#her not doing ANYTHING when fans came after a woman of a colour because of one of her tweets | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

teaberrii · 1 year

Text

Chapter Seventeen: The Love in Our Lives

Alhaitham has the looks and the smarts. He will also be the stand-in CEO for his grandfather's company for a year.

But, he's been mysteriously cursed to turn into a cat every night since his eighteenth birthday… until he meets you, an employee at his grandfather's company, who rescues him as a cat and changes him back with one kiss.

Alhaitham/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on AO3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

When Alhaitham steps into the local police station that day, he gets many stares. Perhaps it's because he looks out of place in an environment where uniformed men and women are walking about. Or maybe it's because they are dreading the possibility of having to do work.

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in!” Alhaitham turns and sees Dehya with two other men who look like they’ve just been through hellish training. “Whaddya need, Alhaitham?”

“I’m here to see a tabloid reporter. He recently posted some photos onto a forum.”

“Ah, I know exactly who you’re talking about." Dehya gestures for him to follow her. "You aren’t the only one who came to see him.”

There’s someone else?

As Alhaitham follows Dehya down an empty hallway, she says, “A guy named Thoma also came to see him. Not sure if he’s getting anything out of him, though.” Dehya sighs. “Maybe you can knock some sense into that reporter. He doesn’t regret anything he’s done.” She frowns. “Candace and I heard from Y/N this morning. She seemed fine, but I’m still so tempted to give him a good beating if I’m being honest.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Dehya opens the door to a man slouching in a chair. The reporter looks thin, almost too thin. He's staring at Thoma with a hollow look. Thoma is out of his seat; his hands are on the table, and he's leaning toward him. Whatever it is, Alhaitham suspects that Thoma isn't getting whatever answers he wants.

“Is everything okay in here, Thoma?” Dehya asks.

“Yeah…” Thoma awkwardly sits down and looks at Alhaitham. “What are you doing here?”

“Probably the same reason as you.”

Dehya looks from Thoma to Alhaitham. “Well, give me a holler if y'all need anything.”

Just as the door closes, Alhaitham looks at the reporter, who finally looks at him.

“...Who are you?” he asks. There’s a lazy drawl to his voice. “Are you here to ask me about her, too?”

Alhaitham looks at Thoma, who sighs. “...This man is an old classmate.”

The reporter smiles. “Never would’ve guessed from my alias, huh? I bet Ayato’s still in the dark.”

Thoma glares at him. “Why did you do this?”

“You, out of all people, should know, Thoma. I hate him. Why else?”

“...So, you want to drag him down as he’s getting popular.”

The reporter smiles at Alhaitham. “Glad someone's using their head.”

Alhaitham puts a wide cream-coloured envelope on the table. “Your name is Gaston. You used to be a reporter for The Steambird until you got fired for poor performance.”

Gaston looks from the envelope to Alhaitham and narrows his eyes. “Who the fuck are you?”

Alhaitham nods toward the envelope, and Gaston reluctantly opens it. His eyes widen when he finds the photos he took, the ones of mostly women. It's clear they've been taken without their permission. Then, he finds a list of people. The further down he looks, it's documentation of their experiences receiving a gift with a hidden camera attached.

Alhaitham takes out his phone and plays a message.

“It was a reporter. He approached me during a press conference, and after talking with him, he said he was personally a fan and gave me a little keychain.” The woman on the tape sighs. “...It took me a while to find out that there was a small camera in one of the materials.”

"...You gave this keychain to one of the attendees at the Awards Night afterparty," Alhaitham says, slipping his phone back into his chest pocket. "That person unknowingly gave you what you were looking for." Alhaitham's little smile only makes Gaston more nervous. "I hope you know that filming and taking photos without people's consent is a serious crime. I wonder how long you'll be in for."

Frustrated and angry, Gaston tears the photos into pieces. Thoma looks at him as if he’s turned into an animal. Alhaitham, on the other hand, still looks at him calmly.

“I was wondering why you only posted the photo of Ayato onto the forum,” Alhaitham says. “But it seems like I got my answer.”

“Yeah. That’s right. Ayato… that fucking scumbag," Gaston spat. "If it weren’t for him, she would still be alive.”

“What are you saying?” Thoma demands angrily.

Gaston glares at Thoma. “Ayato couldn’t save her. He couldn’t do enough for her. That’s why she died.”

“You’re wrong!”

“...She shouldn’t have died. If anything, Ayato was the one who—”

“Shut up!” Thoma grabs Gaston’s shirt collar. “Do you know how much both of them were suffering?”

“I was her friend," Gaston says. "Of course, I knew!"

"No. No, you fucking don't."

Suddenly, the door opens, and Dehya quickly walks inside upon seeing the confrontation. "Hey, hey, what's going on here?"

"She took her own life," Gaston says. Thoma's hands are shaking as he stares angrily at Gaston, who smiles scornfully. "You think no one knows? I know, Thoma. I am a journalist, after all." Gaston grabs Thoma's hands and rudely pushes them off. "Do you know why I kept it a secret? Because I knew that was what she would've wanted."

“If you really were her friend, you wouldn’t have done this," Thoma says. "Do you know what people are saying about her online?”

“Her? Or Ayato?”

Alhaitham's patience is wearing thin. "Regardless of your motives, what you've done caused you great harm." Gaston slowly turns to him. "You'll hardly find another job." Alhaitham walks in front of him as Gaston clenches his fists. "I hope this was worth ruining your life for."

As Alhaitham walks away, he gives Thoma a look, and he follows after him. Dehya looks at the pathetic man in the room again and closes the door.

In a secluded area of the police station, Thoma sits on a bench, calming himself down until Alhaitham hands him a drink. Thoma takes it, and Alhaitham sits next to him.

"...How did you get all of that info?" Thoma asks quietly.

"I pulled a few strings," Alhaitham says. "...He messed with the wrong person."

"You came all this way just to tell him he's going to get locked away?" Thoma smiles slightly. "Ah… You went this far because she was involved, right?"

Alhaitham returns Thoma’s smile with one of his own.

Then, Thoma sighs. “Still, I can’t believe it was him. He was never this bad in school.”

“...People change. For better or for worse.”

After a small silence, Thoma looks at Alhaitham. “What happened today… could you not share the details with Ayato? I know it’s a ridiculous request to ask, but”—Thoma looks down—“the truth is that Ayato doesn’t know what really happened to her.”

“...Are you saying he doesn’t know she…”

Thoma shakes his head. “...No. He believes she died naturally.” He sighs. “I know it’s wrong to keep it from him, but… I promised her.”

"...This is just a theory, but what if that can break his curse?" Alhaitham crosses one leg over the other. "We still don't know a lot about it. But, in Ayato's case, she was the one who gave it to him. So logically… it should break if she's no longer here."

“That's a good point," Thoma says quietly. "In addition to that, I also have a tiny theory. But, it might sound ridiculous.”

“This curse is already ridiculous in itself. I wouldn’t be surprised if the key to breaking it is just as strange.”

“...When Ayato first told me about the curse, it was when he finally gave up everything.”

“Gave up everything?”

Thoma nods. "His studies… freedom… all of his time was spent making money toward helping her cover medical costs as her parents were already struggling financially."

“To put it another way, he was living for someone else.”

"Yes. Even now… he still isn't. Ayaka's medical procedure also cost him a pretty penny. Sometimes, he still questions whether he wants to continue acting."

This is only Alhaitham's speculation, but is Ayato afraid to try something else for fear of starting all over again?

"So I just think that maybe… what if self-love is the key to breaking Ayato's curse?"

“That’s a very interesting theory,” Alhaitham says. “We already have strong evidence that the curse is different for everyone. If we go with that idea… perhaps the key to breaking the curse is finding the types of love we lack in our lives.”

“I can’t believe we’re actually running with my theory,” Thoma says with a small smile. “But, let’s say it’s true… what would be yours?”

Alhaitham already knows you're his temporary miracle cure, which means you obviously play a significant role in his life. His curse has also been changing because of you. If you aren't together, Alhaitham would think the key is to become your boyfriend. But that's already accomplished. So… does that mean…

"Hey." Thoma and Alhaitham turn to Dehya. "Sorry to keep you guys waiting. The guy is asking for a lawyer, but we've heard it all before. So anyway, he won't be causing anyone harm anymore."

“I apologize for causing a ruckus,” Thoma says.

Dehya waves a hand dismissively. "Anyway, leave the rest to us. We'll make sure this guy pays for what he's done."

So, with that, Thoma and Alhaitham leave the police station.

◆◆◆

“...Unstable? Is it because it just started?”

You and Childe are having lunch together later that day. Alhaitham had given you a brief update on what happened at the police station, including the speculation from Thoma about the curse. You haven't brought it up to Childe just yet, as he's questioning why his transformation isn't as stable as Alhaitham and Ayato's.

“Well… it’s after he met me that his curse started changing,” you say.

“I’d think that’s progress. But what the heck is mine supposed to mean?”

That’s when you mention Thoma’s speculation.

“...Self-love?” Childe asks. “As strange as it sounds, it does oddly make sense.”

"...Then, I would think yours is pretty self-explanatory."

Childe looks you in the eyes. “What are you saying?”

“Your family, Childe.”

He leans back and crosses his arms. "...I've always had problems with them. So why would it start now?"

“Maybe it had something to do with your talk with them that night. Your mother kept calling you, didn’t she?”

Childe goes quiet, and you finish the rest of your food when you hear Tighnari.

“You look kinda glum, Childe,” Tighnari says, joining you and Childe at the table. “Everything okay?”

“Who, me? I guess I’ve been a little stressed.”

“Oh, with what?”

Childe glances at you. "I had to make some very peculiar changes to my lifestyle recently. Kinda having trouble adapting. But that's not what's important." Childe leans slightly forward. "I heard you got a date to Zhongli's wedding."

“Ah… yeah, I did.”

“Why are you keeping us in the dark?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Don’t tell me it’s some supermodel,” Childe says.

Tighnari chuckles. “In my eyes, he is.”

“Ooh, so romantic. So, has he”—Childe looks at you, and you look back—"He?”

You quickly look to Tighnari. “Nari, are you…”

Tighnari clears his throat. “Yes, my friends. I am bi.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Childe says with wide eyes. “I honestly never would’ve guessed. But damn. Now I’m super curious about the guy.”

“I bet he’s just as charming as Nari,” you say.

“Oh, no… I think he’s better, actually.”

You smile widely as Childe pretends to gag. “Cute, Nari,” he says, “but stop making it difficult for us single people.”

“Now, I'm looking forward to Zhongli's wedding even more," you say. "Can't wait to meet him!”

"Well, if he ain't treating you right, call us, and we'll knock some sense into him."

Tighnari chuckles. “What about you two? Are you still going together?”

Childe looks at you. “I’m going with Lumine.”

“As long as you two are on the same page,” you say. “...Are you going to Kaeya’s party with her then?”

“Kaeya?” Tighnari asks. “Are you talking about Kaeya Alberich?”

“Do you know him?” Childe asks.

“He’s one of the designers doing the marketing material for Sumeru Geographic. Blue hair? Tan? Tall guy?”

“I’ve never seen him.”

“That sounds about right,” you say.

“So, um, what’s he like?” Childe asks.

“He’s a cool guy,” Tighnari says. “If I’m being honest, he’s quite charming.”

“Charming?”

You and Tighnari look at Childe. “You make it sound like that’s a crime,” you say.

“A lot of the girls are fond of him,” Tighnari continues. “But he’s also cool with the guys.”

Childe frowns. “This isn’t high school.”

Tighnari laughs. “In a nutshell, he seems like an upstanding guy.”

“...You still thinking about going to that party?” you ask Childe.

Childe looks back. “What do you think?”

“Well, I hope you have a plan, Mr. Cat.”

“Mr. Cat?”

Childe looks at Tighnari. “Don’t worry about it.”

◆◆◆

Ayato enters a room and sees a company executive sitting at the table. He's reading what Ayato assumes are documents. The man smiles at Ayato and gestures for him to sit. As Ayato does, he sees a cream-coloured envelope.

“You wanted to see me?” Ayato asks.

"I have good or bad news, depending on how you look at it."

The man gestures to the envelope, and Ayato opens it up. As soon as he pulls out the papers inside and reads the title, he knows it’s a drama offer.

“The director personally reached out,” the man continues. “They want you to star as the male lead for this show.”

While Ayato may not know the director personally, he’s familiar with his work. Perhaps you will also put in a good word for him as he is the director of Love in the Spotlight. Ayato doesn’t need to be told that this is a great opportunity. But… he still needs to ask.

“Will there be a kiss scene?”

“There is a romance subplot.” When Ayato stays quiet, the man continues, “I know you’re opposed to doing kiss scenes. But the director is adamant on having it.”

A detective romance. An interesting story if Ayato does say so himself.

“I… I’ll think about it,” Ayato finally says. “Please give me some time.”

“Oh? You used to discard offers like these in a blink of an eye. Does this mean you’re really interested in this one?”

Rather than being interested, Ayato thinks that this is a step up. He will make more money. But, instead, he says, "It’s different than what I’ve taken on. It would be a fun challenge.”

The man smiles. “Yes. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” He stands. “But take some time to think about it.”

As Ayato watches the man leave, he sighs and puts the papers back inside the envelope. Ayato says he will think about it, but… he's lying to himself. Maybe he can try convincing the director or—

“Ayato.” Thoma walks inside the room.

“Oh, Thoma.” Ayato looks at his watch. “Is something wrong? I don’t have anything scheduled for another few hours or so.”

“I heard that you got an offer,” Thoma says, sitting across from him.

Ayato looks at the envelope. “...Yes.”

“...Are you upset?”

Ayato slides Thoma into the envelope. "The story is interesting. I think it would do well regardless of who's cast."

“Then, why the long face?”

Ayato looks up and sees Thoma staring at him. “...I think you know why I can’t take it.”

Thoma leans back. “Alhaitham came to the police station today.”

“Police station?” Ayato frowns. “Wait… what were you doing at the police station?”

“I went to see the lowlife who posted those ridiculous photos on the forum.”

“...So, that’s where you disappeared to."

“Anyway, Alhaitham and I were talking… and there’s a theory that we think could be the cause of the curse.”

“...Which is?”

Thoma takes a small breath. “Love.”

Ayato raises a brow. “Love? How does that have to do with the curse?”

"Do you remember the day you told me you turned? You said it was the day you visited her at the hospital. The day you told her… you're giving up your studies."

Ayato looks away. “...Don’t tell me you’re saying that she’s the one who’ll break my curse? That’s ridiculous, Thoma—”

"No." Ayato looks back. "Your curse started because you gave up everything for her. Even now, you're in this industry because of Ayaka. You're constantly doing things for other people."

“...Are you saying…”

Thoma sighs. “If you ask me… the answer to breaking your curse has been you all along. You just never realized.”

“Then, what are you expecting me to do?” The cold tone is one that Thoma has never heard before. “Should I leave the industry?”

“No! That’s not what I’m saying.”

In truth, Thoma isn't sure what to say. Perhaps it's not fair that he dumped all of this onto Ayato. But, on the other hand, what is he supposed to tell him? To love himself? That's awkward.

“I… I just think you should start making decisions for yourself,” Thoma finally says. “Do you really want to continue acting?”

“...Then, let me give you an answer. I do. It’s the only thing I can do. It’s the only thing I have. What am I supposed to do if I’m not acting? Commercials aren't enough."

“You’re thinking of it as a lifeline. You don’t want to do this because you want to. You do it because you have no choice.”

Ayato frowns. "...Because without it, I will lose everything, Thoma. It's easy for someone to tell you to do whatever you want because they don't have to face the consequences. But, if I did just that a long time ago, Ayaka wouldn't have had the money for her surgery." He stands. "Now that her bills are finally paid off, I need to think about making a living for myself. Like I said, acting is all I have."

Then, without another word, Ayato walks out of the room.

◆◆◆

That evening, you manage to get in touch with Kaeya, but it's to tell him that you won't be able to make it to his party as it clashes with the reunion with Collei. And, well, you agreed to hers first.

"Oh, no problem," Kaeya says. "Lumine mentioned that you might have something else going on."

“You saw her today?”

"I was seeing a few friends, and we bumped into each other. There… was another guy that was with her, though."

Is he talking about Childe?

“Well, anyway, congratulations on your win the other night. Diluc and I loved the show. You deserved it.”

You smile. “Thanks, Kaeya. Let’s go out to eat sometime with Lumine and Diluc.”

“For sure.”

After ending the call, you hear Kaveh’s voice from Alhaitham’s kitchen. You put your phone on the table and see Alhaitham looking disapprovingly at his ex-roommate.

“...It’s a wonder how you managed to survive this long on your own, Kaveh.”

“That’s why there’s something called takeout.”

"...Where you have no idea what goes into your food," Alhaitham deadpans.

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" Kaveh turns around upon seeing Alhaitham look past him. "Oh, Sis! Sorry, were we too loud?"

You walk up to them and look at the burnt… thing in the pan. “It, uh, it’s definitely nothing like I’ve ever seen before.”

Kaveh puts a hand on his hip. “It has its own charm, right?”

Alhaitham sighs. “...If that’s what you want to call it.”

Eventually, the three of you are sitting at the dinner table, talking about the curse until Alhaitham tells Kaveh about Thoma’s speculation.

"Self-love, huh?" Kaveh says, putting his fork down. "That's not something that can be achieved so easily." He looks from Alhaitham to you. "...But enough about Ayato, what about you two?" You and Alhaitham look at each other, and Kaveh smiles. "Could yours be… romantic love?"

“We’re already in a relationship,” you say.

“You have to think bigger, Sis. Marriage? A… baby, perhaps?”

Of course, that has crossed your mind. But you're definitely not ready for either of those. You don't even want a child. But… does Alhaitham feel the same? You've never talked about marriage or starting a family with him, as that conversation seems way too fast. Besides, even if you do any of those things now, it won't feel genuine. Won't that mean you're just helping him get rid of his curse? It doesn't sound like a decision made out of love or respect.

“Rushing either of those things will not help in the long run,” Alhaitham says.

Kaveh looks at you. "Just curious, Sis… do you want to get married and have a kid? I know some people who don't want either anymore. Times are changing." Before you can reply, Kaveh chuckles. "If you don't want kids, cats are a pretty good alternative. Don't you think?"

Alhaitham gives Kaveh a deadpan look, to which Kaveh returns with a smile.

Later that night, you fell asleep on Alhaitham's bed after watching a movie. Alhaitham—in his cat form—walks into his room and sees you on the bed. He hops onto the bed and uses his kitty strength to drag a blanket over you.

Then, after he turns off the TV with his paw, he goes underneath the blanket and snuggles himself next to you. Is it true that the key to breaking his curse is… romantic love? Does this mean you’re really his soulmate? But this raises another question. Why did his curse start at eighteen? Was there something special that happened during that time?

Alhaitham can only remember that it was the time when his parents dropped the news that they were going abroad… again right before his high school graduation. Alhaitham knew how busy they were with work, so he didn't question it. It wasn't like they kept him out of the loop. They kept in touch frequently, but nothing beats seeing and spending time with people in-person. Still, he remembers feeling extremely empty, so he went to a bar with Kaveh for a drink.

Then, Alhaitham remembers what his grandfather told him: Is it wrong of me to want a grandbaby? Does this mean he'll oppose his relationship with you if he knows you don't want kids? Alhaitham has never seriously thought about whether he will want kids or not. But, just like you, he's content with what he has in life. A happy relationship with the person he loves. He'd always thought that maybe going with the flow was best. Well, it looks like he'll have to have an opinion eventually.

You stir in your sleep, and your hand finds his tummy. Alhaitham nuzzles his head against your cheek. Your eyes slowly open, and you smile when you see Alhaitham snuggled up next to you.

“Should I turn you back now?”

You're expecting a response. A meow. Or any kind of indication that he wants to. But instead, he puts his head on your arm and slowly closes his eyes. Looks like he wants to stay in cat form tonight. And who are you to complain?

Chapter Eighteen

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @lxry-chxn @seirenspinel @sakiimeo @ash-in-lavender @ceylestia @forsh4dow @deathkat657 @kalpie @elernity @sentieence @chichibleeps @sunsethw4 @hjjks @tanspostsblog @nqctre @just-simping-over-genshin @uchihaeirin @vynbin @ayanokomu @dksfl920 @alatus1808 @itztaki @thetwinkims @imkaaayy @angeilix @starlighttotheleft @letthewindlead @thelonelyarchon @certaindreampost @winterpein

#genshin impact #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham #alhaitham fluff #al haitham #alhaitham x yn #alhaitham x y/n #genshin al haitham #al haitham x reader #al haitham x y/n #al haitham fluff

136 notes · View notes

monfixity · 10 months

Text

Colors - Kim Hongjoong

Summary: You were Hongjoong’s second love. His first love had passed away a few years ago, leaving Hongjoong behind. It was now your job to heal Hongjoong’s broken heart. But could you even do it and make Hongjoong see the colours of life again?

The most tragic loss there was besides losing your beloved parents was probably seeing the person you love die. No one should ever experience it, but Hongjoong had seen it. His first wife had passed away after a long fight with cancer. Hongjoong was there for her the whole time but in the end, he lost her, nevertheless.

It was hard afterwards. It was as if someone ripped out a part of his heart. Every step he took he was hurt, and he got more and more tired. The light of his life turned dark, and he only saw the dark side of life.

Whenever the cherry blossom festival started, he didn’t see the beauty of them but was focused on how the wind was strong and cold. When the first snow came, he wasn’t running out into the garden laughing and enjoying it. He stayed inside and complained about the traffic problems. Hongjoong’s whole life was different.

Sure, he always tried his best to keep it away from his fans when he held a concert. But he was sure that they had a feeling that something was wrong. Hongjoong could only hide the tears he had shared multiple times, but he could not hide the sadness his eyes displayed. Yet, he could not openly show it, because he didn’t want fans to worry. After all, they never knew Hongjoong was taken in the first place. Therefore, he had to continue living his life this way, even though it was hard.

He continued to live like this for a while, even when he met you, he wasn’t fully committing. He felt as if he’d betrayed his deceased wife. Eventually, after sixteen months he admitted that he was in love with you, but he was scared. He was scared that his wife felt betrayed. And how he could have fallen in love again. Even though he said he would never.

You were patient with him, he went through so much. You didn’t mind waiting, you would wait as long as it would take.

After another two months, he asked if you’d mind coming with him to the grave. You accepted because you knew that it would help Hongjoong find closure.

So here you were standing in front of his wife’s grave. Hongjoong put the flowers on the gravestone and smiled.

“Hi, my love.” Hongjoong started and you smiled. You knew that even if you stepped into his life. This woman was his first love and would always play a big role in his life. “Today, I am not alone. I wanted you to meet someone.” Hongjoong got up and went back to you and took your hand and held it. “I fell in love again, you know,” Hongjoong said, looking down and then back to the grave. “I know, I always said I wouldn’t, but I never thought you’d be taken away from me this early.” Hongjoong continued.

He looked over to you and you met his gaze and smiled. “She came into my life when I needed someone the most,” he said while looking into your eyes. Then he looked back to the grave. “After you passed away, I was in a dark place. I couldn’t enjoy anything. I would always find the bad side of a day. Today I would have said how the clouds are making me feel sad, instead of being happy that the weather is turning warmer and warmer.” he explained. “I am not here to tell you I stopped loving you. You will always be my beloved wife. And she knows that you are a big part of my life and always will be.” you nodded, even though Hongjoong wasn’t looking. “She will take care of me, while you watch over us, okay? I wish you could give us your blessing in any way.” Hongjoong knelt and stroked the picture of his wife as suddenly the sun came out.

Hongjoong looked up to the sky and sobbed. You walked over to him and stroked through his hair down to his back where you kept your hand. “Thank you, my love. For giving me your blessing. I am sure I will visit you often and tell you about everything. And I will bring her with me from time to time as well. Be happy wherever you are as well, okay.” Hongjoong stroked away a tear that was going down his cheek. “I love you and thank you for the time you gave me with you.” he kissed his hand and then put it on the photo. He got up and you looked at him. He met your eyes and smiled.

“Can I say something as well?” you asked and Hongjoong nodded. “of course.”

You stepped slightly forward. “Hi, I haven’t gotten the chance to meet you, but I am sure you were amazing. I just want you to know that I will take good care of him. You do not have to worry about him anymore. Thank you for your blessing and be happy. Because I will do everything in my power to make him happy.” you smiled and bowed lightly in front of the grave, making Hongjoong try to hold back his tears.

You turned back to him and stood in front of him. “Thank you.” he mouthed. “For speaking to her as well.”

“She will always be with you, Hongjoong. And I don’t mind you talking about her whenever you feel like it. If you want to come here, come here. If you want me to come with you, tell me. I am by your side. Okay?”

Hongjoong cupped your face and kissed your forehead. “Okay, I will. Thank you. For everything, you’ve done so far. For being this patient.” he looked into his eyes. “And thank you for not giving up on us.” he smiled.

“I love you, Hongjoong.” you smiled, stroking his cheek.

Hongjoong leaned into your hand and then pulled you into his arms, looking over to his wife’s grave. “We will go for now. But I will be back.” Hongjoong said. “I miss you. I still do.”

You stroked his back while being in his arms. “Goodbye for today.” he stroked over the gravestone as you walked away.

Having the blessing of his deceased wife gave Hongjoong the knowledge that nothing he did was wrong. And you would patiently be by his side and be there for him. You don’t mind him being in the graveyard a lot. She was his first love, and you would only try to close the hole she left, with love you could give. And you knew Hongjoong would give you all the love he could give. Making you the most important person in his life now, but always thought to his wife that had passed away too early.

Ateez Masterlist | @kbookshelf

#k-labels #kbookshelf #kim hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong #ateez #ateez imagines #monfixity creation

29 notes · View notes

buttercuparry · 1 year

Text

I know sometimes most of us are just playing around in the fandom without any insidious reason. Hell sometimes things are just a vision and we all want those visions to see the light of the day, and there truly isn't anything wrong with that! But if a fan of colour is commenting on your post about something that might be a concern of theirs and you know this concern is related to matter of fandom racism, I don't think they are doing so to personally attack you about something. And if it indeed does feel like a criticism and you know you didn't mean your art/post/whatever else to express any sort of discrimination, I think just talking about it simply can help clear things. You don't even need to go into an explanation. It's really that simple.

I know fandom can get heated and hell despite our best attempts, back and forth tangent of discourse happens. But the way the fandom treats fans of colour not just in the asoiaf side of tumblr but everywhere-it's a bit disheartening. You have people mocking a fan of colour in tags of a post and going "all this discourse for lily white starks". Well you all don't really listen or even acknowledge unless fans of colour are loud, do you? And when they do get loud, you all start having problems.

"Lily white starks" was the point of discourse. That's what many of us who are PoCs in the asoiaf fandom have been saying. They are all the most ashiest whites to have ever whited and race bending is cool as fuck but they aren't 90s animal cartoons where you have two cats having kittens and half of the litter has orange fur while the other half has brown fur. But somehow the character whom fanon deems to be "plain" ( never mind the text says the opposite), whose gender identity gets questioned every now and then ( even though in text they specifically state what they identify as), is drawn racially ambiguous while her siblings look like they don't even have a drop of melanin-you bet fans of colour are going to feel a type of way about this. And till now I haven't seen any major discussion regarding this, not even a peep of acknowledgement that it's a bit weird that the fanon trajectory where people shout "let (redacted) character be ugly" and then this (redacted) character and all who look like her is drawn with brown skin. But wait there's more! The "Helen" of asoiaf universe, even though is said to look like this (redacted) character is often argued to have looked nothing alike at all. So you see how all this shit evolved into the discourse under that art post right? Like it's not like this discontent was bred in a vacuum.

Even now when a new fan comes into asoiaf fandom, after a few months around they know what the dead ladies club is. Because it is that discussed and it should be because Grrm is shit like that. But dead ladies club evolved from being a genuine criticism to a championing a kind of womanhood that posits itself as the best of them all. And this mentality continues to this day and the race bending of certain houses comes from that. You have a fandom that dislikes one of the most important characters so much, that every thing they do is considered a devastation. This dislike is based on the fact that she doesn't really fit in with the kind of womanhood that's considered traditional. It has been literally witnessed how this character has changed the fantasy genre's notion of the "chosen one" but you have dudebros crying foul. And thus anything related to her is bashed more than it deserves to be and you have one of her deceased family members being presented as the devil incarnate. The woman this dead man has supposedly wronged is suddenly a woc, and the whole of the kingdom she belonged to is also a representation of poc culture in fanon?? Like do you see how exploitative this is? And then to further drive in the notion of evil, there came the dominant headcanon where one of the most priviledged and bloody houses in the fictional asoiaf universe is made analogous to real world indigenous pocs who are still fighting for their rights in their own country. It cannot get more batshit insane than that.

I genuinely believe that certain characters were initially drawn in darker shades out of a personal artistic vision. But then this got twisted by the fandom at large to suit their supposed intellectual narrative and bnf artists just simply followed the trend never questioning anything and years and years of this practice got cemented as natural and canon. Never was it questioned why a character ( and all who look like her) who is falsely fanonized as violent and ugly is drawn shades darker and why another character of whom we know nothing of but how violently she met her end is also a woc.

The most recent discourse that happened under the post carries a weight of this particular fandom history. I know there's artistic vision to consider which is why I personally try not to criticize an artist on their own post. This is also a fanart, something given to the fandom freely and I am of the opinion that if it cannot be celebrated then it should just be left alone. But what got to me was that how it felt like through the response there was this tone of trying to turn the tables on the fan of colour who commented. Like the sarcastic commentary on how there is an insistence on Valyrians being whitest white...like dude...hello?? Pretty sure this is on grrm and do you really think this person who is actively frustrated at the racist caricature would mind genuine attempt at being inclusive?! Like I have seen you around, I have enjoyed your posts, I think I even saw you under posts which criticized these particular trends while drawing certain Stark siblings, are you really going to pretend you don't know where the comments came from???

There is also the pointing towards how fandom casts all of dorne as poc and I think we have already established that this fandom is shit. Like I won't lie I enjoy my guilty pleasure of looking at Bollywood gifs representing Dorne, and I think there is this headcanony idea that Dorne is based on North Indian hindu hindi speaking culture. But in same post representing a particular house through this Hindu Hindi speaking culture you have the gifmaker using gifs of the Islamic hajj!!! Like ajaldleryjdlsldldlfg the headcanon then is the idea of amalgating brown bodies and meshing them in homogeneity because that's what we are all over the world right? 😂😂😂

Like I understand the frustration and you really got nothing to explain but it's trying to turn the tables for me (including calling a poc racist when they themselves were trying to address a racist issue)

EDIT IMPORTANT:

I am making this post non reblogable because the assumption on the basis of which I made this post was wrong. The person I have been referencing is a artist of colour themselves- so the core idea of the post isn't applicable. However I still don't know or can't wrap my head around how someone got dog piled on for a comment, and got called a racist ( a poc themself), when they have been one of the primary voices who pointed out many of the racist issues in the fandom.

22 notes · View notes

mkaroy · 2 years

Text

headcanons of the spelling bee kids & adults for funzies ( most of which were influenced by fellow cast members )

Olive:

-she doesn’t like the idea of labelling herself but not straight, she/her

-dating barfee she totally forced her and barfee to have a ship name, it’s ovbarfvsky, chip thinks it’s funny

-dream job is a stay at home mom who runs a radio

-likes reading classical books

-still calls marcy occasionally but has lost contact with most of the other spellers

-her mom never came back, so she started sending her letters to mitch, in which he wrote back

Barfee:

-straight white man…, asexual, he/him

-autism

-started his sea anemone collection when he was 5 and has loved it since

-eventually grew out his ego

-also reads classical books but secretly reads those kids books that are diary style (ex: dear dumb diary)

-he stims a lot by tapping his foot or bouncing his legs, also a nail bitter, not out of anxiety but just out of boredom usually

Marcy:

-aromantic/questioning, she/her

-really into piano and violin but now she uses them to play really hard metal songs for fun

-she’s really into pop culture stuff but she’s also an environmentalist, so she keeps a closet of mostly graphic shirts of shows she likes and jeans

-stranger things fan; nancy is her favourite

-but i’m a cheerleader is one if not her favourite movies, she also finds megan relatable

Logainne:

-lesbian, had a crush on olive during the bee and a bit after that (obviously), she/her trans woman

-adhd & half jewish

-wears suits to any occasion, even in her sleep sometimes

-she’ll watch anything with gay or jewish rep in it and give it a surprisingly harsh rating

-her favourite show is bobs burgers

-stims include pacing, jumping, pulling of twirling hair and fumbling with her fingers

-doesn’t have volume control and often speaks too loudly for most people

-had to get braces on her top row of teeth in her later teen years

Chip:

-bisexual, he/him

-adhd diagnosed early

-a total try hard in school, especially gym

-he stims in ‘discrete’ ways, basically leg bouncing and pacing and his big 2

-kids at his school find him weird, but no one ever talks about it

-had a crush on olive but it went nowhere especially after his, distraction

-secretly a mama’s boy and tries hard to put his heart in his mother’s day gift

-super good at the piano for some reason

-the marigold thing only went on for 3 years before chip started liking a guy in his class instead of her

-great at public speaking and persuasive essays but sucks at talking to one person head on

-has braces AND a pubestache, the braces are colourful

-mom picks out most of his clothes still

-chip is the one that put peanuts in the brownies

Leaf:

-gay, he/they, adhd

-total outdoor kid

-tons of his clothes have pride flags sewn into them but most people don’t notice

-considers the spelling bee kids to be his best friends and sometimes just shows up at their house uninvited

-he likes spending time with logainne mostly because she’s loud and excitable like him

-plays the cat piano in his spare time

-always keeps cat food on him to give to stray cats he finds

-his homeschooling schedule absolutely terrible, sometimes he just walks into the woods for hours and doesn’t come back until dark, and nobody in his house notices

Panch:

-so straight, perhaps even homophobic on top of being misogynistic

-his favourite WAS chip, until the, erection business

-after courting rona and getting a restraining order, he moved onto another realtor, he has a thing for them

-doesn’t know how to iron or wash clothes properly

-went back to, unhealthy coping habits for lack of better words, after rona left

Rona:

-bisexual she/her

-the indigenous farmer she met was a woman obviously

-doing much better for herself after getting rid of panch

-didn’t find out about her sexuality until she met that farmer

-she truly loves kids and hopes to adopt someday

-her original dream job was a hairstylist, but she had no natural knack for the job and was much better at persuasion and public speaking

Mitch:

-TRANS

-acted out and went to jail for beating someone up

-cares about olive the most though he won’t tell

-his least favourite kid is chip but he doesn’t hate any of them

-as the years went on he started giving the losers more than juice boxes, stickers and participation awards were added

-one of those tough guys who has a flock of parrots in his house who he’s suprisingly gentle with

-went through a buzz cut phase, it was not cool.

#25thannualputnamcountyspellingbee #the 25th annual putnam county spelling bee #25apcsb #25th annual putnam county spelling bee #olive ostrovsky #william barfee #marcy park #logainne schwartzandgrubenierre #chip tolentino #leaf coneybear #douglas panch #rona lisa perreti #mitch mahoney

110 notes · View notes

jackoshadows · 1 year

Text

@whitedragonwolf4961 in response to the two asks you send me:

1. I don’t think that how the books turn out is going to change anything with Jonsa shippers/Sansa fans in the same way that having pictures from space and scientific proof of the earth being round does not change the opinions of flat earthers. We have 5 books now. Do you think the absurd metas and rewriting of the story and characters we get from these stans have anything to do with those books?

These are the fools who came up with ‘political!Jon’ because they are cinematography experts who analyzed the light coming through a window on the boat when Jon and Dany were talking!!

These are the fools who continue using the TV show and especially show Sansa’s arc on the TV to speculate on her book story despite GRRM repeatedly disavowing that plot specifically in all his interviews and saying that the show and the books are two different and separate canon.

They don’t care!! Even if in TWoW we get Jon and Arya reuniting and there’s lots of mussing of hair and tears and love, they will just replace Arya with Sansa in their essays and talk about how it’s foreshadowing for Jonsa happening in A Dream of Spring.

Even if we get more hints of Jon and Dany being aligned in thought and purpose and of a future alliance between them in TWoW, they will still continue with how Jon is going to murder Dany for his true love Sansa in the last book because the colour red popped up in some corner of his room.

And if Arya becomes the Lady of Winterfell instead of Sansa? I expect lots of essays from bnfs and feminism experts about GRRM being sexist and what not. 100 % sure of this. After all they have been banging on and on about Sansa being the ‘embodiment of hope for the future’, the best politician on the planet, ‘Sansa Smart’, expert on food and diplomacy unlike political noob Jon Snow and violent killer Arya. How to deal with it? Oh no, we did not realize that GRRM is a woman hater who didn’t grasp the awesomeness of a character like Sansa.

2. Regarding Kit Harington and Jon Snow. I tend to not blame the actors for characters they play on TV shows tbh. I put the blame on ultimate hacks, Benioff and Weiss for failing upwards as rich, white men and turning in an horrendous script, full of one-dimensional characters, no plot, no themes and dripping with their sexism, toxic masculinity and femininity. There was really not much Harington could do when the script gave him literally nothing! Book Jon Snow is a rich, complex character with several layers of plot and story telling piled on him over 42 POV chapters. All they gave show Jon Snow was fighting in battles.

I know Sophie Turner gets a lot of hate and she just comes across as the typical rich, white teen when giving interviews. She honestly sounds like the stereotypical Sansa stan on tumblr. And yet the blame lies on Benioff and Weiss for taking tips on writing Sansa/Arya from teenagers reading tumblr metas rather than actually adapting the book you know? Turner was only spouting off what these hacks were putting out there on their TV show. And from everything Emilia Clarke is saying about how she was being pressurized in terms of nudity and sex scenes, the behind the scenes of this show is clearly a very toxic mess.

I think Kit Harington is a decent actor - he does good in comedy and I liked his take on a sleazy character accused of rape in season 2 of Criminal UK. Jon Snow is a hard character to play given how much of his POV is internal and yet Benioff and Weiss did not even attempt to faithfully adapt the book version just like they did not with Arya Stark and instead reduced these characters to tropes.

I honestly can’t say if another actor would have been better in the role of Jon Snow given the material on the show for the character is so poor. Would it have made a difference if they had an Olivier award winner in the role? All this award winner would do is swing a sword around and play supporting prop to other characters.

Actors will also defend the characters they play. We love these characters so much as readers of these books. These actors have spend ten years of their life inhabiting these characters and love them just as much as we do. Of course Kit is going to defend show Jon Snow just like Emilia defends Daenerys and Dinklage defends Tyrion.

I am just going to reserve my ire for

- Benioff and Weiss who seem to not even like fantasy, did not care for themes, characters and the story of the books, did not hire a writer’s room, had only male writers/directors and were petty in firing actors (by killing off their characters) if they criticized the show and

- GRRM, who even after seeing the utter mess D&D have made of his story has failed to finish a book in 12 years including a pandemic where we were all shut up inside our homes for close to 18 months.

GRRM is the reason for why the only ending we will have for this story started almost 30 years ago is the garbage that is the TV show. I am not entirely happy with the adaptation of the Wheel of Time tv show and I can see the showrunner taking hints from D&D in terms of how and what gets adapted for viewership numbers. And yet I am not all that bothered by this because we will always have the books and the book characters. We know how the story ends for these characters. Sadly with ASoIaF we will never have that while GRRM is busy consulting on the umpteenth spin off.

So yeah, don’t really blame the actors. They are only playing characters on a TV show and that depended on the script they got.

#asks

10 notes · View notes

friendlylemonade · 2 months

Text

Damn, well, I didn’t expect this… but, I am a woman of my word, so I’ll post the first drafts for each episode when I finish them, here’s the first one

Chapter 1 Prologue

Syrian held her head high as she stood among her siblings. Of course she’d succeed but…. Still, it was a terrifying thing to think about… She knew that it’d come, she’d been preparing for this practically her entire life and bore her heart and soul into training but just the thought of fighting her own family was enough to send shivers down her spine. She didn’t hear anything yet, so she decided that it was safe to discreetly peek at her sisters and brothers from her peripheral.

On her immediate right, she saw Parrot. He was the second hatched and one of the stronger kids, he wanted this just as much as she did, trying his best to be, Well… the best. He was a tough, determined boy and she loved him dearly. Yes, his tri-coloured feathers were strange, but weren’t they all? On her immediate left, Raven stood beside her. Raven was a harsh contrast to Parrot, being the youngest of their hatching. An excitable, charming girl was what she was, and Syrian couldn’t have hoped for anything more (don’t get her wrong) it was just…. She knew that Raven wouldn’t win this, she was never the best fighter and any dragon who had met her would tell you the same. It was okay though, because though Raven knew she wasn’t good at fighting, she was okay with it, she-

The click clack of talons echoed through the cave, and Syrian subconsciously straightened her tail, her large ears twisting and turning at the sudden sound after so many minutes in silence. Soon, a grey-yellow dragon came into view, his heavily scarred body not unlike a hatchling’s first painting. Syrian resisted the urge to throw herself into the nearest hole, this was war, intimidating dragons were everywhere.

“You all know why I’ve come, you’ve known for years, but if you’ve somehow erased it from your shrunken brains, let me explain,” the dragon snarked, flaring his wings slightly as he talked, “Only one of you can fight in the war, so we need the best of you to do it, you will fight, and I will pick the best of you to come into my army. It’s usually easy to tell who’s winning, and I don’t think this time will be any different,” remarked the general, glaring pointedly at Raven’s small form as he finished. Syrian felt a small ember of anger begin to glow as she tried to keep a straight face.

“On my mark, you will start, and when one of you is chosen, you will stop at my call, understood?” Asked the yellow dragon.

“Sir, yes, sir!” The dragons chorused back, some subtly glancing at the others. The general nodded and flew to a high ledge, where Kiwi and Goose, her parents, were sitting already. Syrian looked to Goose, she had large scars covering her left leg, crawling all the way up her wing. As a fledgling, Syrian would trace the scars and wonder how Goose got them, imagining fantasies of her mother fighting off an unreasonable amount of flame dragons. Goose had long since retired from her position as a soldier due to her wounds, and even though she had been offered to have her mane cut to shoe her bravery, Goose denied, something about not wanting to have choppers in the cave when she was planning for younglings. Syrian didn’t really remember, and even now, she had her doubts about how much of that story was true. Syrian shook the thought out of her head and stood taller.

“Fight!” The general yelled suddenly, and Syrian didn’t have a chance to think before a red blur slammed into her right side. Syrian shouted in surprise as she was tackled to the ground, Parrot fanning his wings as he lifted a fluffy paw. Baring her teeth, Syrian scratched his underside, discombobulating him and giving her enough time to roll over and slam her brother into the ground, effectively pinning his limbs down with her own. Syrian craned her neck for a bite when a heavy weight settled onto her back. Kicking her back legs, whatever was on her back flew into the cave wall in front of her. Sighing, Syrian looked down, but whatever had happened worked, because Parrot was gone from underneath her. Syrian looked around wildly, trying to locate her red sibling before she saw Raven charging for her straight on. Rearing on her hind legs, Syrian caught her sister’s face with her sharp claws and scraped them along her face.

Syrian hesitated for a moment, did she really want to do this? These types of wounds would scar, and she loved her siblings, would she sacrifice that just to become a soldier and possibly die? In her moment of pause, Raven bit her paw hardly, a growl coming from her sister’s throat. Syrian hissed in pain. So much for mercy. Syrian slashed her talons along her sister's bloody face and then immediately slammed her closed paws into Raven’s elbows, making the smaller dragon fall to the stone ground. Hissing slightly, Syrian clawed at her sister’s exposed side, all the while Raven batted her wings in a feeble attempt at warding off the larger dragon.

“Stop!” The general yelled, and just a quickly, Syrian stepped back from Raven. The large yellow dragon flew down to meet the combatants just as Syrian stepped into line. The scarred dragon walked along the row of dragons and stopped as he reached Syrian.

“That one will do,” the general said, pointing to Syrian as he looked to Kiwi and Goose. Syrian’s eyes widened; she didn’t think she did that well. Goose smiled as Syrian saw some of her siblings glare in envy from the corner of her eye.

“Grab your items,” proposed the general as he nodded to the cave exit. Syrian beamed as she skipped over to her sleeping cave to grab her items. This was amazing! She’d really be a soldier! She could fight in the war! This was-

“Syrian,” Parrot croaked, and Syrian whipped her head around to see him looking at something in the corner. Following his gaze, Syrian saw….. Raven, laying on the cold cave floor, unmoving.

#writing #scripts #it’s sort of a mix between a script and a book #more so on the book side of things #investors got the first five episodes drafted #so those’ll be posted soon #ya’ll chose this #now suffer

0 notes

endless-oc-creations · 10 months

Text

Mimi's Mobile Misc. Oc Masterlist

Updated: 1/02/24

Name: Stevie Cabot

Title: The Ineffable

Fandom: Good Omens

Faceclaim: Jodie Comer

Love interest: Aziraphale & Crowley

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: More To Be Added...

Name: Marigold Baggins

Title: Echos of the Fallen

Fandom: The Hobbit

Faceclaim: Poppy Drayton

Love interest: Fili Oakenshield

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: More to be added...

Name: Dis Baggins

Title: Lady of the Dawn

Fandom: Lord of the Rings

Faceclaim: Katheryn Winnick

Love interest: Legolas Greenleaf

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: More To Be Added...

Name: Ellie Malcolm

Title: Evermore

Fandom: Jurassic Park

Faceclaim: Michelle Pfeiffer

Love interest: Ian Malcolm

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: More To Be Added...

Name: Rocky Foster

Title: Flawless

Fandom: Shameless

Faceclaim: Dane DeHaan

Love interest: Mickey Milkovich & Ian Gallagher

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: More To Be Added...

Name: Sophia Gallagher

Title: Diary of a Gallagher

Fandom: Shameless

Faceclaim: Elle Fanning

Love interest: TBD

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: More To Be Added...

Name: Ace Cooper

Title: Jolly Sailor Bold

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death

Faceclaim: Tom Hopper

Love interest: Blackbeard & Stede Bonnet

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: More To Be Added...

Name: Eli Swan

Title: Nightfall Series

Fandom: Twilight

Faceclaim: Tyler Posey

Love interest: Edward Cullen

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: More To Be Added...

Name: Beatriz Quinn

Title: Hoist The Colours

Fandom: One Piece

Faceclaim: Kaya Scodelario

Love interest: Monkey.D.Luffy

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: More To Be Added...

Name: Mai Toma

Title: The Desert Rose

Fandom: One Piece

Faceclaim: Naomi Scott

Love interest: Nefertari Vivi

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: More To Be Added...

Name: Natsuki Sara

Title: Moonchild

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Faceclaim: Rinko Kikuchi

Love interest: Din Djarin

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: One day on the remote desert planet Arvala-7 a Ugnaught named Kuiil found the remains of a ship that had crashed and what seemed to be the only thing to remain was an unconscious woman. When she woke up the woman had no memory of who she was or what had happened, all she could remember was the name Natsuki Sara.

Natsuki stayed with Kuiil, helped him on his farm while trying to piece together who she was. Then a certain Mandalorian arrived on their planet and changed everything.

She ended up joining his crew after Kuiil denied his offer because she seemed to have the same skill set as him when it came to repairing ships after being with her for a few years.

She also wanted to leave with him because Natsuki wanted to discover more of the galaxy in hopes of finding out more about her life, but she also seemed to have a soft spot for the bounty the Mandalorian had gotten in possession of.

Name: Claire West

Title: Misery Business

Fandom: {HBO} Barry

Faceclaim: Victoria Pedretti

Love interest: Barry Berkman

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: More to be added...

Name: Rosette Clearhill

Title: Towards the Sun

Fandom: The Hunger Games Series

Faceclaim: Daisy Ridley

Love interest: Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: Rose is from District 8, and her parents died not long after she was born which meant the only person who could raise her was her grandmother Iris.Iris was a wise woman, she knew secret ways in and out of the district. So she taught Rose how to hunt and how to survive if anything happened to her and or their district. She raised Rose to be kind, brave, and strong, and to always stand up for others no matter what it could cost in return.

Rose was very close to her grandmother, but just a week before the 74th Hunger Games, Iris ended up having a heart attack and passing away. Her body was unable to withstand any more of the Capital's demands of long working hours.

Rose was left all by herself, she always had kept to herself beside her grandmother, but with her now gone...Rose didn't know what to do.

Iris always wanted and wished for her grandmother to open up more, make friends...and hopefully find someone to love and take care of her granddaughter.

But then Rose's name was called in the 74th Hunger Games.

Rose couldn't help but feel vulnerable and lost during this time. However, she ends up meeting two people who become the most important people in Rose's life.

Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen, the tributes for District 12. Rose never expected to become so close to another district tributes but she did and the three will change everything.

Name: Eden Green

Title: Towards the Sun

Fandom: The Hunger Games

Faceclaim: Ming-Na Wen

Love Interest: Haymitch Abernathy

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: Growing up in District 8 Eden knows nothing except that you worked to survive and after you turned 12…hope your name never gets called in The Hunger Games. Eden’s hope unfortunately shattered when she was 15 and her name was called for the 51st Hunger Games. She survived but she never understood why and thought that struggled with that knowledge.

During her victory tour, she ended up meeting District 12th victor and last year’s winner, Haymitch Abernathy. As they got to know each other more, Eden felt like she could relate to one another and they got close…too close and after a night of passion Eden woke up and got her heart shattered by Haymitch who said he wanted nothing to do with her, it was just all just for a bit of fun. He left and went back to his District while she went back to hers, trying to pick up the already shattered pieces of herself.

Years later Eden was now a cold, hard-shell of a person that never lets anyone in. Including the kids she’s forced to mentor and watch die year after year. Now at the 74th Hunger Games, Eden thought it would be like any other year, of couse it was the usual a boy tribute and a girl to die for Eden to mentor. But, this girl tribute,Rosette Clearhill, reminds Eden a lot on how she used to be before the Hunger Games and Eden felt the need to prepare her for what she might have to do to survive.

However, nothing could prepare Eden for what Rose and District 12s Tributes did at the end of The Hunger Games would cause for Eden and the rest of Panem.

Name: Luke

Title: Starting Line

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Faceclaim: Matthew Daddario

Love interest: Thomas

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: More To Be Added...

Name: Laila Blake

Title: The Moon Will Sing

Fandom: Harry Potter

Faceclaim: Saoirse Ronan

Love interest: Harry Potter

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: Laila Blake has two loving Muggle parents and a fun Uncle who happens to be a wizard. Her Uncle Arron was the one who introduced her to the world of magic, telling her stories about what mischief he had gotten into with his friends at Hogwarts. Laila was fascinated and wanted to be one herself and one day an owl had brought her a letter inviting her to attend Hogwarts. On the train, she met a girl who also had muggle parents like herself, Hermione Granger. Hermione was Laila’s first friend and because of her Laila ended up meeting the one and only Harry Potter. The famous boy whom her Uncle Arron never told her about nor about the one who tried to kill him. Over her years at Hogwarts, unfortunately for Laila, she would end up finding out up close and personal.

Name: William Astor

Title: Written in Blood

Fandom: Saltburn(2023)

Face Claim: Daniel Radcliffe

Love Interest: Oliver Quick

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: Will is an outsider, he has been his whole life. He has little to no family and they even don't want anything to do with him. Then Will only has only one friend...Oliver Quick. Oliver and Will have been 'friends' since they were children. Will would always go along with what Oliver wanted, no matter how sick his games were since Oliver would always tell him that he would be the only one in WIll's life that would accept him. So, when the two attended Oxford University, Will went along with Oliver's plan against Felix. Not saying anything even when Oliver would tell Felix things about his life that actually had happened to Will. Or even when Oliver was acting like William...Every time William tried to break from Oliver's spell, Oliver would just pull him back into the plan by using sweet words or touches of affection. Maybe deep down William was just as sick and twisted as his friend and lover Oliver Quick?

Name: Maedalyn Wyne

Title: Play with Fire

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Faceclaim: Lily James(Adolescent) Jodie Comer(Adult)

Love Interest: Rhaenyra Targaryen

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: Maedalyn's father, Marthew Wyne, used to be the Master of Laws for The Small Council under Viserys I Targaryen at the beginning of his rule. Viserys and Marthew were good friends, so much so that both their daughters grew up and bonded together. But suddenly when Maedalyn was only 12 years of age her father was killed. Marthew was the only one left in the Wyne family, besides Maedalyn herself, so she truly had nowhere to go. In honor of his good friends' loyalty and memory, Viserys took it upon himself to care for Maedalyn as if she were his own. So, she lived with Rhaenyra, but others believed that Maedalyn was a waste, or should be doing something other than living in the King's castle. Maedalyn was no stranger to such topics and whispers, but Maedalyn's best friend Rhaenyra was always there to cheer her up or to just simply comfort her. As they grew older Maedalyn found herself wanting more and craving her Princess in a way that was more than friendship. But no matter how her feelings wanted more, Maedalyn would do anything for Rhaenyra and do whatever it took to ensure that her Princess would become the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Name: Judith May

Title: TBD

Fandom: Road House(1989)

Faceclaim: Sandra Bullock

Love Interest: John Dalton

Pinterest Board: Link

Summary: Judith May is a small-town girl born in Jasper, Missouri. As a teenager, she ran away to live in the big city. But, years later Judith returned to her hometown, trying to pick up the pieces of her life that ended up being shattered by the struggle she faced over the years. When Judith came back, her Uncle Emmett opened up his farm to her and she helped her around the farm while bartending for Frank Tilghman at his club, the Double Deuce.

Working nights there is hard and sometimes unbearable from all the chaos that goes on, but Judith just does what she can and puts her head down to get through the night in one piece. One day a man named James Dalton came into the town and her Uncle Emmett was letting him stay in their sparse barn.

Then later that night at work, Judith sees him at the club and finds out that her boss Frank hired him to take over security at the club, giving him full authority over the club's operations. As Judith gets closer to Dalton, she finds out that there is more to the stoic and cool-headed man.

The two end up falling in love, something that Judith said she would never do again, but the couple soon finds trouble when the crime lord, Brad Wesley, doesn’t like the changes Dalton is doing to his town.

Judith finds herself, Dalton, and everyone she cares about in danger, but Dalton promises to protect her no matter what.

#mimis masterlist #misc ocs masterlist #mimi misc ocs

1 note · View note

globetrotter28 · 2 years

Text

Another Cover Up (Part 2)

Fandom: The Boys

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Herogasm, Butcher, Hughie and Soldier Boy realise they might need more reinforcements. After doing more research, they discover the woman who was also injected with Compound V alongside Soldier Boy back in the 40’s. Everyone also thought she was KIA that day at Nicaragua. But if Soldier Boy was still alive… maybe she was too?

Chapter Warnings: language, trauma

Tags: @msbadgirl @queenofspades20 @mimzy1994 @erinnkenobi @goldngguk @ateliefloresdaprimavera @roseblue373 @acarboni21

If you are tagged and don’t wish to be, please let me know.

If you DO wish to be tagged for future updates, please let me know.

Series Masterlist

I’m back from popular demand!

This is I guess kind of setting some things up, so there will be future chapters. I’ve got a few in the works. Don’t know how many though…

I wanted to see where the show would go before doing more. Soldier Boy is going to still be a bit of dick and his and our dear Reader’s backstory is going to come out maybe next chapter.

So this story may very well be different from what came out in the show for my own creative purposes.

But please enjoy!

~~~~~

You were sitting next to the window, staring out at a sea of black as the jet flew back to New York. You felt the seat next to you sink down and the gruff sigh leave Ben's mouth as he lowered himself into it.

"Where'd you get the jet?" You asked, eyes still focused out the window.

"Would you believe it if I said The Legend?" He chuckled softly. You turned to look at him, a small smirk on your lips. "Bastard is still alive."

You scoff in response before saying, "I'm not actually surprised he is...," you turn to look out the window again. "He was always a slippery bastard..."

"Hmm, yeah but he's sentimental. That's how I got my suit back."

"Just thought you would have found it in the lab..."

"No, they destroyed it..." Ben swallows before adding, "when they were testing..."

You see his jaw tighten, the anger and emotion evident on his profile. You reach for his hand, your fingers entwining together before you give his a gentle squeeze.

"He actually has yours as well." Ben offers.

"Hmm... I guess thats something... but Ben...?" He looks you deep in the eyes, waiting for you to continue. "I don't.. know if I can." Is all you say for him to know what you mean.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out with a heavy sigh as his eyes flicker between yours.

"I understand, Y/N. But... they betrayed us. They turned us over to the Russians... they planned it all."

"Do you know why?" You question him. He looks away, shame colouring his face.

"Because of me. They took you because of me. Countess, sh- she said they didn't even get paid..." your brows furrowed slightly at this. "Said they all hated me..."

"Just you?" You ask, thinking why you were then included in the coupe.

"I mean... Countess was never your biggest fan." He darkly chuckles. "I always thought it was because of our history and she was jealous, but..." he trails off and shakes his head.

"But why would she be jealous if she always hated you." You finished.

"Yeah."

"I knew she never liked me. I thought it was that too until I caught her thoughts once. She was intimidated by my powers."

"That makes sense... I don't think that's enough for them to turn you over to the Reds too."

You hum in thought before deciding to change the subject.

"So... what's the deal with these guys?" You ask, your head nodding towards Butcher and Hughie.

"Accidentally found me at the labs about a week and a bit ago. Butcher said they were looking for the weapon that supposedly killed you and I, but stumbled across my cryo chamber instead."

"And you just left with them?" You prod, surprised he would do that.

"No. Had no idea who the fuck they were. I erm..." Ben's eyes drift from yours down to his feet for a moment before he continues. "I have new powers.

"Powers?" He nods. "What are they?”

"They poisoned me, burned me for years... anything you can think of... but the worst... the worst was the radiation.

You frown as you sense the pain he endured. You weren't a scientist, but knew enough about radiation poisoning to know it was terrible. You wondered how he even survived.

"I don't know how... but I can blast radiation from my chest." He struggles to get out, looking at you. When he doesn't see judgement he continues. "I didn't mean to... but I blasted one of their team. Then escaped and made my way back to New York. After I saw The Legend, I... I was in Midtown..."

You saw where this was going.

"Did you blackout?"

He nods. "Heard some song... something the Reds listened to in the background in the lab. I don't remember shit for about ten minutes. Just walking down the street, then I was in a public bathroom with a razor and my suit." His face screwed up in emotional pain. "Y/N, I- I didn't mean to hurt those people." His voice breaks. "Not the ones who didn't deserve it.

I grab him and pull him into me, trying to comfort him.

"No, Ben. Don't do that to yourself." You say, your own voice cracking. "I know you." You say pulling back to look into his eyes. "You've done some stupid shit, hell... we all have. Nothing is meant to have the type of power that we wield. And after everything you went through..." you trail off, not knowing specifics, but if it was what you also went through... you knew enough.

"It happened again... at Herogasm... we found the TNT twins and I was confronting them... then that fucking song was playing..." he growled

You breath deeply, understanding how it got to be this bad. Just not knowing what to do, other than be there for him.

"Oi!" Butcher grabs your attention. "Since you're both chatting away, maybe you'd like to catch up with a few things you've missed, eh love?"

After Ben quickly composed himself, you both move to join the larger sitting area where Butcher and Hughie have set themselves up for the flight.

They began to explain bits and pieces as to how they fell into the life of fighting supes. You felt uneasy to trust them at first, but what you could see in their minds only gave you good enough reason to align yourself with them. They both had a reason to dislike the power supes had in society and to be fair... it was something you yourself had always struggled with also.

Hughie was telling Ben and I about a supe who had recently suicided a year after it was outed she was actually a Nazi and Dr. Frederick Vought's wife.

"Wait, wait..." you interrupt the story. "You're talking about Liberty?" You question.

"Liberty?" Ben's voice and face show his confusion. "Sweetheart, no. He said Stormfront."

"Um... actually..." Hughie awkwardly mutters.

"Yeah, the Liberty bitch is the same cunt." Butcher concludes.

"I fucking knew it!" You exclaim.

"What the hell are you talking about? Liberty disappeared back in the seventies." Ben adds in.

"Yeah, stayed hidden until just over a year ago and joined the Seven again. Started screwing Homelander too." Butcher says.

"I fucking knew it..." you mutter to yourself.

"Knew what?" Hughie questions you.

"It's like everyone forgot what my powers are!" Your voice raises as you stand up. "I can fucking read minds!"

"Then why didn't you say anything?!" Ben argues.

"I fucking did! When she came onto the scene, I told you she was hiding something. She was good for only about a week, but she slipped up and I was able to see into her head. And I saw everything! I came to you and told you, not only was she a racist piece of shit, but a fucking Nazi! She thought about Frederick all the damn time and a girl called Chloe."

"I don't remember this." Ben says, his tone final.

"I'm not fucking surprised, you were always so busy trying to get in her skirts!" You jabbed at him.

"Oi!" Butcher yells out, grabbing your attention. "You mind?" He gives you a pointed look before moving his gaze to your group’s surroundings. You see and feel the turbulence of the plane, which soon stops when you calm down.

You have a sudden pain shoot through your head and you begin to stumble as you lose your balance.

"Y/N!" You hear Hughie and Ben's voices call out to you before Ben's strong arms catch you before you hit the floor.

"What's wrong?" Butcher's gritty voice asks. You didn't take him for one to really give a shit, but you knew he had those personal reasons for wanting you around.

"My head, it ju-just... I'll be fine." You manage to get out as the pain persists.

"Y/N...? C'mon." Ben lifts you and carries you back to your seat.

"Here's a blanket. She could just be exhausted." Hughie offers Ben the blanket, who takes it and lays it over your body.

"Thanks, kid." Ben utters as he tucks the blanket around your body.

He moves his hand to brush your hair away from your face, making you close your eyes from the soothing sensation.

"You okay?" He whispers in concern.

"Yeah. I think he's right." You nod your head in the direction Hughie went. "It's been a lot of excitement for me." You smirk, trying to ease Ben's worry.

He only hums before moving to sit next to you again. He moves his arm over your shoulder and pulls you into his side, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

"Just rest okay. We'll be Stateside before you know it."

His tone soothes you and before you realise it, his voice is gently speaking to Butcher and Hughie about getting off the plane.

"You don't need to not wake me, I'm already up." You say, voice groggy as you lift your head up.

"We've got a car just out on the tarmac. It'll take us to Legend's." Hughie says as he's standing up and grabbing his bag.

You all make your way out to the car, the ride to Legend's silent. Ben feels a weight on his shoulder and he turns to see you resting against it with your eyes closed. He can tell by your breathing you're in a deep sleep.

When your group makes it to the house, you don't wake this time. So Ben gathers you in his arms and makes his way to the front door where The Legend is waiting.

"Just as young as the day I last saw her." He says softly as he sees you're not conscious. "Goddamn supes..." he mutters under his breath as he lets Ben past and leads him to the room Y/N will be staying in.

Ben pushes the quilt back and lays you onto the mattress. After he tucks you in, he stares down at your face. Just as perfect as he remembers. He admires your smooth skin, un-aged just like his. But he sees the deep frown in your brows, likely from your dreams. He can't help but move his hand to brush his thumbs between the crease in your brows, hoping to smooth it out.

It quickly does and your eyes flutter open, looking directly into his.

"Hey... I didn't mean to-"

"You're okay." You softly smile up at him.

"I'll let you get back to sleep." He gently cups your face and leans down to lay a kiss on your hair.

"Ben, wait..." you mutter as he leans back.

"Yeah?"

"Stay with me... like old times."

It takes him only a second to agree.

"Of course."

After closing the door and removing his suit he joins you in bed, collecting you in his arms. You both fall asleep knowing you’re currently safe once again with each other.

Part 3

#the boys #the boys tv #Soldier Boy #soldier boy x reader #soft soldier boy #soldier boy x fem!reader #fanfic #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys fanfiction

354 notes · View notes

cabensonsgirly · 3 years

Text

👼Co-com-comparison is killing me slowly...And I’m so sick of myself, rather be, rather be. Anyone, anyone else (Diane Sherman) [NSFW]👼

Diane Sherman xFem!Reader

A gift for someone special, @billiedeannovak

👼Wordcount: 2297👼

👼Content: NSFW, drugging, alcohol, coercion, hair brushing, gentle touching, mommy.👼

👼“How about we go inside and have some tea and start from there? I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, okay?” You nod and get out of the car, waiting for her before you lead her inside and up to your apartment, locking the door behind you both. You could feel every beat of your heart hammering in your chest, it had been so long since you had someone over to your place and suddenly you felt as though the place wasn’t tidy enough even though you cleaned it every day, again, again, again, again, again, again, again, aga-👼

You were supposed to finish work over an hour ago, when it was still sunny out, but a co-worker had called in sick, so you had to wait until someone else came in. Was it still sunny outside? No. No, it really fucking wasn’t. It was absolutely pouring down outside, and you didn’t have any ride home, bussing wasn’t an option because you didn’t have any loose change nor did you have a bus card, so the walk home was going to be absolutely horrible.

While you were wiping down your station, you heard a soft voice, “Excuse me? May I please have a glass of red?” You look up, feeling your cheeks colour when your eyes meet that of the beautiful woman whose voice was made of milk and honey, “I- I’m not on at the moment, sorry. I’ve just finished for the night.” She sighs, “No, no, that’s okay. I’ll just ask someone else,” as she starts to get up you blurt out, “Wait” making your cheeks colour further, “I- I’ll pour you that glass, it’s the least I can do for coming in on such a miserable afternoon.” The amber-haired woman flashes you a warm smile that calms your fiercely beating heart, “Thank you, sweetheart.”

You smile shyly and give her a nod of your head before turning behind you to get the finest red-wine from the shelf and pouring her a glass, entering it down as a standard red so she wouldn’t need to pay the exorbitant price. You slide the glass in front of her, “One glass of red for the beautiful woman.” She chuckles and you notice her cheeks take on a faint pink hue, “Thank you.”

Once again, you start wiping down your station, making sure it’s clean for the person who’s working after you. “Do you have anything planned after your shift?” You look up, “Hm? Oh- No, no, I just plan on heading home. I don’t really feel like spending more time out in the rain than I have to, a bit like a cat in that regard, not a fan of it.” She laughs lightly, a sound you already found yourself enjoying, “Did you want a ride home? My kids have moved out, so I don’t have to worry about picking any of them up from soccer or any other extracurricular.”

You look around to see if any of your colleagues are nearby, part of you hoping one of them would offer you a ride instead because you know not to trust rides from strangers, but the other part of you felt safe with her, she had children so she must be a trustworthy person, yes? You look back at her, smiling a bit, “I- I’d really appreciate that, thank you. Usually, one of my co-workers drops me off or I walk, but both of those are off the table, the latter because of the shitty weather.” You take her empty glass and put it with the rest of the dirty ones from the afternoon rush, removing your apron and stuffing it in your bag before clocking off returning back to the kind woman.

“Are you ready to go?” You nod and she gets up, paying for her drink before walking with you to her car, her fingers itching to touch you, but she brushes it off, forces it to the recess of her mind, “I managed to upgrade from the typical soccer mom car, it’s been so nice being able to drive such a luxurious car. My first big spend in years since my children left.” She unlocks the car, and you get in, putting your bag in the footwell, “May- May I ask your name?” She looks at you before focusing on the road when she starts the car, driving out of the parking, “I’m Diane. What’s your name, sweets?” You mouth her name, feeling each letter as it rolls off your tongue, enjoying the way it feels in your mouth before you respond, “Mine’s Yn, not as nice to say as yours” probably nice to moan too.

Diane laughs lightly, glancing at you before returning her attention back to the road, “Yn is a pretty name, but thank you for the compliment. I’m more inclined to believe it coming from a pretty woman like you.” You blush and look out the passenger window, a shy smile on your face. She rests a hand on your thigh, “I mean it, sweetheart. You are very beautiful.” You bite your lip slightly, tensing your thigh underneath her hand, unsure whether you want her hand to move further up or if you want her to not touch you. “You’re awfully tense… Do you take time for yourself, Yn?” You look at her then down, shaking your head, “I feel like I’m not allowed to. That- That I have to do enough to be worthy of doing something for myself, and I just… I never feel like I am doing enough to deserve that.”

She pulls into the apartment carpark and turns off the car, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze, “You don’t always need to do things in order to take time- in order to do things for yourself.” You sigh and shrug, taking off your seatbelt, “I- I don’t know about that…”

“How about we go inside and have some tea and start from there? I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, okay?” You nod and get out of the car, waiting for her before you lead her inside and up to your apartment, locking the door behind you both. You could feel every beat of your heart hammering in your chest, it had been so long since you had someone over to your place and suddenly you felt as though the place wasn’t tidy enough even though you cleaned it every day, again, again, again, again, again, again, again, aga-

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?” Diane asks quietly, her hands resting on your shoulders before she starts working the tension from your shoulders, “My god you’re tense,” she moans. You groan quietly and tilt your head back, closing your eyes, "I- I find it hard to relax. God- you've got magic fingers." She chuckles, “you’d be surprised what I could do with them.” She whispers, continuing her ministrations. You reluctantly move out of her touch, wanting to put distance between you both because you were starting to feel something, and you didn’t know if you liked it or not. “I- I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Diane turns you around gently, brushing some hair from your face, “Nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. It’s okay. How about we sit down, yeah?” You nod and lead her to the lounge, taking a seat on the couch, Diane sitting down next to you, “You’re not use to people wanting to take care of you, are you, sweetheart?” It’s not that you weren’t used to people taking care of you, you just… Didn’t feel like you deserved such attention. There are people out there that need it more than you. You didn’t have it as bad as others. Someone else has it worse. Someone else needed that care more than you. You didn’t do anything to deserve such attention. You haven’t done anything to deserve care.

You shake your head, “No, I am.” No, I’m not but it’s okay because someone else needs it more. “I don’t have time for it consistently though. Too many things that need to be done.” It only dawned on you that Diane had moved when you felt her hands on your shoulders once more, her fingers working out each knot she encounters, “You are still so young, sweetheart… There is plenty of time for you to get things done.” She focuses on a particularly tough knot, groaning “This tension is so severe… Let mommy get rid of it for you.” Mommy? Why was she referring to herself as that? She was- is a mom… That must be why.

Every so often her touch would wander down your front, the tips of her fingers ghosting over the swell of your breasts before her touch returned to working out the knots. “You deserve happiness and satisfaction too, sweetheart. Let mommy help you, let mommy help.” You lean back in the couch, each passing moment you could feel Diane working out the years of tension that you had held on to. Your head lulls back against the top of the couch, your eyes closing, “It- It just feels like I haven’t- I haven’t done enough. I can’t- I can’t…” She hushes you quietly, moving to rake her fingers through your hair gently, teasing out the knots she encounters, her nails occasionally scraping your scalp, “You shouldn’t have to do things in order to feel as though you deserve to be cared for… to enjoy yourself. Let mommy help you relax… I’ll go make you some tea, just stay here. Good girl.”

She leans down and presses a wet kiss to your neck, the first taste- the first touch of poison, biting back a smirk at the way you shudder. Diane has been watching you for a while, she knows your routine as well as the back of her hand, when she wants something- she gets it. It was easy for her to notice you needed saving, a mother’s intuition so-to-speak, you rarely left your house unless it was for work, very, very rarely went to the doctors, didn’t have many visitors unless you count delivery services, you were so clearly in need of her, and you didn’t even realise it. But you will.

Diane tips a little bit of powder into your mug and stirs until it has dissolved, she removes the teabag and puts it in the bin before bringing the mug to you, “Here you go, sweetheart.” You open your eyes and look at her, taking the mug, “Thank you, Diane,” you blow on it slightly before taking a sip, noticing an odd taste but put it down to the type of tea rather than anything nefarious. Still feeling thirsty, and tense, you drink some more, starting to feel the effects of what Diane put in, although you thought it was just general fatigue. You sway as you try putting the mug down on the coffee table, hitting the side of it and spilling some of the tea that’s left, “Shit.”

“Here, let me help, sweetheart,” Diane takes the mug from you gently and puts it on the table, “How are you feeling? You look rather tired. I should go so you can rest.” You nod, thinking it might be a good idea to hit the hay, so, you get up and start heading towards your bedroom when your legs give out and you hit the wall with a groan, and of course, Diane swoops in to support you, wrapping an arm around your waist as she helps you to your room, “I- I don’t know what’s- I’m sorry” you whisper.

The red-head sits you down on your bed, crouching down so she can help you undress, “Nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. That’s what mommy’s here for, to help you. You’re being such a good girl letting mommy help you.” She pulls your pants off, putting them in the laundry basket then doing the same with your shirt before going to your drawers and getting out a pair of pyjamas for you, “Lets put these on and then I’ll brush your hair.” You don’t even register fully what she’s saying, but it sounds good, and her hands are so warm and soft even though your skin gets goosebumps whenever she touches you. You weren’t exactly comfortable with many people seeing your body, but maybe that was also because you weren’t comfortable with it yourself.

The bed dips behind you and you feel the gentle pull of your hairbrush through your hair, your eyes falling shut due to the sensation. “You’ve relaxed so much since we returned home, sweetheart. Listening to mommy so well… Tell me, sweetheart, why do you take so much pride in your work, yet not for yourself?” You shrug a bit, finding it harder to find the words with each run of the brush through your hair, long, gentle strokes, “I don’t see the point” you admit frankly, perhaps the only time tonight you had been so honest.

“Then how are you to find a partner?” You squeeze your hands between your knees, you hated talking about this sort of thing, yet with this woman you found it difficult to lie to her, the truth seemingly easier to admit as the night drew on, “I don’t want to have my heart broken again.” She lets out a hum, whether it acknowledgement, pleasure, or thought, you weren’t sure. She ties the plait off, making sure not to tug your hair too roughly so soon, “To find someone who loves as much as you is life, sometimes people need saving before they realise.”

“There are too many things to be done, no time for love.” Diane chuckles lowly, dipping her head so you could feel her hot breath against your ear, “Things? Or people, babygirl?” Tugging sensually on your earlobe, enjoying the faint moan that escapes you, and the way you expose more of your neck for her, “I- Oh…”

“Let mommy show you,” she wraps an arm around you and holds you against her, her other hand slipping into the front of your pyjama pants, moaning when her fingers find dampness on your panties, “Let mommy help you, babygirl… She can save you, make everything better.” Your head lulls back against her shoulder, lips parted slightly, gasping softly when she cups your heat, pressing her palm firmly against your clit, “Help me, mommy. Please.”

#Diane Sherman #Diane Sherman Imagine #Diane Sherman x reader #Sarah Paulson #Sarah Paulson Imagine #Sarah Paulson x Reader

158 notes · View notes

alloftheimaginesblog · 3 years

Text

Life Without Colour {Steve/Plus Size Reader/Bucky}

Soulmate AU: Your vision is in black and white until you meet your soulmate. You and your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, aren’t each others soulmates but you love each other. He introduces you to his friends, the Avengers, and a very odd thing happens.

Characters: Steve Rogers x Plus Size Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader

Inspired by a tiktok trend lmao. i don’t usually enjoy love triangles, i find it unfair but couldn’t get this idea out of my head.

i might make this a series??? what do we think??

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

Life with Steve was a comfortable life. It was a good life; full of love, affection and happiness. You’d always felt like something was missing and something was missing. You hadn’t seen colour yet. When you met Steve, you knew that you weren’t soulmates yet he asked you out anyway and you said yes despite knowing that. You almost hated the life of soulmates and the fact that you had one soulmate, what if they lived miles and miles away? What if they were dead? What if you never met them? There were too many questions and not enough answers. You knew of some people who never met their soulmate and their vision was always in black and white. You also knew of some people who had been in large crowds or had been drunk, met their soulmate or at least glanced at their soulmate and either couldn’t find them in the crowd or the next day didn’t know who they were and there was no telling of who it could be because their vision was already colourful. So yeah, you weren’t a fan of the soulmate thing.

Steve had met his soulmate, it was Peggy Carter. The moment he met her as he stood in the line up in the army and she scoped them out, his world flooded with colour and so did hers. He hadn’t hidden this from you at all and you admired that; you admired his honestly. He smiled on your first date when he noticed you were apprehensive, “We’re not soulmates, it’s okay.” You relaxed then, “I like to think that there’s more than just one person out there for me. I like to choose my own destiny.”

It wasn’t long before you were in a committed relationship with him. He was like a breath of fresh air, so caring and kind and you had never been in love like this before. Steve was the closest thing to a soulmate as you’d had. You wished that he was your soulmate, it would ease your mind so much and it would have made your life so much easier. People didn’t think you and Steve should be together, you were regularly met with comments like, ‘You’re just setting up for heartache when you find your soulmate.’

You and Steve had spoken about what would happen if your world flooded with colour and you met your soulmate. Honestly, you’d expected a fight to break out but Steve was so kind about it and so level headed, unlike anything or anyone you’d ever seen before. ‘It would hurt me but I said on our first date that we weren’t soulmates. I love you, (y/n), and I want to spend the rest of my life with you but I trust you. I would trust that you would be open with me and let me know what you want to do. I can’t stop you from being with your soulmate so if you wanted to get to know them and see where it goes then I wouldn’t stop you. I just want you to be happy and I don’t want to hold you back from it. Just know that I love you and I believe in us.’ You told him that no matter what, you loved him first and he meant everything to you.

Life with Steve was good. You’d been dating for the best part of a year now and things were going good. You’d met most of the team and regularly met up with Sam and Nat, two of Steve’s closest friends. Steve told you all about his past, he told you all about Peggy and all about Bucky and you loved hearing stories of his past. The way Steve spoke of Peggy made you a little jealous but you couldn’t compete with his soulmate besides, he loved you. He was with you, planning a life and future with you, so you didn’t mind when he reminisced. You hadn’t met Bucky yet but you’d heard all about him. He was laying low in Wakanda, Steve told you, to try and undo the mind control that HYDRA had done to him.

‘I can’t wait to meet him one day,’ you said with a smile, ‘I can’t wait to hear all of his stories about you growing up.’ Oh how you would grow to regret saying that.

It was at Tony’s birthday party that your whole entire world changed and that is where this story begins.

“Do I look okay?” You asked Steve as you walked out from the bedroom. You wore a dress that was a little tighter than what you’d normally opt for, it showed off more curves; hugging your larger stomach and your back rolls.

Steve grinned at you, “Beautiful, sweetheart. I love that dress on you.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself, Captain.” He was so handsome, with that gorgeous smile and his hair styled to perfection. He wore black suit and tie, “My god, my boyfriend is the hottest man alive.”

Steve laughed as you approached him, planting a kiss on your forehead, “My god, my girlfriend is the most beautiful girl alive.”

You looked up at him, wishing that you could stare into his blue eyes and see the shade of them, “I love you, Steve.”

“I love you, too.” A large part of him wished that you had seen colour when you saw him, in fact the majority of him wished that. Deep down, he worried what would happen if you met your soulmate. He trusted you, god he really did, but it worried him. He hadn’t loved like this since Peggy and when he lost her, it almost broke him and he didn’t know if he could do that again.

He kissed you softly and pulled away all too soon. People didn’t understand your relationship, they always questioned whether or not you could be in love with someone that wasn’t your soulmate and the answer you told them was always yes, you can be in love with someone who isn’t your soulmate. Soulmate didn’t mean romantic, soulmate could be platonic too. You told them that you got butterflies whenever Steve kissed you, you missed him every time he was gone, you thought of him all the time and you knew; you knew that he was made for you. People just didn’t understand.

“Let’s go, love,” Steve said as he pulled away, “I gotta show you off and tell the world how beautiful my girlfriend is.” He just always knew exactly what to say, always knew how to lift you up and make you feel confident. Being a plus size woman dating Steve Rogers, America’s hunkiest superhero, it always made you feel a little insecure. When reporters or tabloids took a photo of the two of you together, the comments would always talk about you not being good enough for Steve. The media was a toxic place, that favoured white skinny people and hated everyone else. Your weight did not define your beauty or your worth. You were beautiful and you demanded respect. Steve was good for reminding you of that fact. He had been the one to tell you to wear this dress, he had told you that you looked like a Greek goddess and that Aphrodite herself would be jealous.

You had been to a few of Tony Stark’s parties before and each was always grander and wilder than the previous. This time though he had promised that it would be more intimate than the previous ones. Usually, half the city piled into the Stark Industries turned Avengers Tower and partied until dawn so you didn’t trust him when he said that it would be a more private event.

Low and behold, Tony Stark had been telling the truth! There were maybe one hundred to one hundred and fifty guests, which was still a lot but it was a lot of people you knew. A lot of SHIELD employees were there, Maria, Fury, the guy that played Galactica (you really should learn his name). Tony had invited the team, family, friends, reporters and even... “Is that Paris Hilton?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, appearing at your back, “I built some tech for her dog Tinkerbell so that she could talk to her years ago. She’s pretty cool.”

“My god.”

“Welcome,” Tony grinned, “Champagne?” He asked, snapping his finger and suddenly, a waiter came to you and offered you and Steve two glasses of champagne. You took one and sipped at it, “Love that dress, (y/n), love the colour.” Tony winked at you before getting caught in a conversation with Pepper.

You looked down at your dress, “Yeah, love the colour,” you muttered sardonically. Steve glanced at you, feeling a pang of sadness for you, before pointing over to Nat and Sam. Natasha smiled at you, complimenting your dress and your hair.

“Steve said the colour goes well with my eyes. He said that it’s red.” you said with a smile.

Nat looked at your sadly, “Still nothing?”

You shook your head, “No. I mean, I’m half hoping that I’ll wake up one morning, look at Steve and it’ll happen. I wish it could’ve been him.”

You and Nat had become close over the year, she was funny and kind and she always made you feel better about anything that was going on. She could also be stubborn and sarcastic but she was such a good friend, “Anyway, enough about me,” you said with a smile, “Bruce made a move yet?”

Natasha smiled as she looked over to Bruce, “Uh, yeah, actually.”

“Shut up!” You grinned, taking another sip of your drink, “When? What happened?!”

“He asked me on a date.”

As Natasha spilled the beans on her and Banner’s painfully slow budding relationship, you hadn’t noticed someone walking up to Steve who stood a few feet away and hugged him. You didn’t notice Steve’s laughter and comment of, “It’s so good to see you, man.”

After a few minutes, Steve interrupts you and Natasha, “Sorry, sweetheart, there’s someone really important that I want you to meet.”

You cock your head, “Sure, who is it?”

You can’t see them, Steve’s figure hides whoever it is. Steve grins and you can tell whoever it is is super important to him, “(y/n), I’d love for you to meet my best friend. (y/n) meet Bucky and Bucky meet (y/n).”

Steve steps to the side and your eyes look up and suddenly, you’re staring into the most intense blue eyes, “Bucky...” You whisper as colour floods your senses. The black and white fades from view and instead, colour floods into your vision. There he is, Bucky, the best friend of your boyfriend and apparently... your soulmate.

Oh, fuck.

Bucky’s smile falls as colour floods into his vision and he finds himself staring into your eyes, the first colour that he saw; the first face he’d seen in colour; his soulmate. The two of you stare at the other, unable to move or speak. Steve watches the two of you curiously, “You two okay? Don’t tell me you hate each other already.” You didn’t know what to do. How could you tell your boyfriend that his best friend was your soulmate? You couldn’t. You knew that it would crush Steve. You open your mouth but nothing comes out.

It’s Bucky who forces himself to look away from you and clears his throat, a smile plastered on his face, “No, just surprised that you never mentioned how beautiful (y/n) is.” He’s handsome, you’d known that for ages by all of the photos that Steve had shown you but he’s really handsome with a tanned complexion and short dark hair. His eyes were a deep shade of (what you would soon learn to be) blue and they were lovely. They looked sad; haunted almost and had such intensity that it made you feel self-conscious the longer you stared at each other. He wore dark pants and a white shirt that had the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, his metal arm glinting in the light. Bucky Barnes was your soulmate.

Steve’s arm wraps around your waist and pulls you into his side as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “I’ve heard so much about you,” you say, forcing a smile, “Steve talks about you all the time.”

Bucky extends his hand, almost unsure whether he wants to make physical contact with you. You look at his hand and up to his eyes before extending your own hand and shaking it. He has a firm handshake with calloused hands from years of dealing with weapons and you let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding. There wasn’t a spark or that electricity that people talk about. People described touching their soulmate like being shocked yet it was just a hand and it was just for a second.

Bucky smiles as he drops his hand, “I hope it’s all good stuff he’s been saying.”

“Of course,” you say, “I thought you were Wakanda though.”

“I was,” Bucky nods, “but I’ve been free from HYDRA for a few months now and I felt confident enough to come home again.”

“Even got a new haircut,” Steve grins, reaching out to ruffle Bucky’s newly cropped in hair.

Bucky rolls his eyes, “You remember when you were the five foot four scrawny kid that could barely reach my head if you reached up? I miss that.”

Your head hurts from all of the bright colours; so many bright colours all around you that made you wince. You didn’t know how people just adapted to the bright colours. There were so many and you didn’t know what their names were, “Excuse me, I’m just going to get some air.”

You turned on your heel and left, trying to ignore Bucky’s eyes that bore into the side of your skull and instead walked towards Tony’s balcony. You could feel your breathing quicken as your heels tapped on the marble floors as panic rose in your chest along with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

Turning the handle, you opened the balcony doors and slipped out. Thankfully no one else was here so you were free to express whatever emotion you wanted. You looked out at the city, away from the party, as you let yourself feel. The city was beautiful, overwhelmingly so. Your hands trembled as they clung to the railing, terrified of what was going to happen next. Bucky Barnes, Steve’s best friend, was your soulmate. Out of the seven billion people in the world and your soulmate just had to be your boyfriend’s best friend.

Your breathing was ragged as you tried to calm down your sense of panic as bile rose in your throat. Squeezing your eyes closed, you breathed in deeply through your nose, “You’re okay,” you whispered to yourself, repeating the mantra over and over.

You were so focused that you didn’t realise someone else had stepped outside with you and were approaching you, “Look at the sky,” the voice said; the voice that made a shiver creep down your spine, “It’s okay, just look to the sky, (y/n).”

Opening your eyes, you looked to the sky. You didn’t need to look to know that it was Bucky, “The night sky is the same as it always was; still dark with white stars. Slow your breathing down and focus on the stars.” You did as he instructed, forcing yourself to breathe slower and deeper and forcing yourself to look only at the stars. It was minutes later when your breathing was slow that you felt confident enough to look out at the city, “How you feeling?”

“Overwhelmed,” was all you said.

Bucky nodded, leaning against the railing and looking out, “They’re amazing, aren’t they?” He asked, sparing you a glance, “Colours, I mean. I have no idea what each one is. I don’t know what’s blue or red or green but they’re beautiful.”

You nodded, “Yeah... What colour of eyes do you have?”

“I’ve been told blue, why?”

You pointed, “That colour. That billboard that’s talking about pizza. That’s blue. It’s the same colour as your eyes.” It was a lovely shade of blue actually; a deeper, more intense blue.

Bucky pointed to a flashing light across the way, “That’s the same colour as your dress.”

“Red. Steve told me that this dress is red.” You looked over at the light, “I’m too scared to look at the dress. It doesn’t feel right. He bought me this dress, he compliments how well it suits me and I’ve just discovered colour with his best friend.”

“I know... It’s the last thing I wanted or thought would happen.”

“Honestly, I would’ve preferred my soulmate be Loki, no offense, but that would’ve been much easier than this.”

Bucky laughed slightly, “I’ll drink to that.” He drained the rest of his champagne before setting it down on the ledge, “Steve told me all about you. Whenever we’d call, all he wanted to talk about was you.”

“All Steve liked to talk about was you,” you said to him, “I suppose we’re the greatest loves of his life right here, Peggy aside.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Told you about Peggy, huh?” You responded with an ‘of course’. Silence falls on the two of you and it’s Bucky who breaks the silence a minute later, “Look, it’s gonna be awkward. We can try and pretend this isn’t there but we’ll always know but... I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, “Shouldn’t we tell him?”

Bucky shrugs, “If that’s what you want.” I don’t know what I want right now. I want to have never met you, Bucky Barnes. I want to go home and to curl into bed with my boyfriend. I want black and white vision back, “This would... destroy him. I don’t know if I’m prepared to tell him, not yet at least. Could you?”

You thought about it, going through scenarios in your head, “I want to but... I don’t want hurt him.”

Bucky nods and looks out towards the cityscape again, “So, it’s decided. We keep it a secret and don’t worry, we can try and avoid each other and pretend that nothing’s happened... Deal?”

You nod, “Bucky... I’m sorry.” You didn’t know why you apologised but you felt a pang of guilt that you’re his soulmate and nothing can happen between the two of you.

Bucky laughs but you notice that it seems a little forced, “If only I’d met you first, doll, eh?” You laugh with him slightly, only quiet and only for a second, “I’m sorry too. This isn’t easy so I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to avoid me like I’m the plague,” you tell him, “I don’t want Steve to get suspicious but he’ll get suspicious if we’re never around each other...” Bucky nods and tells you that he understands, “My god, it’s all a bit complicated.”

You feel a pang of guilt again that you’d be hiding it from Steve but it’s for the best. At least for just now until you and Bucky kind of understood everything and got a hang of the new world in front of you. You didn’t want to lie to him but you couldn’t tell him this... not yet anyway. Bucky mirrors you and sighs, “It’s for the best.” He nods, “We’ll tell him eventually...”

Bucky gives you one last smile before he turns and leaves. He pauses and walks back over to you, “It’s nice to finally meet you, (y/n).” He says sincerely, “You really are beautiful, Steve’s a lucky guy.”

You look up at Bucky and you know that anyone would kill for him to be their soulmate, “It’s nice to meet you too, Bucky,” you say, voice barely louder than a whisper, “It’s nice to finally know who my soulmate is even if it can never happen.”

He takes a breath before going inside and it’s then that you finally look down at your dress. The colour surprises you, it’s bright yet dark and deep and rich and it’s beautiful. Steve had done a good job picking this one out. You lift your head and notice Steve approaching from inside.

You turn your back to him, taking a deep breath, before he’s beside you, “I saw the two of you talking,” he says happily, “You like him?”

You turn to him, about to say something when you falter. His eyes. His marvellous blue eyes. They were a few shades lighter than Bucky’s, brighter. You find yourself melting into them. You love them. Steve says your name, snapping you out of your trance, “Sorry, champagne went straight to my head. Uh, yeah, he’s lovely,” you say with a quick smile, “He thinks really highly of you, Steve.”

Steve grins, “I’m so glad that the two of you get along, I was so worried in case you didn’t. I was even worried in case it turned out that you two were soulmates because Bucky sees black and white too!” Steve laughs and you want to cry. You want to blurt out the truth; you should have told him. Dear god, you should have told him then and there but you don’t. Instead you force a laugh and laugh with him. Steve notices nothing.

You talk for a few more minutes before you tell him that you’re really tired and have a migraine coming. It’s not a lie. “Can we go home?” Steve nods, shrugging his suit jacket off and draping it over your shoulders.

“Let’s go.” He leads you back inside and you find yourself unable to look at anything other than the floor, “Let me say bye to everyone first, okay?” He presses a kiss to your temple before weaving through the crowd to find the team and say bye. He’s back barely a moment later and as your leaving you accidentally bump into something hard; really hard.

“Jesus!” You hiss, grabbing your shoulder.

“Shit, sorry-” It’s Bucky. Of course it is. Of course. You can barely look him in the the eye longer than a second, “You okay? I promise the other one isn’t that hard.”

Steve mimics his question of asking if you’re okay, you nod, “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry, I’ve got a migraine, didn’t see you.”

“You know, I have a migraine coming on too,” Bucky says, rubbing his head. That was what finally seeing colour did to you, you supposed. “You two heading home?”

Steve nods, “Yeah... What about hanging out some point this week?” He asks Bucky, “You could come for dinner... Sunday?” Steve looks to you, “We’re not busy, are we?” You shake your head.

Bucky glances at you almost looking for your approval before he answers. You give the tiniest of nods and Bucky relaxes, “Yeah, sure. Sunday sounds great.”

Steve grins and the pair hug, “I’ll text you tomorrow and we’ll set it up.”

As the pair say their goodbyes, you look up at Bucky, meeting those blue eyes. God, you just need to go home and sleep. Maybe this is all a bad dream, maybe tomorrow you’ll wake up and everything will be black and white again and the guilt will be gone. You muster up the strength to say goodbye to Bucky before Steve leads you out of Stark Tower.

It’s a long car ride home and you’re only fifteen minutes away in a car. The drive is long and all you can think about is Bucky, nothing romantic but more you couldn’t believe that your soulmate is Bucky. The universe is fucked up; getting off on causing the biggest love triangle of the 21st century.

Steve asks if you’re okay and all you can say is, “Tired.” He frowns at you, knowing something’s bothering you. He knows you the best out of anyone on his planet so he knows exactly when something’s wrong. He puts it down to the migraine and tiredness but there’s something niggling in the back of his mind as he drives you both home, something that makes him think that something else is wrong and bothering you.

As soon as you get to Steve’s apartment, you kick off your shoes and ask him to unzip you. He does and immediately, you step out of your dress and go to put some pyjamas on. He picks up your dress and follows you into the bedroom, “Are you sure that nothing is wrong?”

You sigh, “I’m fine, really. This migraine is just doing a number on me and I’m tired. I think I just need to sleep.” Steve lets you get dressed and brush your teeth. When you come back into the bedroom, he’s in bed waiting for you with a bottle of water and some migraine tablets, “God, I love you, Steve Rogers.” You take the medication and the water and set it down on the bedside cabinet.

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead once you’re settled into bed, “Get some sleep, sweetheart. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Something you always envied about Steve was his ability to fall asleep quickly. He always said that it was a perk of the super solider serum. Within three minutes, Captain America is snoring beside you, arms wrapped around you tightly. You try to sleep but all you can think about, all you see when you close your eyes is Bucky’s piercing dark eyes staring into your soul. When you do get to sleep, those blue eyes haunt you.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky can’t get your face out of his head. He lays on the floor of his apartment, the cold wood cooling the heat of his body. He can’t stop thinking about you. After years of wondering who his soulmate is he can’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that it’s his best friends girl. Bucky sighs and rolls over.

If only I met you first, doll, eh?

#one shot #os #life without colour #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #reader insert #marvel #marvel one shot #avengers one shot #avengers

593 notes · View notes

viscountessevie · 2 years

Note

I loved Nicola because of Derry Girls and was hoping that like a lot of other Irish actors she would be a good ally but honestly, her shading of her POC castmates, overtaking interviews with Charithra and Simone, the Tudum. I feel like she thinks she's a really a good feminist because she's girlbossing as LW or whatever but, she does what a lot of white women in the British film industry do. Pure white feminism.

Related to any of the asks in my Anti-NC tag

Putting all these together because they are mostly in the same vein and I wanna be done talking about her for now lmao. However, I am separating them into two sections. The first three asks are about NC and her performative allyship and the last two (under the cut) are about how much influence she has on the show and how she’s treated as the main star despite the show being called Bridgerton.

The three of you all hit it on the nail! I’ve talked a lot about what she’s done and called her out on her performative-ness and behaviours against her cast mates of colour so mainly posting these to let yall voice your opinions.

I will add on to the first ask: I was really excited to see her on Bridgerton after becoming a fan of her and Clare in Derry Girls! She seemed really lovely and sweet. Hell I even liked Pen until the last two episode when its revealed what she did to Marina and then she got worse in S2. It didn’t help that NC doubled down on LW’s actions and said Pen separates herself from the LW persona and doesn’t feel guilt and by extension, NC and the show also doesn’t think Pen did anything wrong. That’s when I started to get even more put off by her and the show’s stance on Pen. And then all the microaggressions came out and it really was giving white feminism. I had to tap out and went Girl BYeee I cannot be your fan anymore. So I will admit, I am a little bias against NC now and am pretty harsh and critical of her actions now because she let me down so much after coming off Derry Girls.

Oh also! I found out two new things. About Tadum: the first time I got the ick was when she pulled the card line saying “Kathony is the most anticipated couple after Polin - I swear that’s what it says on the card!” and I am a clown who believed her that it was on the card but still thought she shouldn’t have said it. COME TO FIND OUT IT WAS NEVER ON THE CARD?! So really SHE’S THE DICK for adding it in and all this time I was shaming production for that. Like Jesus NC can one moment NOT be about you?

Crying on Kelly Clarkson: I still refuse to watch it but recently got context for it and wtf she started crying after Kelly was reading out tweets about how the Sharmas and LD meant so much to audiences of colour. Like NC girl this isn’t about you!! All while CC and Adjoa are just sitting there like 😐😐. And of course the white woman tears overshadows what the tweets were saying. Lmao not Kelly’s team naming it video this [Literally only one of them cries and its not the WoCs 😐]:

Anyways just more things to validate me being upset I can’t respect and be a fan of hers anymore sigh.

Section 2: Why NC Thinks Everything Revolves Around Her & Is The Star of the Show

Okay so I think I’m starting to understand - but still doesn’t excuse why NC behaves like this - why she always needs the attention on her and acts like its her show because I realised she was the VERY FIRST person cast and the first one the production and casting team had in mind when pitching the show. So that should have been a red flag to us that even in the early stages of the show they were going to centre it around her and focus on the LW plot.

Thank God Simone's team was smart to whisk her out of there.

[I’m sticking to my no more CC asks rule (found in the last paragraph) and cropped out a loaded statement against CC in that ask and added the last sentence about Simone!]

And honestly I think they only started casting characters of colour after Rége blew them all away in auditions (before that it was said Newts and several other white actors were in the running for Simon) and then used that as their diversity selling point and doubled down on that marketing wise when they saw how much S1 blew up in popularity because of Simon and how people were excited to see POC finally featured in a regency romance. But they only want the glory of paving the way but not actually following through.

All this to say, NC acts like the main star because Bridgerton treats her like it. They give her the most exposure (cough overexposure cough) with storylines, screen time, promos and even producing power with how she convinced them to add in the LW reveal and the “I will not court Penelope” scene. This is why I’m saying just make her a producer already, it would be more honest about how much she contributes to what goes in the show in terms of her storyline.

I will forever be mad about Producer NC and I think they allowed CC concession as a way to show “See! We aren’t ignoring our WoCs we listened to Charithra.” which is such bullshit when in the same breath took away the scenes and story Simone signed onto the show for and then completely sidelined her in her own season. I will forever be grateful to Lizzy the Intimacy Coordinator for listening to Simone (and Jonny) because HOT DAMN those were best scenes to come out of the show solely because Jimone understood their characters and someone on the team actually listened to what they had to say.

Okay so about FYSee: Yes NC has done a lot of shit but I do have to point out that I don’t put the full blame on her for the S3 announcement during the event. That seemed like it was pre-planned by the Producers/Showrunner. Simone seemed happy for her and not caught off guard so in this case it wasn’t NC being overexcited and letting it slip out. It’s all on the Bridgerton Creative and EP team for timing this announcement at AN EMMY EVENT PROMOTING S2. So that’s on the team and fuck them.

I hate that they took the spotlight off Kathony and Simone especially who was there as their S2 lead and the leading lady representing them. I don’t understand why they had to pass the baton there when they are still supposed to be promoting S2. It was fucking selfish and I do dislike NC for running with it and taking the spotlight when she should have tried to keep it on S2 and Simone.

I wouldn’t be this frustrated with all of this if Jonny wasn’t the only one on the cast who hypes up and champions for Simone, giving her the credit she’s due for S2. She always hypes up her other cast mates and never gets anything in return and it just makes really sad for her. I wish she’d just say Fuck yall and just keep her energy for people who deserve it and return the favour.

#Bridgerton Cast #Anti-NC #Bridgerton Racism #Bridgerton Asks

17 notes · View notes

starlessea · 3 years

Text

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙨 - Prologue 0. Closing Time

Series Masterlist: Step on the Gas

Summary: A dishonourable discharge from the military results in you being hauled off to live with your grandparents in the boonies, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere Georgia. After running over a nail on the road, and pushing your grandpa's vintage Camaro to the nearest auto-shop, you meet Daryl Dixon - the local mechanic. At some point, the world ends, but that stubborn man never gives you a chance to slow down. His smile gives you whiplash, but he still insists that you to step on the gas.

Words: 6286

Chapter Warnings: Language, Injury

The sky was empty — save for one bird.

Daryl watched it fly above him, so close to the ground that he could make out the beating of its wings and swore he saw individual feathers flutter in the breeze.

His fingers itched over his crossbow, as he contemplated shooting it down from the sky and plucking it clean. He'd have something to eat then, at least. Though, for some reason, Daryl Dixon couldn't bring himself to let loose his arrow, watching as the bird soared overhead — and disappeared beyond the trees.

The man sighed as he kicked up some loose stones with the toe of his boot. What a waste, he thought, before trudging through the field once again.

The sky remained cloudless for the rest of the day, existing as a pale, washed-out grey that made Daryl feel uncomfortable as he hunted. The game must have felt the same, since the deer he'd been tracking made itself scarce, and the string of squirrels hanging from his belt seemed no heavier than it had done when the sun rose that morning.

Still, he trekked onwards over the thick, winding grass and through damp forest overgrowth. He was nearly back at the quarry already, but he hardly had anything to show for it. A few measly rodents and a sprained ankle were barely worth his trip in the first place; they sure as hell wouldn't be enough for all of the mouths he now had to feed.

Daryl cursed at himself for hesitating to shoot that bird straight out of the sky, and clip its wings. It wasn't much, but maybe it would have lasted a day if he was lucky. Still, there was no use wondering now, since it had swooped so close to him that he almost felt the downward draft on his cheek — and then he let it fly away.

He thought that it had been a jaeger; it definitely looked like a seabird that had veered too far from the shore. It was a gull with a white breast and dark, blackish feathers — and a wingspan that made sure you couldn't miss it.

He remembered you pointing one out to him, at 3am, parked up on that deserted beach as the two of you stared out into the rocking ocean.

"Ya thinkin' 'bout 'er again, baby brother?"

Daryl could hear Merle's voice taunt, in the deepest, darkest corners of his thoughts.

"Tha' lil' birdie of yours?"

He quickly shook his head — even though it was the truth.

It had been Daryl's own mind that conjured up those words, after all. Merle wasn't actually here. He was probably back at the campsite, lazing about and leering after women far too good for a beaten-up redneck like him.

Though, funnily enough, Merle had said the exact same thing to Daryl when he noticed his gaze settling over the new bar server, who swiped away the froth spilling over from their draught beers. Merle had given him even more of an earful when he realised that his younger brother was waiting for her shift to end.

Daryl took a deep breath, before rolling his neck to try and relieve the tension that had built up there. Once his mind drifted into thoughts of you — even if only for a split second — it often sank to the point of no return.

You were all consuming; you had been from the first time he laid eyes on you in that old, country auto-repair shop.

He remembered the way your voice chirped like a bird's, despite the curses that often fell from your lips.

You even made those sound sweet.

And he could also recall the way you yelled over the rumble of his bike engine, and competed with the screeching that came from his tyres losing their grip on the worn-out tarmac.

You'd told him that it felt like you were flying — and that was probably the reason why Daryl Dixon couldn't shoot that jaeger.

Then, the man heard something louder than he had done since the world ended — and suddenly, the sky was no longer empty.

There was an explosion, and that dull greyness was set alight with brilliant hues of red and orange. It made fire start to rain down upon Daryl, who could only stand and watch below. Debris fell out of the sky like a meteor shower, landing beyond the trees in the distance — to a place that Daryl couldn't quite make out, no matter how much he squinted.

The air became full with the sounds of scraping metal and flickering flames that caught the leaves and made them burn up like the end of a cigarette. Daryl felt his heart race as the adrenaline pumped its way through his veins, and made him flinch each time something crashed heavily to the ground.

There was often a moment in a person's life where their brain got kick-started into gear — and they awoke from whatever auto-pilot they'd been functioning on until that point.

For most, it was probably a mundane milestone like marriage or parenthood.

For others, it might have been a life or death situation that made them re-evaluate their perspective.

For some, it had only happened when the world actually ended, and the apocalypse began.

And perhaps, if Daryl had been a smarter man, it would have been this instant — as he gazed up at the sky and watched it burn above him. Maybe this was his second life-changing realisation; maybe he was lucky enough to get two.

But, for Daryl, the first had just been a regular Tuesday.

The garage was sticky hot that day. It was the kind of heat that made you sweat no matter how many fans you had blowing — since Old man Dean was too cheap to install air conditioning. His boss was a bit of a stickler for paying his bills, and nit picky with his nickles, but he'd always been kind to Daryl.

That being said, working as a mechanic wasn't exactly where Daryl had pictured himself at his age; but then again, he couldn't really picture himself anywhere at all. He felt like that last piece of the jigsaw puzzle, which didn't quite fit in with the others — the one that you had to bend into shape just to make it work.

Sure, he enjoyed seeing the different bikes roll in and out of the shop — those models he would never be able to afford — and Daryl appreciated having a few extra dollars in his pocket for when Merle raided his savings to score some pot.

Besides, there wasn't much else to do in the boonies. Daryl's old man once told him that the only interesting thing to rear its ugly head out of Georgia's backyard in the last fifty years was Dean's Auto Shop. That's probably why Daryl started working there in the first place, as a summer job when he was teenager — and had never really left since.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, his old man had been right about one thing — despite the bastard never catching on to the role of father. He'd been right about the shop being the only interesting thing around.

Because it was the place where he met her.

And then she became the only thing in that small town even worth being interested in.

Daryl didn't hear a car pull up into the shop, but he heard the mumbling outside from where he sat in the breakroom — chewing on some of Dean's leftover pizza that was bordering on stale.

"Dixon, get your ass out here for a second, would you?" the old man yelled, banging on the thin wall that separated them with his fist.

Daryl cursed below his breath, throwing the rest of his food into the trash and dusting off his hands over his jeans. He stepped out into the shop, and was met by an unfamiliar face — looking over at him curiously.

He suddenly felt unexplainably nervous, and dropped his head down to his feet as though it were a reflex he didn't know he had.

"This is your guy," he heard Dean say, before letting out one of his usual chesty coughs.

The man smoked a pack a day too much — and that was coming from Daryl.

"Owner of that bike you've been eyeing, too," he went on.

That caught Daryl's attention, and he instantly glanced up at the woman in question. She was breath-taking, but she also looked very much out of breath. She seemed as though she had run here, despite the Georgia heat.

"You ride?" he asked, but his gruff voice made it sound like more of a demand.

He grimaced at his own tone, but the woman didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest.

She laughed, and it sounded like nothing he'd ever heard before. "I wish," she said, running her palm along the polished metal and tracing her finger over that shiny logo.

Usually, Daryl would bark at anyone who touched his bike, and Dean seemed as though he expected him to do just that — from the way he raised an eyebrow at the daring woman, too oblivious for her own good.

Except, Daryl stayed quiet.

"Was never allowed within a mile radius of one," she went on, before turning back around to grin at Daryl like it was easy. "My folks were scared I'd take off into the sunset, never to be seen again."

He could relate to that. After all, it was exactly what he and Merle had done as soon as they'd gotten the chance.

"Mhm," he hummed back, before glancing over at the car parked in the middle of the shop. "She's pretty."

It was a steel blue colour — would definitely benefit from a lick of paint, but still pretty nonetheless. The tread looked good on the tyres, and Daryl couldn't see any signs of the rusting those models were prone to. Someone had taken good care of it.

"Excuse me?" the woman asked, and suddenly Daryl was reminded of just how bad he was with words.

He cleared his throat, and ran his hand over the hood.

"Yer car," he explained, "'69 Chevy Camaro?"

Daryl asked, but he already knew the answer.

"Oh yeah, that," she replied, sending him an apologetic look. "It's my grandpa's, so we're going to have to be real discreet about this situation over here."

Daryl raised an eyebrow as she beckoned him to the other side of the car, crouching down near the wheel arch.

"Some bastard left a nail in the road, and I ran straight through the thing like it was a stop sign," she grumbled, pointing out the puncture.

Daryl almost laughed at that — but he was still much too jaded from being caught in the middle of his break.

The woman stood back up and toed the deflated tyre with her boot, scowling at the sight of it.

"I know you're closing soon, but I had to push it half a mile just to get here," she said, and wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

Suddenly, her appearance made sense. Since he'd first laid eyes on her, all she'd done was tug at the collar of her vest, and try to stand in front of one of those poor excuses for a fan. But even then, Daryl couldn't quite believe her story.

"Ain't no way ya pushed that thing 'ere by yerself." The words left his mouth before he could consider them twice.

And the look she shot Daryl in return made him want to take them straight back.

But then, she smiled.

"I'm stronger than I look," she protested, leaning against the hot car. "You can ask the dozen assholes who catcalled me on the way but never offered their help."

This time, Daryl did let out a chuckle.

"Damn lucky y'ain't pass out," he quipped back, "heat's no joke."

She grinned again, and Daryl wondered whether she had an endless supply — or if she'd saved them just for him.

"Tell me about it," the woman teased. "Never liked visiting Georgia because of it."

Then, it all made sense to Daryl — the reason why she intrigued him so much.

"Y'ain't from 'round here, are ya?" he asked, surprising himself.

Usually, he couldn't give a 'rat's ass', as Dean called it, about anyone who stumbled into their shop. Never did they get more than a half-hearted greeting from Daryl, or a grunt as he told them to mind their head on that low door frame (she didn't have that problem). Though today, he seemed oddly talkative.

"Haven't seen ya before," he added.

The woman folded her arms over her chest.

"Would you recognise me if you had?" she asked.

"E'erybody knows e'erybody in this place," he answered. "I'd remember if I saw ya cross the street."

It was partially the truth. Daryl knew most people — but he only bothered to remember a select few.

"Moved here last week," she caved, proving him right. "I'm keeping my grandparents company watching daytime cable and doing grocery runs."

Daryl smirked. "An' runnin' over nails with their car, apparently."

"That, too," she confessed.

It was silent for a few seconds, and Daryl realised that he should probably give her a quote for the job. Though, she interrupted him before he could.

"Listen, your new neighbour would be really grateful if you could cut her a break," she said, eyeing the Camaro like she was considering whether it was even worth the hassle. "The old man's going to kill me if I come home on foot tonight."

Daryl knew what she was asking. The notice in the shop window made it clear that they'd be closing in half an hour; Daryl had been all but ready to flip the sign himself. Before she'd arrived, he'd even dared to think that he could shut early — and possibly get to crack open a cold beer and enjoy the breeze of his porch.

He sighed.

"I'll see what I can do," Daryl mumbled, "but I ain't makin' no promises," he warned — as he caught the way her eyes lit up at his words.

But that was a lie. Daryl knew he wouldn't let himself go home until it was finished.

The woman was utterly gleeful. He watched her smile much too widely for her face, and for a moment Daryl thought that she might even jump at him. But she seemed to catch herself at the last second, and abruptly stopped.

She didn't falter long, though. "Thank you, thank you so much!" she said, excitedly, before pausing to tap at her jean pockets. "I don't have any cash on me for a deposit, but I'm heading to work now."

She looked sheepish as she explained herself.

"I'll come straight back and pay in full," she added, trying her best to convince him.

Daryl narrowed his eyes like he didn't quite understand. Then he did, and he laughed properly.

"Deposit?" he asked, shaking his head. "City girl, here we jus' keep yer vehicle if ya can't pay."

The woman's expression was priceless. She looked as though she couldn't figure out whether he was joking or not, and stared at Daryl with her mouth slightly agape as she debated which it was.

He couldn't watch any longer.

"Where ya workin'?" he asked.

Then, he cursed himself for doing so. Time was ticking on, and he already had to stay overtime because of his inability to say no. Well, usually he had no problem with the word; it just seemed like it was stuck in his throat today.

"Joe's bar," she replied. "It's a few blocks over and-"

"I know Joe's bar," Daryl interrupted.

Everybody knew Joe's. It was the only place around that sold a decent draught beer. He'd been going there since he was a teenager — younger than he should have been, but old enough to know better.

"Me an' my brother go there a lot, but I ain't seen you 'round."

She nodded.

"Only started a few days ago. Hopefully they don't fire me for being late."

Daryl glanced at the clock. It was approaching his closing time and her opening one.

"Ya better get runnin', Camaro," he noted, tapping at his watch that didn't even work. "Rush hour soon."

The woman narrowed her eyes at the nickname. Daryl didn't know her real one yet, and felt like it was too late to ask for it. He'd have to catch a glimpse of Dean's log book later to find out.

"Will do," she replied with a smile. "Thanks again, Dixon."

Though Daryl couldn't quite work out how she knew his name, either.

He watched her scurry about collecting her things, and walked her to the entrance. The sun was starting to set — leaving the sky a pinkish orange that only made him squint the more he looked at it. He held the door open for the woman, and heard Dean snort from the back of the shop. But the way she thanked him made it worth the teasing.

"Take care of that sixties Honda," she winked, "she's a real beauty."

Daryl was surprised that she knew the model of his bike, considering she'd never even ridden one.

"If only ya knew," he mumbled back as he saw her off. "Will take ya for a ride one time if yer willin'."

She stopped in place. Daryl didn't know why he said that. It had just slipped from his mouth like oil from a can.

The woman laughed and rolled her eyes like she didn't believe him.

"That's what they all say."

Then, she started to jog down the street — just like she said she would — and Daryl thought her crazy for even attempting it in this midsummer Georgia weather. That woman had entered the shop like a whirlwind, and when she left Daryl couldn't remember what he'd even been doing before.

Dean cleared his throat and threw a rag at him that he barely managed to catch.

"Keep it in your pants, boy."

Daryl scowled at the man; he knew him better than that. So, he didn't give him the satisfaction of a reply, and instead got started on setting the Camaro up on a jack.

"She's a beauty, I get it," Dean went on, despite his silence. "Her type don't belong in a place like this, that's for damn sure."

Daryl had to agree with him there. He'd gotten a glimpse of his reflection in the wing mirror of her car and grimaced. He had grease on his face, and part of him cursed Dean for not telling him before he'd left the breakroom.

"But you know Mike and Doreen?" the old man asked, and Daryl nodded. "That's their granddaughter."

Daryl furrowed his brow — not realising he'd done it until he caught himself in the glass once again. Mike was a hard man, the type to straighten out any kinks in a person with brute force and that baby boomer spite.

"She may be real pretty, kid, but that one's trouble," Dean noted, confirming his suspicions.

He ignored the way he called him 'kid'. The old man still hadn't grown out of the habit — despite Daryl being well beyond his teenage years now.

"Trouble?" he repeated, like he couldn't quite comprehend the word being associated with someone like that.

Dean chuckled — but it turned into one of those coughs that made Daryl wince.

"Maybe more so than you," he said. "Got kicked out of the military, I heard."

Daryl spat at the floor, and Dean laughed again. They both hated those military dogs who often paraded through their town, looking at them as though they were trash beneath their government-issued boots.

But, if she'd been kicked out then maybe they could find some common ground.

Old man Dean wagged his finger at him, recognising Daryl's no-good expression; he'd become familiar with it by now, from all the times he'd worn it throughout the years.

"So don't go losing your head over her, Dixon," he cautioned, pretending not to know how good Daryl was at throwing caution to the wind.

"And remember to close up before you leave."

But it was too late.

Daryl had already lost his head, and his heart — but he wouldn't know that the latter was missing for a very long time.

You ran the cloth along the oak bar surface, wiping away any sticky beer rings that had been left there.

This is why we have coasters, you sighed.

It had been a slow Tuesday night, but you'd somehow still been roped into working the close. You tried to tell your boss that you were having car troubles, and had plans to stop by the garage on your way home — but he seemed to prioritise his own date over yours.

Well, you wouldn't exactly call giving the local mechanic his cheque a date; usually, you didn't have to pay for those. But you couldn't deny how it had made you feel when he smiled that smile your way — so small that you'd almost missed it — before you took off running out the door.

It gave you whiplash.

Perhaps he was just being friendly. But, then again, he didn't seem like the naturally friendly type. You shook your head, throwing the beer-soaked rag into the sink. You didn't trust that man in the slightest.

That wasn't a new development, really; you didn't trust most men. And, you often found that the ones who made your heart race like that were the worst of them all. He was trouble, that one, and you'd had enough of that to last a lifetime.

You untied the double knot of your apron, and folded it up neatly. There were a few whiskey stains on it — you'd caught a whiff of that top-shelf scent a few times now — but you were already too late to even consider putting it in the wash. Instead, you left it at the end of the bar, and swapped it out for the ring of keys lying there.

It was closing time, and you prepared yourself to run three blocks in the dark. You stepped out into the night, feeling the cool breeze on your cheek as opposed to the midday heat that had been there when your shift started. You flipped the latch and turned the key in the lock until you heard it click.

Then, you held them between your knuckles so that the jagged edge poked out.

"Ya done for the night?" a voice came from the shadows, and your heart dropped.

That brief second lasted a lifetime as the blood rushed to your ears like a strong current through running water, and your grip tightened over those keys. But then, you noticed the reflection in the glass panels of the door — and relaxed.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me," you scolded the man, "thought you were a dejected patron tryna jump me or something."

Perhaps he was; you still didn't know any better.

Dixon was leaning against that dingy brick wall, opposite the back door of Joe's Bar. You didn't even know what that other building was — but some sketchy figures usually loomed about it, so you tried to stay clear.

Maybe he didn't get the memo, you thought.

"Tha' happen before?" the man asked back, casually.

Though, the dim street lights overhead illuminated his face, and you caught a glimpse of his serious expression before he let it drop. He held a lit cigarette between his fingers — almost smoked down to the butt already — and it made you wonder just how long he'd been waiting for you.

"Maybe once or twice," you laughed, but it didn't sound as natural as you had intended.

You noticed the man's eyes flicker down towards the keys held between your knuckles, and you quickly slipped them into your jean pocket — hoping that he wouldn't pry. Luckily, he didn't seem like the type to unnecessarily butt into other people's business.

The smoke trailed from his lips and caught the stark light of the street lamp. He almost looked cold — bathed in that bluish tint which made those cigarette fumes seem nearly luminescent.

"You here to make sure I don't run off with your paycheck?" you teased, fishing out the wad of bills from your back pocket.

You waved them at him, and considered how precarious the situation may seem to an onlooker if they happened to pass by. The man looked as though he felt the same, since he quickly glanced over his shoulder down the alleyway — checking to make sure you were alone.

"Don't worry, Dixon, I busted my ass tonight just so I could leave you a nice tip," you said with a smile, handing the money to him.

He took it, slowly, as though he had to remind himself what it was even for.

Then, he let that cigarette butt fall to the floor, and stamped it out with his boot — before dragging it along the concrete until it was nothing but embers.

The man shook his head at you. "'M here on behalf of the welcome committee."

You snorted as you processed his words, and followed him out of that narrow alleyway into the main street.

"Bullshit," you called, "as if-"

You rounded the corner after him, and stopped. He was there, leaning against that pristine sixties Honda bike — spare helmet in hand.

It was parked up on the sidewalk, polished metal glinting in all its glory under those neon lamps. Dixon was almost camouflaged against it — his black leather jacket also speckled with white light. He held out that helmet, as if it were an invitation he was waiting for you to accept.

But he seemed shy — as though acutely aware that it was only an invite, and nothing more. So, you took it, and shook your head as you realised that it wasn't his spare helmet he had offered you; it was his only helmet.

"Said I'd take ya," he murmured, fastening the strap gently under your chin.

It was too big, so the man compensated by tying it tighter until you felt like your jaw was wired shut. But, you just smiled.

"An' I ain't no liar," he said when he was done, and kicked his leg over the bike.

Then, you sped off into the night.

You yelled over the sound of the engine for him to go faster, and laughed as you had to spit out the stray hairs that had blown into your mouth. Your clothes whipped in the wind, too, and you clung to the man in front of you as though you were afraid they might catch the draft, and make you fly away. It was electrifying; your whole body felt like pure static as you rode past shop displays and windows that made your reflections look like hazed blurs.

That whole trip felt like a hazed blur, really, because suddenly you were there.

"Where are we?" you asked, unsure of where 'there' even was. "Why'd we stop?"

You pulled the helmet from your head and cocked your leg over the bike. The man let out a chuckle at the sight of your hair, sticking up from the static — as though lightning might strike at any moment.

"Smoke break," Dixon grumbled, before coaxing out the squashed cardboard packet from his jeans. "You want one?" he asked, offering it to you.

You shook your head; you didn't smoke.

He shrugged in response, cupping his hands to his face to get a flame from his lighter. You left him to it, and turned away from the bike to catch the view.

And what a view it was, indeed.

You hadn't even noticed the sounds of the lapping ocean waves before you saw them. The cliff overlooked the beach below, desolate, with a high tide that drew the shore into you. Your grandmother had told you about this place once, on the phone a few months back as she tried to sell rural Georgia to you.

It wasn't like you were given much of a choice, anyway.

But now that you'd been shipped out here — against your will, no doubt — you had to admit that she'd been partly right. It was breath-taking. Back in the city, a place like this would be littered with beer cans and tacky, disposable barbeques within a week of someone posting about it online. Here, however, it looked untouched.

It was as though the two of you were the first to ever set foot here, on this particular crag that overlooked the waves — leaving your footprints alongside tyre treads for the next pioneers to discover.

You glanced back at Dixon over your shoulder — who was busy trying to look as though he wasn't already looking at you — and smiled.

He was one hell of a welcome committee.

Daryl almost choked on the fumes of his cigarette — letting out a cough that reminded him of the way old man Dean spluttered in the mornings. He really needed to kick that habit, he thought, and snubbed out his cigarette on the ground.

Then, you scowled at him, so he picked the butt back up and stuffed it into his pocket, grimacing at the thought of having to clean it up later.

He had been lying about the smoke break, really, but then he needed to carry out his excuse. Initially, he'd only thought about picking you up from the bar and offering you a ride back to the shop. He hadn't the slightest clue of how that plan had become this.

Somewhere along the way, Daryl might have accidentally taken a wrong turn, and ended up in the most scenic place he would think of. Stupid damn street signs, he cursed, as though he hadn't driven those roads a hundred times before.

Camaro seemed to call him out on his bluff, too, since she turned to face him and immediately shook her head.

"You're lying," she said, as though she were certain, "but the view is extraordinary, so I'll forgive you just this once."

Daryl swallowed thickly, tasting the tobacco that had made his throat so dry. For someone who claimed himself not to be a liar, that was all he seemed to be doing today.

Then, he watched you make your way towards the edge of that cliff, like you couldn't even hear him warning you to be careful. It was like you weren't paying him the slightest attention. Daryl was used to that from women — but somehow, this was different.

You didn't look down on him, nor at him with any hint of prejudice for wearing jeans still coated in oil, and boots he'd had to tape the soles of just to keep them together. In fact, you weren't looking at him at all. You seemed far more concerned with the stars that flickered in the night sky above you, but at the same time grateful towards the man for having brought you to them.

"You treat all your customers like this, Dixon?" you asked him.

He watched you turn around and look at him like you'd only just remembered that he was there. But, then you beamed a smile at him so bright that it put the stars to shame — and made all of your other ones look dim in comparison.

"Y'ain't special," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Jus' given' ya a lift home 'cos Dean told me to."

Though, Dean had left the shop hours ago.

Daryl watched you laugh like you'd caught him out one more time.

"There you go again," you said, teasingly. "Do you ever tell the truth?"

No, he didn't. He always tried to, but oftentimes it never did him any good. The people of this town had already made the assumption that he was a natural born liar. You were the first person to ever make the distinction between his white lies and those other types.

All his life, Daryl had been pigeon-holed into the role of good for nothing redneck, and had only recently graduated to the slightly less stereotyped town mechanic. But that night it was as if someone, for the first time, tried to get a peek at whatever was underneath.

Old man Dean was right. You were trouble — but not for the reason he had said. You were trouble because you seemed entirely unaware of your place in the world, and it made Daryl start to question his own. You seemed nice — perhaps even lovely — but Daryl never trusted those types. He knew you were far too good to be wasting away the early hours of the morning with the likes of him — and it left him wondering what exactly you wanted.

You'd already paid for his services, after all.

"Thank you for letting me see the stars again," you breathed, stretching your neck which ached from staring at the sky. "It's been a while."

Back then, Daryl didn't quite understand what that meant. He'd thought perhaps that you'd been talking about city pollution.

On the way back, Daryl felt you cling onto him tightly as he drove through empty roads, and passed the old, flickering street lights that blinked like camera flashes. But, when his fingers accidentally brushed up against yours, as you both reached for the shop door, you pulled your hand away.

It had only been a random Tuesday — that had eventually rolled into a Wednesday by the time he'd gotten you back into your repaired Camaro — but that was the moment in his life where Daryl felt like he had finally woken up.

But even awake, he often found himself lost in daydreams of the woman who crash landed into his life, and disappeared from it just as quickly as she came.

Daryl followed the trail of debris that had fallen from the sky, as though he were tracking some giant, metal bird. He didn't want to stick around too long, given that the noise had probably attracted every damn walker in the area; he just hoped that he was still far enough away from camp that they wouldn't be drawn there.

He stepped over the hunks of hot wreckage, some of it still ablaze, until he eventually came across something soft and not made of metal.

It was that jaeger. It was dead.

It looked as though it had been struck straight out of the sky. Its feathers lay scattered around it — the white breast now red with blood — and its wing was bent at a crooked angle, broken.

Daryl scowled. If he'd known that it was going to have such a meaningless death, then he would have shot it himself. Though, he still didn't add the bird to his string of dead animals; he thought that it had suffered enough.

He continued onwards through the brush until he stumbled across what he'd been looking for. But even as he saw it with his own eyes, Daryl couldn't quite believe it. Before him was the husk of a downed helicopter, burning in the middle of the forest.

Immediately, he ran to it, tripping over the wreckage as it got thicker and harder to navigate.

Though, there was no pilot inside — only radios and machinery parts that Daryl didn't know the names of. They screeched high frequency sounds as they caught on fire, and it made his ears ring the longer he listened.

So, he turned back.

That was when he saw it — them — a few meters away. His stomach dropped. Guess that's the pilot, he thought, looking up at the body tangled in the trees.

He'd never seen a parachute in real life before — only ever in the movies. He'd also never understood how that flimsy material could stop someone from plummeting to their death.

Well, in this case it hadn't.

The pilot was dangling from one of the branches, all caught up in those wire cables like a fish on a line. The limbs were contorted awkwardly, and Daryl swallowed thickly at the sight of their arm which had definitely been broken — reminding him of that miserable jaeger's wing.

He'd been all but ready to turn around and leave. The smell of burning rubber and the white noise from those radios would probably keep him up for the next few nights, but there was nothing he could do about that.

He'd been all but ready to turn around and leave, but then the body spoke to him.

"Dixon?" he heard it gasp.

And Daryl wondered just how many impossible things he might encounter today.

The voice startled him, and he almost stumbled over his own foot in return. Walkers couldn't speak, and they surely wouldn't know his name, either. Then, he caught the slightest movement, and recognised a jacket much too familiar. It had been his, after all, before he'd given it to you.

The pilot groaned, and Daryl recognised that tone of voice, too. He quickly fumbled about for his pocket knife, not even stopping to consider how the hell he'd be able to cut you down.

He couldn't even comprehend how you were alive-

"How's it hanging?" the voice spluttered.

-and how you'd kept that same god awful sense of humour.

Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tags!

Feedback is always welcomed; I love hearing what you all think - so feel free to comment, send in an ask, or just message me if you want to chat!

Also, here is my buy me a coffee! If you enjoy my writing, tips are always appreciated. Thank you for reading!

A/N I’ve tried so hard to post this, sorry for all the technical difficulties...

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #twd #twd fanfiction #twd imagines #twd fanfic #the walking dead #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl x you #daryl x oc #daryl dixon x oc

260 notes · View notes

helloalycia · 3 years

Text

The Wrong Lifetime – Two // Wanda Maximoff

chapter one | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter three

author’s note: thank you so much for the feedback on chapter one, everyone! i really appreciate and I’m glad you’re excited for more. hope you enjoy :)

"What do you think of this one?"

I pulled a face, shaking my head. My brother sighed dramatically before moving along the display cabinet, searching for the perfect ring.

Just as he'd said at dinner the other night, we were browsing engagement rings for Wanda, and I was (obviously) hating every second of it. My parents thought it would be good to help Y/B/N whilst also getting me more involved in the whole wedding thing; and I couldn't exactly say no to them, so here I was, half interested in what we were doing.

"What if I can't find anything?" Y/B/N asked, chewing the inside of his cheek as he continued to look. "This is the third jewellers we've been to, Y/N."

Figuring it was time to actually make an effort and be a supportive sister, I rested a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "You'll find something," I told him confidently. "It just needs to come to you, y'know? She'll love anything you pick."

He smiled at me. "Thanks. I just don't want to disappoint her. The last thing I want to worry about is her hating the ring."

I chuckled, rounding the cabinet to get a look at a different display. "I doubt she'll hate any of this. Girls love jewellery. This is pretty good jewellery."

"Y/N, you hate jewellery," he pointed out with amusement, and I rolled my eyes playfully.

"I don't hate it," I defended. "I'm just not a fan of shopping for it."

He snickered as he continued to peruse the cabinets. "Well, Wanda seems to love it. D'you see how many rings she was wearing that night?"

I breathed out through my nose, definitely remembering. It was hard to forget when her ring-adorned fingers were brushing the top of my hand every few minutes. But obviously I wasn't going to say that to Y/B/N, so I hummed in response.

It went quiet as I tried to find a ring that would suffice. Rings weren't my taste, personally. I was more of a necklace person, so this was just as difficult for me as it was for Y/B/N. They all looked similar to me though, upon closer inspection, had different engravings and patterns in the gold and silver bands.

"So, what did you think of Wanda's brother?" Y/B/N asked, earning my attention.

He was smiling cheekily as he awaited a response.

"Pietro?" I asked with creased brows. He nodded and I continued, "He was nice, I guess. Has a sense of humour."

My brother gave me a knowing look as he looked at the glass display once again. "He's unmarried you know."

"No, thank you," I answered instantly, not particularly fond of discussing my potential marital future with my brother.

"Oh, don't be like that, Y/N," he said with a laugh. "I'm just looking out for you!"

I drummed my fingers on the cabinet top. "Well, I didn't ask you to. I'm perfectly content as I am."

Y/B/N cocked his head to the side as he glanced at me. "You know you can't stay unmarried forever." I opened my mouth to say something, but he was quick to continue. "And no, not because a woman should marry no matter what. But rather because you will most definitely give mum a heart attack."

I closed my mouth, trying to come up with a response, but my shoulders sank at the truth to his words. He half-smiled when he knew I knew he was right.

"I don't want to think about this now," I decided, waving my hand. "Ring. Look. Now."

He laughed again but nodded and stayed quiet. We both continued to have a look around until I was surprisingly certain that I'd found the perfect ring. There was a case filled with rings holding precious gemstones and a particular one stood out to me.

"Hey, Y/B/N, come here," I called him over, eyes never leaving the ring as I moved closer to inspect it. "What about this one?"

Pointing to the glass case, I chose an elegant silver band with a small, non-dominating emerald gemstone sat on top. It wasn't too flashy nor too plain and something told me that it might just be Wanda's taste.

"It'll match her eyes," I said, watching him as he leaned forward to get a better look. "She'll love it."

My brother seemed confused as he straightened up. "I thought her eyes were brown."

I rolled my eyes, taking a step back. "Fine, get a brown ring."

He tried not to laugh as he raised his hands with defeat. "Okay, okay, I believe you, no need for the sarcasm!" He proceeded to call the shopkeeper over to get the ring and glanced at me once more. "You're one hundred percent sure she's got green eyes?"

"Well, they're hazel, but this will definitely compliment them," I assured him, making him shrug as he looked back to the shopkeeper.

To my own dismay, I was certain her eyes were hazel. They were very inviting and the dinner the other night was evidence of that, as I found myself unable to look away whenever she found my gaze. Hopefully she'd like the ring, I guess.

—

The bothersome thing about my brother's engagement was just how many celebrations that followed. A week after the dinner came the engagement party, a celebratory evening with all of our family and friends and my brother's many admirers. The Maximoffs invited their friends, too, sadly not having any extended family to invite as it was only them here in England.

It was an expensive affair, but so was everything when it came to my brother. There was food, drinks, dancing, gifts and much more for the newly-engaged couple, and I once again found myself dressed in an uncomfortable dress of my mother's choice.

If that wasn't enough of a punishment, I was also reunited with my extended family whom only showed their faces on glamorous occasions such as this one. It's not that I didn't like them, but I felt like I rarely knew them, especially when they shared stories from when they used to see me as a baby and expected me to remember the memory like it was yesterday.

I found myself victim to yet another relative at the start of the evening. This time, it was one of my aunties from my father's side whom I vaguely recognised from my childhood. She'd found me by the snacks table where I was recovering from a previous encounter with a cousin of mine, and immediately began pulling my cheeks and reminiscing on how chubby and cute they were when I was – you guessed it – a baby.

"Auntie, I think that–"

"So grown up, but still so cute!" she gushed, cutting me off and proceeding to yank my cheeks so hard that they began to hurt.

I winced, trying to back away, but she dragged me closer by the face, making me groan with displeasure.

"Y/N, there you are!"

The only reason I knew it was Wanda who called for me was because of her Russian accent, otherwise I was still unable to turn and check because my auntie had me trapped. When Wanda came into sight, stopping by the two of us, my auntie finally let go, now distracted by the brunette. I exhaled gratefully, hands rubbing my cheeks to relieve the ache. I had no doubts they were red from the pinching. God, I hated family reunions.

"I'm very sorry to interrupt," Wanda apologised with an endearing smile as she looked to my auntie, "but please may I steal Y/N away from you for a moment?"

My auntie nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, dear! You're family now! Do whatever you like."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as she said that. Wanda flashed her a final smile before tugging me away, near some deserted high table.

"What did you need?" I asked, quirking a brow.

She was looking around the room when I asked her, before her eyes focused on me. Unlike me, she seemed very comfortable in this environment, and the dress she wore was perfect for her. A scarlet-coloured gown that put anybody else's clothes here to shame. Did she just look good in everything or something?

"I didn't actually need anything," she answered, licking her lips. "I just saw your auntie harassing you and figured you'd like the escape."

Surprised at her observant nature, I cleared my throat and relaxed my shoulders. "Oh, well thanks."

She smiled widely, teeth shining and eyes sparkling and I was now beginning to think she truly had no flaws.

"You look beautiful tonight by the way," she said, and there was nobody around to hear it which made me think she wasn't trying to kiss up like I'd assumed initially.

"Thanks," I returned with a small smile. "I– er– so do you. Is that your favourite colour?"

She was wearing a similar colour the first night we met, so I could only assume it was. Which was a good choice, since she looked good in it.

She glanced down at her dress and nodded. "Something like that."

I leaned on the table as I watched her curiously. "Shouldn't you be with Y/B/N?"

Looking back up, she grinned mischievously. "You trying to get rid of me already?"

Shaking my head, I tried to find the words to say that I wasn't and she'd misinterpreted, but she was doing that thing again where she wouldn't look away first, her eyes glowing with amusement. If I wasn't certain before today that her eyes were a bright hazel colour, I definitely was now.

"I'm kidding," she finally said, laughter spilling from her lips. It was a sweet sound and I suddenly envied my brother for being able to hear it whenever he pleased.

"I just thought that you would be together since it's your engagement party," I explained, a little more flustered than I'd wanted to be.

Her lips pressed together in a suppressed smile as she nodded behind me. I spun around, following her gaze, and spotted my brother across the room charming some guests with, no doubt, another epic tale of his career.

"He seems to be doing fine on his own, milaya," Wanda whispered into my ear, making me freeze at the warmth of her breath tickling my skin.

Shivers ran down my spine as she was close enough for her perfume to infiltrate my nose. Swallowing hard, trying not to be very much attracted to her accent when she spoke English but also Russian, I took a moment to breathe out and clear my head of thoughts containing the Maximoff woman. When I was sure I was okay, I craned my neck to speak to her, only to feel my mouth go dry.

She was stood very close to me still, a teasing smirk on her lips. Up close, her eyes were intoxicating, drawing me in and making me forget where we were and what we were talking about.

"Do I make you nervous, Y/N?" she asked quietly, feigning innocence, her accent thicker than usual.

My lips parted as I tried to say something, but her eyes were distracting and her lips were curved upwards perfectly and I suddenly forgot how to speak English.

She chuckled, stepping back slightly, and I wiped my sweaty palms on my dress as Wanda watched me with amusement.

"Your mother is calling you," she said, nodding behind me. And then I heard my mother indeed calling my name. "I'll leave you to it. Try not to fall victim to another family member."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, eyes falling to her mouth as she bit her lower lip to contain a smile. What was she getting out of this? Did she find joy in making me flustered or was she actually flirting right now? The latter couldn't be possible... she was going to marry my brother. This was her engagement party for crying out loud! She was definitely enjoying making me stumble over myself.

"Right," I spoke, finally finding my words.

With a quick nod, I looked away and followed the sound of my mother's voice. I was unsure why I felt the need to look over my shoulder, but when I did, I saw Wanda watching me still, eyes gleaming even with the distance. I looked away instantly, hoping this weird, flirtatious behaviour of hers would cease soon. I wasn't sure I could take anymore of it.

—

The evening was going well following Wanda's (what I was now calling) tormenting. I stuck to myself when my mother wasn't dragging me around, forcing me to mingle with family friends.

Tucked in the corner with a book I'd managed to sneak along was a good pastime, until halfway through the evening, everybody was brought to the front of the room for an announcement. I almost missed it if it weren't for Pietro finding me and trying not to laugh at my complete disconnect from the event around me.

"They're exchanging the rings," he told me, pulling me from my table and to the front. "Family's got to be there. Including you, Y/N."

I rushed to put my bookmark between my pages as he tugged me along, finally stopping by the front of the crowd alongside our mothers. Standing before everyone were our fathers and the engaged couple themselves, all smiling and putting on the perfect show.

"We are privileged to announce the engagement and union of my beloved daughter, Wanda Maximoff, and everybody's favourite author, Y/B/N Y/L/N," Oleg announced proudly, glass of champagne in his hand.

Both Y/B/N and Wanda exchanged smiles before looking out to everyone. When my brother's eyes met mine, I smiled encouragingly, and when Wanda's eyes met mine, my smile faded as she grinned my way, eyes saying a thousand things, none of which I could decipher.

"They will now present each other with the rings," my dad said, making the crowd chatter excitedly amongst themselves.

All eyes were on the couple as they presented their rings. Wanda had gotten Y/B/N a plain silver band, perfect for the guy who wasn't a fan of jewellery, and he wore it with pride. Then Y/B/N offered up the ring we'd picked in the store and Wanda's smile was as wide as ever when she saw it.

He placed it on her ring finger and she studied it once more, the emerald sparkling under the light and making all the women in the crowd jealous. She pulled him in for a grateful hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and I found myself looking away, not particularly a fan of them getting cosy.

"Gross, right?" Pietro asked, nudging me in the arm slightly. He was trying not to laugh as he avoided looking at the couple up front. "Like, we get it, you're engaged."

A smile appeared on my lips as I glanced at the silver-haired publisher, appreciating his attempt to make me laugh.

"Gross indeed," I agreed.

He rolled his eyes playfully before looking forward again, watching as my father continued to make a speech about how great it was to unify our families.

I listened in, though I'd heard the same spiel several times at home when they'd initiated the idea in the first place. Judging from the look on Pietro's face, he'd heard the same, and I was glad it wasn't just me who felt icky about this whole thing.

This evening couldn't end any sooner.

—

"I just don't understand why I need to go," I complained to my mother.

She was sat before her mirror, finishing applying her makeup and looking presentable for the girl's trip she'd planned for Iryna, Wanda, herself and I.

"Because you're going to become Wanda's sister-in-law and we are all going to become a family," she said like it was obvious, not bothering to look my way. "It'll be fun, Y/N."

I groaned quietly, leaning against the doorframe. A servant fussed around my mother's room, tidying up the mess of clothes she'd left in her wake from picking an outfit. I watched her with boredom, knowing I'd take that job over today's plans any day.

"You might make a new friend with Wanda," my mum continued delightfully. "Wouldn't that be nice?"

I tensed my jaw, eyes narrowing into the window ahead. "Yeah, really nice, mum."

"Good, now go and w–" she began, but was cut off when the doorbell rang from downstairs. Waving her hand, she said, "Go greet the Maximoffs whilst I finish up here, dear."

I sighed, straightening up. "Do I have a choice?"

"Don't forget to smile!" she called after me.

Making my way downstairs, I saw one of our servants opening the door and greeting the Maximoffs politely before letting them inside. Upon spotting me descending the staircase, Iryna smiled brightly.

"Y/N, dear, how lovely to see you!" she exclaimed, and when I got to the bottom, she pulled me in for a surprise hug. "How are you doing this morning, my dear?"

After recovering from the surprise hug, ignoring the way Wanda stifled laughter from behind her mother, I stepped back and gave the older woman a genuine smile.

"I'm doing good, Miss Maximoff," I said, and when she gave me a stern look, I backtracked, remembering her words from the engagement party a few nights ago. "Iryna– right, sorry. I'm doing good. And yourself?"

"Very good now that we're here," she said cheerfully, before nodding for Wanda to join her side. "Wan, what are you doing there? Come and give your sister-in-law a hug the right way!"

I gulped as Wanda did as her mother said, stepping forward without hesitation and pulling me in for a quick hug. Not wanting to look like an idiot, I wrapped my arms around her torso, hoping I wasn't as stiff as I felt. Once again, she smelt really good and I forgot how to breathe.

"Good morning, milaya," she muttered in my ear before pulling away with a harmless smile.

"Morning," I got out, being sure to avoid her gaze as I looked back to her mother. "Can I offer either of you a cup of tea? Or a drink? My mother is just finishing getting ready."

"No need, Y/N!" my mum called as she walked down the stairs behind me. Wearing an apologetic smile, she looked to Iryna and Wanda. "Sorry about that, ladies. I'm all ready to go if you are."

After sharing a greeting with them, my mum led us all outside to the carriage that was waiting to take us into town. We got in and were soon on our way to have the time of our life! (Cue the sarcasm).

"So, Y/N," Iryna said, and I looked up to see her sat beside Wanda who was sat opposite me. "What are your thoughts on this whole engagement? It was quite the affair the other night!"

I forced a smile as I nodded respectfully. "It was a great evening, Iryna. A great start to a successful marriage, I'm sure."

That seemed to start Iryna on a tangent about the engagement and how lovely the evening was and all of the new family members she met on our side. A sigh escaped my lips as I practically relived it with her retelling, making my mum nudge me in the arm gently but scoldingly.

"...and the ring!" Iryna enthused, not noticing my disinterest. "Don't get me started on the ring. Is there anything Y/B/N isn't good at?"

I could name a few things, yes.

With difficulty, I pressed my lips together to stop myself from cracking a knowing smile. Iryna told Wanda to hold out her hand so she could take another look, and as she did, it was the first time I'd seen the ring up close since she'd been given it. I glanced between the ring and her eyes and knew I'd made the right decision.

My mother began to shower Wanda in compliments – "Oh, it matches your eyes, dear! It's like it's meant to be!" – as I sat back and wished we'd arrive at the shops already.

"Between us ladies," my mum said playfully to Wanda, "is it good enough or did you expect something better?"

Wanda chuckled, shaking her head. "I didn't have any expectations, Y/M/N. I would have been happy with whatever Y/B/N picked. But this... this is absolutely stunning. He clearly put a lot of thought into it."

Yes, of course he did. So thoughtful, isn't he? Especially his attention to detail, like when he remembered the colour of your eyes.

Oh, wait.

After what felt like forever, we finally reached the shops and could escape that shrinking carriage for a few minutes before heading into a dress shop to suffocate yet again.

As usual, I followed my mother around like a lost puppy, letting her take the lead with picking some clothes. She was deep into conversation with Iryna, the two of them bonding instantly as they talked about their interests and marriage and their children's engagement.

At one point, I left them to it, resorting to browsing through a rack that had some pretty pastel dresses hanging from it. I didn't have plans to buy anything since I didn't need anything, but it didn't hurt to look.

"Hey," Wanda's voice echoed from behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see her joining my side.

"Hey," I replied, continuing to look through the dresses.

She browsed through the rack also, going through each dress slowly as she smiled to herself. "So, you don't like shopping I take it."

I hummed in agreement. "Not really."

She nodded, continuing her browsing. "You don't like parties either. Or dinners." I hummed again and she continued, "And you don't like it when your brother gets all the attention."

I hummed subconsciously, before realising what she said. Stopping my browsing, I looked to her with furrowed brows. "I never said that."

Mischief dancing in her eyes, she glanced me way and winked playfully. "You didn't need to."

Clenching my jaw slightly, I busied myself with going through the hangers, hoping the heat creeping up my neck would disperse. I wasn't going to let Wanda get to me yet again. It was like she had some kind of magic spell on me, making me unable to think straight whenever she was in my vicinity.

"I know you picked my ring by the way," she said after a moment of silence.

I licked my lips and played dumb, not looking her way. "What do you mean? Y/B/N chose it."

She snickered. "I know it was you, Y/N. No man in the world is that thoughtful."

I stayed quiet, figuring it was my best option. She seemed to find this entertaining as she turned to face me, leaning against the rack and watching me curiously.

"I must ask though. Why emerald?"

Fingers playing with the fabric of the dress before me, I shrugged nonchalantly. "Why not?"

She laughed, and it was the second time she'd done so so freely, making the pit of my stomach flip uncontrollably at the sound.

"You don't seem like the type to just do things," she observed. "There had to be a reason. Please enlighten me."

Once again, I shrugged as I made sure not to look her way. I wasn't planning to get sucked in by her killer eyes yet again.

"I'm not blind," I told her casually. "I saw it and remembered that you have hazel eyes that sometimes look green. I thought it would suit you. A mere artistic observation."

"Ah, I see," she said with a nod, playing along. "Well, you have good taste. Thank you. I adore it."

"It was nothing," I assured her, hoping she couldn't hear my heart beating ever-so-quickly in my chest. The longer she watched me, the more flustered I got.

Suddenly, she stepped forward, her hand resting on the small of my back. The simplest of touches had me paralysed, at a loss for words, frozen in place. Mentally I knew that it wasn't right that she made me react like this. But my body wouldn't listen to my brain and Wanda seemed to realise that, clearly revelling in my misery.

"So, you remembered my eye colour after just two meetings, huh?" she asked lightheartedly, leaning in, her hand still pressed to my back gently.

Finally finding the ability to stand my ground, I said, "I'm very observant," and I turned to look at her to show her that whatever game she was playing wasn't going to work anymore. Of course, that was a huge mistake, because as soon as my eyes locked with hers, I lost all resolve.

"That you are," she noted with a smirk, before her hand dropped to her side and she nodded to the long-forgotten dress in my hand. "You should get it. It suits you."

And with that comment, she left me alone to join our mothers yet again. I breathed out shakily, realising that Wanda Maximoff was becoming a bigger issue than I thought.

After purchasing some new dresses from several stores (no, I didn't buy the dress Wanda wanted me to), the four of us stopped by a café for a spot of lunch. Despite the flustered mess I became whenever Wanda gave me more attention than we both know she should have, I was having an okay time.

Iryna was very sweet, wanting to get to know me since we would be family soon, and made me feel at ease whenever she could. My mother was too distracted by her and Wanda's presence to tell me off for complaining, and it was just genuinely kind of nice to get out.

I was drinking a cup of tea as we waited for our food order when my mum tried to get the details on Wanda's newly-planned date with my brother in a few days.

"You're going to the theatre, right?" she asked Wanda eagerly, as if she didn't already know everything anyway.

Y/B/N had talked about this literally last night at dinner. It was to be Wanda's and his first official date, and the first real opportunity away from family and prying eyes to get to know each other better.

"Yes, he got tickets to see a new play I've never heard of," she admitted with a chuckle. "It'll be a chance to get to know him better. The only things I know of him are what my family have told me and what I've learnt from everyone around us."

Iryna smiled as she watched her daughter, whilst my mother waved her hand optimistically.

"Oh, I'm sure the date will go splendidly," she assured Wanda. "It's no secret that you're both very attractive, young adults. If there are no sparks between you, then we're all done for."

At this comment, Iryna and my mother both erupted into laughter, like it was some kind of joke that only middle-aged women seemed to get. I raised my eyebrows and dropped them behind a cup of tea, figuring it was best to stay quiet.

"I'm sure it will," Wanda said in agreement, though her voice was quieter, unable to be heard behind their laughter.

Surprisingly, I found myself intrigued by this rarely seen version of Wanda. It was a similar version to the one I'd seen the night of the dinner, when I showed her around upstairs and the conversation of my brother crept in. It wasn't hard to forget her ability to dance around the question to whether she liked him or not.

And now, she seemed to wear a false smile as she mulled over their date. I guess it was strange to see since I naturally figured she'd want to marry him – pretty much any woman in the city did – but maybe that wasn't the case.

"...tell her what he's like," my mother insisted, pulling me away from my observation. "You're his sister. Who better than you to give her an idea?"

Realising what she was saying, I tried not to choke on my tea. I lowered the cup and shook my head calmly, though the intent was very much urgent.

"She should just see," I said uncertainly. "I mean, what better way to know than to just speak to him?"

One deathly glance from my mother and I straightened up, looking to the Maximoffs before me.

"But if I was to say something," I continued smoothly, making my mother relax at my words, "I'd say that my brother has always been a very respectful man. He's kind-hearted and he's caring."

Iryna was hanging onto my every word whilst Wanda stared at me but seemed elsewhere.

"And he's really excited to get to know you better, Wanda," I said truthfully, looking to the oddly-quiet brunette with a small reassuring smile. "He really likes you."

Iryna mentioned something about Y/B/N being just the man her Wanda deserves, but I was barely paying attention as I looked to the girl in question. She returned my smile, void of teasing or mischief like usual, and nodded quickly before looking down to her own cup of tea.

She was certainly a strange one.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #marvel #marvel imagine

339 notes · View notes