#( musing: russian family )

[thexwayward]

.

[sapphic-coded]

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Violence. Some gore. Language that Cap wouldn't approve of. Reader is a messed up assassin. Minors DNI

Word Count: 3.4k

Author's Note: Welp. Here's my first fanfic on tumblr. I only have one chapter written, but I'm hoping my muse will stick with me so I can turn this into a series. This is lightly edited. I apologize in advance for any mistakes you come across (and you most likely will). Minors, please do not interact. Please do not copy/steal my work. Enjoy!

Chapter One: I Thought You Died Alone A Long, Long Time Ago

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1992

The silence that filled the car wielded a tension you were all too familiar with. Your father’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel he gripped. A deep frown pulled at his lips while his cold, steel gray eyes stared straight ahead behind a pair of thick, dark framed glasses. His usual tamed black hair was a mess with strands of hair shooting out in random directions. 

Sitting next to your father, up in the front passenger’s seat, was your older brother. He was a tall, skinny boy who had just embarked into his teens. His blonde hair was parted down the middle of his head and reached the tips of his ears. His navy blue eyes stared out the passenger’s window. His lips were pressed tight. There was so much he wanted to say. If you guys were anywhere else, perhaps he wouldn’t hold back. 

Sitting next to you in the backseat of your father’s station wagon was your older sister. She was a year younger than your brother with her long brown hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. Her head was bowed, and her brown eyes were glued to the pages of her book. She was skinny like your brother, but her body was already beginning to shift into adulthood. She had started growing breasts last summer. 

You were the youngest. You had recently celebrated your tenth birthday. You were skinny like your siblings, but still very much a child. Your green camo jacket felt heavy. You were all dressed alike: green camo jackets, dark green shirts, green hunting fatigues, and heavy brown boots. It was the outfit you always wore during your hunting trips with your father.  

Your brother reached toward the car’s radio. Your father’s hand released its vice-like grip on the steering wheel and slapped down on your brother’s hand. You heard the loud smack, and your brother quickly snatched his hand back.

“I’ve had enough of your nonsense.” Your father’s voice rode a current of anger that popped the tense bubble of silence. 

“I just wanted to listen to music,” your brother shot back. “Sitting here in silence is boring.” 

Just like that another argument between your father and brother started up. You looked over at your sister. She was very much focused on her book. Your attention drifted over to your window. You did your best to tune out the argument happening up front while you watched the scenery of trees roll by. Eventually your gaze dropped to your lap. You stared at the dried blood caked around your fingernails. 

“...pointless and–”

“You are cowardly and weak!”

You can’t believe the weekend is almost over. You had spent the whole weekend out hunting with your family. Your father had parked his station wagon in a lot and marched you all out into the woods. You all had spent the whole weekend laying in the cold mud. It was your brother’s hunt. You were all following his lead. Which meant mostly laying in the mud and following tracks every so often. This weekend was supposed to end with your brother’s first kill. Instead, it ended differently. 

The engine of your father’s car stopped as you reached your house. The argument between your brother and father had ended, but you cannot recall when. You undid your seatbelt and opened the car door. The moment you stepped out onto your driveway, your attention landed on a moving truck parked across the street. A man and a woman were busy unloading boxes out of the truck and carrying them into the house. 

You noticed something else. A girl around your age with blue hair came out of the house and walked down the driveway towards the moving truck. Her pace slowed as she noticed you. You lifted your hand in a small, friendly wave. A smile had started to curl at your lips when your father’s voice called out to you. You turned away from your new neighbors and found your father standing in the garage with his hunting rifle hanging from his shoulder. You made your way up into the garage where you felt your father’s hand fall gently onto your shoulder. 

Amsterdam – 2010

You hate these jobs. Long relentless days spent circling your target. Never able to strike just yet. You had to put on a show first. Pretend to be their friend, or a business partner, or their lover. You had to act as if your target was important in some flimsy life you threw together. Your kills were always messy at the end of these jobs. You can’t help it. You just want the stupid job to be over. 

And it almost is. You have spent the past four days pretending to be your target’s bodyguard. Four days spent following your target around. You dealt with their problems and waited for the day all your targets would be together in the same room. Because the job wasn't just to kill the target you were pretending to protect. Your target and their friends had messed up. They had pissed off the wrong people. You were there to clean up the mess. 

Your target had set the long awaited meeting to take place in a fancy hotel in the middle of the day. The guest list for this meeting would be short. It included your target and you, his business partners, and their private security. The meeting wasn’t scheduled to take long. It was supposed to be a simple transaction. An easy exchange of goods and money. The details of that particular transaction did not interest you. Your interest lingers on your plan to take out all your targets. 

The dark brown shoulder holster that you wore over your white, button-up, collared shirt held one of your favorite guns. There was nothing overly special about it. It was a standard, black 9mm Beretta handgun. It was reliable in nearly all your jobs. It was your favorite because it had been your first gun. A present from your father. It marked the end of your training and the beginning of the rest of your life. If your job was to take out just the one target you had been following around, then the choice would have been easy. But the job required the elimination of all your targets. Since the other targets were bringing their own private security, once you made your move you would need to finish the job quickly. 

But the job didn’t specify that the kills had to be quiet. 

You pull on your gray suit coat. Your shoulder holster disappears from view as you stand before the mirror and button the coat. Matching gray trousers cover your legs and the black flats you wear bring a smile to your face. This job was almost over and soon you would be busy getting yourself as far away from here as possible. Hence why you chose the flats over heels. You run your hands down the length of your suit coat to smooth out any wrinkles. Your hair is pulled back into a professional, tight bun. Your right hand dips into one of the suit pockets. The pad of your finger brushes against the small, round marble nestled within. 

When your target is ready, you follow him out of the hotel room he rented and down into the hotel lobby. You follow him across the spacious lobby and into a large boardroom. As the door clicks shut behind you, your eyes survey the room. A long mahogany table commands most of the space within the room. Situated around the table were identical black office chairs. Far more than necessary for this meeting. Sitting in four of the chairs were your four other targets. Standing behind each of your targets were their own bodyguards. Sunlight poured into the room from the floor to ceiling glass windows that ran along one side of the room. 

You follow your target over to one of the chairs. He takes a seat and you stand behind him. Your gaze briefly returns to the other bodyguards. All tall, imposing looking men. They stand as still as statues, and you wonder how they do it. Do they enjoy following around power addicted fools? You spent four days with your target, and you can’t wait to kill him. 

“Where’s Tyler?” your target asks as he settles into his seat. 

“Running late,” your other target answers. 

You tune out the insults your targets direct towards the currently absent Tyler. Instead, you wonder what this peaceful boardroom will look like in the next ten minutes. Or however long it takes for Tyler to show up. There will definitely be blood. Broken glass was also a given. You doubt the chairs will make it. The hotel will definitely need to buy a new table. But you wonder if you’ll get a chance to see their faces. Just one. It’s the part that fascinates you the most. Your target’s last moment etched across their face. It reveals so much. 

The door to the boardroom opens and the conversation shared between your targets dies into an awkward silence. You turn in time with everyone else as Tyler steps into the room alone. The first thing you notice is that he is sweating. A lot. In his shaking hand he holds the handle of a briefcase. His free hand raises up and he runs his fingers through a disheveled mop of dark hair. 

“Sorry about the wait,” Tyler says. 

“Jesus, Tyler,” your original target replies. “You look like shit. Let’s just get this over with so we can all go home.” 

Tyler nods and hurries over to the table. He sets the briefcase down and opens it. One of your other targets reaches into their coat pocket and pulls out a brown wrapped parcel. The size and shape of the parcel is clearly money. With everyone’s attention on Tyler and his suitcase, you causally unbutton your gray suit jacket. 

“Just so everything is clear,” your original target addresses the others. “You give us that.” He gestures to the suitcase. “You take the money, and we don’t hear from you ever again. You don’t mention us and we don’t know you. You don’t come looking for this because it doesn’t exist.”

Tyler nods. 

“We still haven’t discussed how we are dividing our profits,” another target says. 

“We’ll discuss it later,” your original target replies. 

As the conversation shifts into another argument, you decide that this is as good a time as any to wrap things up. All your targets are in place with a few bonus players. It is time to put these boring four days behind you. As your hand moves towards your pocket, you spot one of the other bodyguards quickly lowering his head. His hand lifts up to press against his ear. You still your movements as you watch the other bodyguard. 

“We just lost our comms,” the bodyguard’s voice cuts through the argument. 

Your hand abandons its journey towards your pocket as your original target turns around in their seat to look at you. The question written plain across their face is one you can’t answer. Maybe if you had any comms to worry about then you could make a solid guess as to why they are suddenly down. But you don’t. And while you have no interest in who the new mysterious player is, you do get the sense that maybe you really should wrap this up. Quickly. 

You mimic the other bodyguards as you reach for your gun. Your fingers manage to brush against the holster’s leather before a faint beeping sound pulls your attention over towards the door. Something small and metallic rolls out from underneath the door. It rolls across the floor towards you and your gathered targets. You can barely make out what it is from where you are standing, but the quickening frequency of the faint beeping causes you to turn away from it. 

The white light that explodes from the weird object swallows up the entire boardroom. You close your eyes as the explosion drowns out the shouts from the other bodyguards. Your ears are ringing when you open your eyes. The shouts from your targets are muffled as they all scramble from their seats. The wall of glass windows shatters as men in black tactical gear attached to wires swing into the boardroom. The bodyguards who had managed to pull out their guns immediately exchange gunfire with the uninvited tactical team while your targets scramble to avoid getting hit. 

Well, you hadn’t planned to end this job on a neat and tidy note. Things were about to get really messy. 

You pull your gun from its holster and aim it at the first tactical newcomer that pointed their gun at you. Your finger squeezes the trigger, and you watch with satisfaction as their head snaps back from the bullet barreling through their forehead. Their body goes limp and drops. You spy one bodyguard already dead with their chest riddled with bullet holes. 

A second tactically geared newcomer turns their attention to you and is quick to fire. You quickly duck underneath the fancy boardroom table. Bullets from your enemy’s gun rips through the wood above you. You take aim at the guy’s leg and fire. The guy’s cry comes through crystal clear as he drops to his knee. You can’t fight back the smile that curls your lips as you maneuver your way out from underneath the table and fire off another round where you’re almost certain his mouth is. 

Another bodyguard has joined the other dead one on the floor while the others corral your targets behind them as they continue to exchange gunfire with the uninvited guests. Except, Tyler darts out from behind the weakening wall of bodyguards and rushes towards the bullet ridden table. He snatches up the briefcase and hurries towards the door. The other targets hurl curses his way as you lift your gun and aim at the back of his head. You are about to pull the trigger when the door Tyler reaches flies open into him. Tyler stumbles backwards, trips over his clumsy feet, and falls backwards. The briefcase slips from his grasp and slides across the floor and stops at your feet. 

Your attention, however, is not on the briefcase. It’s not even on Tyler who is groaning and still alive. Your eyes are glued to the person who steps through the doorway and into the room. You recognise her face immediately despite her red hair. It’s long and tied back away from her face in an intricate braid. The black catsuit she wears bears the symbol of SHIELD on her shoulders. The identity of the tactical newcomers pales in comparison to the way her olive green eyes widen slightly in recognition. Old memories, so long buried that you are shocked you can even remember them, creep in. The gun in your hand never wavers as you find your old friend at the business end of it. 

“Y/N.” 

If there were any doubts, her voice banished them. It’s her. 

“Put down the gun.” 

It’s as if a floodgate has opened. The memories are countless despite the fact that it had only been three years. So old and forgotten that they feel new. They smother the job that has taken up residence within your mind. You’re here to kill your targets, but all you can think about is the last time you saw her. How abrupt her departure had been. You remember your father’s rants about her family. 

Slowly, you lower your gun. She takes a step forward. Tyler’s groans stop, and he lifts his head up. He reaches for the briefcase at your feet. You point your lowered gun down towards Tyler’s head and pull the trigger. Your friend’s advance stops as blood and pieces of Tyler’s brain paint the floor and the briefcase red. One target down. 

The smoke pours from your gun as you gauge her reaction. The recognition you saw earlier is gone. Her face is a mask, and the frustration you feel is so familiar. 

The last of the bodyguards drop and your remaining targets are completely exposed. The remaining tactical guests close in on your targets except for one who breaks off and starts towards you. You ignore the orders the man shouts at you. Instead, you kick the blood and brain matter stained briefcase underneath the ruined table. You start to raise your gun, but the tactical guest already has his finger on the trigger. He fires and you are quick to dodge out of the way. The bullets dig holes into the wall behind you. You kick one of the office chairs at the man. It collides into him and he stumbles back. You raise your gun again but the moment you squeeze the trigger, your legs are swept out from underneath you. The bullet you fired finds a home in the ceiling as your back collides with the ground. 

Before you can move, a weight settles on you. Hands pin down yours. Strong legs straddle you as your friend’s face fills your vision. 

“Stop, Y/N.” There’s more force behind her words this time. “Don’t make me hurt you.” 

You almost laugh. Almost. Maybe if your job was done then you could have spared a moment or two to revel in your friend’s joke. But you were dangerously close to losing control of this job. You pull your legs up and manage to throw your friend off of you. You roll onto your knees and go to stand when the man you had kicked the chair at slams the butt of his gun into your jaw. Your head snaps to the side and blood fills your mouth. 

The childhood memories that have been distracting you vanish as you spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor. The man turns his gun back around to point the barrel at you. Your hold on your own gun remains firm as you look over your shoulder towards your friend. She’s on her knees as well, but that is all you are able to make out as you quickly drop back down towards the floor. A small, short bluish bolt flies barely an inch over your head and lands on the guy who hit you. Blue strings of electricity wrap around his chest as he drops with a shout. 

You scramble to your feet and head for the door. Your hand digs into your suit pocket and your fingers close around the small marble. You can hear your friend catching up to you as you pull the marble from your pocket. Your thumb presses down on the miniscule button barely noticeable to the eye. As you quickly near the door, you drop the marble. It rolls towards your remaining targets. The moment you make it out of the boardroom and into the lobby, you feel her hand close around yours. You yank your hand hard from her grip and turn quickly while raising your gun. 

You find yourself staring down the barrel of her gun. A smile creeps onto your face as you hold your gun steady. Unfortunately, your friend doesn’t find this amusing. 

“Put down the gun.”

“You first, Nat,” you reply. 

Her gun stays pointed at you when it finally happens. The boardroom explodes into a hot, blazing ball of destruction. The force of the explosion sends both of you flying further into the spacious lobby. You both hit a fancy looking pillar before dropping with a hard thud to the ground. Despite your body’s screams of protest, you are the first to climb back onto your feet. You look down as your friend starts to move. Still alive. Your gun feels heavy in your hand as that single thought runs laps through your mind. For the first time in a long time, you feel excited. 

“Sorry, Nat,” you say as you slide your gun back into its holster. “Gotta run.” 

You leave her there and make your escape. Slipping away from the scene that has now drawn a crowd is as easy as breathing. You hardly think about it. And with nobody chasing you, it’s almost painfully easy. But the further away you get, you know that’s not entirely true. She isn’t chasing after you now, but she will. You hope so. You miss your only friend.

[fdelopera]

Musings on the Moon Knight System for the High Holidays

BROKE: Moon Knight System in the comics are Jewish in name only. They’re basically pagan idolaters.

WOKE: Jake is MK System’s spiritual protector in the comics (especially MacKay), and connects the most with their Jewish identity.

BESPOKE: The Moon Knight System are very Jewish, but Marc, Steven, and Jake have a lot of specific religious trauma, and they each connect to their Jewishness in different ways and at different times ... just as most Jews do. Their Jewishness is an intrinsic part of who they are.

At the Rosh Hashanah 2nd day service yesterday, the Rabbi said something that brought Moon Knight System to mind.

During the Malchuyot, Zichronot, and Shofarot prayers, she said this before the Zichronot prayer:

“Jews are all about memory. We tell and retell the stories of our ancestors to link our generations together. We tell the story of the Exodus and redemption, and these are human memories. Here in the Zichronot section, we consider G-d's memory. What we are asking in Zichronot is, "Am I remembered? Is my life in G-d's memory?" And the answer is, yes. Adonai remembers each one of us, every single creature created in G-d's image is seen and noticed.”

And yet, what about those of us who are dissociative? What about those of us whose memory is scattered, fragmented, and traumatized, just like the Jewish people have been throughout our history?

What about those of us whose memory stops at a certain point, just as our family tree goes back only a few generations to those who escaped the pogroms and the Holocaust? Yes, we can trace some of our ancestors across the ocean to the shtetls, and we can search for the deep root systems that our people have grown from, but we know that if we do, we will only find tragedy and death.

For every one of our ancestors who has a gravestone in an intact Jewish cemetery in the Old Country, there are countless others whose roots were cut, who were murdered by Romans and Inquisitors and Cossacks and Nazis, whose bodies were desecrated, and who were never buried in Jewish soil. And yet, even as the Nazis and the Russians and the Spanish and the Romans and so many others tried to erase us from living memory, still we persevered. There are still some branches left. Our cultural memory endures, even though it is fragmented.

And yet, what of us who strain to remember? What of those of us who have high walls instead of doorways, keeping us out? Perhaps we can even see trees growing on the other side, but we cannot enter, not yet. How then can we connect to our past? Must we wander for another 40 years? And on Yom Kippur, how can we atone if remembrance is scattered and hidden like the Lost Tribes of Israel?

I imagine that Marc has wondered thoughts like these from time to time, especially around the High Holidays. Marc wants to think of himself as an apostate. If he’s being particularly edgy, he might even describe himself as an idolater. But I don’t think he is. Marc has a Jewish soul. So does Jake and so does Steven.

And as much as Marc might want to think that he is beyond atonement for the things he’s done, perhaps in quiet moments, he still hopes to atone as best he can. Perhaps some nights, Marc and Jake and Steven share dreams of teshuvah, of repentance, of making amends. With Gena. With Crawley. With Frenchie. And yet, how to even begin?

Perhaps Elias Spector, the Orthodox rabbi, might once have read the following passage on Rosh Hashanah as he spoke to the congregation from the bimah. And even if Marc was dissociating into the ether when he heard these words, sitting as far away from his father as possible, halfway to hiding deep within, the duty of being the Rabbi's son weighing heavy on his shoulders ... perhaps Jake and Steven listened, and they remembered for all of them:

“When a person commits a sin and does not turn in repentance, when that person forgets the sin, Hakadosh Baruch Hu remembers. When a person fulfills a commandment by doing a good deed, but forgets about it, Hakadosh Baruch Hu remembers. When a person commits a sin and later turns in repentance by remembering that sin, Hakadosh Baruch Hu grants atonement, and forgets the sin. But when a person fulfills a commandment and is constantly filled with self-praise because of it, Hakadosh Baruch Hu forgets it. What a person forgets, G-d remembers, and what a person remembers, G-d forgets.” -- The Hasidic Master Shmelke of Nikolsberg

Shana tovah and g’mar chatima tovah to the Moon Knight System. May they be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life.

[constantinerkives]

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

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

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

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

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

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

_________________ WORDCOUNT: 10, 214 _________________

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

Thank you for waiting. Enjoy reading!

And also because:

You asked, I shall deliver

Russian-translated words are here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're the oldest, right?"

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

Jinyoung gulped, "Yes," 

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

"Yes?" He answers tentatively. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She didn't return after that. 

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

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

But no, it remained. 

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

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

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

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

You paused, "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Under two conditions."

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

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

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

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

"Very well," He gives in, "Y/N Han." 

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

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

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

And their two children - Ilina and Karina Zakharov.

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

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

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

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

She looked apprehensive, "Are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mingyu wants to talk to you." 

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

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

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

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

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

You arch a brow; she sent you the dress? 

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

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

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

"How about I answer that with a dance?" 

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

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

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

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

The woman grins, "Da," 

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

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

"Who are you?" 

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

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

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

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

Your brows furrow, "What do you mean?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She growls as she tightens her hold around you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With that, your body shuts down. 

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

Pain follows second. 

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

Your senses heightened. 

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

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

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

"How long have I been unconscious?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nyet," 

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

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

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

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

There's something in her eyes that unnerved you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That includes you, Winter Kim." 

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

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

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

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

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

"That's ridiculous-"

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

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

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

You scowl at her, "My men-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you want from me?"

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

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

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

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

"Fine," You say through gritted teeth. 

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

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

"Yes," 

"Yes - what, pretty girl?"

"Yes," You hiss, "Karina Zakharov." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was none. 

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

And you pass out.

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

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

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

Five minutes

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

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

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

You move your gaze to the parents you hailed them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My condolences," You say to her monotonously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She guffaws, "Follow me, dorogoj." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your guard," She tells you. 

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

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

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

Winter balks, "You're no prisoner." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing, Zakharov?"

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

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

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

"You call your prisoners that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The Uchinagas are hosting an event." 

"Okay, and?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why would she sketch you?

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

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

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

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

Why would she give her time to go to you? 

Why

Why 

Why?

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

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

What does she want from you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Was that a personal attack?" 

She snorts, "A - what?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Alone?" She muses, "I doubt it." 

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

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

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

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

You scowl at her. Since when did she care? 

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

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

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

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

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

"But-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And your window of opportunity closes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your tears?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fin.

[imaginedanvrs]

encrypted relations

part 4 l masterlist

summary: yelena belova x reader. when natasha takes you under her wing, she becomes like family, and the last thing you want is to lose that. but when you meet her younger sister who you know is off limits, you have to decide between what you really want and hope for minimal damage

word count: sexual themes, past toxic relationship

warnings: 2.9k

In the few hours that you did spend sleeping, you did it peacefully next to the blonde. If she wasn’t wrapped around you, you were wrapped around her, listening for her steady breathing or heartbeat in your few moments of consciousness. You were glad of them, Yelena appeared more at ease that you had ever seen her when she slept, it was a vulnerable side to her you hoped you would get to see again. 

  You were both awoken by Yelena’s phone ringing in the morning. The Russian swore under her breath and immediately went to turn off her device until she saw it was Natasha’s contact. You peaked a glance when you noticed Yelena’s consideration and froze upon reading her screen. 

  Fuck. 

  “Hello?” Yelena answered, her voice rough and accent thick. It sounded good- no! You needed to snap out of it. You had just slept with the black widow’s sister and if she ever found out you might not ever be seen again. 

  “Hey, I’m back,” Natasha announced, voice too cheerful after what was no doubt a very long flight. 

  Great timing, Nat.

  “Oh, cool,” Yelena said as she locked eyes with you. You immediately looked away and scrambled around looking for a shirt to put on. 

  “Don’t tell me you’re not in the city anymore,” Natasha huffed.

  “No, I am- still here I mean,” Yelena continued. 

  “Great, I'll come by later.” The blonde’s eyes widened considerably as she began searching for her own clothes.

  “No! I mean…let’s grab lunch!”

  “Okay weirdo.” You could hear the suspicion in Natasha’s voice over the phone and you were surprised at how bad Yelena was at lying to her sister. If she carried on like that then you’d be in trouble. 

  “Great, see you then!” Yelena called down the line before hanging up. 

  “Your sister’s gonna kill me,” you stated. 

  “No she won’t,” Yelena disregarded as she put her clothes back on.

  “I’m serious, Lena. Don’t tell her,” you pleaded.

  “I like when you call me that,” she told you simply, a fond smile playing on her lips. It really wasn’t fair how into her you were. “I’m not going to tell her,” she assured. You breathed out steadily. 

  “Thank you.” You stood up from the bed just as Yelena finished putting her clothes on. “There's a pack of new toothbrushes in the bathroom,” you added as the blonde headed for the bathroom. 

  Sighing as you strolled through to the kitchen, you replayed the events of the night in your head. You didn’t regret it, not one bit. Sure, it might not have been the smartest move sleeping with Yelena, but you liked her and you were pretty sure she liked you too so surely there was nothing to feel guilty about. Yet you still did, because you also remembered the first time Natasha had told you about her sister.

“You want something to eat?” You asked when the blonde reemerged. Yelena winked at you in response and you threw a spoon at her. 

  “I can think of something,” she mused as you turned your back to her. 

  “You’re impossible,” you called back, earning a soft laugh that made your heart squeeze. You were setting up some coffee when she joined you, placing a tender hand to your waist as she kissed your neck. You leaned into the touch despite yourself. 

  “Lena,” you warned as she snaked her hands around your waist. 

  “What? You offered,” she grinned against you. Somehow, you gathered the strength to turn around and press a hand to her chest to keep her within distance. 

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to do this again,” you said, unable to read the blonde as she considered your words. Last night, you had both admitted to having wanted it for some time, and although now that it had you wanted nothing more than to do it again, you had to think of the risks. Jokes aside, you didn’t want to hurt Natasha by sleeping with her sister, you had no idea what kind of wedge that could drive between you. 

  “Okay,” Yelena agreed. “I should go.” You didn’t want her to, but you nodded. She left your side to put her shoes and jacket on but came back with the murmur of her keys that were on the island behind you. She reached around to grab them, invading your space in a welcomed way as she did so and lingered for a second too long. You glanced down at her lips, remembering well how soft they were and how tender yet assertive they felt against your own. You weren’t ready to give that up yet. 

  You brought your hand up to the side of Yelena’s face, bringing it to your own for your lips to meet in familiarity. You felt the blonde smile into you, a smile of triumph. “I thought you said-” she tried but you cut her off.

  “Shut up,” you said as you pushed her up against the wall and set about undoing the zip of her trousers. She watched you with an amused smirk and pushed you to your knees.

*

  “I should probably go for real this time,” Yelena said as she combed her fingers through your slightly tangled hair. 

  “It’s nowhere near lunchtime yet,” you objected, eyes closed as you enjoyed the comfort of laying curled into Yelena’s side on your sofa. You felt her chest vibrate as she chuckled. “Besides, I’m trying to catch up on sleep here,” you pointed out. 

  “I have to shower and change.” You looked up at the blonde. 

  “I have to shower too,” you said matter of factly. 

  “Then I really will be late,” Yelena smiled as she traced the outline of your face with her index finger. You hummed, close to shutting your eyes again but knowing that the Russian was right. You weren't going to stop her seeing her sister. 

  “Okay,” you whispered, prying yourself off her to plant a soft kiss to her lips before you got up and threw her once again discarded clothes back at her. You went to put your own on but caught a brief glimpse of yourself in the windowed cabinet in the kitchen. “Yelena,” you hissed as you put your hand up to the various marks across your skin. “How old are you, fifteen?” Yelena simply laughed at your agitation, feeling undeniably proud of the traces she had left of herself. 

  “They’re just in case you decide to go back to that bar when I’m not around,” she shrugged. You really couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. 

  “I think I’ll steer clear,” you muttered as you examined the marks through your phone’s camera. She was insatiable. 

  “I’ll see you soon, detka,” Yelena said softly with a kiss that lingered long enough for you to savour. Maybe being insatiable wasn’t a bad quality. 

  Once Yelena left, you scrolled through your notifications to find several texts from Natasha and Kate, more so from the archer so you answered her first. 

  Kate: you guys having fun? ;)

  Kate: make sure you both get home safe!!

  Kate: you better not be dead

  Kate: or are you just hooking up

  Kate: dude text me back or im assuming youre dead

  Kate: oh wait lesbian sex takes ages doesnt it, okay ill give you until morning -_-

  Kate: *raised brow* You stared down at your phone and quickly typed out a reply to put your friend’s worries at ease.

  Me: hi, hows lucky??

  Kate: hes fine, just a little shit. you totally fucked didnt you You didn’t even think about denying it from your best friend.

  Me: maybe

  Kate: I KNEW YOU WOULD

  Me: WHAT? HOW?

  Kate: im coming over (is it safe?)

  Me: yes shes gone

  Kate: omw

  You really thought you had been subtle about liking Yelena the way that you did and you hadn’t been able to say for sure that she was into you either until that night. You guessed you couldn’t get that sort of thing past the future private detective/best friend and you were glad she knew. You had wanted to tell her months ago, but that would have made it real. 

  Nat: im back, flash drive : ) what kind of mayhem did you unleash with my sister while i was gone? 

  The we-almost-broke-my-bed kind, you thought. 

  Me: i made her watch survivor, she’s cool

  Nat: without me?? traitor You stared at the screen for a minute before responding. 

  Me: im glad youre back, how was the mission?

  Nat: long, come by the tower tomorrow?

  Me: sure : )

  By the time you were finished in the shower and dressed in clean clothes, Kate was letting herself into your apartment with an excited grin. Lucky made a b-line for Marty as Kate went to take her coat off. “No, no! We’re going for a walk, I need the fresh air,” you were quick to say. At the very mention, Marty grabbed his collar and leash as you put on your own coat. 

  “I bet you do,” Kate muttered with a knowing smile. “I knew it was going to happen sooner or later,” she continued. 

  “How?” You questioned as you closed the apartment door behind you. “I didn’t even know it was going to happen.”

 “Oh come on, it was obvious with the way you guys were looking at each other all the time,” Kate stated as you made your way out of the building and headed in the direction of the park. 

  “I wasn’t even sure she was into me,” you told the archer. “And anyway, I doubt it will happen again,” you falsely predicted. 

  “Why not? I think you guys would be good together.”

  “Woah, who said anything about being together?” You questioned with alarm. “It’s one thing for me to be sleeping with her, dating would lead me to a whole other level of gruesome murder by Natasha,” you explained. Kate frowned. 

  “You think Nat wouldn’t want you to? Why?” It hadn’t crossed the archer’s mind at any point that your hesitance towards Yelena was because of her sister. 

  “Because she told me.” 

~

You leant back in your chair as the green bar moved steadily across your screen. The videos Rae ‘needed’ always took a long time to download and sometimes extra encryption overrides were needed to access it. They were never any cause for concern though due to the fact you knew how S.H.I.E.L.D operated all of their systems as well as you knew your own. The accomplishment would have thrilled you months prior, but since it was being used for Rae and whoever else, you just felt ashamed. 

  It hadn’t taken long for Rae’s requests to go beyond people. She needed layouts of buildings you tried not to remember the names of incase you saw them on the news. She needed videos and recordings. She needed you to block signals and replicate them with your own, create and plant viruses. You didn’t know how to do the last ones and it had taken you some time to learn despite Rae’s well known impatience. 

  It wasn’t just S.H.I.E.L.D anymore either. It was everyone. It was various governments, organisations and sites you didn’t recognise the names but were clearly important once you saw the information you had. With every little thing you passed on, your guilt gnawed away at you, digging its teeth in when it was hard to ignore that your actions were causing significant harm, even if it was indirectly. That evening, you reached your breaking point. 

  Rae was in another room when the video finished downloading. You got up to let her know but lost your balance slightly and reached out to the desk for support, accidentally pressing down on the keyboard in doing so and playing the video. You only saw a second before you scrambled to exit it, but you had seen enough. A child. A little boy, no less than five. You couldn’t see where he was or what was going on, all you saw was the close up of his face. An anchor dropped in your chest as you steadied yourself. 

  “Done,” you called out, voice cracking slightly as you willed yourself to stop thinking about what that little boy’s face meant. Rae came out of the bedroom just as you began taking the process of sending the video over to her. If she could tell that you were shaken, she didn’t say anything. 

  “Great,” she said as she grabbed a glass of water and sauntered back into the bedroom. Did she know? Surely not. Your girlfriend was by no means a saint but she would never go so low as being involved with…whatever that video was about. You put your forehead in your hand for a moment, as though it would settle the buzzing coming from within. You couldn’t think about it. You had no part in Rae’s world. 

  “I’m going out,” she informed as she grabbed her keys from the mantelpiece. That meant she wouldn’t be back until you were at work the next day. 

  You couldn’t believe your own lies, you had a big part in Rae’s world. You moved the mouse across the screen, about to start the rehearsed process of covering your footprints. Then you paused, took in a deep breath, and took the complicated way out, the one that left a trace of you that someone at S.H.I.E.L.D would find. It could take seconds, maybe hours, no more than a day. They’d come eventually though, they’d stop you and everything would be okay, just maybe not for you. 

  It took three hours and twenty six minutes. You knew because you couldn’t stop looking at the time. She came through your bedroom window, where the fire escape was. You never heard her come in, but you were watching the hallway to your bedroom when she appeared. She froze, locked eyes even though you couldn’t make out past her silhouette in the dark. She was holding a gun and it was aimed right at you. 

  You closed your eyes and held your trembling hands together. You didn’t want to die and you hadn’t been expecting them to shoot you, but you didn’t have it in you to protest. Half a minute passed and you didn’t feel or hear anything. When you opened your eyes again she was leaning her back against the kitchen worktop facing you, just a few steps away. 

  You recognised her immediately. Black widow. You were surprised and a little flattered that they sent her. You imagined it would be some rookie, that you would be deemed a low threat. You wondered what made them think otherwise but weren’t about to ask. Not when she was watching you the way she was. You looked back, hoping she wasn’t expecting you to speak first because you had no idea what to say to the Avenger. The Avenger they had asked to take down the nineteen year old hacker. 

  “Do you want a drink?” You eventually asked because she wasn���t saying anything and it was a very uncomfortable silence. 

  “You’re under arrest, you know?” She said flatly. 

  “You can do that?” You asked, genuinely surprised. She arched a brow in response, as though she could see no reason why not. “I mean I knew you would come and take me to wherever but I didn’t think you could call it arresting,” you continued. 

  “We can’t call it kidnapping,” she pointed out.

  “No, I suppose that wouldn’t look very good in the reports,” you considered.

  “You would know, I’m sure,” she said as she eyed the screen behind you. Everything was turned off. 

  “Not really, I never read those kinds of reports,” you said honestly. 

  “No? But you did read reports,” she pushed. 

  “You would know, clearly,” you stated as you waved at where Natasha stood, surprised at your lack of nerves in the Russian’s presence. At this, she smiled. You smiled back awkwardly, wondering where she was going to go from there. “Are you going to handcuff me?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going to sedate me?” Natasha tilted her head slightly as she scanned you.

  “I’m not sure yet,” she said honestly. You nodded and pulled at the sleeves of your jumper. It was a chilly night and you knew it would be colder outside. 

  “Can I put on a coat before we go?” 

  “Sure,” she said without much consideration and followed you into the bedroom. 

  “So why’d they send you?” You continued to ask as you grabbed your navy blue coat from the closet. 

  “You ask a lot of questions,” Natasha stated but didn’t sound irritated. 

  “I’m a curious person,” you shrugged. 

  “Then I probably should sedate you,” she countered. 

  “Okay,” you said, eyeing her gun she had since put back in its holster. Natasha raised a brow again, clearly not expecting you to be so agreeable to everything. “Will it hurt?” That bit didn’t sound so laid back. 

  “For a second,” she informed honestly. 

  “Okay,” you repeated and closed your eyes again. Natasha took that as her queue to not draw her mission out any longer and knew that she would be talking to you again soon anyway. She raised her widow bites to your neck and released the stunner. 

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Familia mea mea est domus – My family is my home

I loved @mistydeyes medical checkup thingy here and got a little inspired, so thanks for that, hun

Unedited because I wrote this on a whim

Tagging my usuals that asked, just because: @glitterypirateduck @letsreadallday @jamesrifftapes @sofasoap @mmyrrhh

A soft knock on his office's door made Price look up briefly.

''Come in''

The door opened swiftly, even before the last word was uttered, and Riot stepped inside, closing behind her hurriedly. Then, without asking, she all but collapsed on the chair in front of him.

''Oh, good you're here, I need clarification on what this means, my German is a bit rusty...'' Price leaned back in his chair, leaving his fountain pen and looking up again, but the slight grin on his face disappeared when he saw her eyes.

Her haunted, wide eyes.

''Kid''

Riot's blue-gray eyes - no, Christine's - looked straight into his, unblinking, and he noticed that just as she sat down, her right knee had started bouncing wildly.

''I have my physical checkup'' Even her voice sounded lower than normal, strained, controlled. ''In half an hour''

''I know'' Price nodded, still lost about what could have happened. ''What's the matter, kid?''

''Can you come with me?''

''... what?''

She moved slightly in the chair, visibly uncomfortable, but her eyes didn't waver and still stared at him, desperate, pleading.

''In my file there's specifications that say I only want female personnel in the physical checkup'' When Price nodded again, Christine tried to overcome the knot in her throat. ''I was just there. There's only male personnel working at the moment. They told me Dr. Benítez was on break and wouldn't be back till noon''

''Can't they move your appointment to when she's in?'' Price was already shutting down his laptop, knowing where this was going, and feeling the exasperation boiling inside. Fucking idiots everywhere.

''They said I could either do the checkup now with the personnel that was in or they would put in my file that I refused to do it'' Christine's voice was even lower now, her fingers tapping furiously on her thighs, and her right knee still bouncing. ''Price, I can't...''

Half an hour later, Price was sitting uncomfortably right in front of the door of the room where Dr. Benitez and a female nurse were performing the physical exam on Sgt. Vega. It had cost him only five minutes of raising his voice at the incompetent idiot in charge of the clinic for the day, and a personal call to Dr. Benitez's phone (who had been appalled by the situation and cut her break short, God blessed that woman, and told off herself the idiots at the reception).

''I know. I'll fix this'' Price stood up and walked around his desk to offer his hand to her. ''Come on, kid, we're gonna give them a piece of our minds''

*

To pass the time, he had sent a text to Heather, explaining the situation, and her answer had been almost instant, and indignant.

I personally put in her file she was NOT to be examined physically by any male presenting person. I'm going to raise hell at whoever is ignoring the personal notes in people's files.

Great, now Heather was in the warpath too. Sighing, Price was about to put his phone away when he got a message from Nikolai, some stupid short video of something he had found on the internet.

For a second he considered telling him, but decided against it. There was no need to have an angry Russian mercenary storming into the base demanding to behead someone for upsetting his solnysh... solhn... his sunshine.

Price also wondered why she hadn't asked Soap or Gaz, or Ghost, but was still musing over it when the door opened and Christine stepped out, talking with Dr. Benitez.

It was like night and day. Now she looked her usual self, or at least her usual masking self, chatty and bright, confident and brilliant. Dr. Benitez nodded at Price and then went back inside, and Christine walked over to him as he stood up.

''All set, kid?''

''All set, sir'' She smiled, and then offered him a lollipop. Price stared at it for a second and then at her eyes, unable to avoid grinning when he saw the usual mischief in there. How in the world he had ended with two Soap in the same unit was beyond him, but it made him feel thankful everyday.

''Really? A lollie?''

''She gave me one and I asked for another one for you'' Christine shrugged, with a cheeky grin. He noticed with sadness how the left corner of her lips was uneven, twisted due to the scar, but he admired her 'fuck it all' attitude about it and her refusal to wear her mask most of the time.

''Oh, thank you then'' Price accepted the lollipop and both unwrapped them as they walked to the exit. ''I'm glad I was still around to come with you. I bet if Ghost, Soap and Gaz had arrived sooner from the drill with the rookies they would have been happy to accompany you''

Christine hummed quietly, enjoying the lollipop, but when he finished talking she looked up at him.

''They were already back when I asked you''

Price opened the door for her, and stared at her hair as she stepped out. She had gone to him, for support and safety, even when she could have chosen any of the other Sergeants or Ghost. Price was well aware of the something brewing between the Lieutenant and her, and that her and Soap were practically siblings, and that Gaz and her were thick as thieves too... but still, she had sought him out instead of them... His heart swelled.

''Alright, sunshine'' Price ruffled her hair playfully, grinning when she protested. ''I think we've earned a coffee. Let's go find the rest of the muppets. My treat''

[soulrevert]

»»        * 𝐸LIZABETH "𝒷𝑒𝓉𝒽" 𝐻ARMON    ஐ🪽 . . .      it's an entire world of just 64 squares. i feel safe in it. i can control it; i can dominate it. and it's predictable. so, if i get hurt, i only have myself to blame.     < muse notes >

         ▍   disclaimer :   both the queen's gambit book and the limited series are pieces of media that depict severe cases of substance abuse. i will not be shying away from this element of beth's character as it is central to her arc in the narrative. it is also a large part of what informs her motivations and actions as a character. that being said, i myself have not struggled with alcoholism or drug addiction so if at any point my portrayal of either seems disingenuous or wrong please feel free to reach out to me so i can do more research and adjust my writing.

» DOSSIER.

full name: elizabeth "beth" olivia harmon nicknames / titles: beth, the white queen, the rita hayworth of chess, red devil, kentucky state champion (1963–1967), united states champion (1967–), grandmaster (1970–) age: 21-33 years old birthplace: winchester, kentucky gender: cis female ( she / her ) sexuality: bisexual ethnicity: scottish american birthday: november 2nd, 1948 zodiac: scorpio sun, capricorn moon, aquarius rising occupation: professional chess player languages: english, russian, rudimentary french current residence: between kentucky and the rolodex of international hotel rooms she stays in during the competition circuit

» APPEARANCE.

hair: naturally red, more bronze than deep crimson eyes: light blue, can appear more turquoise depending on the light height: 5'5" / 165 cm body type: average height and a more curvaceous build. beth isn't very athletic and struggles with alcoholism that causes her weight to fluctuate often. she teeters back and forth from average to a more plus-sized appearance d epending on how bad she is spiraling at the time. notable features: a scatter of freckles over the bridge of her nose. her perfectly styled red bob with not a single hair out of place. her impeccable wardrobe that is often quoted as being "too stylish for chess". a wide-dissecting stare that is almost uncomfortable in its unwavering focus.

» HISTORY.

     beth harmon is orphaned at age eight when her mother dies in a car crash.   growing up in an orphanage in kentucky,   she is taught chess by the custodian mr.   shaibel,   and soon becomes a chess prodigy.   while at the orphanage,   she struggles with an addiction to tranquilizers.   in her teens she is adopted by the wheatley family and begins her rapid rise in the chess world,   eventually challenging the top soviet players.   as her skill and profile grows,   so does her dependency on tranquilizers and eventually alcohol

     in her adulthood,   beth is portrayed as an obsessive,   unable to keep any other element in her life in order outside of her own rise within the chess competitive landscape.   she is a young woman with undiagnosed autism and a good portion of her hyperfixation on the game of chess can be attributed to her particular neurosis.   she is also someone who is fairly socially awkward and prefers her own company over the company of others.   part of the reason why she enjoys chess is the fact that it doesn't require a conversation or an interaction between players besides what is occurring on the board itself.

     outside of her career she has trouble maintaining personal relationships.   between her addictions and the amount of focus she puts into improving her strategies,   she is an unreliable friend,   often disappearing for months at a time without a single phone call or word.   overall she is a difficult person to get close to,   especially to those who exist outside of the competitive world of chess.   the game will always be the center of her life no matter who chooses to stay by her side.  

» VERSES.

bridgerton /  regency: both a prodigy and an oddity alike.   in the wake of the death of beth's adoptive mother she is sent to live with extended family in england,   as she was without any support at all in virginia.   as an orphan she was hidden away from society and kept in the upper levels of her aunt's home.   soon enough,   her penchant for chess is made known to the estate's maids and word eventually travels to her aunt who seeks to exploit her niece as a public spectacle.   beth is often dragged along to balls and set up in the parlor to play chess against party-goers for entertainment.   while she is admired for her skills she is still persona non grata,  given her lack of social standing and her status as a woman without a dowry to be given.   she exists on the fringes of high society,   just within reach but never a part of it.   

ninth house / dark academia: what would you do to never lose again?    after a crushing defeat on the competitive chess circuit beth looks to unsavory means to ensure all her future victories.   making a faustian bargain with a chaos demon she sells a fraction of her soul for boundless luck.   enrolling into yale as a mathematics and russian language double major she seeks out the school's magical underbelly once her demon begins to slip its leash.    

grishaverse: hailing from the wandering isle beth is currently a student enrolled in the university of ketterdam.   when she's not in classes she can be seen making bets over chess with her wealthy classmates.   her wins help fund her tuition and also are a way for her to practice her heartrending abilities by checking the pulse points of her opponents.   knowing their heart rates helps her guess their next move… and she may toy with the nervous system of her more vindictive adversaries.   her grisha status is a secret to the broader public and only her friend jolene is aware of beth's affinity.   

pjo / greco-roman myth verse: a gifted tactician and roman demi-goddess, beth is a daughter of mars and valued asset of the legion due to her mind for strategy. her efforts to protect the roman encampment are usually carried out from behind closed doors and she is a figure heavily shrouded in mystery as she herself has never seen battle despite being the progeny of a war god ( this verse is still HEAVILY under construction but i am looking to develop it further ! )

[nebulousfishgills]

Please do share the notes with us 👀

Okay, let me transcribe *exactly* word for word what I wrote down in my journal for you all (Again, bear in mind that my bestie and I have NOT finished the game yet, so this isn't the full list, I will be adding more):

(The whole dialogue exchange between Henry and Brenner when Henry's getting his tattoo touched up and calls Brenner a parasite because *chef's kiss*)

Orange for Lunch??

Freedom in mind void to ability suppression

Windows

Russian Spies?

Losing Control of the hivemind?

Eleven makes him emotional?

Control over the hivemind is fickle?

"Creepy Henry" by the other kids

Mind Flayer bullies him

Using the hivemind to hunt for Eleven

"Obsession is how you love"

Eating dinner away from the rest of the family as a child

Comic books

Eggs?

Flies around like Spider-Man with the vines

Corpses = Trophies

Spiders = Muse

Mind Flayer communicates to Henry with Brenner's voice

"Most human thing about him" is feeling time

"Tied down like your mother" ??

Physically inside brains?

Obsession with the past

Obsession the only way he can connect

Influence only goes as far as the corruption

Ants? Spiders eat ants?

Chapter 2 says November 1983

Mind Flayer wants to devour everything

Will the key

Chapter 3 The Possession of Will Byers

Vecna in communication with Will

Manipulates Will's memories?

"I understand you more than anybody else"

Can possess technology?

Sows seeds of doubt

"You'll finally matter to someone, Will"

Fascinated by environment (nerd)

Mind Flayer absorbs Henry's memories

Studies Henry

Brenner said he'd take the chip out

Stole some of the Flayer's power?

Mind Flayer is a DICK

Keeps escaping Mind Flayer's influence

Rewarded for hurting things

Saw Eleven like a sister - "Alice"

Eleven was the "replacement?"

Mind Flayer deadass pulls out a "rate your emotions" chart

Henry corrupts the Upside Down

We stopped in the middle of the memory nexus loop since the headset was dying and it was getting late, but that's what I've written down so far. I'll update this once we finish the game and then maybe come up with a more comprehensive analysis post.

[spillthebea]

my fav fics i have written (so far):

32k, 3/3 chapters | completed

A stupid crush, yes, he repeats in his mind turning back to the stage. The novelty will die soon. Sirius likes a challenge, has never flirted with a poet. He thinks he can be a fantastic muse.

or, why be yourself when you can be an expert in Russian Literature?

tags:

Sirius Black/Remus Lupin; Muggle AU; POV Sirius (Third Person); He/Him and They/Them Remus Lupin; Effie best mum; Remus Lupin in a skirt –yep that's right! and we've got fanarts too ;) mild smut (nothing too descriptive); a pinch of Black Family Angst but do not worry too much about that :) Poet!Remus, (eventual) Tattoo Artist!Sirius Welsh Independence!Remus, Noble!Sirius

––––––––––––––

~14k, 2/2 chapters | completed

[Harry] gives in and flicks Padfoot's ear and when the dog’s head snaps towards him, Harry's head spins fast away and pretends he has nothing to do with that. Remus snickers with the cigarette between his lips.

Yes, Harry can see himself living there. -

Dumbledore allows Harry to spend a weekend with Remus and Sirius, the Halloween weekend. A lot of emotions and a lot of trying to be the family that they lost that night of the 31. October 1981.

or, a werewolf, the Chosen One and a wizard in dog form… it doesn't sound that bad of a joke.

tags: Lie Low at Lupin's (Halloween Edition); established wolfstar; Harry POV (Third Person); Grief/Mourning but Found Family and Hopeful Ending ... a lot of feelings all around reputable sources describe it as 'cosy sad', do whatever you want with that info

[evrensadwrn]

General head canons about (any) John Wick characters?

-🧸

buckle up buddy this is really long this is like several months of me stealing hcs from my friends collecting hcs over the months

Vincent calls his cat Lacey “mon coeur” like she’s actually his daughter (which she is)

^ He also calls Chidi “mon coeur”

^^ It creates silly moments with Lacey and Chidi

Helen and John had a road trip across the US once and were literally drained for a month

Iosef had an emo phase

^ Kirill and Viggo had to live through that. It was the funniest shit they’ve ever seen

While not directly related, Helen is related to Winston. Up to you how

Happy pride month to Helen and John who are pan x bi

Vincent is pretentious and thinks modern books suck

^ He reads L’Oiseux Bleu by Madame D’Aulnoy every night because none of his parents ever read him a bedtime story and he wants some semblance of normalcy

Santino thinks making threats is the funniest shit ever

^ He did this to Gianna once and she beat his ass

^^ He still does it just not to Gianna

Katya needs glasses she just refuses to wear them💀💀

Perkins and Addy are ex girlfriends from high school

Kirill could fuck up several grapes if he was given them

^ Actually add oranges to that

Gianna and Cassian know each other so well they can communicate and just gestures and they’ll know what the other means

Ares is Russian-Italian, my brother assumed she was both so now I’m taking that head canon from him

Akira knows three languages; Japanese, English, and Cantonese <- but she’s still learning that last one

Mia learned how to play multiple instruments but none really echoed with her before she picked up the violin

^ Her violin has a name and it’s named Berry

Seeing Ares’ notes app is like seeing hell’s gates open and unleashing it’s fiery misery upon your eyes

Kirill and Ares are friends

^ They met when Ares was a hitwoman living in New York before Santino hired her

Gianna is the silent type when she gets angry, like she’ll start ignoring people when she’s totally pissed off

Avi and Kirill are sort of friends (well, work buddies. they share one common enemy: the entire Tarasov family)

Adjudicator had no problem with their parents

^ They’re just autistic

^^ They’re the second most normal person in the entire High Table’s office

Speaking of HT Office, these are the people included! ↴

Gianna, Santino, Adjudicator, WUXIA DJ, Harbinger, and Vincent

^ No, it is not a safe office

Iosef’s love language is bullying ❤️

DJ and Vincent used to date for a while and they liked to photograph each other

^ Each other’s muse (DJ with songs, Vincent with poetry)

Sofia actually has more dogs and cats that roam near the premises of the Casablanca Continental

^ Mostly stray cats

Cassian and Ares, when interacting each other, actually have a better relationship than Gianna and Santino

Helen watches millennial white woman shows

^ John watches them with her

Kirill and Avi had to drive Iosef to school

^ Neither of them wanted to

^^ Unfortunately it was mostly Kirill

Chidi is a passenger princess survivor when, in the rare case, Vincent drives

Gianna’s love language is gift giving but in the sense Cassian doesn’t even realize Gianna has given him one until later

^ She slips on a watch while he’s busy and he didn’t even realize it

Surprisingly, Iosef has done absolutely no drugs in his life

^ Unless you count weed, but that wouldn’t be drugs more like substances??

Santino owns an estate in Croatia (for @bluelolblue 💗)

Adjudicator is from Oregon idk they just give that vibe to me tbh

^ Vincent HATES every other part of the USA (#frenchman) but because he’s genuinely friends with Jude, he wouldn’t mind going to see Oregon

Iosef thinks Kirill is so cool and looks up to him

^ But if you ask him, he’ll call Kirill a little bitch

Gianna’s haircare is like really long and she started this since she was 12 so Santino had to wait an hour for her to finish

Adjudicator and Vincent are YSL Connoisseurs

^ Gianna, Adjudicator, Vincent, and DJ all have Louboutins

^^ So does Helen based on that one picture of Bridget Moynahan that I saw on tumblr

Iosef didn’t know how to tie shoelaces and Kirill did them for him

^ Mainly because Viggo told him to do it

Vincent struggles with some english words and will start getting pissed off if someone points it out (his ego is too big)

Sofia’s daughter’s name is Inara, meaning “shining light”

Gianna and Santino went to the same private school and they were both loners

^ However both of them had a small group of friends they regularly hung out with

Iosef thinks scaring Kirill is the funniest shit ever an it has never once worked

^ Kirill has gotten used to getting jumped he was literally in 80’s crime infested New York

Helen was learning Russian with John

^ She was around B1 level Russian as John helped her

Vincent reverts back to Catholicism just to inconvenience people

Ares wears those types of socks with a silly pattern just because she can

Viggo and Abram grew apart as time went on

Caine and Mia go out for dad-daughter bonding activities almost every weekend

^ Usually bowling or walking around a park

Grigoriy “Grisha” Izmailov is now a character in John Wick ( source here )

^ I don’t know his fandom just believe me on this trust🙏

Katya gets sick easily

Kirill almost drank the lethal dosage of caffeine once

^ Avi started getting fucking scared when he saw the effects

Katya was there at John’s wedding and she couldn’t stop crying because Helen was so nice to her

^ “can you live in Germany instead☹️”

Adjudicator had nothing to do as a kid so they ended up just making loads of bracelets for fun

^ They still do and it’s the most fun they have in the office

Yk what fuck it aspec time

Katya is an ace-lesbian

Mia is bi-ace

Tracker is aro-pan

Jude is aroace

^ Okay done

Adjudicator and Harbinger and related don’t ask how

Gianna’s favorite book is Il fu Mattia Pascal by Luigi Pirandello

The HT office starts clutching their pearls ties when they see someone with a shit outfit

^ Except for Harbinger, who isn’t dramatic

^^ And Adjudicator but they’d be upset

Gianna took cello lessons as a kid and Santino bullied her for her big ass instrument

^ His dad made him play cello afterwards

Koji and Akira cook together

^ It ends up with Koji not letting Akira touch anything and only lets her turn on the stove and stir things

If Chidi mentions something he likes, Vincent will start buying it for him

Ares is selectively mute

Vincent has more female friends than male ones because he’s a queer

Gianna and Santino are good at singing

Ares is genderfluid and uses any pronouns

Helen had a daisy tattoo in her inner forearm and then got a rose one layered over it when she married John

^ John also has a rose tattoo (they’re matching)

Caine is ridiculously fast at running

^ Mia inherited that

If Iosef has nothing to do, he goes to Kirill and forces video game knowledge onto him

HT Office has a shared playlist and it’s the worse combination of songs known to man

^ Santino deliberately encouraged employees to add bad songs

^ DJ has the best songs on that playlist btw

Chidi and Vincent have something in common which is fucking hating reptiles

^ They see one and start backing the fuck up

John Wick is autistic

Helen knows how to play guitar

Tell me to make a part 2 because I have so much more but I think Chad Stahelski is knocking at my door as we speak

[dreamerfms]

[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed { NOA BRAUNSTEIN } walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who { SHE } is? they kind of look like { MAUDE APATOW } and i could be wrong but i think that they might be { TWENTY-SEVEN } years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last { TWENTY-ONE YEARS }. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of { CHER HOROWITZ } from { CLUELESS }. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at { - } as a { MATCHMAKER }. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the { THE SHOPAHOLIC } of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty { MATERIALISTIC } at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty { SWEET } to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that { THREE ROOM } apartment beside me over in { CORAL COVE }. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you!  

full name : noa yael braunstein birthplace : san francisco, california date of birth : 03 / 13 / 1997 parentage : solomon braunstein & talia foster braunstein sibling(s) : ronen braunstein ( twin ) pets : two blue russian cats named coco & donatella occupation : founder of stupid cupid matchmaking business relationship status : single gender identity : cis female ( she/her ) sexual orientation : heterosexual ( maybe idk how to write a fully str8 muse honestly ) faceclaim : maude apatow

BACKGROUND:

from the very beginning, noa’s family dynamic was quite different from the others. her parents met on tv through a dating show in the 90s and were lucky enough to find something that lasted.

flash forward a few years to a nice thursday evening in march when the braunstein twins graced this earth. one 37 minutes older than the other ( who exactly the twins wouldn't find out until they were thirteen and snuck a peek at their birth certificates -- their parents didn't want to hear the ' i'm older ' argument )

the phoenix lights happened the same night as their births, and to this day, their family likes to joke it was to prepare the world for their arrival

going from a family of two to four is never easy, and the braunstein's didn't find the transition any easier. they tried their best to split the work, with one parent being in charge of one twin. this was supposed to change weekly to give them equal opportunity with each child, but once they'd started and learned their respective twin, it was easier to just keep going that way rather than trying to learn everything about the other

so, it's no surprise when noa is bonded to their dad, and ronen their mom. the classic daddy's girl / momma's boy combos were running rampant in their household

noa never took full notice of how distant she was from her mother until her pre-teen years, a time when a girl needs her mother most. but every interaction felt like she was burdening her mother with questions, almost like she didn't care much for her daughter at all despite the clear love they held for one another. noa simply put it down to the fact that they were two very different people with very different interests, and instead would cling to her father, who had no issue handing over his credit card in order to cheer her up, and who seemed to find her over the top ideas for future ventures endearing rather than unrealistic.

at the age of six, their dad got a new job and the family relocated to florida. it came with more money, and the family was already pretty well off.

at this point, the twins were inseparable. the definition of frenemies. they'd fight and fight, but ten minutes later would be snuggled up on the couch watching tv. if someone were to pick on ronen, noa would say something and vice versa.

noa thrived in high school, popular and pretty, and keeping her grades afloat despite often being deemed as an airhead with one too many distractions. but home life was strained, clear tension between she and her brother and the bonds with their parents, and by this point every interaction with her mother would end in upset or annoyance.

leaving for college was a breath of fresh air, eyes opened to other ways of life and learning to stand on her own two feet. majoring in business while her minor was fashion. but it wasn't too long before she began to feel the ache of missing the person who knew her best, her twin brother.

the summer before their junior year, they're able to have a conversation about their parents and all their feelings. it's too late to get her to chicago for the fall semester, but they do all they can and can successfully get her there for the spring.

once they graduated, they actually wanted to come back to florida. chicago was fun and nice, but damn, it was cold. and noa had greatly missed her father and wanted to attempt building bridges with her mother, still to not much avail. some people are simply meant to love each other without actually enjoying one another's solo company.

noa would spend a few years interning for some fashion brands before deciding that she wanted to work for herself, took the risk of setting up her childhood dream of finding peoples perfect match. soon her business was booming, and she still found the time to show off her fashion sense online, building up a following in all aspects of social media.

however, her own love life isn't where she would like it to be. parents setting a high standard of how love is supposed to be that she's found herself very particular. due to this she's been intimate with only two people, both of whom she had great feelings for.

random bits : loves to scrapbook and make vision boards, will use any excuse to go on a shopping spree or have a pamper night, owns way too many pairs of shoes and definitely starts getting ready hours before she has to be somewhere, with multiple outfit changes. has a very strict no kissing until the third date rules. more tba.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

a best friend, someone who not only indulges all her ideas but partakes. lots of pamper nights with wine too, and fashion shows galore ( the real kind and also the at home kind too )

first time/high school sweetheart, maybe they even tried to make it work when college rolled around but it was difficult to keep up with.

a more recent ex. perhaps it was a bit of a whirlwind and only lasted a year, maybe two. we can play around with why it ended.

a will they/won't they with someone so opposite/far from what she thinks she wants, yet behind the constant bickering there is clearly a spark.

a frenemy, they like each other but there's definitely some tension there.

clients.

that's all i've got for now ... but so much more.

c.

[sapphic-coded]

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Series Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Lots of violence against wood. Reader is a messed up assassin and is proud of her work. So much childhood trauma just hanging out in the background. Reader dresses up like a lumberjack.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the love you showed for the first chapter of this fic! All the likes, reblogs, and comments helped keep my muse alive as I wrote the second chapter. I hope you enjoy this chapter. If you want to be added to the tag list then let me know, and I'll add you when I post chapter three. Enjoy!

Taglist: @natsxwife @iliketozoneout @newawakening9 @natasha-1million @ilovemcuff

Chapter Two: Flower In A Hailstorm

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1992 

Your black backpack bounced lightly against your back as you followed a couple paces behind your brother and sister. The morning was bright and warm. The neighborhood was a quiet bustle of activity. Garages opening. Cars pulling out of driveways to begin another commute to work. Other kids trickled out of quiet homes on their way to school. 

When you had walked two blocks, your brother swung his navy blue backpack around until it hung off his shoulder in front of him. He unzipped his bag and looked at your older sister. His hand disappeared into his bag. 

“Do you think Sadie will go to the Homecoming dance with me?” he asked your sister.

Your sister shrugged. “Depends. Is she desperate?” 

“Ha ha. Very funny,” your brother said as your sister smirked. He pulled out a shiny, wrapped foil of pop tarts. “I’m serious. Do you know if anyone else has asked her?” He opened the foil and pulled out one pop tart. He turned and handed it out towards you. You smiled and hurried to catch up to them. You took the pop tart and immediately bit into it. The sweet taste of blueberry jam and hard surgery icing filled your mouth. 

Your brother pulled the second pop tart out of the foil, broke it in half, and handed one piece to your sister. 

She took her half. “How would I know?” She took a bite of her piece of pop tart. 

“Because you’re in the same History class,” your brother replied.

“That doesn’t mean I talk to her,” your sister said before taking another bite. 

You ate your blueberry pop tart while listening to your siblings talk about Sadie and the Homecoming dance. You didn’t chime in with any advice. You didn’t know who Sadie was. Most likely a girl in high school like your siblings. But it was fun to listen to them discuss the likelihood of your brother getting a date with this girl. By the time you reached your school, your sister had settled on the theory that Sadie would most likely agree to the date if every other boy in the school dropped dead. 

Your siblings wished you a successful day before you parted ways. You walked your usual route into your school and through the busy hallways. Clusters of students clung to the long, noisy hallways. Their stares were all too familiar. Strange looks. Hushed questions that weren’t so quiet that you couldn’t overhear. No kid dared to leave their pack of friends to go near you. Despite the plain, ordinary clothes you wore, you also wore the stories of your father. 

He was the random, misplaced red thread in a blanket of black. He stood opposed to the currents of the town. His beliefs were rooted securely in what many brushed aside as fantasies. He kept himself fairly busy within the confines of your home, but whenever fate drew him into the public an odd story would follow. One neighbor once saw your father out in a field, attempting to contact aliens. Another found him in their yard digging a hole to a secret bunker. There were countless stories, and they followed you wherever you went. You were his, and so, you must be strange too. It didn’t help that you rarely ever acted like the other kids. It was not intentional. If you could understand how to act like them, you would. But you didn’t. So every day you spent in this school, you spent it alone. Surrounded by strangers. Constantly feeling their judgmental stares digging into your back. Hearing the whispered rumors about you and your family. 

When you reached your classroom, you went over to your desk at the far back side of the room. Your desk was positioned an extra foot off to the left as if the group of desks had just decided to push yours just a bit further away. You put away your belongings into your desk, hung your backpack on the back of your chair, sat down, and waited for the school day to begin. 

You had your notebook open and you practiced your handwriting as the other students all filed in. Your whole family was in agreement that your handwriting was truly horrible. You needed to fix that, but you frowned at your latest attempts. All barely legible. Your disappointment lingered as the teacher called for the class’s attention. When you lifted your head up, every ounce of disappointment and every thought regarding your terrible handwriting vanished at the sight of her. 

The girl with the blue hair. 

“Class,” your teacher began. “This is Nat. She just moved here and will be joining our class. Let’s give her a warm welcome.” 

As the rest of the class released a chorus of hellos, you sat silently, transfixed. The first, loudest thought in your mind was a simple question: how did she have blue hair? It was so cool. It reminded you of one of the characters out of your sister’s books. The ones she would tell you about right before bed. The second thought was that she was pretty. You couldn’t come up with a good comparison or truly unravel that thought completely. You just knew when you looked at her that she was really pretty. You liked that. 

The teacher gestured to the empty desk closest to yours. Quietly, she crossed the length of the room and sat down at the empty desk. You watched as she pulled a notebook from her backpack before setting her bag down. Then, she looked over towards you. You felt your whole body tense up under her gaze. You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to blurt out the loudest thought in your head, but your mouth stayed shut tight. 

“Hi.” Her greeting was soft and quiet. 

You blinked and your mouth opened. “Hi.” When you felt the first sting of awkward tension, you looked away and back down at your notebook. 

The morning creeped by rather uneventfully. Every so often you would look over at Nat who would be busy writing down notes like the rest of the class. You wondered if she recognized you from the other day. Whenever your attention was on your bad note taking, it would often break off and wonder about how to start a normal conversation with Nat. You had never been in such a weird position before. Wanting a connection instead of accepting the natural recoil. You hadn’t come up with any solid strategies by the time the lunch bell rang. 

You pulled your brown bagged lunch from your backpack and followed your class down to the cafeteria. You lost sight of Nat during the shuffling of students, so you took your seat at your usual spot at the end of one of the long, blue-gray cafeteria tables. You opened up your brown bag and pulled out your aluminum foil wrapped sandwich. It was the only thing your father had packed for you. You unwrapped the foil. Your brow furrowed when you didn’t see any meat, or cheese, or anything poking out from between the twin slices of white bread. In fact, there was nothing at all between the slices. Just two slices of bread sitting one on top of the other. 

You heard hushed giggles coming from further down the table. You looked over just as a few of your laughing classmates quickly looked away. Usually, this didn’t bother you. You were used to this. But you couldn’t deny the hurt starting to creep in. You wanted to say something. Do something. Anything to let out–

Someone sat down next to you. Whatever had started to build inside you washed away at the sight of her again. She started to open up her own bag, but stopped when she noticed the two slices of bread posing as a sandwich. 

Her green eyes shifted to you. “Is that your lunch?”

“Uh,” was the first word out of your mouth before you looked down at the bread slices and then back up to Nat. “Yes. It’s my sandwich.” 

“Where’s all the stuff in between?” she asked. 

“I think my father forgot it,” you answered. 

She reached into her bag and pulled out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was already cut in half. “Here.” She offered one half of her sandwich to you. 

You looked from her, to the offered half, and then back to her. “Are you sure?” When she nodded, you took it. You immediately took a big bite. The creamy taste of peanut butter brought a smile to your lips. “Thanks.”

Nat smiled and took a bite of her half of the sandwich. “What’s your name?”

You swallowed your second bite. “Y/N.” 

“I think you live across the street from me,” Nat said. 

Your smile grew tenfold and you nodded. 

This seemed to amuse her as she chewed on another bite of her sandwich. “I remember you.”

“Me too,” you replied. “I like your hair.” 

“Thanks,” she smiled. 

Your conversation carried through your lunch. It was the first time your lunch had been more than just daydreaming between bites of food. You found yourself eagerly engaged in the bits and pieces that Nat shared about herself. You noticed that whenever you shared anything about yourself, she listened attentively without any judgment. You liked the sound of her voice. Whatever connection you had found felt strange and weird. But warm. And happy. 

When lunch was over, you both walked back to class together. You were sad when you took your seats at your desks and returned to your lessons. You already missed this new piece of your life. You just wanted to sit and keep talking to Nat. You strangely got your wish when your teacher instructed the class to pair up for a project. As the rest of the class paired up like normal, Nat looked over towards you. 

“Want to be partners?” she asked. 

When you nodded, she maneuvered her desk to sit a bit closer to yours. Now both of your desks sat further away from the others. You had never conceived that such a day like this would come to pass. Yet here it was, and you couldn’t be happier. 

Somewhere Else – 2010

The burn of the cold mountain air is the only chill you feel as you lift the axe above your head. The muscles in your back protest for the umpteenth time. It’s only been a week since the Amsterham job, and your body is still recovering from the aftermath. Being thrown across a lobby into a pillar wasn’t particularly fun. It wasn’t the worst abuse your body has been through. Barely a fraction of it. But it still sucked. 

You bring the axe down onto the log in front of you. The sharp, curved blade cuts deep into the wood. The smell of pine needles carries on the wind as you yank the axe free from the log. Your bright red plaid shirt clings to your sweaty skin. Your hair is tied back in a messy, low ponytail as you lift the axe back into the air. Dark green cargo pants with the ends tucked into tan boots covers your legs. 

You hadn’t intended to dress up like a lumberjack. You had thrown on your clothes after waking up with a sore back, stared at yourself in the mirror, and wondered what she was doing right now. You had slipped out of Amsterdam without issue. The media had covered the incident with varying degrees of accuracy. There were mentions of charred remains, but no mention of you. Or her. The two days it had taken you to travel to this little piece of woodland paradise had been spent looking over your shoulder. Waiting for her to catch up with you. 

The disappointment you felt upon reaching this place in one piece was a real mood killer. The fun was over, and now you were just left with yourself. You needed to do something. So, here you were with an axe in hand chopping up firewood. But your thoughts still linger on her. You wonder if she’ll ever find you here. You certainly hadn’t left any clues behind. 

Your axe swings back down into the log, and it breaks cleanly in half. You set your axe down upon the grass and toss the chopped wood onto a growing pile off to your right. Then, you grab another log and place it squarely on the stump. Your hands find your axe again. You can’t decide if you liked her blue hair more than the red. You know that you loved when she was on top of you. You raise your axe. Regret weaves into your thoughts. You should have enjoyed it more. What if you never see her again? You bury your axe deep into the log. 

“You have outdone yourself again.” 

Finally. You were wondering when he’d show up. 

You look over towards your father. He steps down from the cabin’s back deck. His thick black hair is combed back and peppered with white strands. Sunlight bounces off a pair of thin, brown wire frame glasses that covers his eyes. He buries his hands into the pockets of a heavy, amber colored jacket as he casually walks towards you. The denim blue jeans he wears bears a few grass stains and dried mud mares his gray loafers.

You yank your axe free and smile. “I made the front page.” 

Your father returns your smile with one of his own, yet it is small and his steel gray eyes remain cold. “I saw. Apparently a shooting between rival criminals turned into a deadly explosion. All dead. The hotel won’t reopen until late next year due to the large hole in their building.” 

A small laugh escapes you as you shake your head. “That is giving them too much credit.”

Your father’s brow furrows. “Who?”

“The men you told me to kill,” you answer as your attention returns to the log in front of you. “They were not rival criminals. They were rich men who wanted more. They reached too far, and I made them go boom.” You raise your axe up and quickly bring it down onto the log. It splits in half. “Except for Tyler.” You look over at your father. “I shot him in the head.” 

“What was so special about Tyler?” he asks. 

You shrug. “Nothing. Just felt like it.” 

Your father lets out a sigh and turns away from you. He takes a few steps away. His hand lifts up, and he runs his fingers through his hair. You set your axe down and toss the newly split wood towards the steadily growing pile of new firewood. You start to reach for another log, but your father turns back around and returns.  

“This job was important.” 

It is your turn to sigh as your interest in splitting the next log vanishes. You knew this was coming. The conversation was always the same whenever one of your jobs ended in a mess. You can’t help the way your eyes instinctively roll. Your father steps closer. 

“These clients are important.”

“It was boring,” you lift your axe up and rest it against your shoulder. 

“I do not care how boring it was, Y/N.”

“Of course you don’t.” Any trace of your earlier amusement is gone. “You did not have to do any of the work. I did. I had to spend four days with an arrogant stranger who smelled like cheap cologne and even cheaper bourbon.” Your father shakes his head and turns away from you, but you are far from through with your rant. “All that money, and he is a cheapskate. Did you know that the first thing he made me do was beat up his driver because he wore the wrong tie? And there was no backup. Who doesn’t have backup?”

Your father turns back to face you. “Are you done?”

“No,” you reply. “I wanted to kill him then. After the first twenty minutes. But no. The important clients don’t want to tackle their problems one at a time. They want everything all at once.” 

“They wanted this job to be subtle.”

“I do not understand why you are upset with me because your clients had unreal expectations,” you reply. 

Your father frowns. “Because I trained you to be better than this.”

You don’t have a clever response for that. You turn and start to make your way towards the cabin. 

“They are also upset that you left one of them alive,” your father says after a moment. 

You stop as you reach the cabin’s back deck. You look back over towards your father. “Then their information is bad. All the targets are dead. It will probably take awhile to identify all the bodies. Shifting through the rubble from the charred limbs takes time.” You set your axe down and lean it against the side of the wooden cabin. 

“They’ve already identified all the bodies,” your father says as he follows you towards the cabin’s back deck. “The targets, their hired security, the SHIELD team.” His voice goes cold around the last three words. 

You stare at your axe. You knew he was going to find out eventually. There was always a report after every one of your jobs. He knew of all your successes and all your weaknesses. It still doesn’t stop you from feeling that first hint of fear. Rooted in so many memories. Your gaze returns to your father. The frown he wears looks so natural upon his face. 

“I did not know that they would be involved,” you say. 

“None of us did,” your father replies. “Why did you leave one of them alive?” 

You feel the fear more keenly now. It’s like he’s reaching out for your favorite toy. You know what he’ll do when he gets it. But it’s yours, and he doesn’t get to touch it. 

“I didn’t–”

“Y/N!” 

You jump slightly at the way your father’s voice explodes like the crack of a gunshot. 

“It’s her, Dad.” 

Your voice is small as confusion softens the hard lines of your father’s face. It’s as if you are back in Ohio seeing the girl with blue hair for the first time. It had stolen the breath from your lungs the first time you saw her. So loudly different from the peaceful town tapestry. You thought you and your siblings were the only ones who stood apart. But then she entered your life.  

“It’s Nat,” you say when your father’s confusion persists. 

And just like that, his confusion falls away and his eyes widen. 

“The Russian spy?” 

A small smile curls your lips. “I didn’t get a chance to ask if that was true.”

“Oh no.” Your father’s hand runs through his hair again before shaking his head. “This is not good.”

“Dad.” You step towards him. “This is wonderful. I thought my only friend had been murdered.”

“That’s because you will believe anything your oaf of a brother tells you,” your father replies. “That girl was a spy. That whole family was built out of secrets and lies. Allowing you to form an attachment with her was a mistake. She was a distraction for you then, and she remains a distraction now.” 

“She did not distract me,” you lie. “I completed the job. Is it now against the rules to socialize with old friends?”

“If she is working with SHIELD then she is your enemy,” the familiar coldness of your father’s voice returns sharply. “She threatens our reputation with our clients.”

“How?” you ask. “She did not stop me from killing my targets. She did not stop me from escaping. She did not follow me here.” Each and every one of those facts were crushing disappointments. “Your reputation remains intact. Nothing will change. I will complete the jobs you give me to the best of my ability. What does it matter if I talk to her? She will not stop me.”

You wait for your father’s argument, yet he says nothing. The look he gives you is familiar. He is studying. Assessing. It reminds you of the countless grueling training sessions in the basement of your home in Ohio. You would be sprawled out on the floor, staring up at him, covered in sweat and sucking in lungfuls of air. Desperate for the training to stop. 

Finally, your father lets out a sigh and digs his hand back into his coat pocket. He withdraws a square, white envelope and extends it out towards you. “Your next job. Straightforward. I expect clean results.” 

You smile and reach for the envelope. But before you can grab it, your father pulls it away. 

“She cannot be a distraction, Y/N.”

Your smile falters. You want to point out that you already explained why she wasn’t. You want to stress that she’ll never be able to stop you from completing your jobs. What happened in Amsterdam was the result of a really long, awful job. You want to say all this, but you don’t. You wish that you were ignorant of the reason. But you know why. Because you aren’t certain what would have happened if that explosion hadn’t happened. If it had just been you and Nat. 

But, you nod, and your father hands over the envelope. You take it.

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

Agent Rushmore (CH 6)

Leroy Jethro Gibbs X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 1118

Warning: Mild language, violence, gore, guns, fluff, smut, angst, PTSD, graphic scenes…

Prompt: Special Agent Locklyn Rushmore, a highly trained Russian assassin who is skilled in all forms of hand-to-hand combat, weaponry, negotiating and more. When her cover is blown, she is returning back to NCIS headquarters in D.C…

Locklyn Rushmore's POV

My eyes open as sunlight shines through the curtains. I glare at the window, hearing a quiet groan as I'm pulled closer.

I look down, smiling when I see Gibbs' arm around my bare waist. My head was rested on his chest. Our legs were intertwined. My own arms were wrapped around him.

This was the safest and the most relaxed I've ever felt. I feel his fingers rubbing circles on my hip and I knew he was awake. Neither of us said anything. We just stayed in each others hold.

The blankets were hardly over our hips I didn't miss the growing tent in the blankets. I look up at him and he looks at me.

"Need a little help?" I ask.

"And here I thought you'd be sore after last night." He muses.

My cheeks flushed. Last night was the most epic sex I've had in my life. It started out slow when he realized it's been years for me. But, it progressively got faster and rougher. In fact, he has to repair a few spots on the wall where the headboard was hitting against the wall so violently.

I was sore. It was more uncomfortable than anything. I kick the blankets off of us, straddling him and looking down at him. He moves his arms behind his head, a small smirk on his face as he slowly looks over me. I grab his hard length, slowly lowering myself down on him.

I moan softly, feeling myself stretch and he grunts, moving his hands to my hips.

We so easily got lost in each other.

We didn't need words. We just moved. It was like we knew each other for years, when in fact it has only been a matter of days. Yet, we clicked so perfectly. Like a bunch of puzzle pieces.

The both of us seeking comfort in one another from our haunting pasts.

"Jethro!" I moan, coming and he grunts, pulling my hips down roughly as he comes.

I lean forward, breathing heavily and he leaves a kiss on my temple as his arms wrap around me. We stayed like that for a few minutes before we decided to get up. He let me have the shower, telling me he'd make breakfast.

I was relieved and so glad to get cleaned up. I pull the toothbrush out of my bag, brushing my teeth before styling my hair in loose waves. I pull on a white v-neck that hugged my figure perfectly, leaving nothing to hide. The neckline dipped lower than normal and showed quite a bit of my cleavage.

I pull on black dress pants that hugged my legs and my ass before my eyes dance across the different hickeys. I did not have all the makeup needed to hide these. I sigh, pulling on some heels before doing a light thing of makeup. I grab blazer, pulling it on before going downstairs.

He hands me a plate, the both of us sitting it eat in silence. He mumbles that he's going to go get ready. I finished eating, deciding to clean the kitchen up before I go to the living room to grab my sidearm and badge. I sit, staring down at my hands.

"Svetlana, get over here!" Kenzo snaps.

I leave his family, a feeling of nervousness washing over me. I've never felt this way. I've always be calm and collected just how I like it.

He pulls me into his study, closing the door before turning to me with dark eyes. I could see the fire burning in them and I knew I stood no chance.

"Yes?" I whisper.

"I told you to stop talking business. You are a woman. Learn you place." He snaps, smacking me.

I nod, staring at the floor. It was moments like these I wished to no longer be undercover. I desperately craved to return to my normal life, but I knew this case was far from over.

There were days when no one was around that I'd stand in front of a mirror to remind myself that I was Locklyn Rushmore and not Svetlana Yákov. The longer I was undercover, the more my identities mixed.

Both Svetlana and Locklyn have had pasts so cruel and brutal. Not to mention that both identities had a fiery red-head Russian woman.

"You okay?" Gibbs asks quietly.

I look up to notice that he was leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed for work, but I'm going to guess he's been there for a few minutes.

"Yes. Sorry." I say.

"Rule six, never say you're sorry." He says.

"You have a rule for everything, don't you?" I ask.

"Almost. Do you want to...talk about it?" He asks.

"You've gone undercover before, right?" I ask.

"I have, but never as long as you." He says.

"I think that's my issue. I was undercover so long, it was getting to a point it was like...my identities were mixing. There was me...then Svetlana." I say.

"Yeah." He murmurs, urging me on.

"It got to the point I would stand in front of a mirror when I knew I was alone and I'd remind myself that I was Locklyn Rushmore, not Svetlana Yákov. Both my undercover identity and true identity have gone through such tragic lives that I think the lines started to blur. But, there was no one I could talk to—as Locklyn. I was alone and had to be Svetlana. Any information I had, I would leave at drop offs or I would text from my burner. even doing that was risky. And there was no casual conversation. I'd get one little response back. Received." I explain.

"Locklyn...your right. Your not Svetlana. Your Locklyn Rushmore. An NCIS agent with one hell of a track record. You are a phenomenal agent and person." He says.

"A good or bad track record?" I ask quietly.

"Good. You may not have had anyone when you were undercover, but you have an army now and we are all here for you. We weren't there and we don't even know where to begin to understand what you went through. But, we will be here to listen and to help you through this. Being undercover is hard enough. I can't imagine five years. Your a very strong and brave woman, Locklyn." He says.

"Thanks Gibbs...the same goes to you. I know your probably not much of a talking person, especially about feelings...but it does feel good to let it out." I admit and he hums, smiling slightly.

"I'll think about it. Come on. Let's get you back to NCIS." He says and I nod.

[never-be-tamed]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE. Repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. if you fail to achieve some of the facts, add some other of your own!

Name: Alexander Buran Wolkow

Alias: The Big Bad Wolf, The Storm

Nicknames: Lexi (💀), Alexei, Alex, Hubby, Grandpa, Saschenka, dummer Esel

Birthday: 11.01.1990 (34)

Species: Human

Sex: Male

Sexuality: Hetero

Nationality: Russian

Height: 186cm

Hair: Dark blonde

Beard: Yes

Eyes: Green

Residence: Moscow

Profession: Mafia Boss of the Wolkowskaja

Other: Owns a nightclub called 'Wolfshöhle' and a fightclub.

Companions: Buran, a white wolf.

Family: Jegor (grandfather), Diana (grandmother), Kalina (aunt) †, Mavrik (uncle), Maksim (aunt), Igor (father), Anja (mother), Accalia @daemonoria (halfsister), Irina (sister), Stepan (brother), Timofej (cousin)

Significant other: Marissa Elena @ravishingnemesis (girlfriend/right hand/childhood friend/bestfriend)

Other: Iljà @betterstay-dead (hubby/bestfriend), Nikita @shevampyre (frenemie/bestfriend), Nikolai Saizew (handyman), Oleg Ivanov (the butcher)

+ Strenghts: Smart, skilled in fighting (with or without weapon), very understanding, strong, piano player, funny, caring , sarcastic

- Weaknesses: Tends to please people, very understanding (yes it's also very bad sometimes), loved ones, tends to get very angry sometimes, can shut down completely when hurt

Interests: Playing the piano, motorcycles, being in nature, loves to travel, spends time with his girl and his friends, loves to drive his family members crazy, drinks alcohol, jogging, fighting

Colors: Blue, red

Favorite weapon: gun

Drinks: Water, Tea, Whiskey, Vodka, Wine

Driver's license: Car and motorcycle

Signature outfit: Suit, leather jacket

—

seen on: idk anymore, lmao

tagging: you, I'm tired sry

[stardancerluv]

By the Light of the Silvery Moon

Part 4

Summary: Announcements are made that pleases, Prince Paul.

Notes: This is an AU take on Prince Paul. It will contain some supernatural elements to it. I wanted to have a bit of fun with this character. I hope you enjoy it! Sorry, it took so long since I last wrote for this story. Promise not to wait so long for the next chapter.

Thank you for reading. ❤️s, reblogs, & feedback is welcome. The body of the princess is just to help with collage. Truly use your imagination as to whom you see best suits Prince Paul.

“You will love this,” Paul reassured you. He led you to one of the bigger willow trees. The larger pond was tucked between it and some poplars. Watching you, he enjoyed the grace in which you moved as you sat down on the bench.

You glanced around and a small smile touched your lips that reminded him of flower petals. He handed you his handkerchief, you dabbed your eyes.

“It is really lovely Paul.” You glanced around. “It’s tucked away, peaceful.”

He remained standing and nodded. “Yes. When I want some quiet, I come out here.”

“I have a library in my family’s estate that is like this for me.”

She is interesting, Paul mused. Learning Russian, enjoying the quiet of a library.

A very comfortable silence with the only exception of a distant bird or the breeze ruffling the vibrant leaves that filled the trees.

As much as he did not wish you bring tears to your eyes, he had to let you know he was very aware of how she can be. “My mother can be exceptionally cruel.”

He noticed, you glanced around before you looked over at him. “You allow it, Paul. I do agree.”

He nodded. “I am sorry that you have barely been here and have already had a taste of her viciousness.” Going over to you, he finally sat down beside you and laid his hand beside yours.

Looking pleased at him, warmed him.

“I suppose, if I may be so bold.” You glanced down and brought your gloved hands to your lap.

When you gave him a sidelong glance, he nodded.

“She is desperate to make certain of my purity for the kingdom.” You swallowed. “The letters of my own physician and the world of my own father and mother was not enough for her.”

“There were no rumors, no ill words circling. I do not understand her doubt.”

You shared an understanding looking.

*******

Paul huffed in his quarters, as he paced. He was relieved for his wig to be sitting off to the side. He had with pleasure ran his fingers through his short curls it had helped him to unwind. A kernel of annoyance was still nestled in his stomach over how his mother had treated you. She was kinder to the courtiers.

He had shed his day clothes and changed into those he would wear tonight for at the party your mother was giving in your honor and those of your parents. She had already planned for the best in the Russian court to attend, so all those that mattered especially to her would be there.

She made it very clear to him that she had not particularly wanted someone from the German court. She had let him know that she wished there would have been a girl from the French court, possibly even the Spanish court that would have been better match but you fulfilled all that one should have in a wife, she couldn’t deny it.

So not wanting to wait any longer, she would announce the engagement. The joining of your families and the words the physician shared with her made her the most pleased he had seen her since Potemkin had won her over with his victories. So with all in attendance the word would spread fast.

As for him, it pleased him. You had a sweet, gentle demeanor that drew him to you. He looked toward the horizon, the future and believed in his heart that taking care of you would be something he’d enjoy.

******

Hearing the gentle growling bordering on a whimper, Paul, turned smiling and went to open his door. “Hello, Cinder.” He let his Wolfhound in. He wondered where Soot had gotten too, usually those two were inseparable.

Kneeling in front of Cinder he soon gave him a good petting. Cinder’s pink tongue lolled happily. His eyes bright.

“Where is your brother, mmm boy?“ Cinder just woofed softly and tilted his head to the side. “Lot of new smells. Huh?“

His door banged open, making him wince mid pet.

“Is playing with your dogs terribly important right now?”

Bowing his head, he made a face while continuing to pet Cinder. He would not reply to his mother’s sharp remark.

Her dress swished across the floor as she made her way over to him. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes, I just don’t always care to reply.”

He managed to see her sigh. It pleased him.

“I am very satisfied with this union. It will be good.”

He nodded. “Good.” Dusting himself off he stood.

“I will announce it tonight.”

He wasn’t about to tell her he already knew. Best to just let her speak.

“Will you be wearing this?” She gestured to his navy blue attire.

“Yes.”

She made a face.

“Well, make sure you have a pleasant expression on your face. We don’t want others to start speculating about the two of you.”

“I will be myself.” He swallowed, he finally met her eye. “If you were worried about that, then maybe the physician should not have been so cruel to her.”

“I wasn’t about allow you to marry a soiled woman.” She sneered.

He glanced towards the ceiling of his room. “There were no rumors or ill words about her. He could have been more gentle.”

She stepped closer to him. “When the time comes for your own son to marry you will understand.”

He pressed his lips together.

“Now stop playing with your dog. And freshen yourself up.”

“Yes, mother.”

*******

“It is with great pleasure, as your Queen I announce betrothment of my son Prince Paul and Princess of Wurttenberg of Germany.”

Cheers rang out, glasses clinked and fist rose in the air.

A genuine smile spread across his face as he allowed himself to look around the room. Finally, with a squeeze of his heart he looked over at you. As your eyes met seeing the natural dusting of pink sprinkling your cheeks lifted his spirits.

******

The band played a sweet, light song and with a hand on your hip that he hoped no one would notice trembled and his other hand held yours. Your fingers naturally entwined like a braid. The two of you twirled and swished. As he swept you about the room, laughter bubbled from you. The sound was more delightful that the songs the birds on the estate sang.

******

“Oh, your highness. I never thought that a dance could make my heart flutter as much as it just did.” You gentle fanned yourself.

“All the lessons I had felt to be tedious. My feet always misstepped till I met you.”

The pink darkened in your cheeks. The sight made him look away. He was not used to causing such things. Books, stories had spoke of the blossoms of love yet, he never thought any of it possible till he met you.

@laura-naruto-fan1998 @amethyst-serenade @foreveranexpatsposts

[weirdestbooks]

We Should Know Who We Are (Wattpad | Ao3)

Finland and Estonia, requested by 39based, title provided by @lost-islands

Finland was excited to meet the new country of Estonia. He had heard many things about the country’s people, and he knew that they were of a similar culture to him. He knew that they were cousins, perhaps, or related in some sort of way. That interested him greatly. The only sort of family he ever had as a child was through the Russians, people with a very different culture and language.

If he could form some sort of relationship with this new cousin, if this supposed cousin really was family, then Finland could, for once, have a relationship with the side of his family that was like him. 

Finland had invited the nation to Helsinki and was quick to receive a response that Estonia was willing to meet him. 

So now here Finland was, sitting in a room and waiting for his maybe-cousin to arrive.

“Hello, Estonia,” Finland said as the young nation entered the room. Finland was quick to look the new nation over. He looked about fifteen, typical for a newborn nation. His flag consisted of three horizontal stripes: blue, black, and white.

“Hello, Finland. Thank you for meeting with me,” the young nation said, sounding nervous.

“You’re welcome. I was interested when I heard the news of another Finnic country being born. It will be nice to have more members of our extended family independent from Russia.” Finland said, trying his best to calm the younger nation’s nerves. 

He remembered how nerve-wracking it was to talk to other countries alone for the first time, wondering if they were taking you seriously, wondering if they were mocking you behind your back.

“Are we related?” Estonia asked. Finland shrugged.

“We’re both Finnics, so we must be. I don’t know how far back as Russ—the Russia before the current one—wasn’t a fan of giving me information about my mother. He wanted me to be his, so he hid everything that could pose a threat to that idea.” he explained. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You weren’t alive when he made those choices. You could have done nothing to help. It’s okay,” Finland reassured. Estonia’s shoulder slumped.

“I know. I just…there’s a lot of pressure on me right now. It’s been easier just to say I’m sorry for things outside of my control and try to move forward.” Estonia said with a small smile.

“Moving forward. That’s something a lot of people have been eager for,” Finland mused. Estonia let out a bitter laugh.

“I mean, with the last war, you can see why. Everyone wants to rebuild. And us new countries? We want to establish ourselves and prove that we are not the empires that once controlled us but different people within our own histories.” Estonia said. Finland’s face twitched into a slight grin.

He liked his cousin so far.

“You aren’t wrong about that,” Finland said before standing up and holding out his hand for Estonia to shake. “I think we are going to be good friends.”

Estonia looked excited at that and quickly stood up to shake Finland’s hand.

“Glad you think so.” the smaller country said.