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lowkeyerror · 7 months

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The Family Business Ch.2

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Ch Notes: No warnings for this chapter, Krolik=Bunny, Sestra=Sister

Summary: Wanda was sent away on important business, by the time she comes back you're all grown up and a part of the family company. Wanda doesn't come back home empty handed in fact she returns with a brand new wife.

An: Ok someone asked me for Ch.2 early and I had to deliver. Next Ch.3 will be up on Monday. Stay tuned and hope you enjoy.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

True to their word, the Maximoff’s provided you with a roof over your head and protection wherever you went. You never worried about your mother again and you saw your father whenever his schedule permitted. However, your primary residence was with the Maximoff’s. They were just as kind as they had always been.

Dragos and Flora paid for anything you could ever want or need. They paid for your tuition at NYU, though you tried to argue against it. You double majored in software engineering and physics. Without the constant insecurities that your parents piled on you, you were able to reach new academic heights.

Wanda had gone off right before her college graduation, Dragos said she was doing important work internationally. He didn’t know when she would be returning. There was a small part of you that hated that the woman didn’t come to your graduation, but a card from her in the mail was enough to make you smile.

Once you had your degrees you weighed your options. After multiple boring interviews and under stimulating work you finally asked Dragos if there was anything you could do in the family business. Pietro wasn’t thrilled about you wanting to be involved, but once he saw you at work, he knew you’d fit right in.

The crime was fronted by a legitimate business that Dragos owned. Which meant that you got to work out of one the tallest office buildings in New York. Your standing with the family also afforded you a desk pretty high up. When you weren’t hacking into competitors’ systems or running field operations, you did simple accounting for the company. It was easier that way, as the numbers for both the true business and the under-cover business were vetted by you.

“Y/n, come on a delivery with me?” Pietro pops his head into your office space.

“What kind of delivery?”

He smirks, “Special.”

You quickly grab your jacket and follow him out of your office. As you navigate to the bottom floor the two of you make small talk.

“So, when are you going to stop playing around and ask Monica out?”

Pietro rolls his eyes, “When you date someone for more than 2 outings.”

You feign a pained look, “Ouch, that one hurts Piet.”

“The truth often does.”

Once you both are out of the building and into the car your demeanor changes a bit, “So who are these going to?”

“Mr. H.”

You groan, “That guy’s sketchy, I don't like him.”

Pietro laughs, “I’m sure a lot of people feel the same way about us. “

“Whatever,” you mumble, scrolling through your phone.

The rest of the ride is quiet, until you pull up to the drop of location. “So, I’m going in and dropping the stuff off. You’re going to wait for me in the driver's seat.”

“Why the driver’s seat?”

He blinks at you, “In case we need to get away faster, you'll already be in here. Keep the car running, this should be quick.”

While Pietro goes in to handle the business, you let your mind spiral into thoughts about Wanda. You miss her and feel like it has been too long. Dragos said that she ended up staying in Russia for awhile before heading to their home country of Sokovia. Apparently, while he ran the business here, she ran the operations over there.

You weren’t surprised that Wanda was trusted with such an important role, she always had leadership qualities. For a long while you thought you wanted to be just like her. Instead, you realized that the older woman had been someone you were interested in. Wanda had nearly a decade on you in age, but how could you not like her as a young queer girl.

Sometimes you could still feel her hand delicately grazing your torso as she patched up the wounds your mother inflicted. For awhile in the Maximoff’s home everyone treated you as if you would break into a million pieces. Maybe Wanda did too, but it was different with her.

She wasn’t just careful with you because she was scared, you’d break, but she truly believed that you deserved the care. Even when you began training with her, she treated you delicately. You wanted to learn how to protect yourself and she stepped right in and became the perfect teacher. You also began going to the gym with Pietro at least once a week. You weren’t trying to be buff, but just in shape enough to defend yourself if you needed.

Even though your outward appearance changed to be stronger. You felt as though Wanda saw right through that into your deepest insecurities and tended to them accordingly.

Your daydreaming is cut short by Pietro busting out of the warehouse where the drop was supposed to take place, with the goods still in his hand.

“DRIVE! DRIVE! DRIVE!”

He jumps into the passenger seat, and you hit the gas. Pietro is talking to you, but your adrenaline is kicking in. Your fieldwork doesn’t really get this exciting without a debrief. Getaway driver is definitely a new change in speed.

Your eyes focus solely on the road, ignoring what the man is saying as his chest heaves up and down. A quick glance in the rearview mirror tells you that they are following you. While you are curious about what happened, those questions can be answered later.

Pietro is actually mildly impressed with your driving skills. Your sharp turns and redirections are top notch in his opinion. Though you are doing great the guys are still tailing you.

You think for a moment, trying to remember the nearest parking garage. You realize that it’s behind you and brake hard, you weave through oncoming traffic to try to get to the parking garage.

“Get ready to hop out,” you say to Pietro parking the car. Once you do the blonde starts running on foot and you call after him. He stops in his tracks frantic until he sees you breaking into another car. When you get in you drive normally out of the parking structure and straight back to the office.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n I didn’t know you could drive like that?”

Pietro grabs the wooden box from his lap before walking to the elevator. He wipes his hands on his jeans and proceeds as though it was a just another day.

“So, what the fuck happened?”

He raises an eyebrow, “You weren’t listening in the car?”

“Duh, I was a little preoccupied with the whole driving for my life thing.”

“I guess you'll hear it when I tell Papa then.”

The two of you are definitely headed to the top floor of the building to inform Dragos of what has transpired. Pietro is never one for knocking and simply barges into the man’s office.

“Papa, do you have a- Sestra?”

Pietro’s sentence dies in his throat as he gets a glimpse of his older sister. He wastes no time sitting in the wooden box on a couch nearby and scooping up the redhead in a tight hug. You could hear them exchanging more words in their mother language. It’s an unexpectedly tender moment as Pietro tries to keep things on the light side.

Somewhere in the hug Wanda’s eyes land on you and they widen slightly. She untangles herself from her brother to get a good look at you. She’s older, as expected, but age had been more than kind to her. Wanda looks as elegant as ever, an air of distinguish surrounds her.

The way she looks at you makes you feel like a teenager again. You do your best not to squirm under her gaze. When a smile placed itself on her lips, you feel relief washing over you. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she pulls you in to a big hug.

Her hands rise to hold your face, pulling back just slightly. She wants to get a good look at you. The softness of her hands causes you to blush.

“You’ve grown up on me little krolik.”

She releases the hold, and you speak, “You’ve been gone a long time, Wanda.”

There it is, in your voice for the first time in years; That fragile tone that you had only ever allowed Wanda to hear. You hope it didn't sound as desperate to everyone else in the room and it didn't. But Wanda picked up on it instantly.

“I have, but now I'm back; permanently,” Wanda says, keeping her eyes on you.

“And she brought a friend,” Dragos interjects, and you watch Wanda roll her eyes.

“She’s more than a friend Papa, she’s my wife and she’s sitting right here. I expect you to treat her kindly.”

Wanda is married and to a woman. Your mind scrambles to piece together what had happened in the years that she was gone for this to be the case. It is hard for you to digest what the woman had said. Your breathing becomes a little shallow, but no one takes notice.

Finally, you take notice of the other woman in the room, sitting in the chair next to the one Wanda had just been sitting in. Your mouth dries at the sight of her. The woman is stunning. Her auburn hair is a few shades darker than Wanda’s. She has a button nose, soft pink lips and piercing green eyes. You couldn't be mad at Wanda for marrying such a beautiful woman.

“Sestra, you’re married?” Pietro exclaims, looking between the two women dramatically.

“Yes; Y/n, Pietro, this is my wife, Natasha Romanoff.”

Your eyes linger on the woman even when Dragos claps his hands together to get the attention of the room, “Piet you were saying something important. I see that Mr. H didn't get his package.”

Any further pleasantries would have to wait.

“Papa it was a bad deal. They tried short me on our exchange, so I told them they could either bring me the rest of what they owe, or I’d be walking. They planned to take the package from me, so I ran immediately to the car. Of course they chased after me, but thanks to need for speed over here we got away.”

Dragos pinches the bridge of his nose lightly, “Don’t I always say being back up?”

Pietro answers back, “I took Y/n.”

This causes Natasha to chuckle a bit.

Your eyes narrow at her, “Something funny?”

She doesn’t back down, “Well from the way Wanda described you, you don't necessarily scream back up.”

Your jaw clenches slightly and you steal a quick glance at Wanda, “Wanda hasn’t seen me in over 5 years. I’m not that fragile little kid anymore.”

Dragos nods proudly, “Y/n is the biggest asset we have in this organization. She’s by far the glue that holds this all together and I will not tolerate any disrespect thrown her way.” The final part of his sentence carries a lot of weight to it, it’s a verbal warning.

Wanda clears her throat, “Hammerhead is a loyal customer, why would he try to cheat us?”

“He could have a new dealer,” you speak up. “Someone who might be charging less for similar goods.”

“You think someone is dumb enough to try to undercut us?” Pietro questions.

You speak candidly, “I think that people in this city can be greedy, and greed blinds all good sense.”

Dragos clearly agrees, “We need eyes and ears on the streets listening to anything about dealers that aren't us. I need a meeting with Hammerhead to make sure he’s got that big ugly head of his on straight. Y/n if I can't sell this, I'm going to have see a profit of this quantity somewhere else on the sheets.”

“Let Natasha and I come with you to your meeting Papa. I want you to see what we're capable of.”

“Papa, is this woman going to be joining our group?” Pietro asks.

You turn your attention to Dragos, curious of what the man has to say. There is an unbridled shine in Wanda’s eyes and a small upturn of Natasha’s lip. They seem to think that the man would say yes immediately.

Instead, he heavily sighs, “For now Ms. Romanoff is simply Wanda’s… wife. There is a chance that she’ll be given access to join. However, her involvement isn’t guaranteed. So just to be clear, she’s not going to be sitting in on the meeting.”

Wanda wants to fight back, you can tell, but she refrains. The playfulness of her features dissipates as she responds, “Is she at least allowed to stay and watch them work?”

“Y/n do you mind if Ms. Romanoff shadows you for the rest of the day?” You know what Dragos was actually asking of you. He wants you to vet her.

Your eyes land on the woman, staring at her intensely, “Sure.”

She squirms in her seat which makes you smile a bit.

“Pietro,” Dragos starts.

“Eyes & ears I’ve got it Papa,” he’s out of the door fast, setting the plan in motion.

Dragos presses a small button on his desk, “Kate can you set up a meeting between Hammerhead & I. It needs to be as soon as possible. Make it clear that if I’m kept waiting, there will be extra fees to pay. Ones that can't be bought by money.”

“No problem Mr. Maximoff. Should I have Clint get the car ready?” She responds over the intercom.

“That’ll be great, thank you Kate.”

Now it is Wanda who claps her hands, “So I guess it’s time to get to work. Which mean it’s time to say goodbye to my beautiful wife and my little krolik.”

Natasha stands from her seat and places a gentle kiss on Wanda’s lips. “Be safe,” she murmurs, not quite ready to part from her wife.

“I’ll be fine Nat, it’s just business as usual.”

Something about the two women in the same line of sight together made you feel weird. You had seen beautiful couples before, but you seem to be a little mesmerized by the sight of Natasha and Wanda. For now, you would say that it was just the shock of seeing Wanda after all these years and being blindsided by the news of her marriage.

“Have you changed too much to give me a hug before you go?”

The teasing tone in Wanda’s voice makes you roll your eyes. You walk over to her nonetheless, “I hugged you earlier, you know.”

Wanda doesn’t hesitate to pull you into another hug. “I know, but maybe two is too much for the new Y/n.”

You look up at her, maybe for a second too long, and you can’t help yourself, “Don’t worry, part of me is still your little krolik.”

A slight blush paints over her features as she smiles at you, “Good, keep my wife safe, ok?”

Your eyes cut to Natasha, “Of course, I’ll leave you guys to it.”

You walk out of the office with Wanda’s wife trailing closely behind you.

“So, are you going to show me what makes you the glue?”

Her words make smile tug on the edge of your lips, “If you’re lucky.”

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #pietro maximoff #kate bishop #clint barton

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phaelimbs · 3 months

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"You might be wondering why you're listening to a tape from a guy you've never met before.

The answer is simple: you have to. There is no choice. If you're her lover, boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, wife, it doesn't matter. You have to listen.

If you're playing with her feelings, you might as well quit now. Leave, tell her she doesn't mean anything to you, and go. You'll save her the pain, the time, and the memories. But if you think you truly love her, then you vow to listen until the end, and live after.

She and I met in highschool, a freshman who had only transferred from a different place, looking for new friends, environment, and a peaceful life. Ever since she walked into that cold, half-full room, my eyes had been on her and her alone.

I made sure to be friends with her, be the best company she could ever have, and be the safe space in times she needs it most. It wasn't long until we confessed and kissed and started dating.

From then on, we shared countless memories, graduated together, lived in an apartment near the university she goes to. Life is good, I knew who she is— from appearance to the very depth of her soul.

So if you're willing to stick around for her, I'll give you ten rules you have to follow:

1. Always keep the light on for her

- When you leave a room she's about to enter, always leave it on for her. She finds it disrespectful, as if it was disregarding her presence and the importance of her. It was often the root of her mood swings and our arguments, so in order to avoid that, make sure to never close the light.

2. Keep the snacks in a height she can reach

- I know that sometimes we like to tease her and put it in places far from her reach for fun, but if you do it in a bad time, it will not go well. Don't hide her favorite food or drinks from her, she will find a way to turn the prank back on you and make you feel guilty. Beware.

3. Let her listen to her favourite songs in the car

- Let her bang her head, sing as loud and off-key as she wants, play it on repeat for hours until your ears go deaf from the same tune. It's one of her favourite things to do, and if you love her, you'll be content with the smile on her face and the happiness she radiates.

4. Make sure to hear her side during misunderstandings

- See, this is something you should do with her or with someone else. Whenever you fight, let her speak her own perspective, oftentimes she does not understand things the way you do. Always be open-minded and patient when it comes to her.

5. Kiss her goodmorning, kiss her goodnight

- Part of her routine is to shower you with love, so always make sure to reciprocate. When you wake up first, kiss her goodmorning, when you sleep last, kiss her goodnight. Love her the way she loves you.

6. Remember the smallest things about her

- Whether it's her favorite food, drink, or even the side she likes to sleep on in bed. Make sure to write any information you learn about her, put it in your notes or a journal, and make sure to remember. Remembering is love, remembering is caring for her in the most normal yet wholesome way.

7. Show her how much you love her

- No matter how long it has been since you started loving one another, always find a way to show her your love in the most youthful way possible. Rekindle that love, strengthen it. I promise you, she will love you deeper than anyone ever has.

8. Never hurt her

- No matter how hard things get, never hurt her verbally, physically, emotionally, and mentally on purpose. Always be mindful of everything you say, because she loves you, and she will never do that to you.

9. Be truthful, be honest

- Even with your feelings, always show how much you love her, or the kind of emotions you feel at the moment. Never be afraid to speak your mind, it will strengthen your relationship.

10. And lastly, never leave her side

- Remind her you're there, you're there to walk with her through every step of the way. Show her you'll stay even through the darkest times, make sure to fulfill the one thing I never did.

I'll be honest with you, she might have chosen you because of me. A personality, a piece of me shining in you, it will hurt for a while knowing she loved you because of me, because she could never love anyone the way she did with me. I can say the same, but not in the same circumstance.

If I loved her so much, and if she does too, why am I talking to you? I'm giving you these rules because it's what I did, it's what I know she loves to see, hear, and feel. She loves to love, and I love her.

Give her the world, make sure to make her smile the same way I did, and the same way I will never do. Because the truth is, my time is ticking.

Sooner than later, I will be in the hospital, and soon I will die. I can feel it, the doctor said it. But she can never know this.

All she will think is about how I left her for someone else, how I disappeared. I already managed to promise everyone around her that they will say I am simply living my life, fulfilling my dreams without her. When in fact I am no longer living, and my dream is fulfilled because my dream is her.

So, before I end this tape, I'll remind you to follow the rules one more time. Love her, remember her, and stay with her. If you already agree with the rules before I laid them out then good for you, you're the man she needs. But if not, then keep them in mind, every second of the day.

If this reaches you, it is because a friend lent them to you, with a promise to never let her know, it will be our secret. If you hear this, it is because I am gone. So my final wish and will, is to leave her in good hands, and in good heart.

Love her today, tomorrow, and the years to come. Never let a tear fall down her eye because of you.

"Hey babe, I think the cab is here! Hurry before we lose the reservation!"

I'm coming, love."

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mykoreanlove · 14 days

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how to love a depressed boy?

CAUTION: if you're easily triggered by topics such as depression etc. this may not be for you.

Monday night, 9:45 pm. You took another glance at your phone but it remained silent. „Why do you look so down? Bad date last night?“, your friend asked concerned while grilling the meat for the two of you. „I’m not sure what to make of it, really…“, you confessed. „Wait, wasn’t it the third date with Yoongi? Did nothing happen again?“ She mistook your silence as confirmation, widened eyes in response. „What?? Is he gay?“ You silently chuckled, thinking back to Yoongi’s body pressed to yours, rocking his hips rhythmically in tune to your ragged breathing. „He is not gay. Far from it“, you clarified. „What’s the problem then? Y/N?“ You sighed heavily before recollecting last night.

Yoongi and you had met on an app, not too long ago. The first two dates were nice, he sparked your interest which didn’t happen too often. At first glance you weren’t that into him but it was his demeanor and his way of thinking that attracted you to him, leaving you smiling like a big idiot every time he dropped you off at the station. You would have given everything to stay with him longer, driving around in his car while the sun was coloring the town in orange. You could have listened to him complimenting you on your beauty all night long but he was a busy man, so the time was never enough. You were used to guys that were all in very fast, but Yoongi was from that. He was respectful, gentle and caring - oblivious to the sexual tension which was slowly building between the two of you. „I swear to god if he doesn’t try anything by the third date I’ll be the one jumping on him“, you whined annoyed to your friends. Luckily, you didn’t have to.

„He invited you over to his place?“, your friend wiggled her eyebrows. „Oh, he definitely wanted to fuck“, she teased amused. „Oh my god, will you shut up, please“, you gushed at her, embarrassed if anybody else was able to hear you. „So, did he? Did he fuck you?“ You gulped down another shot and collected your thoughts, the memories were rushing back into your conscious. „I was surprised that he even invited me. I didn’t think we’d see each other again“, you confessed. „No? Why?“ „He never texts me first, we barely talk between dates. I mean, he always asks me out when I text him but still, it all felt one-sided. Most of the time I’m not even sure if he likes me..“ „He took you out for coffee on the first date, right? Second time he took you with him to the studio and you even ran into his parents quickly. Now, he invited you to his home. You really think he doesn’t like you, y/n?“, your friend asked flabbergasted. „It’s just he’s so different to what I’m used to. But I get it now..“, you explained. „Get what?“ „Him.“ „Then explain, because I don’t get anything“, your friend pleaded as she was stuffing her face with barbecue.

„I ordered us food. You hungry?“, Yoongi asked. „Yeah“, you nodded shyly. Being with him should have felt more familiar by now but you were still on edge, his ambivalence had you second-guessing yourself constantly. You took a good glance at him - he looked tired. Dark circles were accentuating his handsome features, adding to the sadness in his eyes. Yoongi always spoke to you in a calm manner, like you were fragile and needed to be handled with care. Tonight, he barely spoke at all.

„So what, you just ate in silence?“ „We watched a drama and chatted a bit but yeah, it seemed like he wasn’t in the right place of mind to communicate.“ „Were you okay with that?“ „I felt like I was intruding.“

„Yoongi, hey, should I go home? I feel like I should let you sleep“, you proposed hesitantly. He shook his head and took your hand, guiding you into his softly lit bedroom. „Let’s just relax here for a bit“, he said and fell onto the bed. You laid on your back next to him and closed your eyes, trying to make sense of the situation. You felt his fingers trace patterns across your arm, caressing the soft skin underneath it. Instinctively, your fingers grazed his leg. „Are you not ticklish?“, you asked curiously. „Never have been“, he shook his head. „No way“, you screamed in disbelief as you switched positions and tickled him but he was right, no reaction whatsoever. „You don’t feel that much, huh“, you joked as you lay down next to him, facing him directly. „Not really“, he said before leaning in for a kiss.

„Whaaaa, that’s smooth“, your friend admired. „So, what was the kiss like?“ You smiled as your fingers traced over your lips, remembering his taste. „I guess it didn’t end with a kiss?“, your friend teased. Yoongi’s kisses turned from soft and tender to hungry and frivolous, leaving you out of breath very quickly. His hands roamed your body, unclasping your bra in seconds. „Take it all off“, he commanded as his fingers pulled down your skirt. Baffled, you complied. „Top too“, he instructed. You looked at him confused, still not being able to grasp how he could go from 0 to 100 in a matter of seconds. Yoongi admired you for a couple of seconds before positioning himself between your legs.

„No way, he ate you out?“ You hid your face as your cheeks blushed. „Y/N, come on. I’m your best friend, you have to tell me!“ You downed another shot before revealing all the dirty things he did to you. „His tongue… his tongue did things to me that no one had ever done before. Kissing, licking, sucking, slurping, he.. he devoured my pussy“, you confessed. „Damn girl, you’re so lucky! And then?“ „Well, after I could barely take it anymore he put on a condom and slid into me. We were just like a hot mess, breathing into each others ears, moaning, coming…“ „Is he big?“ „Hell, yes. Filled me to the brim.“ Now your friend downed a shot, managing her jealousy that way. „But wait, why are you so down then? It sounds like he fucked your brains out. What’s wrong?“

Yoongi placed a soft kiss on the top of your head as you were laying on his chest, enjoying the after bliss. „Was that alright?“, he shyly asked. „That was more than alright“, you giggled. „I’m actually quite impressed.“ „With what?“ You looked him up and down, remaining silent. „With my penis?!“ „Sure“, you jokingly mused. „You thought it was small, huh?“ „I thought you didn’t like me“, you confessed. „What?“, he asked shocked. „Well, yeah. I thought you maybe saw me as a friend, but not as a lover, you know..“ „Oh my god“, Yoongi sighed before pulling you in for another kiss.

„Oh, he’s funny“, you friend nodded impressed. „Yeah, he can be“, you replied with a sad tint to your voice. „Y/N…“ „The sex was great, yes. But somehow I wasn’t able to connect to him emotionally. I felt as if a wall was standing between us.“ „A wall?“ „Yeah, I didn’t feel him with me there. But it totally makes sense now.“

„Is this easy for you? Building friendships?“, Yoongi asked out of the blue. „I guess? Why are you asking?“ „It just feels like you have a lot of friends, y/n. I don’t.“ „You don’t?“ „No. Forming or rather keeping friendships is hard. Doesn’t help that I never text first, too“, he explained. „Yeah, what’s up with that?“ „I just don’t feel the need to. Like I don’t have anything to say that would be interesting enough to text. I’m not interested in small talk either. Also, I feel like everyone is so busy nowadays, living their own lives. Who am I to interfere with that, adding more stress with my nonsense?“ It tore your heart apart hearing him talk about relations like this. „Doesn’t it get lonely?“ „Sometimes, yeah. But I’m used to it. I like being alone, I can rely on my own.“

„See, it wasn’t because of you. He’s just“- „Depressed“, you interrupted. „I wouldn’t call him depressed y/n but maybe“- „No, he is. He told me. He suffers from depression“, you explained calmly. „He does?“ „Since he was young, something with his parents. He’s having trouble with his feelings, like truly feeling. Hasn’t cried in years. Is on meds. To him life is dull, no real lows anymore. But also no highs.“ „Wow, that sounds heavy. Can he live like that?“ „It’s the only thing that keeps him alive“, you answered flatly. „You mean…?“, your friend stuttered. You nodded, silently taking another shot.

„I’m okay now. I’m happy, for someone in my condition“, he explained. Yoongi didn’t notice the few drops of tears that ran down your eyes, your empathy always got the best of you. „That’s a brave thing to share, Yoongi.“ „Is it?“ You nodded, placing another kiss on his broad chest. „I wouldn’t have told you about my anxiety, so yes.“ „You suffer from anxiety?“ „More or less“, you nodded.

„You told him?“ „Yeah. I was deeply touched by his openness, so I opened up myself. About my struggles in Korea, my fears, my anxiety and even the bout of OCD I suffered back in the days.“ „Y/N, wow..“ „I wish I could have said something that would have helped him or eased his mind at least, but I lacked the words“, you admitted ashamed. „Honey, there are no words to lift depression. All you could do is listen. Don’t you think it’s telling that he opened up to you like that? I guess he trusts you a lot.“ „I’m not sure if that’s enough…“

Yoongi fell asleep shortly after your talk, still holding your hand in his. You however were wide awake, mind racing crazily. „Yoongi, are you asleep?“, you whispered. „Hmmm. Can’t sleep?“ „No.“ He pulled you closer and scratched your head, helping you to fall asleep faster. „Yoongi?“ „Hmm?“, his raspy voice answered. „Do you believe in love?“ „No.“ You felt your heart drop. „I think love’s a chemical reaction.“

„Were you sad because of that?“ „I understood why I couldn’t connect with him emotionally. He can’t even connect to himself, how the hell should he connect with another person?“, you sighed in agony. „Hmmm.“ „I stayed the night but couldn’t sleep at all. I kept wondering if I should try harder or leave him be, you know?“ „Both are valid, y/n. How did your date end?“ „He had to get up early to go to the studio and I slept in. Finally, I was able to sleep. But not for long as I thought of something.“ „Something?“ „I wrote him a letter.“ „A letter?“, your friend asked confused. „I wanted to thank him for being so open. And I wanted to ease his heart, even a little bit, but what do you even say to someone in that space of mind?“ „Please don’t tell me you wrote shit like keep going onto a piece of paper with a heart next to it.“

Yoongi spent the whole day in the studio, exhausted from all the work. Once he arrived home, he fell into his bed instantly. A smirk formed on his lips as he realized that the sheets still smelled like you. You, who didn’t leave his mind. You, who thought he didn’t like you. How absurd. Yoongi turned around and stumbled upon a piece of paper, neatly positioned on top of the folded shirt you had slept in.

„Hey old man, if you’re reading this, you have successfully survived your shift in the studio - yey :) Thank you for last night (and for opening up to me). What you’re going through is really hard but you keep going and I’m proud of you for that. Also, please text first from time to time. Even if you think you’re a nuisance I’m pretty sure that people (myself included) will be happy to hear from you. Take care, y/n <3“

Yoongi touched his face, irritated by the liquid that was running down his cheeks. Tears became so alien to him, that he wasn’t even able to recognize them anymore. „Y/N“, he mumbled under his breath.

„Did you hear from him?“ You shook your head, saddened. „Maybe he hated it and thought I overstepped a boundary or something“, you mumbled apologetically. „But even if he hates me now, I just wanted to let him know. Because I meant every word I said, truthfully.“

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sardonic-the-writer · 7 months

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𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: fighting, brief mentions of injuries & alcohol. murdoc is a warning in himself to be frank

↳ song: rock the house—gorillaz

↳ notes: headcanons about murdoc & you. made to be platonic/a self insert type fic, but could be romantic too. this overall just stemmed from my infatuation and hatred for his green ass

nasterlist | commissions | carrd

• Murdoc is so self-absorbed. It's honestly beyond you how he hasn't floated away into the sun with how inflated his ego's gotten

• It doesn't help that he's regarded as the sole reason for bringing together one of the best bands ever recorded—something that he holds over the entire bands head when he feels like being an asshole

• With that giant persona of his inevitably there comes jealousy. The musician gets unreasonably grumpy if someone, especially you, is ever more excited to see a collaborator over for a recording session instead of him of all people

• "You were just gawking at 'em the entire time like an idiot! Wha', never seen a bloody live recording before?" Murdocs accent clipped his words as his gravely voice spit fire at you one afternoon. You just laughed at his annoyance, not even bothered by his attitude after years of putting up with it

• "Murdoc, it's De La Soul. Of course I'm going to be excited. It's ten times better than waking up to you rummaging around in the fridge with nothing but a thong on."

• "Get fucked you little twat." He barked, stomping off and ending the little spat. You didn't see him the rest of the day, no doubt off brooding in his Winnebago. It didn't bother you. More quiet time to hang out with Noodle for you!

• More than often, the two of you have been recorded in separate interviews talking about the other. Mostly just talking shit

• "So, what's this we've all been hearing about a certain bassist getting in a car accident?" A random reporter asked you one day from over their horn rimmed glasses. 2D, who was currently the only other person besides you that had been able to make it to the questioning, scratched his head absent-mindedly as you cackled in glee

• "Yeah yeah. I ran over Muds with my car one day. Just knocked his sorry ass right over. Pow! He recovered fine, dont worry, but the moment he did, I had to run for my life." You managed to get out through laughter. "Still have no idea how those fucking tabloids got ahold of that story."

• "Wasn't it an accident f'ough? I remember you sayin that." 2D tilted his head with a slight lisp

• You just grinned toothily and said nothing

• "It. It was an accident. Right?" He asked again, this time with more nerves

• The interview was cut off shortly after that

• On the topic of cars, Murdoc's own set of wheels was probably his only pride an joy apart from his bass. And ironically, the van was the bane of the rest of the bands existence

• The amount of times you had to bang on the Winnebago's dented door to tell him to shut up— the smell of cigarettes, sex, and too many air fresheners leaking from the cracks —should be a crime

• And each time without fail, you were always met with a shirtless Murdoc; either inviting you in for his version of a night of fun or just plain flipping you off

• You always found the latter easier to deal with

• Russel has always been the medium for any serious fights you and Murdoc would have. You both fight a lot, sure, but normally over small things like who should run out to get more booze or tune up band equipment. It was only when things got really heated that the drummer would step in

• Nine times out of ten, that just meant he'd pick you up with one arm and place you in a separate room until the two of you could stand to be around each other. It was always you he did that to, too, since the one time he'd tried that on Murdoc, Russel narrowly avoided a black eye and a week's docked pay

• It really was easy to forget that technically Murdoc is your boss. With how much shit he gives out, and vise versa from all of you, it really just felt like he was an annoying roommate. An annoying, rich, and vibrant green roomate

• At the end of the day, though, none of you really hated him. Well, the jury was still out on 2D, but you had a feeling the past few years the singer had been trying to pick himself back up

• Murdoc, however much of a prick he is, is still a key part in the band. Without him, some of the best song you'd all produced would have never happened, and some of your best drinking memories would have never happened. Hell, he even did a pretty good job raising Noodle. With plenty of help from everyone else, of course

• So no matter how many inanimate objects you all chucked at each other's head, at the end of the day you'd never trade him for another bass player

• "You lot getting soft on me now?" He grinned sharply at you, licking the outside of his teeth as you pretended to vomit at the mere thought of being nice to him

• "I'd rather die and be reincarnated as a cockroach." You grimaced dramatically. But the both of you were smiling at each other, breaking up the conversation with playful punches

#gorillaz #gorillaz x reader #gorillaz x you #gorillaz x y/n #murdoc niccals #murdoc x reader #murdoc x you #murdoc x y/n #2d gorillaz #noodle #russel hobbs #x reader #headcanons

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dottiro · 21 days

Text

A Dear in the Headlights

Unreliable summary: Your date doesn’t show up after hours of waiting; in frustration you drive over to Pantalone’s house, knowing he’ll always comfort you. / You get into a car accident due to a deer in the headlights—deer, dear? Does it matter? Warnings: Yandere, car crash, implicated kidnapping, Pantalone is rich, descriptions of dead/mangled body(ies), DEAD DOVE DON'T EAT Note: This is a rewrite of THIS fic from my old blog.

"Hey, it’s me. Your phone has been going to voicemail for a while—you’re probably asleep, but I'm almost at your house. I know, I know, I shouldn't have come to your home in the middle of the night, but once again; you were right."

You press your lips together during the silence that follows. The road ahead is dimly lit by lanterns that do a poor job of showing the way. Only your solitary headlights indicate what's ahead of you.

Disappointment has yet to leave your system as you recall the events from a few hours before."It’s annoying. I wish I could see through people like you do."

Earlier in the evening, you'd been getting ready for a date with a guy who never showed. Unfortunately for you, these occurrences have become normal. The worst part is that hope remains within you. No matter how often it happens, you still believe the next would be better.

You wonder why those assholes bother to chat when they never plan to show.

A bitter sigh escapes your lips. You’re rambling again… how embarrassing.

For a moment, you hope Pantalone will leave his voicemails unread. Perhaps that’d save you face when you’d wake him up in the middle of the night—but you know better. Pantalone does not let anything go unnoticed. Sooner than later, he’d pick up his phone to hear your aimless talking and waste of time.

“Anyhow, I’m almost there. Since you gave me the keys to the gate; I’ll be entering your property. Sorry, not sorry.”

There is a short silence before you end the voicemail.

Although you know you shouldn’t drive and call, the road to Pantalone’s home was—and will always be—abandoned. Not once have you seen traffic coming in or out. Keeping one eye open will be enough.

As you continue forward, the gates surrounding his estate come into sight, and no matter how often you see it, you continue to be in awe at how much he owns.

You’re not sure what his job exactly concludes, Pantalone is a private person, but you know he organises parties for nobles in Snezhnaya. Only the top percentage of people are invited—vision wielders with high ranks, the top businessmen, and daughters born into money pleading for his attention; they all flock for an invitation so they can have the possibility to fall in his graces.

By now, you’ve been able to guess he works as a finance minister for Snezhnaya. If not, something similar will be the answer.

Yet, despite his charming personality and social life, Pantalone continues to appreciate the quiet over the chaos of Snezhnaya’s capital.

At the end of each week, he’d return home to his mansion for the weekend.

You can't blame him.

With one last turn, you arrive at the entrance to the large gate. Usually, it’s closed. However, tonight you find them wide open.

You can’t find a reason why they should be.

The car slows down as you hesitate to intrude into his property.

In the distance, a gentle light is cast inside his mansion.

Is he still awake?

With uncertainty, you let your car roll past the gates, speeding up in curiosity. Wanting to be secluded, Pantalone has surrounded himself by nature to hide. You have to drive through the dense greenery before you reach the lights in the distance.

Your frown turns into a smile when suddenly the upbeat tune of your ringtone echoes through the car.

“Pantalone!” You pick up, holding your phone to your mouth. Your voice is upbeat—you didn’t expect him to call back so soon. You’re surprised he doesn’t comment on its loudness.

“Dearest, would you be so kind as to tell me where you are right now?”

You raise an eyebrow before a chuckle escapes your lips. “Did you or did you not listen to the voicemail?” you ask.

Only a mere few minutes have passed since you ended the one-sided call. If he had listened to it, he would’ve known that you were on the way—already approaching his home.

Background sounds on his end of the call muffle his reply. For just a second, you take your eyes off the road to turn up the volume.

“Are you busy? I hear lots of people.”

You glance at the road as you keep one hand on the wheel. Then, you turn back to your phone, trying to adjust the volume again.

“Pantalone? I can’t hear—”

A loud crash makes you drop the phone before you finish your sentence. In a panic, you release the gas pedal; trying to break instead, resulting in the car drifting as it loses control. Instinctively, both your hands reach for the steering wheel. With all your power, you try to go against the current your car is trapped in—hoping to stabilise it, but failing as you drive over a hobble. Instantly, a thud is created, and something slams against your window, breaking it and shattering shards of glass across the front seats.

Your arms fly up in front of your face, losing your grip on the wheel as you brace yourself. In seconds, you fly forward as another crash happens; and this time your car comes to a full stop. Instantly, the airbags register, pushing your body back into the chair with immense force.

Your ears buzz as you struggle to breathe, feeling like the wind has been pushed out of your lungs. A million thoughts enter your mind and at the same time, you can’t register any of them. Time passes too fast, yet too slow. You try to grasp what happened, watching darkness swallow you whole when the headlights flicker one last time before turning off.

ㅤ

It’s dark, it’s silent.

Faintly, somewhere distant, you hear the motor continuing to hum.

The sound becomes louder and louder until you hear a familiar voice.

“Y/n—?!”

Pantalone?

You hear Pantalone’s voice through your phone. A dim white light tells you it must still be in the car. With only the artificial- and moonlight to guide you, you try to recall your surroundings. Did your phone get thrown back to the back or front during your crash?

As the sound of voices continues to increase, they become deafening. With a throbbing head, you push the deflating airbag out of your way, clicking the seat belt loose and climbing out of your seat with shaky legs.

You take steps forward.

One…

then two…

—you think you stop after that.

Cold air falls into your face, embracing you like death’s hands tickling your face as he debates whether or not to take you with him to the afterlife. Behind you, the front door of the car falls shut. After the slam, the blinkers go off; beeping as one of the orange lights flashes on and off.

You take a deep breath.

Your entire body pulses as your body sways. You have to put your hand on the car to keep yourself upright. Slowly, your other hand reaches for your head. Aside from the confusion, you don’t feel any pain. You wonder if it’s the adrenaline.

Right.

What did you hit again?

A deer?

You block out the distant voices as you make your way around the car. By keeping one of your hands against the metal surface, you circle it without losing your balance.

Without the headlights shining the path ahead of you, it’s hard to see what might be on the street. But, even without lights, no one can miss the mangled silhouette crawling forward. Its legs are bent; one loose to a point where you fear it’d fully snap off if it continues to drag its limbs across the cement.

Suddenly, its head turns up and it cries out like a human. The sound brings chills to your bones and the hollow feeling it leaves behind makes a sob escape your lips. A small button nose lifts into the air as it looks at the moon shining above the gates.

You are paralysed.

A button nose?

The figure crawls again, using its twisted arms to move forward and dragging what remains left behind onto the concrete floor.

You blink through your tears. The world continues to spin and you eventually force your eyes closed. The voices in the background are becoming increasingly louder, making your head scream as it becomes too much. Almost instantly, your body starts to feel warm as pain floods over your being.

The silhouette on the floor is still there when you open your eyes.

Long hair is matted with blood and dirt. Eyes threaten to cave in as the circles under its eyes claw holes in its skin. Sharp cheekbones peek out, cutting through the air as it drags its nails through the rubble, inching forward slowly but surely; much like a poor animal.

You now realise it’s crawling away from the house.

Right…

Pantalone.

You turn around back to the car. With the adrenaline leaving your body quickly, you need to tell him to call for an ambulance.

Before you can do as much as turn, a light is cast upon you. At that moment when you see her clearly, the girl screams in agony—not in pain but out of despair.

Her clothes are ripped, and blood pools up around the middle of her body and she seems skinny, underweight even. Likely, she was already in a bad state before the crash; underweight and starving at the least. Her figure is already dishevelled and now deformed because of you.

Hysterically, she claws forward, further gashing her skin and leaving more blood in her trail.

The thick long stripe of blood going from her body to the end of the car; down under your feet.

Did you hit…?

…No…

“Y/n.” Pantalone steps between you and the girl. With ease, he shields the sight from your eyes. His eyes inspect your body,

Much as if you were his priority.

“Can you move?” he asks.

His figure is blurry yet his face is so perfect… much unlike the girl. Your limbs feel weak as the image is etched into your mind like an ugly scar. Every time you close your eyes, you see her. Even as the people surrounding you reach over to Pantalone to help, the cries only double and combust into a choir of anguish.

Pantalone says something to you, but you can no longer process what he’s saying.

He seems calm…

You think of how easy it’d be to fall in his arms and believe everything to be a dream. Surely, it must be—!

The back of his hand comes up to caress your cheek, dragging a line of thick blood from your forehead to your chin and staining his gloves

His eyes open, and the intense colours of his irises flood sense into your brain. With his hand keeping your head steady, he says, “you’re alright, my dear.”

Then, he repeats it.

You’re alright.

Pantalone wouldn’t lie to you. He hadn’t lied in the past, and neither will he now. You choose to believe him.

His hands hold your face. He brings you closer until his lips fall next to your ear.

You diminish your thoughts as you let his voice carry over.

You got into a car crash because you hit a deer. You lost control of your wheel, ran into a tree, and as a result of the impact you got a concussion—your mind is scrambled, trauma making your memory warped and untrue.

He repeats it, whispering the words like a gentle song as his arms turn you around. One hand creeps up to your neck, while the other pushes the small of your waist forward.

Lights shimmer onto the roads. For a moment, you’d believe they’re fireflies. Voices surround you, either barking orders or following them with timid voices. Pantalone’s presence stands out among the others. His warmth makes you continue forward. You want to continue forward with him.

He repeats the words.

You got into a car crash because you hit a dear. You lost control of your wheel, ran into a tree, and as a result of the impact you got a concussion—your mind is scrambled, trauma making your memory warped and untrue.

The next time you open your eyes, you’re in Pantalone’s room.

His silken sheets are a beautiful dark violet. They feel soft against your skin. When you place your head against the pillow, you smell his natural scent mixed with a soft lavender. It's different from the perfume he wears daily—more subtle and inviting—but you find that it suits him. You wonder if the lavender is a remnant of the many bath scents he uses.

You savour the short moment of your headache disappearing. The fresh and calm scent makes you want to turn around in his bed for longer. Your fingers dig into the mattress, enjoying the remaining warmth, and then you close your eyes.

You think of last night.

You clearly remember the date date-gone-wrong; and the crash too, but you fail to recall how you got to Pantalone’s house. Did you pass out?

You know you shouldn’t have called without driving, and you know you shouldn’t have assumed his roads would be abandoned as always,

But…

What got in your way…?

As you shovel through your memories, Pantalone enters the room unannounced. His expression shifts from a frown to something you’d describe as relief.

He apologises for entering before knocking.

“It’s alright. I’m the one who should say sorry. I…”

Your headache returns as you try to remember what happened.

“I can remember crashing my car but everything after is fuzzy, like… a scattered memory or dream…?”

You stop, taking a moment to find your following words.

“It’s like my brain stopped working.”

Pantalone sits next to you on the edge of the bed and places his hand near yours. His fingers snake forward, reaching to intertwine yours in his. “The doctors tell me you suffer from a concussion. I believe it’d be best for you to remain in my care until you’ve recovered.”

“I’ve already made a big enough mess. I wouldn’t want to bother you more.”

You place your hands down on the blanket that covers your legs. Your fingers fiddle with the fabric as a way to distract yourself. Only now, you notice that you’re dressed in an oversized pyjama, which you assume is Pantalone’s. You are left to wonder when and how you got changed.

Pantalone tilts his head, eying you down from over his glasses. You know that look, he’s sent it many times before. Never does it fail at making you feel small.

He brushes his thumb over your knuckles and you realise he has shed his gloves. It’s a rare sight and you take comfort in his natural warmth when he squeezes gently.

“You can depend on me, dear. I’ve informed my assistant that I’ll be home this week. You only need to recover; let me figure out the rest.”

You sigh, letting out a mix of disappointment and frustration pointed towards yourself.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have called while driving, but—“ You groan in frustration. A fragment of yesterday flashes through your mind. “It just… ran in front of my car. I don’t know what animal would do that.”

You recall the first impact into the second. The pain in your body is a reminder of what it felt to take one hit after another.

When you lift your head from your hands—you gaze at Pantalone. The hand that had held you is now under his chin. He appears to be lost in thought, slightly frowning with lips pursed as a habit of focus.

“’lone?”

His frown turns into a soft smile at the sound of your voice and he puts his hand on your knee. “Sorry, dear. Just thinking.” He continues, “let me fix your problems. In the meantime, rest. I shall be here if you need anything.”

You watch him stand up from the side of the bed, patting your knee affectionately before disappearing into the corridor.

As much as his presence calms you, you sense a feeling of dread.

You’re missing something.

You try to summarise last night’s events one last time.

It starts with the date. An hour before you left for the restaurant, he had messaged you; telling you he was excited and ready to see you. Then, when he fails to show up, you call him, but end up with an ‘unknown number’ response. He had blocked you.

After this, you drive home, only to turn around as you arrive home and decide to head to Pantalone’s instead. You try to call him, feeling guilty for showing up unannounced in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t pick up and you leave a voicemail instead.

You pass his open gates—did you open them?—and your cell phone goes off as Pantalone calls you within mere minutes of the voicemail being sent.

When you can’t hear him—why couldn’t you hear him?—you turn up your volume.

You crash… but you run into something first.

What did you run into?

Something ran from the woods into the pathway.

You remember vaguely getting out of the car, but you’re not certain…

What comes next…?

No matter how much you try to shuffle the events; certain things remain a mystery. Gaps are left unfilled as you toss and turn under the soft sheets. On the feathered pillow, you lay your bandaged head in defeat.

You try to push the questions out of your head, letting the lingering scent of Pantalone consume your mind. When you close your eyes, you force the cries of last night out of your mind. A vague image of a mangled body comes up. You try to remember Pantalone instead.

His reassuring words, his gentle touches. His generosity and never-ending patience with you; even in this situation. You think of how calm he is and how restless you are.

Sooner than later,

It’s not enough.

You sit up and toss the covers from your body.

The cruel cold embraces you. A chill crawls up from your feet to your neck. You remember it similarly last night.

If you could, you’d stay in his bed forever. Alas, your mind plagues you and even he could not bring comfort in your darkest hours.

The room has been darkened, yet, stipes of stubborn sunlight continue to escape the cracks of the thick curtains. The time is evident to you even before you pull open one side. In the late morning sunlight, all of Pantalone’s property is visible.

Unlike last time, you now see his beautiful garden. At the window, you can see the gardener tending to the plants available in Snezhnaya below you. You see the few servants walk around at the front of his mansion. Then, your eyes follow the gravel path that’s framed by trees.

Your car is gone,

But the long trail of blood on the street remains.

To your surprise, it drags into two directions, as if there were two separate entities. One seems to have combusted into a pool at a tree, while the other continues to drag towards the gate for a few meters.

The image of a mangled woman pops up in your head. You remember her dirty and worn-out clothes, her leg that had been twisted at an inhumane angle, her bones that stuck out from beneath her skin.

“Y/n.”

You let the curtain fall from your grasp and you turn around.

Another flash pops up in your mind. You remember the stranger that walked up to you with the flashlight, the other people who Pantalone yelled at, the way the mangled woman started begging for her life when one of the men crushed her skull with his boot.

Two hands place themselves sturdy on your shoulders. You jolt backwards, but Pantalone’s hands keep you close.

His expression is peaceful. Gentle. Calm.

So many things you’re not.

He calls out to you again, dragging one of his gloved fingers like a familiar habit over your cheek. So so familiar.

His eyes remain closed and he users you back to his bed, telling you that you’re still unwell and that you need rest.

You ask him about the mangled woman.

He frowns.

“Dear, your brain is shaken from the crash. When I, alone, came to your car—you were passed out. I had to carry you back to the house.”

You ask him about the trail of blood and your missing car.

“I first called a mechanic to drag your car away, then I called a friend who works as a vet to carry the deer away.”

Pantalone holds your head in both of his hands. His thumbs brush over your cheekbones, and he brings you closer to place his lips against your forehead; leaving chaos in its wake.

“The doctors told me your head suffered from injury after the impact. I feared I might’ve underestimated it. Your mind is already filling these gaps of your mind with horrid ideas. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you.”

He looks solemnly down at you.

“That, my dear, is why you should stay here. I can take care of you until you’ve recovered. I’ll call a private doctor for a check-up. He should be able to tell you if it’s advised to go home or stay under someone else’s care.”

You nod your head.

It’s slow and unsure, but you show your trust in Pantalone.

You’ve been friends for so long… He wouldn’t lie to you.

You trust him.

After all…

A ludicrous laugh escapes your lips at the notion.

ㅤ

“—as if a woman would be running at your property. It’s nonsensical, right?”

He smiles;

“Yes, it is.”

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