chapped ear, pursing wide lips before she spoke. "I love him."

"And what about us?" he practically pleaded, needing to feel her in his arms again. To be in the warm light of her love once more. No matter how selfish it was to wish she never moved on, Elias was determined to live in that fantasy if it meant his heart wouldn't crumble to dust.

"What about us?" pink fingers hugged bare arms, pressing into goose pimpled flesh.

"We were in love." he could feel his knee buckle from the cold, hip suddenly aching as he clutched desperately on the wooden cane.

"And the world took you away from me," a glittering tear drop fell down the curve of one cheek, the only tell she allotted him during their entire conversation. "You think I was going to mourn you forever?"

"A selfish part of me did." he admitted mournfully, wishing he'd been more proactive in finding her. But self pity and loathing had seeped to far inside of him to think about recovering lost love. "Does he make you happy?"

"He makes me feel safe." Maggie grinned warmly through the tears, making him wish it was for him.

"You told me I made you feel safe." he could hardly hold back the his own tears, wanting to hold her in his arms again. A car sped down the otherwise abandoned street as snow flakes danced under the orange glow of street lights. The world was as lonely as he was.

Though nothing could prepare him for the words she spoke next.

"You made me feel whole."

#wip wednesday #on a thursday #wips #snippets

[sapphicsaints]

that's when she knew she lost her

Tamar Kir-Bataar x f!Reader

Word count: ~4.4k

A/N: This is based on the books! I've posted this one previously but here's the full nsfw version, minors dni! sfw version here

Summary: She saw the look in Tamar's eyes when the Sun Summoner took her second amplifier, and that's when she knew she lost her. Not that she was hers to keep in the first place.

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, praise kink, oral sex, fisting, rough sex, power dynamics, character death

Kostya’s wind carries her, and she lands on deck with a thud grunting before rolling out of the line of fire, breathing out a sigh of relief. She made it off the whaler, back on the volkvolny. Her relief is short-lived as Tamar yells, “He’s up.”

The Darkling’s shadow monsters rise up from the deck of the old whaler. She curses but takes position, listening for Sturmhond’s whistles and orders. The next minutes go by in a blur, she doesn’t have time to think, no time to mourn, just barely enough time to breathe and take the next action. Her hands move rapidly to manipulate the water surrounding them. 

She collapses in exhaustion once they’re out of range, she notices there’s only two tidemakers left, including her. The others must’ve been up on the rigging. 

Her breaths come heavy, but her skin is glowing with the tell-tale flush that comes with using her powers. Her back is up against the rails, the cool metal digging into her spine, when Tamar leans up next to her. Her hand clasps her shoulder. 

“I’m glad that's done.” She says. 

Y/n turns to look at her, “Thanks the saints. I never want to see him again. Maybe his dead body.”  

“Maybe we’ll get that lucky.” 

“It’ll take more than luck.” She mumbles. Tamar’s arm wraps around her shoulders, pulling her into a hug. The action feels strange after so many weeks without any contact, but her arms wrap around her lower back, pressing herself into her. Tamar always runs hot, and her heat is welcoming this time. 

“We’ll celebrate later.” She says, her voice low enough so only y/n can hear. Her cheeks flush pink and her heart beats rapidly, the promise is enough to make her nerves tingle. She remembers the last time they ‘celebrated’ together.  

Flashback

They’d finally dropped the last of the slavers they’d captured off in Kerch and set sail again. Tamar practically dragged her back to their room and she was laughing the entire way. The laughter stopped when the door shut behind her, her body slammed into it. Her eyes widened and she bit her bottom lip out of nerves. Tamar’s thumb brushed lightly across her lip, tugging it free from the bite. Y/n’s eyes gaze to the floor, nerves starting to get the best of her. Tamar’s thumb presses under her chin, tilting her head up so their eyes will meet. 

“Are you nervous?” she asks

“No.” She replies a little too quickly, and grimaces, remembering Tamar can always tell when she’s lying. “Maybe a little.” 

“Why?” 

Y/n sighs, her palms coming up to rub at her eyes. “I don’t know.” Tamar tugs her hands away, and pulls her away from the door, yanking her flush against her chest, moving them towards the middle of the small room. Her breath catches and she freezes. Slowly she moves her arms so they’re wrapped gently around Tamar’s shoulders. She studies every inch of her face, but still avoids eye contact. 

“Look at me.” Tamar’s tone tells her it isn’t a question. She tears her eyes up from her lips to meet hers. “You’re fine. We don’t have to do anything tonight. Or ever.” 

Her eyes narrow at the last two words, and her hands come up to cup her cheeks, pressing their lips together with urgency. Tamar’s hands dig into her lower back, drawing their hips together. Y/n has a feeling this is the reaction she wants, and she gives right into it. 

End Flashback

“I’ll be looking forward to it.” The grin on her face is infectious but thankfully hidden, her face pressed into Tamar’s chest. Once her heart has calmed a little she pushes back. “We should get back to work.” 

“Probably.” Tamar sounds reluctant but presses a kiss to her forehead, and heads back to talk to Sturmhond. 

Y/n presses two fingers to her forehead, the spot where Tamar just kissed. She hears a snicker from behind her and whips around. Kostya, one of her closest friends on the ship, is laughing at her. She sends a spurt of water to his face, and that knocks the laughter off of him. He retaliates with a small gust of wind. 

“Oi.” Privyet’s voice comes through, “Quit that.” 

They start laughing, both looking slightly chastised. They stand to the side as the sea whip is hauled on deck. Her hand drifts nervously to her left wrist, the space where her amplifier hides. Taking a second amplifier sounds like absolute insanity to her, but thankfully that’s something she doesn’t have to worry about. She doesn’t move when the scales are offered, just exchanging a small glance with Kostya. Scales still freak her out somewhat and she shudders. For once, he doesn’t make fun of her and she’s grateful for it.

–

She knows her jealousy is stupid, but it’s reasonable to be upset that she’s kicked out of her room with barely any notice. Not to mention, nobody bothered to ask her, just “Tamar’s sharing with the Sun Summoner.” And now she’s in one of the old closets normally saved for less welcome guests. Her one bag is moved over quickly enough. At least she has her own space now, and doesn't have to listen to Tamar snore or sleep talk. In her opinion that’s a weak consolation prize, and not really much of a prize at all. Her things are quickly shoved away and she heads up to grab her rations while she can. There’s only two tidemakers now, and she has a feeling her schedule is about to get a lot more packed. She stops after a few drinks, keeping herself sober enough to post a reliable watch. 

The first half is quite calm. She missed the quiet ease on the Volkvolny, the relative safety of knowing you’re surrounded by people you trust. The waves are gentle, the ship gently bobs side to side. Y/n pinches her cheeks a few times to stay awake, making small talk with her partner. The lanterns and voices on deck catch her attention. Alina’s taking the amplifier. Her eyes widen, and her heart beats a bit faster - hopefully this won’t be what kills her, there’s much more poetic ways to go out. Her eyes immediately find Tamar standing next to Tolya, the two of them looking the part of solemn sentries. Sentries for a Saint. 

The power and light that burst from her is undeniable, and y/n finds herself taking deep breaths to find her calm again. She’s lucky she didn’t fall off the rigging. Her face feels like it’s been freshly sunburnt. As always, her eyes search for Tamar first. And that’s when she knew she’d lost her. The look in her eyes. Y/n didn’t know exactly what it mean’t, just that Tamar belongs to someone now. Well, Tamar never belonged to her in the first place, and theres a strong chance she’s reading into this too much, but she’s always been particularly perceptive, and her hunches usually turn out to be right. Angry tears prick the corner of her eyes.

‘You’re a mercenary,’ she thinks to herself, ‘not a jealous, petty school girl.’ She takes a deep breath and schools her features back into a look of awe, before anyone can catch on. Someone replaces her and she takes up post at the stern, ready to help move to ship along. It’s likely someone spotted the light show Alina put on, and the best they can do it get as far away as possible. 

–

The next few weeks go by quickly, and she barely sees Tamar. Well, she sees her everywhere, but rarely interacts with her. Is y/n avoiding her? Or is Tamar avoiding y/n? They never got to celebrate. Whispers say that they may be leaving to do something with the Sun Summoner and Nikolai. Saints, she feels like a whiny child. She resolves to find out more on her next watch with Tolya. 

Later that day

“Do you think you’ll go with him?” She asks, staring out into the horizon, keeping her voice just loud enough so he’ll hear. 

“With who? Where?”

“Captain. To Ravka, with Alina.” 

Tolya’s eyes are alarmed, like he didn’t expect her to know what was going on, or what was to happen. 

“Saints Tolya, i’m not stupid.” 

“Nobody called you stupid.” 

“Maybe someone should’ve. That’s besides the point.” She turns to face him, taking her eyes off the water momentarily. “Are you going with them?” 

He sighs. “Keep looking.” 

She rolls her eyes but listens. She’s surprised when he keeps speaking. “You’re not asking about me. You’re asking about Tamar.” 

“Well, you both go everywhere together.” 

“He thought about asking you along.” Tolya says. He’s talking about Sturmhond. Or Nikolai. Depends on the situation. I know they’re going to Ravka, but to do what i’m uncertain. 

“Really?” I hummed, trying to sound as disinterested as possible, it’s not working. 

“But after we lost Hendrik and Dmitri.” 

It feels like an iron fist is gripping her heart, and she chokes out her next breath. The other Tidemakers lost against the Darkling. It’s only her and one other now.

Tolya pauses. “After we lost them, you’re needed here.” 

“Needed.” I let the words roll around my tongue. Needed here. But wanted? What if I want to be somewhere else? “Thank you for the heads up.” She gives Tolya a terse smile, trying her best to look content. I can tell he isn’t convinced, but he does smile back. 

End Flashback.

–

Three nights later, Tamar finds her. It’s dusk, and she’s sitting up on deck, deep in conversation with Kostya. She feels a tap on her shoulder, and doesn’t turn around and hesitates before turning around. Kostya glares at her and she finally does. Tamar’s standing behind her, one hand outstretched. 

Tamar doesn’t miss the side eye y/n sends to Kostya, but chooses not to comment. It shouldn’t feel like she’s headed to the gallows, but somehow it does. She takes her hand, and lets her heave her up to her feet. She shakes her hand off as soon as they stand up, and sees the hurt flash through Tamar’s eyes. It’s enough to make her start chewing on her bottom lip, 

“Come on.” She says, taking the initiative and leading them below decks to somewhere more private. They end up in her room this time, and she chooses to stand on the opposite side of the small room, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck. For once, Tamar doesn’t speak right away, instead it seems like her eyes are taking in every inch of her - memorizing every detail. Y/n keeps avoiding eye contact, leaning up against the wall and tilting her head up to stare at the overhead. 

“We’re leaving tomorrow.” Tamar says finally. 

Her heart jumps, and the same tears from a few weeks ago threaten to prick her eyes, “are you excited?” She asks, keeping her eyes trained on the ceiling. 

Tamar sighs before crossing the room. Her hands cup her cheeks, guiding her back down to try and meet her eyes. “Why don’t you ever look me in the eyes?” She murmurs. Y/n doesn’t have a good answer, what’s she supposed to say?

‘I’m scared i’ll cry if I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. I’ll quite literally get lost in your eyes. It’s too intimate. It scares me.’ Instead she doesn’t say anything. 

“Give me something, please.” Tamar says, this is the most desperate she’s heard her voice. She cringes at herself when the desperation gives her a sick sense of satisfaction. Give her something? It’s been weeks and they’ve barely exchanged a word. If she wants something she can have her fury and pain. The sting that comes with feeling abandoned, discarded, tossed aside for the next big thing.  

“You want something?” She spits out through clenched teeth. Tamar takes a step back, her eyes widening slightly at her tone. Normally y/n is level-headed and calm, it’s rare to see strong emotions leak into her voice. “Weeks. You’ve rarely spoken to me. Granted I didn’t try very hard, I know you’ve been busy with your new Saint.” She struggles to keep her tone kind. “I’m happy for you, by the way, that you’ve found a purpose. And I get it, your life has changed. That doesn’t mean you had to …” Her voice breaks and she can’t finish her sentence. 

“Leave please.” She croaks. Tamar doesn’t move and y/n opens her mouth to tell her to go again, but instead she’s wrapped in a bone-crushing, enough that she can barely breathe, let alone move her arms and hug back. She doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t complain, relishes in the touch and contact. Her body melts into her, leaning slightly. Just one hug and she melts. ‘Pathetic.’ she thinks to herself. ‘You’re being pathetic.’ 

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, pulling back, and running a hand through her short hair. Y/n’s never seen Tamar like this, lost for words or confused. She always seems so self-assured, so strong in her conviction, fearless. 

“Sorry for what?” She knows the answer, but she wants to hear it - needs to hear it. Hear Tamar admit it, validate what y/n felt these last few weeks. 

“Neglecting you. I’m sorry that we didn’t get to celebrate.” 

Y/n laughs, not an amused chuckle or a happy belly laugh, one of disbelief. “If you think that’s all I cared about then you’re much less perceptive than I thought you were.” She tries to put the emphasis on ‘cared’, but it doesn’t come out that way. Care is more accurate, she still cares. 

Tamar seems confused, “I don’t understand.” Her tone is genuine and honest. Y/n feels herself soften more, a little bit of the ice melts away. She finally meets her eyes. 

“I care about you dimwit.” Tamar’s eyes narrow at the insult, but she doesn’t break eye contact. “I wanted … I still want more for us. I want to get to actually be with you, beyond just ‘celebrations’, and the occasional hug or kiss on the forehead when you remember.” 

“Why haven’t you said anything before?” 

Her voice raises slightly, “because you outrank me and I don’t want to be fired, because I thought it was obvious, because I thought you’d have said something by now.” The outranking part is true - not that it matters too much on the ship, but enough for her to be nervous. Rogue Grisha have difficulty finding safe employment in this world. Safe in the sense of nobody forcing her to serve an army or enslaving her. Her job isn’t safe by any means, but it's freedom.

“Quiet.” Tamar hushes her. 

She takes a deep breath before speaking in a normal tone. “Tell me I'm delusional.” She’d have laughed at Tamar’s expression if the situation was different. “Tell me you never wanted me. Tell me you’re leaving and not coming back.” Tamar reached out and held one of her hands. 

“You’re not delusional, I do want you, I am leaving, but I don’t know if I’m coming back.” 

“Three out of four, not bad.” 

Tamar huffs, evidently tired of the argument, before pulling her into a bruising kiss. It catches y/n by surprise but she returns the same energy. Normally Tamar’s a tease, takes her time, taunts her, but this time everything moves fast. She lets out a moan as her neck and chest are covered in small bites, she’s being loud but doesn’t care this time. Two of Tamar’s fingers are shoved into her mouth, and she sucks them eagerly, gagging slightly but that just makes the other girl’s fingers dig into her mouth further. Her shirt is ripped off, thrown halfway across the room, followed by her bra and her knives tossed into an open chest. Normally she’d throw a fit about that, but right now she doesn’t care. Y/n reaches for the bottom of Tamar’s top, starting to tug it over. 

“No.” Her voice is low and firm. Y/n’s eyes widen slightly before she removes her hands. Tamar flips her around, pushing her hands up against the wall, her body flush against it. The cool wood digs into her nipples, causing them to stand on edge. She moans as a hand comes around to rub circles into her clit. She shifts to try and reach for the other girl but Tamar’s body pushes forward to pin her back against the wall. 

“Did I say you can move?” Her lips graze across her ear. 

“No.” She gulps. 

“Are you going to stay still?” 

“Yes.” It comes out as a whisper. 

“And quiet?” 

She nods. 

“Good girl.” 

Y/n swallows a moan, biting harshly on her lower lip, as two of Tamar’s fingers push into her from behind, setting a brutal pace. She pants, her breaths coming rapidly. Another finger pushes into her, it’s taking most of her energy to hold back a scream. All she wants is to beg, beg for more, tell her how good it feels, but she knows if she opens her mouth it’ll stop. She’s nearly over the edge, her walls starting to tighten around Tamar’s fingers when she stops. A small whine escapes her lips. 

“Can you take my whole hand?” Her voice is back in her ear. Y/n’s breath catches. She’s done it once before, and it was incredible, but left her legs shaking for nearly an hour. She wants it, Saints she wants Tamar so bad that she’ll take her in any way she can. She nods. 

“Words.” 

“Yes please.” “What’s our safeword?” 

“Butterfly.” It comes out without hesitation, this is a routine they’ve danced several times before, and she loves the question. Something else pops into her head, and she turns over her shoulder to look at Tamar. The expression on her face surprises her, it’s full of lust, want, and maybe something mournful? She ignores the last part. 

“Can I do something first?” 

Tamar looks surprised but nods. As quick as she can on shaky legs, she turns and drops to her knees in front of her. There’s a small pain as the wood digs into her bare knees, but she ignores it, tilting her head up to make eye contact. Tamar’s jaw drops. Y/n had never gone on her knees without prompting before, and it isn’t something she loves, except with her - not that she’d ever admit it. 

There’s no hesitation as her clothes come off. One hand braces herself against the wall, and the other cups the back of her head to guide her forward. Y/n’s hands grip her thighs and her tongue comes out slowly, licking up and down her folds, savoring every taste. Tamar is soaking wet, and it makes her smile. She sucks lightly on her clit and Tamar moans quietly above her, Y/n has her coming undone quickly, she knows exactly what she likes, and one finger stroking the space just behind her pussy sends her over the edge, her hand twisting violently in her hair. She feels herself soaking, leaking slightly onto the floor. As soon as the other girl’s finished her orgasm, she yanks y/n back to her feet, barely giving her time to steady her legs underneath her, before giving her a rough kiss. One of her hands moves to slam her wooden chest shut, and she gasps as she’s bent over it. 

She bites her hand to keep back a moan when her fingers slam into her without hesitation. “You are so fucking good.” is whispered in her ear and she bites harder. 

Another finger goes in, that’s four now, “so good for me.” 

She whimpers, already feeling her legs going slack, her entire body weight shifting to lean on the chest. 

“Almost there love.” Her final finger slips in and she feels like she might cry from ecstasy, Tamar moves slowly giving her time to adjust. Y/n doesn’t want it, and breaks the rules - breaks her silence. Part of her is a brat after all. 

“Saints Tamar fuck me like you mean it.” One hand fists her hair, pulling her up so she’s looking right at the other girl. 

“Say one more thing and I'll leave you on edge for the rest of the night.” It’s an empty threat and she knows it but she nods anyways 

“Good girl.” Shivers run down her spine, and her toes curl. Those two words have so much power over her. Tamar’s hand releases her hair, letting her head rest back on down the chest, her fist pushes in and out of her brutally, and y/n draws blood on her hand from biting down so hard. One hand reaches back to try and grab Tamar’s free hand. She didn’t say not to move after all. She reaches it and grips it like a lifeline. Tamar rubs circles into the back of her hand. How is it she can hold her so gently with one hand and fuck her brutally with the other? 

Her walls pulse around Tamar’s hand and she finishes violently, her back arching and screams muffled by her hand. Y/n doesn’t move, knowing her legs would immediately give out from underneath her. It doesn’t phase her when Tamar moves and y/n hears the sounds of her dressing, and the door closing behind her. Part of her fears she’s just left completely, but she comes back with a bucket of water and a rag, and makes quick work cleaning them up. Her hands gently scoop her, wrapping around her stomach, and lift her into the hammock so her head is resting on her chest. 

She whispers sweet things into her ear, the words seem to blur as she’s lost in her own world. It could’ve been ten minutes or ten hours when Tamar’s pinch on her side brings her back. It must’ve been closer to an hour because her legs aren’t shaking quite as violently anymore. 

“Hm?” She mumbles. 

“You need to get dressed.” 

She groans but stands up, getting some new clothes for herself. One hand braces against the wall to keep herself steady, she looks into the small mirror, her neck and chest are covered in small but deep purple bruises. Her jaw drops as she turns to look at Tamar, who just laughs at her. 

“Sit. I’ll heal them.” 

She jumps up on the chest, scooching until the back of her knees hit the edge. 

Her hands are gently as she grazes over the spots on her neck, and chest, leaving just one behind. Y/n rolls her eyes, it’s typical of her to do that - leave one in an area she can easily conceal. She heals the bite on her hand as well. The silence after becomes uncomfortable. 

“I don’t know what to say.” The words come out before she can think twice. 

“I’ll say I don’t regret a single moment of this. Of anything.” 

She lets out a small, sad smile. “I don’t either.” And brings her arms up to pull her into a gentle kiss. Nothing else needs to be said, they’ve come to an understanding. They both know it’s a goodbye kiss - a goodbye for now. 

–

The next early morning, she’s on watch as they leave. 

“Saint’s willing, we’ll meet again one day.” Her words came out low, almost like a whisper or prayer. They thankfully went unheard, and she waved to the dark sky as Tamar flew off in the hummingbird. 

Kostya clapped a comforting hand on her shoulder, “They’ll be alright.” 

She turns back, giving them a terse smile. He’d mistaken it for worry, probably a good thing. 

The crew makes themselves scarce for a while, keeping careful tabs on every hint of the Darklings location. If they were caught by him they likely would not survive, and likely would come to very painful deaths, something none of them were particularly interested in. She wonders if he would spare Grisha, she hopes not - if they were to be captured she’d rather get the same treatment as the rest of the crew, as morbid as that sounds. 

The next few months go by pretty quickly, and when she gets offered the chance to go to the Spinning Wheel, she takes it. A break from the seas will do her good. The idea of seeing Tamar doesn’t cross her mind, surprisingly. She’s become a memory - a good one, but a memory. 

– 

Spinning wheel 

It’s strange being with her crew on land. Everyone's the same, but a bit more tense. There’s a certain safety at sea - it’s more difficult to be ambushed. She’s surprised when Alina remembers her - even her name, and cheers along with the rest when she cuts the top of a mountain off. 

Y/n noticed the connection between her and Nadia almost immediately and it didn’t hurt like she thought it would, she offered her congratulations instead. 

An argument starts when Sturmhond tells her she’s going on the mission to hunt the firebird. Well, asks her, he knows he can’t really tell her to do anything. She supposes she should call him Nikolai now. 

“You’re the best tidemaker we have.” Nikolai says. 

“They could bring anyone else.” 

“Tamar asked for you.” 

“That’s the problem.” She whispers. 

He sighs, walking around the table to clasp a hand on her shoulder. “I know you two have history, but I’d feel better knowing you’re there. Tamar asked for you for a reason, and I doubt it’s to have a sordid tryst in the middle of the night.” 

Y/n’s eyes narrow and she glares at him as he laughs. “They’re taking Ana.” Ana is another friend from the Volkvolny, a Materialki that put the last amplifier on Alina. Her eyes light up, and the look on his face tells her he knows he’s won.

“Fine.” She says reluctantly. “I’ve always wanted to visit there.” 

“I doubt that.” 

“No, but it makes me feel better.” 

“Whatever it takes” he winks before leading them out of the room. 

The ambush surprises them all. She takes another look at the crew, a tidemaker isn’t completely essential, and there’s too much weight already. She can tell Nevsky is thinking the same thing. Despite her being Grisha, they became fast friends. 

“One last time?” he whispers to her. Not that they’d had times before, but she guesses he likes the dramatic effect.

“Lets do it.” She replies. He says something quiet to Alina before yelling, 

“For the 22nd.” He leaps over the side with his soldiers. 

“For Sturmhond.” She whispers before following them. Tamar’s scream is lost in the noise. 

#tamar kir bataar x reader #tamar kir bataar x y/n #tamar kir bataar #tamar kir bataar imagine #shadow and bone #grishaverse #reader insert #one shot #cross posted on ao3 #tamar x reader #tolya yul bataar #tamar and tolya #grishaverse fanfic

[lovecrafts-iranon]

Here are some of my thoughts on the authors I am insane about. Some of them I think are good, some of them I think are bad, some of them I haven't even read! It's more like "how do these people (especially the way others talk about them) factor into my personal mythology" and less "do these people write good books." To explain this better I will start with the one I can explain most precisely and write plenty of words on, Cassandra Clare/Claire.

Cassandra Claire

Cassandra Claire was the biggest Big Name Fan in the Harry Potter fandom and used her fandom success to become a bestselling YA novelist. I have read all of her fanfiction and a few of her YA books. The first book of her famous fanfiction and the first book of her first YA series are both passable as average adventure stories with bloated romance subplots, but after that they balloon in size and become entirely focused on boring romantic drama. So I don't like her work but it's not like she's the worst author ever. In her fandom days, she had several scandals, the biggest being that she plagiarized both funny TV quotes and paragraphs from a published book in her fics.

The way people reacted to her was what fascinated me so much. Her fans called her a Goddess. People were having late night group chat release parties for new chapters. If you go to any Harry Potter fan's LiveJournal around the time she was big, there was a mention of her. The hype was so big. I had before dismissed fanfiction as the kind of thing I would ever write, but when I saw records of Claire, I desperately wanted the kind of attention she had. Wanting her fame was the reason I started writing fanfiction. I read her fics and her drama and thought I could do even better than her. I would be just as popular but never plagiarize, so I would be even more popular. And my stories wouldn't be boring romance crap, so even more people would want to read them.

Isaac Asimov

So Isaac Asimov is the original and eternal "guy I want to be" (when it comes to writing. I hear he was a creep in his personal life but that's not what this is about. Whenever I talk about him here I'm just talking about him as a writer). He's the king of science fiction. I can always pick up a book by him and know it's going to be good. If you think about who the archetypal science fiction writer is, his name pops up first. And that's what I want! I want my name to pop up first in people's minds! That's the biggest dream since forever. For my name to pop up first. Whenever I read his writing, I thought, this is so good, and at the same time I had a deep feeling that someday I wanted people to feel the same way about my writing that I did about his. (And of course there's always the little I-can-do-better voice saying well he wasted his time on having a wife and kids while I would be fully married to the job...) I want to be him more than anything. I would be willing to spend all my time for decades to be like him. Well, if I could. I used to think I was good enough to be him. Once I got proof I was not good enough, my life has been years of nonstop misery. Mourning, really, over the me-as-Isaac-Asimov who died.

Henry Darger

If Asimov is the God figure in my mind then Darger is the devil. He's the worst type of person to become (as an author) and the person I am constantly terrified of being. Putting all that effort in, millions of words, for nothing. The writing equivalent of digging holes and filling them back in using all of your time for the rest of your life. A writing void. A writing black hole. Nobody will ever call Darger a great writer or even say his writing improved with practice. They will only say he was an interesting feller. That's not what I want to be, that's not enough! And there are so very many of him. Sort any amateur writing site (such as a fanfiction site) by word count and you'll find plenty with no audience. You can find a lot of Darger works by going on the TV Tropes forums and clicking the links in people's signatures. It's horrifying the amount of effort sustained over a lifetime these people put in only for zero fame. It looks worse than death to me. Becoming a Darger is a big reason I want to kill myself, though so far I have been too cowardly.

Vladimir Nabokov

I like writing and chess and bugs. So did Nabokov. Only he was way better than me at all three. It's just weird to me he was into the same things. His success and my failure at the exact same stuff shows that a general ability to succeed at things (we can call this intelligence) exists and I do not have it.

H P Lovecraft

He was really crazy. Sometimes I think there's a cutoff. A certain amount of crazy you can be and still end up writing things others end up enjoying. And beyond the cutoff you become a Darger. Lovecraft exists just before that cutoff. And I'm after the cutoff. I used to think of Lovecraft as kind of inspirational as a crazy person but not anymore.

Ken Liu

Ok I'm not that crazy about Ken Liu. But his name makes me sad whenever I see it. I loved reading his short storied in high school and I always fantasized about telling him in person as a peer. I wanted to be in the same general group as him. We could be friends because we would both be successful science fiction writers, you know?

[dreaminghour]

Hayden/Ewan RPF - Sounds from above

Event: @domaystic Fandom: Star Wars RPF Rating: Teen and Up Prompt: 26 Sounds from above Ship: Hayden/Ewan Disclaimer: References to real people are used fictitiously. Do not share this with them! Context: Present day. Ewan is visiting Hayden on his farm. Follows the timeline of my other RPF ficlets, but you don’t necessarily need to read those to understand this. You can find them here on my blog. Words: 830

It's almost three o'clock, which is to say Ewan has only been asleep for an hour or so. He wakes slowly, resisting. Above him he can hear floorboards creaking and at first he doesn't think much of it, brushing off thoughts of Hayden being up at this hour, until he realizes… Hayden's office is on the ground floor, the bedrooms are on this floor, above him is unknown.

Dim light is shining up from the ground floor when Ewan finally decides to go investigate. He can hear boxes being pushed around as he walks to the end of the hallway.

Hayden looks up as soon as Ewan steps into the attic and smiles ruefully.

"Don't tell me I woke you," he says in a low, apologetic voice.

"You did," Ewan says, "but I could have told you to fuck off. I'm much more curious what you're doing up here at three in the morning."

"Sorry," Hayden says, letting the box lid flop shut. "I was just doing some stuff in my office and I had this thought…" He bites his lip, looks down, and somehow Ewan knows exactly what he isn't saying.

"You were writing?" he asks.

"Rereading, actually." Hayden laughs softly, still not meeting Ewan's eye. "And there's something in the book which I have so I wanted to find it again."

"A CD?" Ewan asks, recognizing the album art after a moment. "Isn't that—?"

"Led Zeppelin Four?" Hayden says, passing Ewan the CD and packing the other CDs back into the box. "Yeah, you gave it to me."

And for a moment Ewan is transported to the emotional climax of a conversation where he'd decided it was imperative he introduce his new co-star to one of the best rock albums ever made.

This moment feels like a mirror of it, except Hayden is the one handing him the CD and his expression is nothing like the wide grin Ewan must have been wearing back then. He can't say what it is about it, but there's some sort of expectation in Hayden's gaze.

Sure enough, when Ewan flips the case open, written in his scrawl, it says 'For your edification, my very young apprentice.'

Ewan barks out a laugh as he flips the case closed again and turns it over to remind himself of the track-list. "That's not a line from the movie is it?"

Hayden shrugs and pushes the box away from him. But when Ewan goes to hand the CD to him, Hayden doesn't put it back. Instead, he stands up and when he meets Ewan's eye at last, he just asks, "Want some tea?"

And Ewan knows by now that Hayden doesn't mean a proper brew, but something with freshly picked mint, valerian or lavender, so he says, "Yes."

Hayden is still in his day-clothes, meanwhile Ewan is wearing what he's been borrowing from Hayden for the last week: plaid sleep bottoms, an old shirt. He's a little cold, standing in slippers in the open kitchen, but the tea warms him up and he asks, "What were you reading?"

"Oh just the manuscript," Hayden replies with practiced casualness. "Since you were asking about it, I was looking at it. I have this horrible habit of rereading it every time I pull it out."

"That's good, isn't it? Means it's worth reading."

"Yeah except I worry I'm torturing myself." He's staring at his mug resolutely. "I tried not to make it about… Rachel, but there's still things that feel inexorably connected to her. I was trying to work through my feelings about mourning a relationship… Not mourning our relationship. Does that make sense?"

When he looks up, his gaze is sharp, belying the soft smile and laugh lines. He looks at Ewan like it matters entirely too much what Ewan says. Ewan's opinion shouldn't matter in this. But the CD still lies on the counter.

"Yes," Ewan says quietly; too quietly, he clears his throat and takes a sip of his tea. It's sweet and fresh.

"So if you decide you don't want to read it, or if you start and can't finish it, no hard feelings. You can just put it back on my desk and I won't mind."

Ewan tries to reply lightly, tries to make it sound like it isn't a big deal, "But I do want to read it," he says.

"Okay," Hayden says, nodding, "okay," and goes back to his office as though this is the middle of the afternoon and not the middle of the night, leaving Ewan alone in the kitchen.

It takes a long moment, perhaps longer than it should, and then Hayden is passing Ewan the dog-eared and pen-marked copy of the manuscript he found snooping in Hayden's desk. It's hole-punched and bound so that it doesn't fall apart. It's thick, several hundred pages. But Ewan says goodnight and takes it upstairs.

He doesn't fall asleep until the sun is gracing the horizon with a thick orange tongue.

#domaystic2023 #2023day26 #dreamy does fic #dreamy does domaystic #star wars rpf #hayden x ewan #ewan x hayden #haywan