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tteokdoroki · 9 months

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✩࿐TRACK 01: RIGHT HERE. katsuki bakugou (2K)

about. leaving katsuki bakugou was the hardest thing you’ve ever done. pretending that you no longer love him every time he calls is even harder.

warnings. minors and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, slight angst, fluff, hurt-comfort, happy ending, break ups, mentions of harassment, exes to lovers, pro hero + fem!reader, pro hero!bakugou.

things to note. yay !! the first fic of the series !! idk im really excited about these and they were super fun to write. i hope you guys enjoy <3 - masterlist / series masterlist / playlist ✩

leaving katsuki was probably the hardest thing you’ve had to do in all your years of living.

being one another’s first loves, you feel like you owe a piece of yourself to him. the relationship that you founded together leaving high school had taught you so much, about yourself, about him and about how the world worked. it was comfortable with katsuki, he knew you liked the back of his own hands — what made you smile the way he liked, what made you laughed in the way that made his stomach twist with a joyous emotion he didn’t even know he was capable of, what made you squirm and what made you pissed off, too.

and as you navigated the challenges of adulthood, grew into your lives and yourself — stretched the skin around your bones to spread your wings you realised that overtime, katsuki made you sadder than he made you happier. you made him feel angrier than he made you feel calm.

neither of you were prepared to let go, holding onto frayed ends of a love that had built up your confidence and set you on the course for the rest of your lives. but to say it ended on good terms would be a lie too. you needed an out and took the first one you saw, a friend on the other side of the country was starting an agency on their own and needed a partner. you knew it would hurt bakugou more than anything, so perhaps, that’s why you did it.

you left in the middle of the night to fulfill the dream you and the blonde had come up with together — with someone else.

of course, leaving him behind wasn’t easy and it still isn’t. cutting katsuki completely out of your life wasn’t a viable option and at least not for long, three months after your big move he came across your agency on the news following a huge rescue and shift in the hero rankings. katsuki was proud of you, he missed you, dialled up your agency to tell you himself and for some reason you found yourself clinging onto his every word not knowing that he felt the same.

you couldn’t forget about him, your golden boy and his golden smile that made heat spread through all four chambers of your heart and blood rush through your ears to the point where you were dizzy. bakugou was your day and he was your night, each of you taking turns returning from patrolling shifts that ran late for two semi-pro heroes like you — practically running into one another’s arms.

in another universe, it would still be that way for the both of you — but katsuki was bad for you, and you inevitably worse for him. even if you’d found new soil to settle your roots in, you secretly hoped that bakugou would come find you in every single timeline, every single world either of you existed in.

maybe that’s why you kept in touch despite the dates you went on to get over him. maybe that’s why emails turned to texts and texts turned to phone calls that centred around reminiscing the past — the songs that you shared and the plans that you made. together.

“how’s that boyfriend of yours?” bakugou grunts absentmindedly, the gruffness of his voice evened out by the static on his end of the phone. from the corner of your eye, you watch on the screen as he slips through your old kitchen easily — knowing where everything is, knowing that he used to pin you up against those counters, knowing that he used to corner you while making coffee and...

you shake your head, popping it into view so that the blonde can see you roll your eyes in mock annoyance. “he’s not my boyfriend… just a friend from work.” you still have no idea why you lie to bakugou like that, actively pretending that your dating life isn’t flourishing. you tell yourself that it has nothing to do with the fact that you still want him. even though it never works out when you lead each other back into bed whenever you get the chance. “what are you making?” you ask, to distract yourself.

“he likes you though.” katsuki returns from the fridge and steps into frame to show you the pack of tofu you know that he likes to cook with. you could have probably found it in your local convenience store with your eyes closed at this point. but you didn’t want him to know that you still remembered all of the little things about him. his likes, dislikes, hopes and dreams. “s’that tofu recipe fuyumi gave me back in high school. the one that makes ya—“

“the one that makes me shit my guts out, yeah. thanks for the reminder, bakugou.” you huff, glaring at the phone and wander into your own kitchen, subconsciously. probably to feel a little closer to your ex. “he doesn’t like me. how would you even know that?”

“hah? bakugou? what happened to katsuki?”

“don’t change the subject.”

the swell of bakugou’s lush lips press into a thin line and you can just about make out his pout as you set the phone down to make yourself a fucking drink because you really can’t do this. you hate that you still seek him out in your darkest hours, when you’re alone in this city and it feels like the world is slowly turning against you.

you’d turned off your television hours ago to avoid hearing the news. deleted the social media apps off your phone, too. called bakugou to fill the silence of your home with something soft, familiar like the deep depths of his voice. he provides a distraction that the chaos in your brain recognises, watching katsuki cook in that same old flat you rented right after going pro soothes the tensions in your body.

his tatted arm with the sleeve flexes as he skilfully wields the sharpest knife from the set you gifted him on his twenty first. his crystallised ruby eyes squint and his nose scrunches in that adorable way as he reads the cooking instructions on the tofu even though you know that bakugou knows how to prepare it off by heart.

all of these little things about katsuki make you feel at ease even though you’re worlds apart and taking your lives into different directions.

“what happened today wasn’t your fault,” his timbre voice was over the line, grasping at the straws of your attention. you hadn’t realised you’d been zoning out when katsuki snaps his fingers at you. “quit that. ‘m talkin’ to you.”

“don’t snap at me, i’m not your dog.”

katsuki looks like he’s about to make a comment, but refrains when you scowl at him over the FaceTime call. “yeah but you weren’t listening to me, i know why you called me. saw it on the fuckin’ news, but i wanted you to hear from the resident fuck up that this’ll all blow over. the media is just shit.”

even through bakugou’s brashness he still helps you lick at your wounds like you’re still his. “i hope so,” you sigh quietly and pick up your phone so that you can get a closer look at his expression, concern etched into his features. “being a pro hero decking a fan in the face doesn’t exactly instil confidence.”

“he was a creep who’s been stalkin’ you for months. he fuckin’ deserved it. if you hadn’t,—“

“dynamight would’ve, my hero.” even though your tone is sarcastic, bakugou can tell that you’re thankful, that you mean it. he never liked that you were always one to suffer quietly, let the world walk all over you as if you weren’t worth standing tall and being proud of yourself. in some ways, the blonde wanted to be your hero — not the world’s. he wanted to stick up for you where you couldn’t even if he was defending you from yourself.

you hated him for it, he loved you through it. perhaps that’s why your relationship was always falling from grace.

bakugou knows that you’re struggling to keep it all together, lock up all your troubles and throwing away the key with the hopes of never seeing them again. he knows that you carry that weight and that you’ll collapse if there isn’t someone to help you bear the burden.

so he tentatively reaches out, metaphorically crosses that line you’d drawn after ending things, because you’re in need. “yanno, if you need me, i’m right here.”

it’s like his words have snapped you back into reality, and you shoot him a look over the call. “katsuki, you shouldn’t say that.”

“why not?” he quips — you almost miss it over the sound of his food sizzling as he begins to cook.

“we’re not together anymore… we’re broken up. it’s weird.”

“it’s not weird to look out for friends.” bakugou snarls gruffly, though he’s all bite and no bark — mostly embarrassed by your rejection. “you think just ‘cause ‘m not callin’ you mine and giving you head every night anymore, i don’t wanna be here for you?” but of course he still finds a way to make the conversation go lewd, to fluster you. “i told you that wouldn’t change. broken up or not...what? what’s with that face. don’t make that face, sweetness.”

a hand comes up to mindlessly touch at your face and brush over your lips, you don’t even realise that you're pouting.

“katsuki i’m serious.” you say, whining like a child.

“and so am i.” your ex mumbles right back and you can see his tongue running over his teeth from behind his plump lips — just barely holding back a cocky smirk.

“you’ll only make this harder.”

“we’ve never been easy.”

“we’re supposed to be moving on from each other.”

“you’re the one who called me, sweetness.”

“that doesn’t mean—“

“you miss me.” bakugou has always been brutally honest but that doesn’t mean you’re prepared for him to hit you with the truth. it’s like a punch to the gut that makes the world start spinning and your heart stop beating. you do miss him, you always will — he’s all you’ve ever known even if it’s been years since you last embraced his love. what you have now has teetered on the blurred line of friendship and love, it’s far from normalcy. but tonight you feel like letting yourself fall a little harder, return to your old ways. “s’okay. i miss you too.”

static echoes between your phones during the call, breaking the pocket of silence yourself and katsuki find yourself basking in.

“you mean it?” you question the blonde tenderly. the world has been so tough on you lately, you’re not sure if you could handle bakugou breaking your heart again. or you breaking his. “you’re not just…playing with me like you used to.”

“i’m being serious, sweetness.” you can tell that he means it, genuinity etched into his voice as it reverberates through your kitchen. “i’m by your side through everythin’, thick ‘n thin just like i promised.”

“yeah well so am i.” you mock his little quip from earlier and it makes him smile — brightly, the corners of his lips just touching his ears and the red in his eyes shimmering with a familiar affection you truly have missed so much. promises were easily broken, but bakugou’s made good on every one that he’s ever made for you. including this. “katsuki…”

he tests the waters, dipping into your old routine with an air of hope about things. “yeah, baby?”

“will you come see me?” you bleat, picking up the phone as if it’ll bring you any closer to him. “i need you.”

“if you need me, i’ll be there.” bakugou whispers without missing another beat.

he doesn’t care what he has to do, what either of you have been through — you called because you needed him, because the world had put you on your knees and you were losing yourself in the mess of it all.

katsuki bakugou books the next flight out to see you, intending to keep his promise to you.

no matter what, for you, he’ll always be right here.

1K notes · View notes

munariplans · 11 months

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is there someone else? pt.2 | n. romanoff

synopsis: part 2 to is there someone else? , wherein reader navigates her feelings for both natasha and wanda, and ultimately makes a choice.

natasha romanoff x reader | slight wanda maximoff x reader

word count: 9.6k words

read part 1 and part 3 here.

masterlist

“are you happy?” lately, those words came out a lot from the people around you. steve asking you about your relationship with natasha the night she had not only disobeyed your orders on a mission, but also berated you in front of the others. wanda asking if you were really going to stay with natasha long-term in the quinjet home from the night she almost kissed you. and now, natasha asking if you were happy about her pregnancy.

you had shrugged to steve then, clutching your bleeding side and letting the medical bay doctors examine your wound, using the excuse of the injury to shrug him off. as happy as i can be, you said.

for wanda, you had only shook your head, honestly replying that you weren’t, and you knew natasha wasn’t either, but you were too scared to ask for a divorce and she was still willing to try for something you wanted to give up at. and then, you had to reinforce that you still couldn’t start anything new with wanda, bitterly.

Now, with Natasha in your lap and her hands cradling your jaw, years of vulnerability, insecurity, and anxiousness built up into the reflection behind her eyes, you found it hard to say anything at all. Pregnancy was supposed to be something the both of you had wanted; for nearly a year now, and you couldn’t believe that your relationship had soured to a point where the woman you loved was afraid of your reaction to finally getting what you wanted. You felt terrible.

You evaded Natasha’s question entirely. All you could reply with was, “How many weeks?”

She noticed, but as you readjusted her on your lap, relieving the weight off of your injured ribs; she could only smile sadly. “I just found out on our anniversary, while you were away. Probably two, three weeks?”

“Okay.” Natasha watched you nod. This was the first time in weeks she had had her body pressed up against yours, holding onto your embrace and having your arms around her, and she was so afraid the moment was going to be gone so soon.

“So does that mean…” she searched your eyes, “...We’re okay? We’re back together…?”

You broke eye contact, staring off into space for a while. The almost-kiss, the relief you felt when you thought Natasha was going to end things, the life you imagined with someone else. It was almost as if you could physically feel all of it; love and control, slipping away from you.

You contemplated telling Natasha of Wanda’s feelings. But then everything else, the repercussions, the anguish, the what-ifs, would just be too much; and you know the woman was hoping for a positive reaction from you. You would keep Wanda’s secret, and safety, from your wife, for as long as you could in exchange for the possibility of happiness you could still share with Natasha.

In response, you brought her in for a kiss, smiling as best as you could to alleviate her worries. “Of course. For the baby, and for the woman I love, of course.”

Natasha giggled in happiness, bringing your hand to rest along her tummy, and your heart squeezed with guilt at the joy written all over her face.

–

“Is this your first time?” Natasha’s gynaecologist asked, staring you up and down while your wife changed back from her hospital gown. You felt the scrutiny under her stare, and subconsciously straightened your posture.

Nodding, you were aware your arms were crossed in defence of yourself. She turned around as Natasha reappeared to ask you for help with her zipper, and when you came back out, she nonchalantly passed the comment of, “You don’t look too happy about it.”

Your heart sank, trying to laugh off the hurt with, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged, pointing her clipboard to the direction of Natasha’s changing room. “That woman in there is a medical miracle. To be able to get pregnant under her circumstances, and considering she isn’t so young, I just thought…you would be more ecstatic.”

“You a shrink before becoming a gynaecologist, doctor?”

“Please,” she laughed, “Psychology is the furthest thing I wanted to touch in medical school. I just deduced from the happiness on her face, and the lack thereof, on yours. But what do I know, right? I’m just your doctor.”

“Right.”

The both of you watched as Natasha came out, and while she thanked the nurses and prepared to leave, the doctor leaned in to you again. “Is there anything I should know, ma’am? I’m only looking out for the mother and baby, and I’m working for their best interests, not mine or yours.”

You gave her a weird look, and a non-commital grunt as you signed the papers, but she was strangely perceptive. “If there’s someone else out there, someone waiting for you that is not her, as I have seen with many other partners before, I always suggest for you to end it. For the sake of both of them now, not just her.”

You found yourself hovering over Wanda’s contact on the drive home, the urge to call her almost instinctual.

–

After the doctor’s appointment, you had cooked Natasha lunch; with her choosing to pack and eat it out in the field, where the others were having a Sports Day. She was content enough just watching them, but out of the corner of her eye, she could spot you hunched over, elbows on your knees, a slight resigned look of misery on your face. To any other person, it could have just looked like you were bored, or tired, but Natasha had been seeing those expressions so frequently lately; she had deduced what they meant herself. Those expressions only came up when you were longing to spend time with anyone but her.

“You can still join them, you know?” Natasha chimed in, “I’m sure Peter wouldn’t mind you subbing in for him. Kid looks exhausted.”

She remembered all the times she held you back; the life you had chosen to stay with her, instead of the life you could have had if you hadn’t married her. Even before the strain in your marriage, before her insecurities with Wanda entered the picture, Natasha often struggled to accept the fact that you chose her, out of everyone and everything.

Giving up a promotion as Head of the new STRIKE team because it would relocate you to somewhere in the mountains of Switzerland, being the one to hold Clint’s arrow back from that one faithful mission, even standing up to Fury and the rest of the executive directors who held a shadow of a doubt towards her loyalty when she had run off after the events of what Tony called Civil War; she found it hard to imagine anyone else willing to do a shred of those things for her.

“I hardly know the game standings by now.” You said, rubbing your eyes from exhaustion. “There’s no point.”

Natasha wanted to protest, but your hand reached out to hers, albeit in an attempt to comfort her and to ask her to not fight you on it, but your touch felt cold and foreign. Then, it was when she noticed who your eyes had been on for the whole game.

She wondered if you would have been happier if you hadn’t been with her at all. If you had been there, playing the game against Wanda, celebrating your team’s win with and for her. Instead, here you were, right beside her, eyes tired from staying up all night to help her through her bouts of nausea, making warm drinks and small snacks for her to still nourish herself, staying back from the Sports Day you were so looking forward to for the past few weeks just to accompany her to the doctor’s. She wondered if the small scan she was planning to put up by her bedside, and you planned to keep in your wallet, even gave you the same amount of joy it gave her.

When she had finished her meal, she noticed you hadn't even touched yours.

–

“Just go for it.”

“No. I’m staying.”

“Please go,” Natasha begged, already having her hands around your shoulders, trying to get you to get up from the bed. “I already have your dress picked out for you, you just have to get dressed and head down.”

You groaned, playfully digging your head deeper into the pillow as Natasha tried to lift you up. For a pregnant woman, albeit still in her early days of her first trimester, she was much stronger than you thought she was. As she pulled you into a sitting position, you laid your head against her midriff, arms around her waist.

“I’ll be fine here alone, you know,” she assured, but you shook your head against her body.

“No. What if another Ultron-esque invasion happens again? And I won’t be here to protect you?”

Natasha chuckled, threading her fingers through your hair. “I can protect myself. Have you forgotten I was an assassin and double agent? Besides, we have Vision now, too. All thanks to Ultron.”

You looked up to her, doubt still clouding your features, but Natasha was adamant. “Go. How many parties have you missed because of me? Just because I’ve been advised not to have too much fun doesn’t mean you have to as well. Do it for me, please?”

She smiled when you finally stood up, giving the black halter gown a second look.

–

“Have fun,” she said, giving you a peck on the cheek. The sentence had only been half-truthful.

I love you too much to keep you shackled here with me; but I sincerely hope that you don’t find someone else who will make you realise you deserve better tonight.

She watched you go, Clint sticking by your side and turning around as you both entered the lift, giving her a sympathetic look. He knew all too well of her feelings tonight; and had promised to look out for you too Natasha knew it was the hormones; but it hurt her so much to watch you leave that it brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes she had tried to keep down for the night.

–

You should have guessed that a party organised for Pepper’s birthday would involve Tony pulling all of the stops; falling short of nothing but Great Gatsby-esque glamour and celebrations. Twice a dancer had tried their hardest to pull you to the dance floor with them, sparkling champagne towers in hand and live jazz ensembles all around the venue.

“Come on, you haven’t drank in months, you’re holding back now?!” An agent from your academy days, his name now fuzzy with the alcohol in your system, roared as he tipped back yet another shot of liquor into your mouth, the taste burning your throat.

You pushed back his bottle, giving yourself time to regain your composure. “My wife’s not feeling so good, I can’t–go home drunk–”

“Nat’ll understand, don’t worry so much,” he raised to tip the bottle again, your world spinning now, but was abruptly pulled back. He yelped, falling back on the sofa.

Suddenly, lithe arms were around your waist, pulling you away from the agent. In your drunken haze, you reached out to touch the face of who it was, but the person was already pulling you away, further and further from the loud lights and music.

Fresh air hit your cheeks as the balcony door opened, and you finally recognised the shoes that had been dragging you throughout the party.

“Wanda.”

“I’ve got you,” she helped you sit against the wall of the tiny space protruding from her own room, and closed the doors right after, “You’re safe with me.”

You grinned, remembering Natasha’s words earlier. “Have you forgotten I was an assassin and double agent?”

“You’re neither of those things when you’re wasted.” Wanda took the seat beside you, pressing her body against yours to ensure you didn’t fall over. You laughed against her shoulder, letting the stars in your vision fizzle out before you could see her again.

Wanda smelled like cinnamon and flowers, the smell slowly becoming more and more familiar to you. She let you get your bearings together for a few minutes, before readjusting yourself to lean your head against the wall instead. Choosing not to speak, Wanda wanted to enjoy the first time in weeks the two of you had been alone. Ever since that mission; ever since that night.

Finally, you sighed, breaking the silence and turning to her, your eyes glassy and red. “I had–have–feelings for you.”

She was about to reply, to say something along the lines of expressing her relief, or adoration, for you, when you put a hand up, continuing with, “But I cannot act on them, you and I know why. I’m not sure if what I feel for you is love, probably something close to it, but I know what I feel for Natasha. And I cannot have that with you. Wanda, you have been here for me through one of the toughest few months of my life, and for it I am eternally grateful. But I also have a duty and responsibility as a wife for Natasha. Of course, you have shown me acceptance and love, butterflies and excitement for the future, I cannot deny that, but I cannot be what you want, what you need. And I refuse to string you along for the possibility of me leaving my wife, Wanda, you deserve so much better.”

Lowering your gaze to your lap, Wanda watched as you professed, “I’m sure you know Natasha and I have been trying for a baby for a while now.”

“Clint told me it’s been more than a year.”

Nodding, you looked back up, steeling yourself. “Well, we’re finally successful. Natasha’s pregnant.”

Wanda’s mouth fell into an O shape, half in realisation, half in surprise. The arm around your shoulders faltered, and you carefully let it drop back to her side. “Oh.”

“I know you don’t know how to feel,” you spoke up, “And I don’t expect you to be happy for me, for us. But I am telling you this, now, because I am choosing…to be responsible. For the child, more than anything else. I love Natasha, and perhaps you too, but the child takes priority over my own feelings, my own heart. Natasha needs me now more than ever, and while it will take time, I’m sure, to repair or even go back to how we once were, I can’t abandon her, Wanda. I need to stay with Natasha.”

Your hands were cold as you explained, desperately, to the woman before you. Never one to cry, you hated that there were tears in the back of your eyes this time, watching Wanda’s expression turn from shock, to disappointment, and finally, a brave front, smiling and nodding sadly at you.

“I really am sorry; for perhaps leading you on, for making you feel things I shouldn’t have expressed. And I do treasure you, so very much, Wanda, but I cannot leave my wife, my marriage, and now my child too, for you.”

But Wanda only reached out for your hand then, the warmth in her touch your final leap towards sobriety for the night. “I understand.”

She saw your eyebrows furrow for a minute, before asking, “You do?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, and the sinking of her heart, Wanda nodded. “I knew it was stupid anyway, my feelings for you. You were married, and while I have only admired you from afar all these years, wishing I could be her, having your kindness and bravery to come home to every night, I thought…I thought I had a chance. And when I saw just how badly Natasha was treating you, it sparked something in me too; I was angry and bitter, I knew you deserved better, but I realise that better is not me. It’s still her, and will always be her. You could have been my Romeo for all I cared, but at the end of the day, I always knew Natasha was your Juliet, no matter what.”

Your hand squeezed over Wanda’s one, her confession of your unrequited love tugging at the guilt in your heartstrings. “To be fair, in another life, we could’ve really given this a shot. I think your love would’ve come back; in a different form, or different circumstances, and I would’ve been there to love you back. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Wanda laughed, a wet chortle that seemed much too joyful for her current state; red faced and tears streaming down her face, “Just that is enough, I think. Knowing you felt a fraction of what I did for you for years, the hope, the longing, of it all. I need to let you go, give up your ghost beside me, and while it isn’t going to be easy, I hope at least the process is kind.”

“In another life.” She confirmed, letting you rub away the tear tracks on her cheeks, leaning in to press a kiss on them as the alcohol and your lips both burned the skin they landed on. “And I’m happy for you, truly. Congratulations to you and Natasha on the baby.”

Hungover and the remnants of the previous night’s bash still pounding loudly in his head, Tony Stark was not looking forward to the meeting he had forgotten was organised the morning after Pepper’s party. He had wanted to only sit in, listen, glower at righteous Steve Rogers with no alcohol in his system explain the weekly objectives for the team, and head back. No holdups, no interferences. His head was killing him.

But as he entered through the double glass doors of the meeting room, the scene that greeted him only made his headache worse.

Natasha was absolutely fuming; stood in front of the team presenting her findings for the week, arms crossed. Her vision was glaring directly at you, and so was everyone else’s.

You, on the other hand, were sprawled out at the furthest chair in the back, staring back at her and not backing down.

“Whoa,” Tony broke the silence in the room, “What is this really weird energy that I just walked into?”

It was meant to be a joke, cutting through the tension and to get someone to hopefully fill him up to speed on yet another argument between the two of you, but Natasha then diverted her anger towards him, and Tony knew the moment he screwed up. Tears welled behind the Black Widow’s eyes, and she swiped at them furiously as a choked sob left her, bumping into his shoulder as she immediately rushed out of the room.

“I went through with the report for her insubordination,” you explained, when everyone suddenly turned their attention back to you, “Fury suspended her for two weeks.”

“Really?” Steve cut in, but you held your hand up before he could continue.

“It wasn’t because I purposely wanted to be a dick, or to report my own wife for betraying my orders, but the fact that she directly put herself in a line of fire when we had obviously discussed and agreed upon not doing it, in front of newer agents on the team, what kind of example would we be setting for the new guys?”

“Don’t you think it’s too much?” Clint chided, “I mean, I’m pretty sure Nat knows what she’s doing. And your own wife, for Christ sake…”

“No, but come on,” you straightened, outstretching your hands in explanation, “This was a matter of team safety! If we had let it slide–”

“–You let it slide when you and Barton were supposed to take her out on that one mission on the KGB. And look where we are now.” Steve said, and he hit a sore spot.

You bit your tongue, a comment that would have not been the nicest begging to slip out of your lips, when Tony finally sighed. He turned to you, and in a tone more serious than he had ever been, asked, “Is there something else that you are unhappy with? About Romanoff?”

He continued. “I don’t want to point fingers or say that we’re all against you here. I mean, you’re one of us, you always have been, but I’m sure you’ve noticed that things… haven't been the same recently. Is everything okay between you and Natasha?”

You knew what he was implying. “You’re saying I’m ruining the dynamic of the team.”

“Not all the blame is on you, but…” Tony gulped, nodding to replace his answer.

–

“How about a honeymoon?” Fury asked, watching you pace about his office. You had taken particular interest in the minimal decorations on his shelf, refusing to make direct eye contact with him for the past hour.

“I doubt she’d want to go anywhere remotely far with me. Should see the mountain of pillows she builds between us each night; it seems like pregnancy’s only made her hate me even more.” Finding comfort on the sofa right across from him, you leaned your head back in the presence of your closest friend in the compound. Only Fury knew of her pregnancy, with you and Natasha agreeing to keep it private from the others until the time was right.

He shrugged. “You guys never had a honeymoon, and I just felt it was mostly my fault, is all.”

“She needed a green card to escape the KGB, I was single, we got married with you as the only witness out of convenience, not a big deal, really,” you quipped, “In a way, you played matchmaker for us even early on.”

“An arranged marriage works wonders for my two coldest assassins, right?”

“We’re pregnant now, so there’s your answer. Not the most happy, or successful, of marriages, but I’ll give you that, Nick.”

But the man was still your boss, as he cruelly reminded you, handing you your resignation papers for the next three months.

“Three months; the first trimester, that’s it. Just you and her, space to sort out your marital problems and get back together with us again. I can’t have you ruining the team more than you have, Agent. It worked for Clint and Laura, and Tony and Pepper, I have to have you and Natasha work too.”

He turned to leave, another meeting calling out for him in the next moment, but not before he stopped at the door, and uttered words you had been dreading to hear the whole week.

“And for God’s sake, it’s your wife, Agent. You have every right to be angry at her for insubordination, or how she’s been treating you these few months, but you forget so conveniently that she’s pregnant; something so foreign to someone like her. You tell me you gave up Wanda for her, but that’s not noble, it was only right.

Hold her responsible, tell her what’s been bothering you, and work through it. No more running. She needs you as much as you need her. You can’t treat this like any other mission; have some heart and take care of her, will you?”

–

Before leaving, Clint had asked to see you one last time. In the shooting range, where he shot arrows and you watched, he tried to convince you to see things from Natasha’s point of view.

“I mean, just try to see things from her perspective, you know? When Laura and I were having problems–”

“–Clint, I didn’t really come here for a lecture.”

An arrow whizzed past your head, but Clint’s intimidation did not make you flinch. “That’s the problem. You don’t listen, you never do.”

He sighed, letting another one fly. “You need to listen, to let Natasha speak and give her space to tell you what’s really bothering her. You know how she is, it’s not easy for her to open up about her problems; ever so headstrong.”

“And if you want a shot at getting back to what you two were before this…before all of this…you should treat her like such; do the little things. They matter. Take her out on a date once in a while, give her flowers, treat her like the queen she is to you. I’m not Natasha, and I’m not the most privy to your relationship, but I do know your kindness, and the patience you gave her was ultimately what led her to fall in love with you too. I’m sure she’d still like to see that side of you by her side for the rest of her life.”

Out of the corner of Clint’s eye, he saw you hold your fist to your throat, swallowing the lump that was trying to form. When you got up and left without another word, he knew you were suppressing the tears that threatened to fall in front of him.

–

Natasha opted to wait by the car while you said temporary goodbyes to the rest of the team, and you didn’t fail to catch the hurt in her eyes, still, when Wanda reached in to pull you for a hug too. She had smiled at you, but you kept the hug brief and uttered a see you right after, rushing to Natasha’s side in a hurry.

You held her hand as you walked up to the car together, and when the cool breeze of the wind hit her cheeks, Natasha felt you let go for a brief moment, only to feel the warmth of your sweater enveloping her in the next. With the smell of you flooding her senses, Natasha felt her cheeks warm too, as you grinned.

“You still look so tiny in it.”

She rolled her eyes, letting you open the car door for her. “Shut up, it’s oversized on you too.”

But her annoyance was feigned, appreciation genuine, as she reached out for your hand again in the car, never letting go of it throughout your drive to the remote cabin.

–

The first night of your getaway together, you caught Natasha placing a hand on her lower abdomen as she checked herself out in the mirror of your bedroom. She turned left, then right, and scrutinised her body even further. A frown etched on her face, you could tell something was bothering her.

“Dinner’s ready.” She startled hearing your voice, hurriedly pulling her top back down, but she knew you had already seen enough.

Leaning against the wall, you offered her a smile, a space to tell you what was wrong. In any other circumstance, Natasha would have tried to avoid the topic altogether, but she knew you would not let it go without her telling you.

“It just feels unreal,” she managed, “Still. That I’m pregnant. That we’re having a baby. I somehow still think my body is lying to me, the doctors are lying to me. Some sick prank that the universe is playing on me.”

When she looked over at you, your face was hidden by the shadows from the door, and her worry instantly crept back. “I mean, it’s stupid–”

“–It’s not stupid to me.” Suddenly, the embrace of your arms around her body was all her mind registered, as her own arms wrapped around yours back.

Holding her tight, you pressed a kiss to the crown of her hair, murmuring, “It’s not stupid, and it’s real, Natasha. I know you’re so used to all this self-doubt, and rejection, even from your own body, but it’s real. This is real, and you are amazing. You are going to bring life into this world, and god forbid if I won’t be here with you for it too.”

You coaxed her back to the dining room slowly, wiping the tear tracks on her cheek as she followed after you. At dinner, you caught her eyeing another serving of the pasta, but shamefully looking away as she remembered what it would mean for her weight, which was already steadily rising.

Natasha watched you scoop a small helping for yourself, and offering her the large portion of the remainder of the pasta. I don’t want it to go to waste, you had said as nonchalantly as you could, accompanying her as she blissfully took another forkful of her replenished plate.

You played the music on the turntable that night, while Natasha insisted on doing the dishes. Watching her then, the music flowing through her veins and the soft sway of her hips as she moved to the rhythm, an almost foreign, faintly familiar feeling of butterflies began to bloom in your stomach again.

–

The next morning, when the pasta resurfaced in the form of vomit through Natasha’s morning sickness, you were there to hold her hair back, sleepily rubbing her own back and reassuring her that she was going to be okay.

Natasha teared up at the discomfort, but you were there to help her wash up, making a hot drink for her before lulling her back to sleep to properly rest. And while she slept, you sneaked off to prepare breakfast for her.

When you returned, Natasha was clutching the shirt you slept in, nuzzling her nose into it for comfort and whispering your name in her sleep.

–

A week into the start of your new life together, you were gardening in the small patch overlooking the fields outside, while Natasha sat and watched you while she did paperwork for the team. It was the first full week in she had not lashed out, and you had not avoided her in anger and retaliation, and as she felt her hand subconsciously lay on her stomach again, she whispered a thanks to the baby not yet showing for the newfound relationship they had helped establish for the both of you.

“What are you going to do tomorrow?” She asked, while you laid down fresh soil for the vegetables.

You shrugged. “The sunflowers may need repotting, we have a problem with one of the hinges from the bathroom door, so I’ll be fixing that, and…” you trailed off, before remembering, “...I can make you that smoothie Clint was telling us about, the one he made for Laura when she wasn’t feeling so good. The kale is almost ripe.”

It was the first infliction that made Natasha second-guess your words for the first time in a while. “That sounds disgusting.”

She had expected you to laugh it off, or even dismiss it altogether as a joke, but you put down your hand shovel then, and paused, staring into the fields beyond. “It’s good for you, and the baby. Extra nutrition on top of your prenatals can’t hurt.”

“I’m not that weak, though, to be needing that,” Natasha rebutted, “Laura only needed it because she had some issues with Nathaniel, I’m perfectly fine with our baby.”

When you failed to answer immediately, Natasha sat straighter, voice louder, “Are you saying I’m not strong enough to carry this baby without a crutch? That I need to drink nutritional smoothies and take extra medication and precautions just so I don’t fuck this all up for you?”

You turned around this time, the same look you always had when she sparked yet another heated debate adorned, the same look Natasha had not missed seeing at all.

“I never said that. God, Nat, I just wanted to do a nice gesture, to make sure you’re not missing out on any nutrition, that’s all. If you didn’t want it you could’ve just said so.”

With a sigh, you moved to keep your gardening tools, the mood to continue clearly ruined, and a familiar feeling of dread and fear rose within Natasha. Even if you were there with her, even if she knew you were only going inside to clear your head, it looked all too similar to you leaving her all over again. The resigned look on your face, the heaviness in your steps, Natasha had dreamed too many times of this scenario unfolding.

“Wait!” She stopped you from opening the door and going in, suddenly embracing you from the back and holding tight. You made a move to protest, but her grip was firm, tears already soaking the back of your shirt.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she whispered, hoping you would understand, “I’m so sorry. I was horrible.”

Your heartbeat palpable to her ears, Natasha then felt you slowly let go of the door handle, and brought your arms over hers. “It’s okay, Nat.”

“You just wanted to take care of me, and I—I–”

“It’s okay,” you reassured, “Happens.”

You invited her back inside, and let her spend the rest of the day in your arms to reassure her of any insecurities you knew had cropped up during the small altercation the both of you just had.

–

“I see that relations between the two of you are better.” Once again, Natasha’s gynaecologist pointed out to you, as you nodded, then shrugged.

“I guess.”

The woman offered you a sympathetic smile. “It’s a good thing. I’m happy for you. She looks happier, as well.”

Almost two months into her pregnancy then, you knew the few times you had been leaving the cabin and visiting the hospital had been a little unnerving for Natasha, considering her own past and job history. So for the gynaecologist to be able to see past the brave front she put on, past her own worries and insecurities about her own body carrying the child, you knew something in her had shifted as well.

With a everything’s healthy and an all-clear to leave, Natasha was more than glad to leave and gawk over the new scan provided from the visit. But even through her smile and supposed excitement of your suggestion to catch a film at the cinema the previous night, you knew she was tired; she had almost fallen asleep in the waiting room while you paid, her footsteps were a little heavier, and she had leaned her head on your shoulder while the both of you were in the lift, in public. Natasha was never one to showcase her weaknesses in public.

So you made the first move. “Let’s just go home, okay?”

She held your hand over the console in the car, and with eyelids drooping, still shook her head. “No, it’s supposed to be a date…a movie date. I wanna go.”

With the traffic light red, you brought her hand to your lips, pressing a feather kiss before returning it to her side. “You’re exhausted, Nat. We can still go tomorrow, but for today, let’s go home, okay? I’ll put on another film on the TV, make homemade popcorn, and we can make a blanket fort, just like back at the compound.”

Natasha felt that she didn’t deserve you at all, as she nodded gratefully then, and tiredly.

–

The comforting scent of Natasha’s shampoo was all that occupied your senses, as she laid in your arms, softly snoring halfway into the film. With a small grin attached to your face, you whispered a I told you so into her hair and pulled the blanket further to keep her warm.

When the credits began to roll, she finally stirred again, and mumbled, “That was a good film. I liked it.”

You decided to keep her secrets to yourself, and wiped away the little bit of drool on her chin. “Me too.”

Natasha took a little longer to regain her surroundings, as you got up to start on lunch. But even as her stomach rumbled, she had to control herself from the nausea that washed through her as she watched you begin chopping the vegetables.

You noticed her watching, and paused for a minute. “Yes, Nat?”

But Natasha didn’t want to pose as a bother. “Nothing. I’m hungry too.”

However, when the final plate was served in front of her and you were busy with the garnishes, the nausea returned, and you saw her physically recoil to prevent herself from retching this time. Slightly offended, you had pulled the plate back, but Natasha refused to let you do so.

“It’s–” You had moved to look for something else for her, but Natasha knew she was wasting your efforts if she let up.

“No, I’ll eat it, I just…” she took a moment to gather herself, “...I’ll be fine.”

But when even a few bites proved difficult for her, she was grateful that you took the plate away this time, sitting down by her side to rub her back. “Nat, tell me what’s wrong.”

Shamefully, she hid her face in your shoulder, and finally mumbled, “I want mac and cheese. Baby too.”

She had expected you to let out an irritated sigh, or even lecture her on wasting food and opting for something unhealthy that she would never crave for in the compound, but instead, you let out a soft chuckle, and kissed her cheek.

“You’re not mad?” She asked, a little surprised.

“No, why would I be?” You replied, getting up to find the car keys. “But you should’ve said it earlier, my love. Now you’re hungry and it’s a little bit of a drive away to the grocery store.”

But Natasha was more than happy to follow, despite your protests for her to rest at home, and with the both of you poring over the mac and cheese box options in the grocery store, the butterflies in her stomach felt like they were going to explode each time your hand brushed over hers in reassurance.

–

But life was never so fair, or smooth sailing. Life in the cabin had not been a magic solution to yours and Natasha’s problems, and you were growing weary of said problems being carried over wherever you went, too.

The first strike had been on one of the busiest nights for SHIELD Intelligence. One of the sectors had been compromised, everyone was working overtime to recover any lost intelligence, and of all things you struggled with, the shitty internet connection was your biggest obstacle.

Your calls with Maria and the team back at the compound were choppy, your emails were not sending through, and the frustration was creeping in. You had been cooped up in the study for the better part of the day, and Natasha had been left out of every single meeting because Maria had simply wanted her to rest.

So of course you had your wife breathing down your neck as well, asking for updates every hour on the team’s progress. But even as a workaholic as she is, Natasha thought it was more than reasonable to think you were working too much; at breakfast you had received your first call from Fury, then at lunch you skipped eating with her to fix a bug in the team’s code, and even at dinner, when she wanted to finally have a proper conversation with you about her day, you were on a conference call with Maria again.

By one in the morning, where you were sending emergency emails for backup, Natasha entered your study again, in a nightgown that was just a little too revealing and light makeup to coax you to bed, but you did not spare one look at her as you shrugged her off with, “Not now, Nat.”

“You’re working too much,” she tried to drape her body over yours, but you only reclined the seat and pushed her off gently. “Feels like you disappeared all day today.”

“Yeah, well, Maria’s gotten me on a tight leash,” you replied, ignoring her sighing and standing back at the door, “I’ll be lucky if we can even get this done by the morning.”

Natasha called out your name once, then twice, and by the third, you snapped with, “Busy, Nat! Please! Would you go away, or go to sleep first? I can’t concentrate with you hovering over me!”

You only realised the severity of your words a few seconds after it left your mouth, as you then looked up at Natasha, who had tears in her eyes, and a warm cup of tea fixed for you, standing by the doorway again. Guilt needled into your heart, but she was already retreating to the bedroom by the time you tried to stand.

“Wait, Nat–”

“–Save it. I’m going to bed.” Her tone cold and unnerving, you would have almost missed the sniffle in her voice. Sighing, you returned to the call with Maria while Natasha beat herself up for letting her usually well-concealed emotions appear in front of you. Her and her stupid hormones.

But the guilt never really went away, and your focus never returned for the night. Whatever the chief of security was rambling about suddenly didn’t make sense, your emails were only piling higher and higher, and Maria knew the moment you started another call with her barely an hour later of what you were going to ask of her.

“I have to go, Maria, I’m sorry. I’ll finish this tomorrow.”

“No, no,” Maria tried reasoning, but you were already shutting down your computer, “If you leave us now, I am never going to forgive you, Agent!”

But her threats fell on deaf ears, as you quickly muttered another apology, and ended the call. Leaving your phone in the study to beep the entire night, you knew you were placing more trust in Maria and the team’s abilities than before you left for the cabin, and you knew somewhere along the line, your mind had made up of the shift in priorities, too.

Natasha felt your arms underneath her sleeping figure soon after, and at the expense of Maria’s wrath in the morning, you slid in bed with her. She tried pushing you away, but her body worked against her as she practically melted into you while you whispered murmurs of apology into her skin. You were upset, and had thought her reaction was a little unwarranted, but chose not to speak of it.

She won this time.

–

The second strike came a week after the first. The compromise had spread to other areas of SHIELD as well, and while you tried as best as you could to help out from the cabin, you knew you had to prioritise Natasha and the baby as well.

Without much space for creativity or freedom to invent new recipes, you knew you had been preparing the same repetition of healthier, simpler meals for Natasha. And while she had never been a picky eater, pregnancy had drastically shifted her palate and tastes for food.

So when she found you cooking a variation of whatever vegetable, stock, and rice you had left in the fridge for the third day in a row, she thought it was more than fair to turn up her nose and let out a I’m tired of that to you.

But the nearest diner and pizza places were over an hour away, and you did not like Natasha eating so many of the mac and cheese boxes she had bought in bulk so often. So you replied with a, “It’s all we have, we’d have to make do for the rest of the week, I think.”

You didn’t miss the groan in her throat as she threw her hands in the air, before throwing herself onto the sofa. “Then I’m not eating. I can’t stomach that.”

“Natasha, don't be childish.” You reasoned, “You can’t not eat.”

You were met with a middle finger in the air then, and while you would have usually let it go, attribute it to pregnancy side effects and whatever that came along with it, you were tired, and hung out dry from work. And a middle finger in the air from the one person you were stuck with, who seemed like they had a problem with almost everything you did, was too much for you then.

“Fine. Then don’t.” You switched off the stove, and threw the ingredients into the trash before retreating to the study to finish more work. You could tell Natasha was caught off-guard with your reaction, but she didn’t want to back down, and she was already pissed too.

She left for a nap to quell the growling of her stomach later on, still holding out against you and not giving in. Somewhere along the line, she heard the front door click and you stepping out, but thought nothing of it; you were probably out for a run, or checking on the garden outside, and she was not risking the comfortable position she finally found to question you what you were doing at nearly twelve midnight.

But when the rumbling of her stomach became too hard to ignore later on, Natasha had no choice but to leave the safety and comfort of the bed to forage for food downstairs. She could already imagine the bare ingredients left in the fridge, nothing salvageable and she had to grovel at you to make her something at least edible for her in the end.

But you were downstairs this time, watching the television, and when her eyes met yours, you pointed towards the dining table; where the table was set out with an overwhelming number of takeout boxes from her favourite Chinese place at the edge of town. She had mentioned it to you as a craving offhandedly the previous night, but Natasha would never have imagined you would take her seriously, considering how long it would take to get there and back.

Her heart fell to her stomach, and apologies were about to tumble out of her lips when you stood up, and led her to sit at the dining chair.

“I wanted to wake you from your nap, but I figured waiting for you would be safer,” you gave her a small smile, ladleing hot and sour soup for her, “And I got new groceries and a recipe book. Hopefully tomorrow we’ll have better lunches and dinners. Sorry about today, love.”

Tears welled in her eyes again, but this time, Natasha swallowed them back down to crash her lips against yours in gratefulness.

Your guilt always got the best of you. She won again.

–

The third strike, however, did not end up with you giving in so easily, and forever shifted the dynamic in your relationship.

It had been the end of the very exhausting episode of finally fixing the compromised SHIELD Intelligence sectors, and Maria and the team had asked you out to celebrate. You were wary of leaving behind Natasha all alone in the cabin, and even more afraid of bringing the invitation up to her, but Maria was persistent about you enjoying yourself for just one night. And in truth, you did want to go.

Natasha was reluctant to let you go, but even Clint and the rest of the team’s advice about cutting you some slack, not keeping you on such a tight leash rang back through her, and eventually, she agreed. You caught the doubt on her face as you were getting ready, and you knew she wanted to say something, anything, to try to convince you not to go, to just stay home with her and watch another round of Netflix series, but you knew you had to do at least one thing without her in this journey. It was only healthy to let her be alone once in a while.

With a kiss to her forehead and a promise to be home by midnight, you left Natasha standing on the porch then, the light washing the night and her figure with honey.

–

Maria did always take her celebrations quite seriously, however. With wine and good conversations flowing into the night, it was easy to forget about the promise you had made to make it back by twelve for Natasha. By the time you even left the restaurant, it was half past midnight, and the team was already making fun of you for leaving earlier than they all were.

“Romanoff’s never been an easy one to deal with, huh?” One of the agents piped up, meeting with a resounding agreement and laughter from the rest of the team. “Hard-headed on the job, even more hard-headed in bed, Agent.”

You flipped him off then, the hint of a grin on your face now only customary. “You know how she is, Ward. Leave her be.”

“Hey, I’m not the one stupid enough to marry her,” he shot back, “She’s crazy, and not the good kind. If I had your patience, and your looks, Agent, I know Romanoff’s the furthest thing I would touch with a stick; would’ve bagged a dumb supermodel, at least. Though now, you did kind of strike gold in the looks department, huh? That hourglass figure sculpted by nothing the KGB could beat out of her.”

Maria had elbowed him in the ribs, hard, but you could only give back a sad smile and begin to walk away. “That’s…my wife for you.”

Before another round of jibes and remarks were thrown towards your wife, the cab you had ordered arrived, and as you got in and said your goodbyes to the team you had not seen for months, you couldn’t help but repeat Ward’s insensitivity in your head over and over again, all throughout the drive home.

–

By the time you walked into the door, it was already nearing two in the morning, and you didn’t need Natasha’s murderous glare to know you had left her worried, and scared, that you were not coming home.

“I know, I know,” you sighed, struggling to take off your shoes, “I’m a little late. And a little tipsy. Sorry.”

You wanted to get it over and done with quickly, so you could head off to bed and avoid the fight rumbling altogether. But Natasha had other plans.

“Nearly two hours late,” she corrected, then, “What were you guys doing outside?”

“Dinner, drinks, the usual. I was with Maria, Ward, Coulson, the usual.”

Natasha cringed at the mention of Ward, and you knew you hit a sore point with her. “What did you guys talk about?”

“Nat…” you shook your head, “...Boundaries, remember?”

“Just…you know how Ward is. Did he say anything about me to you?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard of.” The wine was returning to your bloodstream, as you struggled to make it past the couch in a straight line.

But Natasha blocked your path altogether. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You gave her an incredulous look, eyebrows furrowed, before sighing. “It means…Ward is Ward. He is always going to make uncalled for jokes, comments, and this has been him since our Academy days. I’ve learnt to just ignore it, and you should too.”

“But you listen to him, don’t you? And you let his words get to you sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” you agreed, “But I forget it quickly after. Nothing that comes out of his mouth when he’s had alcohol is of value, anyway.”

“Do you agree with him in those cases, then?” Natasha backed away, her tone accusatory.

You frowned, shaking your head, until the woman let it slip that Maria had informed her of what Ward said, along with the updates on where you were for the night. You cursed internally, reminding yourself to scold Maria later, when Natasha continued with, “Do you regret marrying me, darling?”

Taken aback as you were, you refused to let Natasha’s insecurities get the best of her tonight. Standing up to walk past her again, you replied with, “What are you talking about, Nat? I’m going to get some work done, you should go to bed. It’s late.”

“Do you spend time with people like Ward, and all those other assholes you used to buddy up in the Academy, because you can’t stand to be around me? Literally anybody else but me seems to make you happier to be around these days.”

You didn’t like where the conversation was going, and even more the accusations she was spilling out. It was unfair, and wrong, and all the things you did not want to deal with tonight. “You’re my wife, Natasha. Of course I’m happy to spend time with you. Jesus, I leave for one night and you come and accuse me of things I never am, it’s ridiculous! I’m going to the study, don’t wait up for me in bed. We have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

–

You told yourself to forget about it; to get over yourself and your ego, to forgive Natasha, and talk to her about it in the morning. If it was something she was insecure about, she would raise her concerns then, when the both of you were calmer, and more ready to hear each other out. But perhaps you had had enough, or you were mad at something beyond Natasha's control; either way, the more time you spent stewing, and thinking, in that study, the more you couldn’t concentrate on your work and the more you got angry at your wife’s persistence and jealousy.

Why couldn’t she be better? Why couldn’t Natasha be easier to love? Why did everyone make her out to be such a good person, such a victim, and paint you as the evil one for wanting better? Mostly, you were upset that nobody even bothered to consider things from your point of view. It was always take care of her, don’t hurt her even further, or even you should know better than to treat her like this, as if five years of marriage would magically fix every problem the two of you would encounter, as if you could just give in to everything because she was Natasha and she was always right.

Your eyes drifted to the framed photo of the full team after one particularly difficult mission, where everyone was nearly knocked out and all ready to go home to rest for the next week or so. Yet, there were triumphant smiles, fists pumped into the air in excitement to go home. Natasha was beside a still-optimistic Steve, while you were a few people down beside Tony with…Wanda draped over you.

You remembered it was the mission where she had the bullet graze on her hip. It had become difficult for her to stand by then, but she was still insisting to be in the picture before you could rush her for medical attention. So the best she could do was lean on you for support, her body draped over yours as she gave you a dopey grin, while you smiled at the camera. The end result was her eyes focused on your face, instead of the camera in front, but it was still one of your favourite photographs you had.

A deep, ugly feeling rose in you then. Why was Wanda the only one able to see you for who you were? Why was she the only one willing to listen to you, to hear you out on things, and let you come home even after all that you’ve done? Why couldn’t you love her instead? It was so late, almost four in the morning, but you managed to bang your head against the wall behind with minimal noise, and stood up to do what you were sure you were going to regret in the morning.

Your phone was still by the kitchen counter, and Wanda’s number was memorised by heart. But right as you punched in her number, pressed the call button, the anger, the vengeance, dissipated. This was low, even for you, you recognised.

Your heart began to thump slowly at what you’ve done. The phone rang once, twice, and by the third, you tried to look away from it, turning around to the living room to distract yourself, when the sight that greeted you made you feel only a million times worse.

Natasha was asleep on the sofa, feet propped up on the armrests, head lolling to the side as she snored softly. One of her hands was dangling in the air, while the other…the other rested over her stomach, where even under the lowlights of the small lamp by the reading corner, you saw it for the first time. Her stomach had rounded out ever so slightly, and a bump had finally formed.

You were sure the tears that sprang to your eyes were the most confusing mix of angry, disappointed, yet happy tears ever, and in the silence of the cabin, far away from anyone else, you had wanted to scream. Why you were put in one of the worst dilemmas of your life, why you, of all people, had to be the one to go through this, you were more angry at yourself than anyone else by then. Natasha was carrying your child, a blessing you had been hoping for for ages, and you were considering leaving her right then.

“Hello?” It was Wanda’s voice through your phone that broke you out of your trance. She sounded sleepy, and tired, but you caught the twinge of optimism that she greeted you with as well.

Your throat was too choked up to answer her. You were sure that if you had opened your mouth, everything would change. Nothing would be the same ever again, and you were going to lose everything you ever loved for the past five years.

You couldn’t do it. So when Wanda called out your name, prompted a second hello, you ignored how good it felt to hear her voice, and hung up the call immediately.

a/n: PART 3! PART 3! SOON!

#natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #black widow x reader #scarlet witch x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #black widow #scarlet witch #marvel cinematic universe #is there someone else #natasha romanoff x spidey!reader

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victoria-grimesss · 8 months

Text

tear you apart - part VI

masterlist

->Pairing: König x fem!reader

->Words: 2.8k

->Warning: probably wrong military terms/methods, hurt, angst, mention of wounds, blood, fluff at the end.

->A/N: L/N = last name, also I depict König as an older guy, he takes off his mask in this part so feel free to imagine him differently if my description is not what you want. :)

You double and triple check your ammo, ensuring and memorizing just how much you have, knives strapped to you, your usual gear as well.

The chopper is pumping with adrenaline, you could feel it in the air like electric shocks.

You sit across from König, he's clad in all his gear and is talking with the captain about routes.

You’ve chatted with some of the others on the ride over and you learned they’re also highly experienced.

“You ready? Think you can keep up?”

Another soldier teases you and you laugh nudging him with your shoulder as you go over the plan again.

We drop on the northeast of enemy territory.

König splits the team in two for the two buildings to search.

You and the captain lead a stealth operation on the first building that is supposed to have the hard drives in it.

König and the others will enter the other building and make a distraction, deter the enemies from your building to give you ample time to extract the data.

You’re not nervous, not one bit. But your eyes drift to König and he gives you a wink before returning to the captain.

Your only worry is losing him and that scares the hell out of you.

Never had you had someone on your shoulder, gnawing at the back of your head. Someone you love so much you would die for them.

You’re scared to lose König, but he’s a strong guy. One bullet couldn't bring him down, the scars on his chest prove that.

König stands, the red overhead light paints him like a God, built like one and ready to tear down whatever comes in his way.

“We are approaching the drop point, we will exit northeast and make our way toward enemy lines. I expect all of you to follow the directions given and follow either mine or the captain's orders when directed, do I make myself clear.”

A resounding yes sir echoes the body of the cabin.

“You will radio if anything changes or if you need assistance, we enter this as a team and we leave as one too.”

König looks at you as he speaks to the room but he wants to make sure you hear every word he says.

“These people will not hesitate to kill you or capture you, their torture methods are not pleasant so shoot to kill.”

We approach the ground and your heart races, like before a big test.

The group exits quickly as soon as we land and the chopper takes off to avoid fire or drawing attention to the group.

“Will the enemy group know of our arrival?” Someone asks the captain as they readjust their straps.

“No. They have a supply drop in the area and at the same time they won’t think anything.”

You all trudge along, König at the front you close behind and the others behind you with the captain at the back.

König seems like he carries the world on his shoulders on the field and he kinda does.

He has a large gun in his arms with a sniper on his back, full gear makes him look otherworldly and broad as all hell.

His head is on a swivel and you scan the surroundings, the sunset casting dark shadows across the landscape and you think of the last time you and König were together when the sun was setting.

Dust kicks up behind the group and long sets of footprints scatter the ground.

It’s only the sound of boots on the ground, carabiners catching on metal, and gloves readjusting on guns.

The walk is lengthy and you keep up next to König’s paces, the group keeps close and you all keep a lookout.

We’ll go back to my place after this promise.

You made him promise you something, to help your morale you said, he had laughed.

“We’re approaching the split point, everyone stay on their tasks and we’ll be back to the evac in no time.”

You and König exchange a nod and you stay back to stick with your captain and your smaller group.

The dirt road splits, a lightning struck tree split down the middle is your marker and the two groups split. König’s back is to you and your heart aches the slightest before turning back and returning to your group

Go in quietly and get out.

You round the first corner of the building, heavy tree cover aiding you nicely.

Cold shadows move around you and you keep looking out.

“L/N, enter the upstairs window and move down the hall, take out who you can. We’ll sweep over the bottom floor and move upwards, most combatants will be downstairs.”

Your captain boosts you up to the side railing and you scale it and enter through the window, entering a dusty supply closet. The dust and spores are visible in the air.

“L/N, have you entered the building?”

Your captain questions.

“Affirmative, exiting the closet and beginning a sweep. Will move left down the hall.”

You reply, you stay low, bringing a silenced pistol out and opening the door.

You encounter the first couple enemies and you take them out silently, you hear the coms spark to life again, König’s team has breached the building and the commotion from there stirs this building to life.

You hear the enemies roaring to life talking about an ambush and you move a little bit faster.

“L/N, have you breached the room yet?”

“I’m approaching, standby.”

The hallway is dimly lit, dusty, and heavily rundown.

You open the door and the room is expansive and large crates block the room's view.

“Breached the room, searching for the computer towers.”

“Copy, stay alert L/N firefight sounds heavy on the other side.”

For a brief moment you wonder if König is okay. Heavy firefight but he’s capable.

You make your way to the tower and dig the USB out of your chest pocket.

“Room is empty, no sight of activity lately.”

You hear a response from your captain and you listen quietly to König’s team's chatter.

They take down enemies quickly, König reporting a majority of the kills.

“USB, inserted. Hacking through the firewall and transferring the files.”

You don’t hear any response.

It’s quiet.

Then the room shakes and you hear a bang, then a flash.

“Shit.”

You move behind a crate but still close enough to the computer to see the progress.

The coms crack

“L/N, copy?- Get out, ambu- large scale, -bad intel.”

Your captain's voice is choppy but you get the idea, bad intel and an ambush great, a taste of what you’re supposed to be giving the enemy.

You cough as the smoke clears the room and you drop lower, the coms are frequent with reports about where the ambush came from the who might have tipped them off.

Rapid gunfire is heard everywhere, you hear the team downstairs firing and the comms indicate the same in the other building.

You fire at the silhouettes that enter through the door you entered, they wear gear you’ve never seen.

You duck again as fire rains over you and you can’t forget about the USB, the whole reason you’re there.

“Fuck, fuck fuck.” You're frustrated but not discouraged.

You fire blindly back and you hear your captain call for rapid evac, inform HQ of the ambush and support is needed.

“L/N I need you out of that building.”

“Copy Colonel.”

It’s König and his tone is demanding, harsh.

“Evac out of the buildings now, we’re shooting our way out of this.”

You try to move from your current position to retrieve the USB but you’re nearly grazed by a bullet and move back into position.

“Requesting backup at my position, I’m under heavy fire. Whatever they have in these files it’s important and they don’t want us leaving with them.”

“Copy L/N, trying to move upstairs but heavy fire down here is deterring, try to get out any way possible.”

Your captain speaks, his voice strained.

The intel you received was right about one thing. This is the info you’re after but the enemy targets know damn well they're not going to let your team leave with it. The one thing no-one knew was that the targets were requesting more troops to their area and today, actually right now, is when they arrived.

The night offered good cover to your team, you could slip away into the trees with the data and leave.

Moonlight now streams through the boarded windows behind you, it’s so dark and you move, quickly retrieving the USB just as someone shoots the computer and it grazes your arm, leaving an angry red gash, sparks from the computer fly everywhere, some rain onto you like a mist.

You manage to shoot a few combatants and you rain fire upon them and book it across the room aiming towards the side room which leads to a stairwell and backdoor.

You’re inches from the door when someone rams into you from the side knocking you back, the air is dislodged from you and you scramble to gain the upperhand.

It’s a larger man on-top of you, eyes narrow and eyebrows furrowed.

“L/N, do you copy?”

König doesn't sound patient.

L/N, do you copy?!”

He’s frantic now as the man above you gains the upper hand and wraps his hands around your throat. You reach for your knife and stab him in the thigh, he falters and you’re able to get a hit in to his cheekbone.

You crawl to your gun that had slipped from your grasp but the man gains his strength back and pulls you by your leg away from the gun.

“Can you just fuck off?!”

You yell at him, you kick him in the stomach but he straddles you again, wrapping his hands heavily around your throat, König is yelling for you in the coms, he demands a response from you.

—

His gun is putting down enemies faster than ever, he tears through people with the ease of tissue paper.

Dust flies through the air with the way the bodies hit the ground.

“We move to that building now, get over there now!”

He demands and they're rounding the building, the door to the back is barricaded from the inside and he kicks it right in the center of the double doors and it flies open with ease.

He’s laser focused and his mind is only on finding you.

For someone so big his steps are quiet, he rushes through the building dropping enemies like they're nothing.

The stairs in the back creak under his and the other members feet, they scale them quickly and he slams the door open.

The team guns down all the enemies and he sees you in the back of the room, his eyes are locked onto the man above you and he’s felt no rage as hot and acidic like this.

He would love to tie this man to a chair and make him wish for death each day.

His hands grasp the man's neck and he tears him off of you and you gasp for air, regaining your composure.

The man's eyes go wide at the sight of him, like many do.

König grips his neck and leg as he raises him above him, he drops him hard onto his knee and the sound of the man's spine breaking cleanly is heard in the room.

König is on you next, he holds you so close you think your spine might break too.

One hand is in your hair, he smells it deeply and you can hear how his breathing shakes.

“I’m okay.”

“I know, I know liebling.”

He helps you up, you and the rest of the team make your sweep through the rest of the building taking out whomever is left. König has the most precision you’ve ever seen, his marks never miss and he keeps you close to him.

König and the captain meet up and your team takes a moment to call for evac, one of the other members took a bullet in the process and you help him wrap it and you take that time to wrap your arm as well. König watches you carefully, he cursed himself for letting you get hurt as you did, whoever gave the intel is going to hear from him, none of the words he will share with them will be kind.

Your team moves through the woods quietly, the creatures of the night stirring with your movements. Moonlight is your guide and the chopper lands down on a fire burnt hilltop where you finally get to leave.

—

The ride back is silent, it always is. No-one was expecting such a firefight but there were no casualties on your side and for that you are all thankful.

The captain applauds everyone's works, you hand over the flashdrive to König for safe keeping, he’ll send it over to the intelligence department once you all get back to decrypt the text. But for now you are resting your head on his shoulder and he’s content you can find sleep.

—

When you are back to base you deflate in the medical unit, you let them check you over and they clean your graze wound. You wince a bit but you’re just happy to feel the pain, that was a close call but the way König fought ignites a weird primal part of you that loves that he protected you so.

König told you he had to speak with someone when you got back, he left you with a light push towards the medical wing and now that you’re done you just want to get the grime off your skin and sleep.

His room smells like a mixture of the two of you now. His cologne and your shampoo in his bed make you drowsy but you strip off your gear, setting it on the dresser and slowly strip in the bathroom. You look over the bruises and the wrapping on your arm, the water is hot when you enter and it eases your muscles.

“Liebling?”

“In the shower my love.”

Your heart flutters with him being nearby. He entered the bathroom after shedding all his heavy gear.

“I’ll only be a little longer then the shower is all yours all-right?”

“I was thinking we can shower together.”

“With your hood on? Won’t it get all soggy?”

You giggle at the thought of him naked except for his hood which is dripping wet and I would assume that would feel like being waterboarded.

“I will join you without it.”

You hear beats faster.

“König- you don’t have to. I mean if you're not ready.”

“I could not be more prepared. I almost lost you today and I want to share my whole being with you, if you would let me.”

“Of course.”

You smile sweetly and you watch in the fogged glass of the shower door as he discards his clothes, his skin becoming more visible. His hood is last and you see a blurred version of him.

The shower door opens and he steps in, he hangs his head to get under the water, you step aside and admire him.

The way his short hair blends into his stubble, the eye paint bleeds down his face from the steam now. His lashes are dotted with water droplets and in here his eyes are ever bluer. His nose is sharp, broken and healed again so it’s slightly askew. A scar traces from his eyebrow into his hairline, another one kisses the top of his lip. He has lines on the outer corner of his eyes, and his forehead is scattered with a few as well. A marker of his life lived.

Your eyes draw down and look him over completely as a whole now.

“You’re gorgeous König.”

You breathe it and your hands place themselves at his abdomen before drawing up to his shoulders then bringing his head down to yours, you kiss slowly under the water.

“Thank you liebling, I- I am happy to be able to share all of you with me. It is like a weight being lifted off my shoulders.”

He kisses you softly and you smile, you shower together slowly.

He shampoos your hair and you do his, he has to lean down quite a bit and you laugh telling him you’ll need a shower stool if you are both to continue showing together.

You wash each other's bodies and take care in washing the gunpowder and using gentle hands over the blooming new bruises.

He kisses your neck where the assailant left his mark, he holds you sweetly with the same hands he used to kill that man.

Your fingers are pruney when you both leave the shower and stand side by side brushing your teeth, the view in the mirror being something you both want to see for a long long time.

—

Tag List: @theredviolets , @saint-chlorine , @cndy-l0v3

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leidensygdom · 8 days

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ENNU EPILOGUE RECAP!!

OKay! So, our campaign ended! Yesterday was the 81 session, and last one of it- Our DM did a wonderful job at running it. We basically got to ask them for the scenes we'd like to see, and the session was built around that. It's been three years, so it was wild to see it come to an end! Here's a recap tho (a lil bit more focused on my blorbos since they're the ones you know)

The epilogue happened two years after the campaign's end, with a couple of flashbacks going some time back

First scene was welcoming Blasma (one of the party members), who had been on a trip all this time to heal her soul at her grandpa's dubious laboratory. She's pretty okay currently- if we ignore soul healing is something theoretically impossible. Probably many questionable things happened there. Osten traveled with her to make sure she was doing okay

Next scene was her welcoming party. A bunch of shenanigans happened. Yxala tried so play cool aunt, got her a motorbike. They ended in somewhat odd terms and my girl was trying so bad to get her trust again

Pulsar and Tephra- each polycule's kids- appeared to be overall terribly adorable. Yxala talked a lot about her Sweet Potato. Tephra is Yxala and Relé's biological kiddo (as evidenced by the branched horns), 6 months old, and just one of these big hefty babies who is starting to munch on everything (here's a token of baby her, and what she's like grown up!)

we also got to see the closure of Mythannae, Yden and Jorven's polycule! Myth and Yden recovered their enchanted clothing business. They specialize in magical clothing adapted to specific needs- Like fireproof clothing for fire genasi, helmets with bag-of-holding like pockets so you can put them on with horns, that stuff. Jorven has now been working on music again. (For context, Myth was my previous character before I switched for Yxala!)

Blasma's player also had an epilogue for his previous character- she's a tired old lady, who is now joining another tired old lady to get in politics. An improvement, given they were cops before that

Centi got to resurrect the weird celestial wife of an old teacher of hers- Who had been snatched up by Sol Ascensus and transformed into a monster. I can't wait to show Niereva to y'all tho, she's a bit of a weird aminal (a mantis/naga-like aasimar)

She may have done a fucked up pact with a psychopomp tho-

We had Yxala's, Relent's and Uri's wedding, we knew that was coming! It took Urion a long while to recover from after the Deep Lab, and they still struggle a lot with that they did as The Onirist

We had a scene of Urion's recovery. Initially they didn't even want to come to terms with being Urion- They were The Onirist. Relé had a hard time forgiving them too, bc they DID hurt Relent a lot. Yxala was a bit more fine about it, even after having her heart carved out by them.

they're all going to therapy lol

There's actually a cult to The Onirist/Ataraxia now though! Some people loved the idea of a godly machine that could solve everyone's hurts and ailments, and they're asking for them to come back and fix the world. maybe the mind control microchips were fine, y'know

(uri isn't doing great about this)

We had the ceremony- Money and seeds are given to the partners as a sign of prosperity and life. They're gonna have a great garden.

The polycule drank (alcohol-free) wine imbued with each other's blood too bc ceremonies there go hard- (this one is seen as a bit more archaic)

And a major exchange between marrying partners is expected. They exchanged basses- They had them custom made many decades ago, with Urion's being based on clouds (after Relé), Relé's being based on fire (after Yxala), and Yxala's being based on bismuth crystals (after Uri's). Now Uri has the fiery bass, Relé has the bismuth one, and Yxala has the cloudy bass

Urion was the bassist for Demonwire, a group they were a part of with some other anarchist friends. This bass has a very long history and it's very significative. Yxala was a bit shocked.

After that, the wedding after-party took place. Blasma set a date with Osten- They didn't actually get romantically involved up until now (and it's probably gonna be very slow still gfhudhdgf)

I forgot to mention this but Urion and Relent are now involved with an organization to help the people who were affected by the Deep Lab and The Onirist's actions. Uri had a very awkward interview about it.

We had few other closure scenes here and there. Finding out two other npcs are marrying, the fact the weird undead guy somehow has a new kid, that stuff- and then we went onto the final one

Which was a concert by Demonwire. Urion played with them for the first time in 12 years, and gave an awkward speech, and it was super sweet and just a great point to end the campaign in!

With that, we're now set to go play the next campaign- Which will happen 8 years after this epilogue (ten years after the end of the major campaign events). I'm going to be playing Siegmund, one of Yxala's kids, and I'm very excited for that.

Yxala won't be doing any major stuff- She's gonna still go fight corpos in the streets and she's going back to the Mecha Derby (did y'all know she was a mecha pilot in a sports competition lmao. I'm working on her pilot fit, it's cool!). Urion is going to be back on Demonwire, mostly to raise funds for those hurt by The Onirist and Ataraxia, and will have a bigger role coming up- Specially given Siegmund's (and Vyxander, his twin) have a lot to do with that. Relent will also be doing some major stuff, but it will remain spoilery for a time. He's got some big things to handle!

I may have cried a bit at the end because it's been so long. I'm glad the characters won't be fully gone. Next campaign will have a lot more lore stuff to gush about- We're going to adventure outside the city, and meet people from all over the world. There's a country that uses souls in place of nuclear fission. It's gonna be wild! (And thank you for reading-)

#ennu #long post

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amitytaylor · 1 month

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I truly think the writing of MHA is superior. Full stop.

But why do i think so? Let’s get into a part of it. The bubbly atmosphere that hides the “ugly/evil/dark” and just how twisted this story truly is.

Let’s start with the doctor.

the fact that the doctor Garaki (a play on the name Shigaraki that was originally AFOs) says this

we see in Dabis flashbacks that they had MULTIPLE children they were grooming to be AFO heir.

Think about that again : the demon lord, a man who can live twice as long as another man (due to Garakis quirk) had this DOCTOR(who we know of as being a pediatrician bc of Izuku) KIDNAP CHILDREN AND HOLD THEM HOSTAGE TO CAPATALIZE ON THEIR TRAUMAS AND TURN THEM INTO A HOST BODY FOR AFO. They had a whole ass hide out where multiple children lived and were told to make it their own home. They didn’t even have names! CHILDREN!!!

That in an of itself, in reality in the modern world, is HORRIFIC! Imagine if today we learned that a pediatrician was kidnapping, grooming, and holding these children to make them “child soldiers” basically or an even better way to put it is toys for the powerful to do with as they please. WHAT THE FUCKING EVIL INCARNATE RIGHT?

NOW! think back to the two children that followed baby bakugo around and the wing quirk that was stolen. While simultaneously thinking about Kurogiri and the fact that Garaki was actually “hoping to get his hands on erasure” - so how did they get their hands on Kurogiri original body? Did they set up a situation where they knew one of the UA children who get hurt/killed and then waited to take advantage of the deceased?

I mean if we think about it, Giraki is quite literally ravaging these children’s bodies. VIOLATION ON EVERH LEVEL. and for what? for AFO? to get hands on quirks? for one person?

How far do you think they were willing to go to create the Nomu? If they are willing to use deceased children’s bodies who’s to say they hadn’t use live children’s bodies? ESPECIALLY BEFORE AFO WAS CAUGHT. WE SAW THEY USED LIVING ADULTS BEFORE?! is it that far of a stretch for them to try it on children? absolutely not.

MHA is dynamic. It’s about hope and friendship and love and family trauma and societal trauma and it’s also the most vile shit i’ve ever read. The way Bones studio portrays a bright blue sky is both irritating when not following the manga but also a HUGE FUCKING POINT! BECAUSE - we have all these amazing things we see, hero’s, quirks, friendship, family love, all the typical shonen stuff. That to me is the bright blue sky. WHILE COMPLETELY OVERRUNING THE FACT THAT ITS ALL BUILT ON BLOOD.

We know the big theme between Deku and Tenko is about the shit that’s pushed under the rug to make society livable for 75% of the population while 25% is left to suffer. (% is probably off). but if you really take a look at this theme and follow it along the path of the manga it’s TERRIFYING.

As a person who lives in the USA where our country is quite literally based in the suffering of the many for the luxury of the few it is CHILLING TO SAY THE LEAST.

NOT TO MENTION THAT AFO (if my theory he gave Tenko the quirk is correct) PREYED ON THE MOST VULNERABLE GROUP OF PEOPLE - THE QUIRKLESS AND CHILDREN

Izuku, Aoyama, and Tenko were all quirkless.

The writing makes it seem like it all just happened, but it didn’t. AFO meticulously planned every step out like he’s mentioned before but to AN UNNERVING ASS DEGREE BRO.

All For One needed a persons body who could still FEEL THINGS. BECAUSE HE CANT ANYMORE. or could ever? He has no real will of his own or real emotions or feelings. he is the true embodiment of “psychopath” (outdated term but helps to paint the picture)

I wouldn’t even think it’s a stretch to believe that AFO played a role in Kotaro abusing Tenko with what we just saw in the latest chapter. I mean they were like best friends? and it’s confirmed afo is the same person who dropped tenko off at home.

The sinister feeling of this manga as we continue to go forth is incredulous.

I didn’t even TOUCH ON the Dabi and AFO issue. I mean, how did he know Toya was on that peak? How did he know he would be there thst day? How did he know he would likely burn himself alive? How did he know about the abuse going on within the Todoroki family?

FUCK MY BRAIN THE CONNECTIONS ITS EVERYWHERE 😭

#mha #my hero acedamia #mha spoilers #bnha 418 #bnha #my brain will not shut up about mha #it’s actually painful i want to scream and cry and throw up

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skinnypaleangryperson · 6 months

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This scene is so intense-I can really feel the tension with what Prime is saying, the emotional climax of the devastation of the fact that this is all that Rick can do, and it's basically everything that has ever been between the both of them and their beliefs coming together. On the surface, it looks like Rick is finally winning, and he's getting what he wants, and Prime is the one that is getting himself ended because of what he did and what he believed.

But I think Prime is going down with this shit eating smile on his face because he knows that Rick can literally never get what he wanted and he's in profound psychological torment possibly for the rest of his life. What Rick was ended up with, not just after he kills Prime, but all these years before, is inherently a sign of that Rick lost and that Prime won, at least in terms of his spite that he has to Rick that he didn't choose power over family.

He satisfied, because he knows that he stowed Rick permanently away in a disorienting, devastating confusion of an incredibly unwanted compromise that someone less enduring of spirit would not be able to live with especially daily- away in the absolute worst position that he could be with his heart and what he wanted in life, which was literally just to be a husband and to be with his original family. Prime has an incredibly devastating hook over Rick; which is basically that Rick has no option but to take Prime's family, the version of himself that he absolutely detests the most, and has to pretend like it's a decent life to replace the one that he would have had with his original family. It's inherently devastating and insulting beyond belief for him to have to settle for the family of the man that he can't stand, that took away everything from his own self, almost like being forced to take whatever crumbs that he can get that's left over from Prime's maliciousness that didn't care about his family because he had his own taken away. it must be such a harrowing, empty feeling, to know that Rick does love the family that he settled for but also have this knowing in the back of his head and that he is under Prime's foot for the rest of his life, even long after Prime is dead, and that is the permanent power that he has over him, for as long as Rick wants anything that even remotely resembles a family life.

I think the worst part about the fact is that Rick knows this, or he seems to certainly at least feel it, and no amount of technical physical power is going to change that battle that he has to win inside himself, if they're even is any way to win a grief like that.

By the time he gets back to his family, I feel like it's this harrowing and devastatingly confusing combination of emotion that is his own personal hell. It's a confusing degree between wanting to love this family that he's already built an entire life of out of the past couple of years, maybe a decade at this point, knowing that to some degree that he does love them and he does care about them with this sickly version of what should have been the profound and sweet version and of the simple version that he would have given his own family-while at the have the same time having this profoundly lonely secret devastation that he has to carry around that he can't express anywhere that everything that Prime said was correct; that this isn't his family, that he has to learn how to live with that every minute of every day, that he still doesn't have his wife, his original family, and there's probably some infuriating disorienting devastation and anger, but more than that, depression, towards the family that he is with and that is muddled with the fondness that he's forced himself to find with them because even that would be better than the other contrast of having no family at all, which he was forced to be left with initially.

So he eats, he plays, he sits, he has conversations, but it fucking hurts every day, and it might never not hurt again.

#I only take media this seriously for men that I'm in love with #rick and morty #lol #rick sanchez #I also think that he's an astoundingly good portrayal of depression #I don't know why #just something about the way that he is

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borathae · 2 years

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↳ Index [Day 16 - Oil Massages]

Pairing: Good Boy!Hoseok x GFD!Reader

Kinks: sensual love making, a sexy massage, Hoseok’s hands, oil, praise, puppy play, a lil bit of teasing, thigh fucking, naked grinding, vaginal penetrative sex, creampie, cockwarming, cuddly aftercare

Wordcount: 4k

a/n: only one person wanted subby!Hobi and I am here to deliver because :( this affected me deeply btw the panties scene is now burned into my memories fandfna enjoy besties 🤍

You didn’t have the best day today. It wasn’t a truly terrible day or a horrible one, but it was still not good and left you just that tiny bit moody. Said mood was instantly lifted by your long-term boyfriend and bestest friend Hoseok, who not only came home with your favourite food but also offered an open ear to rant to.

The food has long been finished and the rant has long stopped, but your little evening date with Hoseok is still going strong. The television is running in the background, but you aren’t watching. Face buried in a pillow and tummy first, you are lying on the makeshift massage table Hoseok built out of your sofa. The latter is busy with oiling up your back, having his hair in a messy bun to make sure it doesn’t accidentally poke him into his eyes. The oil is warm on your skin as he heated it just slightly to make it even more relaxing. It smells like vanilla and almonds, lulling you into such a nice state of relaxation.

You shiver as it hits your skin, feeling goosebumps cover you instantly.

“How’s the temperature?” he asks, pouring the oil along your spine.

“So good, very cozy”, you answer him, already feeling so much more relaxed and he hasn’t even started yet.

“That’s good to hear. Tell me if I should change something”, he says and puts the now empty bowl aside. He places his palms on your back to spread the oil in slow circular motions, using his entire palms for it.

You sigh happily, closing your eyes. Now it finally starts, you can finally relax. His hands feel so soft on your skin. Hoseok has always had the softest hands ever. Delicate, strong and so, so soft. He says that it is because of all the moisturiser he uses and you honestly believe him. Hoseok uses hand cream religiously. You sometimes even have to chuckle at him when he spends minutes rubbing his own hands together before bed, teasing him that it makes him look like a cute fly. Hoseok always chuckles when that happens and makes little buzzing sounds to elicit another chuckle from you.

“Is there a part which hurts the most?” he asks you, hands lingering on your lower back for now.

“Like everywhere?”

He chuckles, “okay, I’ll make sure to get everything”, he says and begins his massage at your upper back on your shoulder area.

He uses his thumbs for it, digging them into you in slow circular patterns.

“Oh that’s nice, that’s really nice”, you sigh, melting in relaxation.

Your boyfriend really knows how to use his fingers. In more ways than one, but let's not dwell on that horny thought for too long. Hoseok however, really knows how to give massages. You learned this during your first month with him when you had a terrible tight neck and he managed to massage it well again. Ever since then, it has become tradition that he massages you on your bad days and in return you massage him on his bad days. It relaxes you greatly and strengthens the bond between your hearts so very much.

Hoseok guides his touches from your shoulders closer to your spine, changing the circles for movements up and down on each side of your vertebrae, chasing all those tension points right out of your muscles.

“That's so nice there. Keep going”, you encourage him and sigh happily.

Hoseok loves this. He loves pampering you and touching you. Hoseok is so goddamn obsessed with the way your body fits under his hands and the softness of your skin against his fingertips. You probably think that he massages you to serve you, but he must admit that it has more selfish reasons too as he soaks up those moments like a dry sponge. Hoseok seriously loves touching you, feeling his heart flutter in his chest now that he is doing it again.

“You are really beautiful”, he says softly.

“Gosh, thank you. You are so sweet”, you say with a racing heart.

“No but, I mean it”, he insists, “you are so beautiful. Every inch of you. I love how this part looks”, he says, tracing the soft spot where your shoulder blade stops. He touches both sides, dancing his thumb over it repeatedly.

“And this part”, he says, moving on to massage the middle of your back, “it's so perfect”, he whispers with his voice shaky in awe. He uses all of his fingers for the massage, drawing patterns on your back while his eyes race over your body obsessively.

“You're the cutest”, you whisper, feeling so good. Both physically and emotionally. Hoseok makes you feel so beautiful.

The parts on your lower back make you groan just slightly and so Hoseok softens his touch, eyes flitting up to look at your face. Your cheek is squished against the pillow and your eyes are closed. He looks back at your body, putting more strength into his touches again. Another groan rumbles in your throat.

“Am I too rough?” he makes sure.

“No, it’s so nice. Sorry I know I make weird sounds”, you mumble and chuckle.

“It’s fine, I’m just always scared that I hurt you”, he says, tracing the spot right above your tailbone. The latter is currently hidden behind the hem of your sweats.

“You don’t, just keep going puppy”, you encourage him, “love what you’re doing so much.”

Hoseok feels himself….shift desperately at your words. He knows that what he is doing right now isn’t inherently sexy and your answers aren’t meant to be sexual, but he still feels affected by it. Your little groans and moans make his stomach tingle and the way your back seems to tense and relax each time he touches a new spot mesmerises him greatly.

He feels like such a dirty man, thirsting over you when you are trying to relax, but he can’t help himself. He thinks that you are so beautiful and all he wants to be is to be close to you.

“That’s nice, so nice”, you groan and wiggle your hips.

Hoseok gulps, letting his gaze flit down to your butt. The fabric of your sweats is stretching around it just slightly, making it appear so round and sexy. Hoseok truly has to fight every urge inside him not to reach down there and cup it. Not only because it would leave two oily handprints on your clothes, but also because you never gave him permission to touch you that way.

Hoseok breaks his eyes away, looking at your back instead. He climbs on top of your legs and uses the new position to glide his fingers from your lower back up to your shoulders. He uses some of his weight for it to really deepen the touch. You react with a sigh of his name and a content purr, lips curling into a little smile.

He lingers on your shoulders, holding them between his fingers and massaging them almost vigorously. His head he keeps lowered right above your face, eyes racing over your features obsessively. You are so pretty. Oh, how he wants to kiss you. Maybe he dares to steal just one.

You giggle, peeling your eyes open just to glance at him fondly. He just kissed the corner of your lips, now looking at you with slightly widened and shy eyes.

“Well, hello there”, you say in a chuckle.

“H-hey”, he whispers.

“Is that a new massage technique?” you tease, making Hoseok lower his gaze shyly.

“I'm horny”, he confesses, making you laugh.

“Awww poor puppy, he's horny”, you coo, bending your elbow to play with his soft baby hair at the nape of his neck, “you’re one special massage therapist aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it. You’re so sexy”, he whispers, blushing like crazy.

“And what should I do about it, mhm?”

“Can I maybe get off?”

“Get off?”

He nods his head, “please? I’ll get you off too” he whispers almost inaudibly, pouting cutely.

Here he is with his big puppy eyes and his hard bulge rubbing into your butt and his fumbly, oil covered hands restless on your shoulders. He looks so adorable that you truly can’t say no.

“Of course you can. Use my thighs for it”, you order, making Hoseok moan even without touching him.

“R-really?” he asks, rolling his hips into your butt without even noticing that he does it. It makes you crave so much more. His cock is so hard already and his touch makes you so wet. You want him. Want him so bad.

“Yes. Go ahead. Undress me”, you order, settling back into the pillow with closed eyes.

Hoseok works quickly. He pulls your sweats down, throwing them on the ground. Then he reaches for your panties, hesitating for just a second. You feel the touch, lifting your hips.

“Yes puppy, those too. And be a good boy, do it properly.”

Hoseok merely gives you a little bark, climbing down your body to take your panties between his teeth. He tugs them down carefully, wiggling his hips and whimpering softly as he does. He feels so dizzy from this simple act, the desire to serve you oh so well, feels unbearable in his chest.

Once your panties are off, Hoseok climbs up the couch until he can place them next to your hand. He sits back down on his heels, looking at you with sparkly eyes and his hands resting on his lap.

“Good puppy, such a good puppy”, you praise him, gazing up at him.

Hoseok wiggles his hips, whimpering softly. He loves being your good puppy, it makes him feel so loved and important.

“Go on, your treat's waiting”, you say and close your eyes again, settling back into the comfortable pillows.

Hoseok doesn’t hesitate. He crawls back down and reaches for the oil bottle. Sadly it isn’t warmed up like before, but you are burning up so much that a little bit of cool oil is a welcome change.

Hoseok trickles it over your thighs and butt, sending shivers through your whole body. He spreads it with his hands first, giving you such a good massage that for a second you consider opening your legs and letting him massage something else instead. Honestly, Hoseok isn’t the only one feeling horny. His massages always get you so hot and bothered.

“Your butt is so sexy”, he says, massaging the flesh with hungry hands. He gathers it, squeezes it, digs his fingers into it before releasing it again and using the flat of his palms to trace it. He repeats those movements until you feel like bucking your hips up and ordering him to stick his fingers into you.

“You’re such a tease”, you grumble, rolling your hips into nothing. Your breathing is sped up and irregular, you almost start crying when he abandons your butt to instead spread the oil on your thighs.

“So sexy”, he whispers, “I'm so obsessed with your thighs”, he confesses and squeezes his hands between them just to feel up your inner thighs. You open your legs far enough to give him easy access, moaning softly when this exposes your dripping pussy to the cool air. You throb around nothing, aching for more stimulation. Can Hoseok see how affected he has gotten you?

He runs his hand up and down slowly, eyes following the paths he draws and cock aching in his sweats. All he wants to be is to be between those thighs.

“You’re so beautiful”, he says, eyes lingering on your pussy, “so wet”, he breathes, placing his hands right under your aching core. His thumbs press into your flesh, his body heat swirls over your pussy. He moves closer. Just once. For a feather light touch then it disappears again, leaving you aching for more. He draws his touch down again, massaging your inner thighs right under your pussy. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

“Okay seriously”, you laugh breathily, rolling your hips up, “if you decide to tease right now, you can forget getting off.”

“Sorry, yeah sorry I’ll behave”, he stutters, pulling his hands away before he can rile you up even more. He undresses messily, soaking his clothes with the oil without a care in the world. They are already messy from his excitement either way, a little bit of oil won't make a big difference. He throws them on the ground and then climbs on top your legs, placing his hands on your butt for support.

“That’s better”, you say, pressing your thighs together. Even that simple act sends heat through your pussy. Oh how sensitive he has gotten you.

“I’ll start now”, he says, panting desperately.

“Yes, start”, you order, wiggling your hips.

With his eyes glued to your thighs, Hoseok lets his hard cock glide right between them. The oil covering your skin makes the slip feel so easy, giving him enough lubrication to bury himself to the base.

“Shit”, he presses out, closing his eyes, “so soft”, he lulls and begins rocking into you, fucking his cock between your oiled-up thighs.

You are so warm, the oil is so wet, your thighs are so soft. Hoseok swears that he instantly feels dizzy and out of breath because of it, moaning softly as hot electricity runs through his cock.

“That’s so sexy, keep going puppy. Keep going”, you sigh, eyes squeezed shut and fingers gripping a piece of the blanket he placed underneath you. You love this.

Hoseok is angling his hips just right that his cock grinds against your pussy with each thrust. His veiny shaft fits perfectly between your lips, the tightness of the position really presses his cock against you. Each movement feels like paradise, sending heat through your pussy and the rest of your weakened body.

“It’s so nice”, Hoseok whimpers, squeezing your butt. He loves getting off with your thighs. Especially like this. He can reach your pussy so well in that position. You are so incredibly wet this evening, covering his cock in your sweet juices and making Hoseok chase them almost desperately. He loves that contrast of oily thighs on two sides of his cock while one side gets the warmth of your heavenly pussy. The difference in sensations makes him dizzy, head soon falling down and now tangling tiredly.

“It’s the best, it seriously is”, you agree, meeting his every second movement in a roll of your hips. You know exactly what to do to elevate the thigh fuck and make it even more enjoyable for both of you. You keep rolling your hips up, forcing your clit to glide over his cockhead each time that happens.

“Your pussy’s so wet”, he whines, “I can’t.”

“Mhhm yeah…” you lull, not knowing much else to say. Quite frankly, all you want to do is melt into a puddle of relaxed pleasure and moan freely. You love grinding with Hoseok.

Hoseok is a very passionate lover. Attentive, intense, fiery. He fucks deep. He fucks hard. And he fucks long. You blame it on his personality. Hoseok fucks like he treats a choreography. He learns fast, but then practices until even perfection seems imperfect to him. And only then he keeps going, pouring his all into perfecting the already perfect and somehow always managing to actually do so. Hoseok fucks just like that. He learns what gets you both off and then fucks perfectly, passionately and with all his heart poured into it.

And that is why you fucking love grinding with him. Because when you grind, Hoseok lets go of some of that perfectionism and merely allows himself to feel the sensations. He becomes perhaps a little sloppy at times - like right now when his hips stutter for a moment as bolts of hot pleasure run through his cock - and maybe a little uncoordinated - when seconds later he completely loses his rhythm to instead whine about how sensitive he was - but that doesn’t stop you from loving those moments with him, because they feel like goddamn paradise.

“I’m so sensitive”, he whines as second time, trying to find his rhythm again.

“Me too puppy. My pussy’s so sensitive”, you answer him breathily, twisting more of the blanket.

“I wanna be inside”, he confesses, eliciting your aching desire to be stuffed.

You roll your hips up, whining softly as this once again makes his tip glide over your clit. You are so sensitive by now that the touch makes your toes curl.

“Do it, fucking do it”, you order, opening your legs just far enough to present yourself to him. Like this, the pressure around Hoseok’s cock stops and all that remains is the wetness of your pussy against his cock.

Hoseok peels his eyes open, looking at where he is touching you. Your thighs are glistening in his excitement, covered in it and marked as the reason for why he was so incredibly horny tonight. His cock is so hard, gliding right through your wet folds. Your hole is right there, glistening and looking oh so empty.

“Darling”, Hoseok moans and feels his composure break. He angles his hips and thrusts them into you, allowing his cock to glide into your wet pussy.

“Fuck yes”, you moan loudly, welcoming him with desperate clenches. Inch by inch you feel him slide inside, filling you up with his perfect cock and reminding you once again why he was the best. You needed him so much. The stretch feels so nice, so intense, so good. “Move puppy, move.”

Hoseok exhales shakily, slipping his hands from your butt to press them into your back instead. He tightens his jaw, furrowing his brows in concentration before finally beginning to move. He goes slow but deep, feeling his thighs tremble each time he is buried inside you completely.

“Keep going, don’t stop”, you encourage him, meeting him with equally as slow and deep movements.

You love doing that. You love fucking back on him when he fucks you. You are very well aware that Hoseok doesn’t need any help and that he is very capable of getting you there without your guidance. But it feels so good. Grinding with him on a melody only you and him can hear, fuels you. Smooth movements, deep strokes, needy wiggles. The dance feels so goddamn good that you possibly couldn’t stop.

Hoseok loves it too. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he is struggling a lot tonight. His cock’s so sensitive that moving is really hard. All he really wants to do is collapse on top of you and lie limp as pleasure washes over him. So to have you grind back into him helps him so goddamn much to stay focused. He loves grinding with you. Cock deep inside you, wet pussy tight and bodies burning up. It’s his favourite kind of dance to do.

Hoseok lowers himself to his elbows, pressing his chest into your back. He knew going shirtless would be a good idea because that feels amazing. Your skin is so soft and warm, the oil feels so good on his skin. He melts closer because of it, cock pressing right against your sensitive spots in the new position.

“I love this so much”, he rasps, voice shaky in pleasure, “do, do you love it too?”

“Yes puppy, love it so much”, you sigh, reaching behind yourself to grab a bundle of his hair. It sadly messes up his bun, but that truly isn’t a tragedy. Hoseok looks so good when his hair is all messy and ruffled. You crane your neck, claiming his lips in a sloppy kiss.

Hoseok moans throatily, hips rutting into you so deeply that you possibly couldn’t meet him anymore. You don’t mind. His weight on you, the warmth which that brings, the depth of his cock. It all makes up for the lost opportunity to grind.

Like this the blanket bunches up between your legs, lying just right so that a fold of it is grinding against your clit.

“Shit Hobi”, you break the kiss when you realise it, moaning against his lips with squeezed shut eyes, "Hobi, ah Hobi…"

Hoseok answers you by moaning against your lips, bending his arm so he can cup your face. You don’t even mind that he covers you in a little bit of oil, enjoying the tenderness with a fluttering heart.

“It’s so good, puppy”, you get out, head falling into his palm as your body forsakes you. You are so weak, you can’t hold up the weight anymore, all you want to do is fall deeper and deeper and deeper.

“Say it again please”, he begs, trembling on top of you.

“Such…a good…puppy”, you get out in sighs, basking in the strong shake that courses through him because of it.

“Again please”, he whimpers.

“Good puppy”, you lull, pussy tightening around him because of how desperate he gets you. He fucks so much better when you praise him, sounds so sweet with all those whimpers leaving him.

“Oh god”, he croaks, cock throbbing deep inside you, “ah..I’m close.”

“Keep going puppy, fucking make my pussy cum first, yeah?”

“Yeah”, he whimpers, dropping his head against yours, “fuck, darling.”

“Yeah, fuck”, you agree, dropping your hand from his hair to grip the blanket instead. You twist it harshly, head falling against the couch because Hoseok’s own arm gave up on you. Now his hand lies between your cheek and the sofa cushion, thumb running over your skin in mindless circles.

Hoseok chases you, nuzzling into your neck to whimper your name. His hips can barely even move. Rocking back and forth in the smallest movements. He is so swollen and hard that you don’t mind the slow movements. On the contrary, you are so sensitive that even those slow movements feels like too much.

“Hobi I’m close too”, you get out, making him whine desperately. Your clit throbs against the blanket, his cock grinds right against your g-spot and the warmth in your stomach gets too much to bear, “now, Hobi n-now.”

“Oh god”, he squeaks out, gripping your hand twisting the blanket. His hips fall still completely, chest pressing into your back tightly as underneath him you shake and rut in your high.

“Fuck yes, fuck yes”, you chant, rolling your hips into the pillows as best as possible, “fuck puppy, such a good puppy. You’ve got the best fucking cock”, you growl, feeling your burning high in your entire body.

“I can’t hold it any longer”, Hoseok whimpers and sobs softly, “please c-can I let go too?”

“Yes, fuck yes. You can, yes”, you chant, throwing Hoseok over the edge so violently that he actually wails up for you, collapsing on top of you as his hips chase the flames of his deep high.

You can feel him cover your insides, moaning deliciously because you goddamn love being creampied by him. Given how you can’t get pregnant because of all the precautions you both take, feeling his hot cum inside you is paradise. Warm, wet, addicting paradise.

Hoseok comes down after you, growing weak on top of you. His weight doesn’t feel constricting, you actually love having him lie on top of you. He feels like your own personal weighted blanket. Warm, comforting but also sweaty. Very sweaty from all the heated grinding you have been doing. You want all of it. It’s so goddamn nice.

“Thank you so much”, he whispers, voice raspy from his intense high.

“You are so cute”, you lull, intertwining your fingers with him, "this was amazing, you know?"

“Yeah…I don’t think that I can get up.”

“Good, don’t. Let me warm your cock for a bit.”

“God I love you”, Hoseok whispers, nuzzling into your neck.

“I love you too”, you answer him, feeling yourself sink into the fluffiest and softest cloud of sweet afterglow.

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oshiawaseni · 1 year

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What pulled me into my love of MHA is the relationship between Bakugo and Deku... and seeing out they are now after reading recent manga chapters makes me so excited about all that is coming up... I don't know what about BKDK speaks to me... but I can practically feel the love between them, and complex, deep, and layered love is my biggest weakness. (I envy them.) <3

I cry over bkdk because their love for each other now is just so perfect, but circumstances kind of outside their control have torn them apart over and over. And it’s so hard to see characters who love each other as much as they do never get to tell that to each other, and knowing that both of them have gone through Katsuki’s death without having said everything they wanted to say. In that same kind of desperate way Katsuki went feral over Izuku falling into a coma and not being able to tell him everything that was now filling his head up completely. That he is sorry for all he has ever done to hurt Izuku and that he cares so damn much about him.

"You better not die on me Izuku, because I need you, and there's still so many things I have to tell you."

This was also probably why they added that extra scene of Katsuki thinking of Izuku after waking up. It helped convey his new and open concern for him. His "tsundereisms" until now had only been assumed, because the “dere” side of his "tsun" had been almost impossible to see. Hori had kept this side of him very well hidden - possibly with an intention to get his desired bkdk romance across the shounen jump finish line.

So all of Katsuki’s hospital scenes confirmed suspicions that this soft side has potentially always existed, only now he was no longer holding back his “dere” for Izuku. He wasn't keeping it caged inside his heart anymore. And this is why I started getting my hopes up for for bkdk canon.

Anyway, they wanted to be the one that’s always there for the other but they kept failing in that, lzuku’s many failings to save Katsuki up until now or the way Katsuki had failed to see Izuku’s love for him, which lead to the breakdown of their relationship for so long. The failure of both of them to connect to one another emotionally, communicate how they feel and really fight for each other and overcome the issues before so many misunderstandings had the chance to take such stranglehold over their lives.

Narratively, all of their problems and lack of understanding each other's emotional selves, despite being so close, has been built up to culminate in a singular point that we are still yet to see.

The purpose of showing how well they know each other and can predict each other’s future strategies and their connection in the battle sense… Hori wrote them like this to juxtapose it against their never ending misunderstandings of the heart. It highlights how connected their emotions should also be, hinting that that their feelings were headed straight for each other until the day they crashed into each other violently and beautifully. All the events as of late have mostly been about Katsuki coming to terms with the contents of his heart and now the time has come for Izuku to do the same.

A lot of what has been shown is Izuku’s tainted vision of their relationship, or Katsuki’s lonely perspective of never being able to say what he really wants to say the most. And sometimes it’s been about both of them not feeling heard. There has been a veil between their true feelings for so long and it’s high time it is lifted and they meet together as two hearts that can truly see each other without anymore of the pretence. That’s what some of us think will happen in the upcoming chapters, and why Hori keeps having the other couples make references and parallels to them in a lead up to “?” and also why this was drawn:

I take issue with people who don't acknowledge these overarching narratives that are guiding their characters together - and that they are very much "Not Done" with Katsuki's apology. Their many misunderstandings and hidden feelings for each other must be revealed to reach the conclusion of this story. Because bnha is THEIR story. The only reason I can come up with as for why people deny this future intimacy they'll share... is that if people were to admit these two aren't done with Katsuki's apology, they're also admitting the fact that BkDk are going to become even MORE closer, and they can see the writing on the wall if that ever were to happen...

#bakudeku #bkdk canon #bnha meta #asks #sorry I maybe went off on a bit of a tangent anon LOL #tsundere kacchan

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florafaunatic · 9 months

Text

What's so cool about the way UT aus evolved

For many years I would draw and sketch and stuff. Not all of it was spectacular, but it wasn't bad. Yet, at some point or another I would end up ripping the drawing up or throwing it away. It was never out of malicious intent. I just did it. I don't know why either; it wasn't like I disliked the drawings.

So, I discovered the insanely large and depth-y fandom of Undertale. Pretty soon, I started reading about the star sanses and bad sanses. I put a lot of effort into figuring out the canon (fanon since none of it was canon???) truths about the characters and what was fanon (like what Blue's deal actually was). As I was reading comics I came across a alternate multiverse where Error was a chaotic child and Ink was a tired dad. In the comic (I wish I could remember what it was called so I can credit the artist) Error makes friends with these shadow creatures. They lead him to help destroy an au that the artist seemingly wanted gone. Ink later finds/kidnaps him and brings him home. Ink explains that many creators, for whatever reason, want to destroy their work. But in the long run, it's not what they want. He says that everything, no matter how "bad" it is deserves to exist. Just so someone knows it's there. Even if it isn't shared with the world, that doesn't matter.

After reading that comic I thought about Ink. He's a soulless creature seeking to feel things by feeding off the beautiful work creators and him make. I think, perhaps unintentionally perhaps intentionally, Ink is a metaphor for artists and creators (the non-canon kind). We seek validation or happiness or even any emotion from the things we and others create. We could be having trouble with finding our own emotions outside of the internet. It's okay to need to escape our lives for a little bit. It's not a bad thing if you have an idea to share at all. Helping others feel better is good too. But just like Ink we have to be careful not to let it consume our lives. We can't let fandoms be the only way we can feel. We have to generate emotion in other areas of our lives as well. We have to make sure our community isn't only online. We have to make sure that what we say online is safe, and that we are not unintentionally exposing ourselves to dangerous people.

Next, I addressed Error. He too, can be a metaphor. He reflects the opposite side of the spectrum. He is has been so hurt in the past, even if he doesn't understand how, that he feels the need to hurt others. He could be compared to a hater, but I don't like that term. Hurt people hurt people, and while that doesn't make internet hate okay or justified by any means, it can offer and explanation. People who say mean things about art (actually mean and baseless things, not voicing an opinion) are probably seeking attention. The want to fight with you because the consequences don't seem real. You have no idea what's going on in their lives, just like they don't know you. When they seek that attention, don't give it. Walk away in the metaphorical internet sense. If you need to, block them. But don't fight hate with hate. It never works. We have to love the people who hurt us or it's no use in saying we aren't like them. If you remember saying something mean on the internet, I'm sorry for you. Even if you don't believe it, there are people who love you. So, so many people.

Neither of these characters were created for this purpose. They weren't even meant to go together. But still they make a beautiful world for everyone to enjoy. So whether you are an artist or a reader, an Error or an Ink, whether you are like me or not, we built this sorta by accident, so let's appreciate how cool it is.

#undertale #error sans #error!sans #ink sans #ink!sans #undertale au #ut au #undertale multiverse #faunathoughts

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comparativetarot · 4 months

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The Hanged Man. Art by Nara Lesser, from Neurotic Owl’s Faerytale Tarot.

I have a feeling a lot of people think they know The Red Shoes, and maybe more know the dance movies or newer stories built around it but haven’t actually read the Hans Christian Andersen original? So let’s just establish that it is waaaaay more moralistic than you probably think. In general, if you assume an HCA story ends with someone repenting and going to heaven, you’re going to be right more often than not.

But basically, little orphan girl gets adopted by rich old practically blind woman; gets shiny red shoes (ooooh shocking) thanks to said near-blindness, wears them to church repeatedly (horrors!!!!!). Creepy old soldier at the door of the church offering to dust people’s shoes with his beard (WHAT) taps the shoes and tells them to stick tight while dancing. Commence involuntary dancing, eek. They manage to get the shoes off but little Karin juuuuust can’t resist, puts them on again, and dances off into the woods. Cue disapproving angel, hours or possibly days of exhausted dancing through brush and briar, and finally she ends up at the executioner’s hut begging him to cut off her feet which happily DANCE OFF WITHOUT HER.

There’s some byplay where she repeatedly tries to go to church on her new wooden feet and crutches, and her severed feet turn up to scare her away till she goes to work in the parsonage and repent a bunch more. Repentance eventually works, she goes to church, and then she dies there and the angel welcomes her into heaven, which is probably not a great time for anyone else in the building that day.

SO. Why tf did I, a person with real issues about body horror and amputation, and a real disconnect from heavily Christian stories about sin and punishment, pick this? The Hanged Man needed a story about self-sacrifice, and that’s weirdly not a thing that turns up in fairytales as much as you might think – especially not with the primarily female characters who interest me the most. The Little Mermaid would have been a good option, but I have PLANS for her, plus I really want to draw her as Black and I am absolutely not putting any BIPOC on a card that references hanging, even tangentially. Karin also gave me a way to mirror the traditional imagery from the RWS deck – don’t ask me why, I’m not doing it with every card, but for some reason with this one I really wanted to get a similar pose and even some of the colors.

But also, the Red Shoes is one of those stories that really resonates for me as an ex-dancer, and I think for a lot of dancers given how popular the ballet version is. The feeling of loving to dance and also being hurt by it, being unable to stop even when you desperately need to – that’s a feeling I think a lot of us had. I know when I eventually did have to stop dancing it was a huge sacrifice of who I thought I was; there was a long mourning process coming to terms with no longer thinking of myself as a dancer first and foremost, and recognizing that the art form that saved me when I was a child was hurting me deeply as an adult.

#Nara Lesser #Neurotic Owl’s Faerytale Tarot #The Hanged Man #Major Arcana #Tarot #Folklore #Literature #Hans Christian Andersen #The Red Shoes

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stainedglassthreads · 2 years

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...It’s just now occurring to me how much Kunikuzushi/Scaramouche and Nahida/Kusanali are foils to each other.

Scaramouche is a puppet, based on Khaenri’ahn technology, created to hold a Gnosis, but perhaps turned out too much like Makoto, crying when the Gnosis was placed within him. Ei believed he was too gentle to serve the purpose he was created for, and cast him out without properly explaining her reasons behind doing so, leading to the beginnings of A Whole Host Of Mental Problems And Insecurities For Scara, it would appear. Problems that would be exacerbated by the deaths of Katsuragi and his other friend.

Meanwhile, it’s being implied that Nahida is the Marchosius’d form of Rukkhadevata. Yet, ironically, she was cast aside and abandoned by the Akademiya for not being enough like Rukkhadevata. Specifically, not being knowledgeable, powerful, or experienced enough to be a proper Dendro Archon. Venti is constantly called the weakest Archon, but was capable of leveling entire mountain ranges. Comparatively, Nahida’s intelligence and strength is compared to a normal human child.

Despite the similarities in them both being disappointments who were abandoned, however, they ended up taking very different paths from there. After a series of perceived betrayals, Scaramouche seems to resent the emotions he now feels, and when Hypaysia taps into his consciousness, she starts to hate the fact she has a human heart. Scaramouche seems to seek two goals-- to rid himself of emotions(and the pain they cause), and to become a proper god, using the very Gnosis he was originally built to hold. To overcome his insecurities, he tries to prove to the world and himself that he CAN fulfill the purpose he was originally created for, and deemed incapable of fulfilling. He externalizes his insecurities, mocking the Traveller’s rage over the death of Teppei, and generally lashing out.

Meanwhile Nahida’s insecurities are a great deal more internalized. She’s perhaps the most benevolent and proactive Archon we’ve met so far. Despite being under effectively house arrest, she tries her hardest to comfort her followers and preserve their lives, and to protect and fight for all the people of Sumeru, whether they believe in her or not. She has a strong sense of morality, and actively assists the Traveller in both the Sabzeruz Festival Samsara, and trying to retrieve vital information from Setaria. Her gift allows the Village Keepers to protect Aaru Village, and subsequently ensures their safety as valued and welcomed members of the community, even when the Akademiya casts them aside like it did her. Despite all this, she feels that’s she’s not a very good Archon, and seems to have a bit of inferiority complex, especially when comparing herself to Rukkhadevata. She’s the moon-- merely a reflection of the real sun’s light, only visible because the sun has long-since vanished. But in terms of how proactive she is as an Archon (as much as she can be with her real body locked up somewhere), I can only compare her to what we’ve heard of the Tsaritsa, albeit far more loving and protective towards her people.

I know a lot of people expected there to be a showdown between Kazuha and Scaramouche, and that’d still be really cool. But a discussion between Nahida and Scaramouche would be equally fascinating, in my opinion. In background they have multiple similarities, but have chosen to deal with their hurts and insecurities in very different ways.

...That said I’m still thinking about Scara mocking Traveller for getting angry over Teppei’s death because that’s just been cast in a whole new light for me, and THAT’s probably gonna be the thing that makes me like Scaramouche, goddamnit--

#genshin impact #3.1 spoilers #lesser lord kusanali #kusanali #nahida #scaramouche #genshin impact analysis #genshin impact thoughts

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paragonrobits · 1 month

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hmm villain concept meant to play on a common element in fandom discourse that bothers me a lot; the lionization of ruthlessness

it really bothers me a whole bunch when you get this glamorizing of ruthlessness; the idea that what you want is the only thing that matters and any end to achieve it is acceptable. To some degree it also infects political discourse. You see a LOT of people with this kind of callous attitude where they go 'kill everyone i don't like, that'll solve anything' and get downright hostile at any kind of... discussion that this kind of attitude might be a bad thing, or at least counter productive. Its the same kind of thing where you get fandom talk that boils down to 'superheroes should just kill all their villains' or 'if you dont want a protagonist to instantly murder all their enemies except for the Good Ones, you're a coward and probably a fascist supporter'

same thing with steven universe haters who really despise a loving protagonist who doesn't want to see people get hurt, or in general, heroes that dont want to kill people if they can avoid it. is the whole 'aang should have killed Ozai' crowd, so this character would be meant at sort of dissecting that attitude

so I'm thinking that this character, meant as an antagonist opposed to the protagonists due to incompatible goals or desiring the same resources and plot impetus, at one point was a warrior striving on behalf of their people; much as the kind of people I referred to write as though the only thing that matters is what you want, and killing everyone in your way will work out just fine, had an increasing escalation of thier activities until they gradually became a bloody minded dictator, gaining victory at the cost of eroding their capacity to care

doing that sort of thing makes it easier to do it again, and do it harder. more importantly it also makes it harder to NOT resort to it as soon as its convenient. once you've gotten a position through bloodshed, its likely that you lose patience with dealing with former allies; now you have competiting factions and feuds within your group, so much talking and arguing and factionalizing and it used to be so much easier...

so they do what always works for them. They got rid of it. Its hard to put down a weapon you're used to, and after killing their enemies, now they kill their political opponents, becoming a brutal tyrant.

This, however, backfires; in the setting there is a spiritual element to all things, and they get the attention of a spirit of retribution whom is displeased at their escalating actions, and it allows an invasion of fiendish entities, viewing the bloodshed as an acceptable reprisal. (The spirit is indifferent to the morality involved, it should be said.)

It causes a massive disaster, and so this warlord is left one of the few survivors of an enclave of humans, with blood on their hands and not much else. They've learned from the experience, but are still deeply bitter and having a hard time truly accepting (though they intellectually understand it now) that absolute ruthlessness doesn't do much in making things grow.

Currently thinking of this character being explicitly human in a setting where humans are just one of many creatures (and possibly being a subtle human supremacist, but chiefly concerned with long term survival of their people that believes all other beings are simply threats, and resents that the multi-species faction of the protagonists is a walking contradiction of their wariness), leading a faction of mass produced and simple-minded boisterous clones made to die young as expendable soldiers. If the protagonists have a theme of liberation and growth (from programming, from biological limitations, from apparently powerlessness), then this character is chained, and they know it. Chained by grief, chained by bitter resentment, chained by the knowing that everything they built is in flames because they just couldn't stop hurting others, or accept that they were never in control...

Consequently they would probably work best as a mid-level antagonist; not someone who ultimately pulls the strings (since that might be better reserved for truly evil characters, because the less I have to characterize them the less it compromises their malice), but as a commander or leader of the immediate antagonist team. Probably superpowered themselves, since in the settings I go that goes without saying. If they are powered by the respect and loyalty of their followers, this might also feed into their personal issues; they used to be far stronger, and they can FEEL how much weaker they are, because so much of the people who once followed them are gone and the weakness they feel is a reminder of what they've done.

#ideas #OC ideas #character ideas #queued

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jeonqkooks · 2 years

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i love all ur works sm!! for the drabble request: things you interrupted me to say + tongue tied couple</33

watermelon gelato | jjk

pairing: jungkook x f!reader

rating: PG

genre/warnings: friends to lovers, neighbor au, fluff, kissing, swearing

word count: 1.6k

note: a tongue tied drabble. dear anon i'm so sorry that this took so long and i hope you're still here somewhere 😭

series masterpost | taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Wear something nice.

When Jungkook sent you these texts nine hours ago, he should’ve known that life wouldn’t be this kind to him. As he stands here, in the talk-of-the-town restaurant that just opened a month ago, he should’ve known that there was no way he could reserve a table that easily at 10AM on the day of.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the hostess apologizes in earnest. “I don’t see your reservation for tonight.”

“Can you please check again?” he asks and shuffles on his feet nervously. “It should be under Jeon Jungkook.”

You can tell that she feels bad as she takes in the expression on his face, big doe eyes pleading her to somehow save him from this misery. He looks like he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Still, she puts on a polite smile and tells him to wait so she can run his name through the system again, a task that you know will probably be in vain.

Earlier today, when he disturbed your slumber at the unholiest hour possible, you hadn’t expected him to ask you out. After you went back to bed and woke after a few more hours, it took you a minute to process the short conversation between the two of you at 4AM. You weren’t sure if it really happened until that text came but even then, you had no clue how the date was going to go, and how you were feeling about the whole thing.

Jungkook is cute—you’ve told him as much—and he’s a good kisser. No, scratch that. Jungkook is a wonderful kisser. You’re attracted to him, and you two get along well. It’s nice and easy, with minimal thinking required because you’re just two friends, young and single, ready to mingle but not necessarily looking for something serious.

Well, at least you aren’t looking for something serious. It isn’t like you’re anti love or anything. The last time you were in a relationship was two years ago, and though it didn’t end on bad terms, it was… a lot for you.

People around you have always put heavy emphasis on commitment and you know it’s not a bad thing, but it’s scary. The pressure is too much. You haven’t really thought about if and when you would unpack all of your uneasiness regarding the matter. Right now, you just know that you’re content with being single and having fun.

And what you have with Jungkook is fun. A dinner couldn’t hurt.

The hostess speaks up after a moment, looking genuinely sympathetic at the two of you. You reckon this kind of occurence isn’t uncommon, and she must have built a tolerance for people looking like kicked puppies whenever this happens; though, even that indifferent and monotonous attitude falls apart before the Bambi eyes of Jeon Jungkook.

“Sir, you made a reservation for this day next year.”

You purse your lips as you glance at him. Color drains from his face as she shows him the screen and the mistake he made while jittery in the middle of the night. “Is there any way you can–”

“Jungkook,” you call and tug on his arm because people in line after you are starting to complain, “let’s just go.”

He looks at your stiff expression and internally winces, his eyes apologetic. He nods solemnly then, thanks the hostess and leads you out the door.

Once you’re outside, he gives you a strained smile. “Well,” he says, an attempt to distill the awkwardness, “this is embarrassing. I guess tonight’s a bust…”

Jungkook flattens his mouth into a thin line and stuffs his hands in his pockets, dropping his gaze to the ground. He really does look so sad, and you know he’s probably beating himself up for his mistake.

You poke at his chest playfully. When his eyes meet yours, you smile.

“We’re already dressed up,” you say, gesturing between the both of you. Although you’re only in a simple dress and he’s wearing a blazer over a button-up, it’s the most formal you’ve ever seen one another, having been accustomed to raggy t-shirts and sweats and casually lounging on each other’s couch. “Might as well make the most of it, yeah?”

Jungkook chuckles humorlessly. He appreciates you trying to salvage this, but he wanted to take you out to a fancy restaurant, be the perfect gentleman, woo you with his charms like they do in the movies. Though right now, he just feels like a dweeb, really living up to the affectionate nickname you gave him.

“Really?” he asks.

“Really,” you confirm.

You look hopeful, so he acquiesces. He takes his hands out of his pockets and steps closer, nudging your shoulder with his. “Wanna go to that diner you like?”

One hearty burger (and an unholy amount of fries to share) later, you’re walking through an empty park, with Jungkook’s blazer around your body to shield you from the slight chill.

Dinner was nice, although he remained relatively quiet while you were waiting for your food. The kicked puppy look returned. You had to turn to your trusty folder of memes on your phone to coax him out of his mental ditch. By the fifth picture of animals holding knives that you forced him to look at, he was already giggling, regaining some semblance of his usual dorky self. And by the time the waitress placed two cheeseburgers on the table, well, it’s like nothing ever happened. Food—his great love, you suppose.

Food, and Overwatch.

Throughout the meal, you kept forgetting that it was supposed to be a date. Every first date that you’ve been on was awkward, some less than others, but still awkward. Because you’d been conversing with strangers and going through the list of boring questions that everyone asked while trying to get to know someone, and sitting in uncomfortable silence when you realize you have nothing in common.

But you know Jungkook. You know what he likes to do for fun and what pizza toppings he likes. You know that he plays the guitar and that he’s been trying to learn the drums. You know that he’s shitscared of microwaves and that his kisses taste like orange candy.

So yeah, dinner was nice. You didn’t overthink things like you tend to do with romantic interests. You don’t think he knows, but Jungkook—or just his mere presence—has a way of making you not get lost in your own head.

When the wind breezes by, you snuggle further into the warmth of his blazer, too big on your body. He notices, and drapes a tentative arm around your shoulders. He seems shy but you welcome it anyway. As you lean into his side, he gives your arm a gentle squeeze. Ten more minutes pass, and you’re once again greeted with the sight of streets bustling with cars, a contrast to the mostly empty and quiet park.

“Ooh! Let’s get some ice cream.” Pointing toward a gelateria around the corner decorated with pretty neon lights, you grab his hand and tug him in that direction before he can even say anything. It’s dessert, for heaven’s sake. Jungkook would never turn down dessert.

He gets hazelnut chocolate and you get watermelon.

“Woah, I’ve never had watermelon gelato before. I didn’t even know they made this,” you say, eyeing the treat in your hand. When you scoop some onto the small wooden spoon and bring it to your lips, your eyes nearly roll all the way back into your skull. “Oh my God, it’s so good. Here, try it.”

Jungkook looks bashful when you offer him some of your ice cream, but he accepts it anyway.

“Is this the first date you’ve been on, Jeon?” you joke.

He blushes, the tone of his skin on the way to matching the color of your gelato. You like seeing him flustered. It’s cute; you have to bite your lip to keep from smiling.

“Obviously not,” he mutters, honest and not very playful in response to your efforts. His thumb reaches out to wipe some of the ice cream from the corner of your mouth that you didn’t realize was there, and he puts it directly in his mouth to lick off the sweetness. You gulp, blanking on your teasing jabs as he locks eyes with you. “Just the first one that I wish goes well enough to get me a second date.”

To the outside world, you two must look like a disgustingly sweet couple. Feeding each other gelato and doing whatever the fuck Jungkook just did to you. It’s saccharine in that cheesy romcom way that you normally despise but now? You don’t mind it that much.

When you don’t say anything, he tenses, thinking he might’ve scared you a little. He opts for a lighter conversation, somewhat self-deprecating but hopefully a topic that you two can laugh about.

“I still can’t believe I made a reservation for next year,” he mutters with a cute pout. “I swear I checked the confirmation like ten times and–!”

Your stomach does somersaults all of a sudden, and something possesses you to pull him down by the collar of his shirt for a kiss. A trail of chocolate runs down the side of his ice cream cone. Jungkook thinks love must taste like watermelon gelato and cherry-flavored lip balm.

It’s far from the first time that you’ve kissed him, but somehow it feels like the first time.

When you pull away, he short-circuits, pink tongue unconsciously darting out to lick his lips where you had been just seconds ago. With that dazed look in his eyes, Jungkook swallows, not knowing what to say and if he should even say anything. See? It’s very cute.

“It’s okay, dweebus,” you laugh lightly and pinch his cheek. The words roll off your tongue without much thought. It's easy. “We’ll go next year then.”

— permanent taglist: @mi55delulu @fan-ati--c @highly-functioning-mitochondria @bruisedscrewedandtattooed @morauvmi @jeonjcngkook @shownusshoulders @jungkooksseuphoria @yoongukie-ff @curioughts @taegismochi @libra04 @hrts4kook @jeonsorchid @here4btsfics @mytearsriscochet @lvoekook @btsstan12

— series taglist: @moonchild1 @takochelle @bids97 @nadzzzblog @golden-thv @misohime @parkethereal @taestrwbrry @yoongimentita7 @jensbttrfly @angelarin @jjkrinvgs @koobsessed @cherishoshi @llashn

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