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jollyinha · 8 months ago

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50 (+3) Facts About My Rook Listener (aka Félix)!

Because I love him in a hiperfocus kind of way 😭💙 If you want to see how he looks like, go to my yuurivoice tag, and you will find all my listeners! Although I probably should make an updated version, he has gotten a 2.0 version ever since... Also, tagging @itsargyle since they suggested taking other YV fans! I'm... Too shy to tag anyone else tho lmao

Anyway, here goes my big infodump on my favorite sunshine boy:

1 - Hey, I'm Félix Torres... Or not, because that's my middle name, and my actual name is Victor. But I'm not that fond of Victor, so I go by Félix!

2 - Victor was my mom's grandpa's name, and Félix is a tribute to my dad, whose name was Feliciano.

3 - Thanks to the acute accent, the correct pronunciation of Félix would be "feh-liks", not "fee-liks". Oh, and the "c" in Victor is mute. It's Vitor. But sometimes even I forget that it isn't supposed to be spelled like the gringos do, haha!

4 - My mom is Brazilian and my dad was Colombian. I was born in Brazil (Aracaju in Sergipe, to be more specific), but have been living in the USA for most of my life now. I used to spend the holidays in Colombia as a kid, but haven't been there ever since dad passed away... I really should pay it a visit again soon, though. It's a real nice country.

5 - I speak native Portuguese, fluent English and intermediary Spanish. I've been studying ASL (as of right now I just know basic stuff like "hi", "how are you?", how to introduce myself... But hey, at least I know the whole alphabet off the top of my head!) and French too, but it has been hard to find some free time... And when I do have it, I always end up drawing, crafting, cooking... Duolingo's owl wants to eat my ass.

6 - Speaking of which, these are my favorite hobbies! Drawing and painting are main passions in life, though. I've been in love with art as far as I can remember. I was in a few-years-long hiatus when it came to painting, only came back to it recently, but have been drawing non-stop ever since I was a little boy!

7 - When it comes to crafting, I enjoy many aspects of it... I've been really into papercraft these days. Origami, paper dolls, collages... But I also really like jewelry making and fabric painting (even if I find it so damn hard, haha!). I just love personalizing things in general. Sometimes, I see a piece of furniture, have an idea and just have to put my personal touch.

8 - I also know how to sew, but I can't say that I'm a big fan. I've tried crochet once, per example, and almost fell asleep on the couch. It's just a bit boring to me... But I'll gladly sew back a button or fix a hole if you ask nicely!

9 - And, last but not least, I love cooking! Not as much as I love to eat, but anyway. I picked up cooking as a way to deal with my pyrophobia and to bond with my uncle (he owns a restaurant!), and really took a liking to it... And modesty aside, I'm damn good at it!

10 - Speaking of which... I'm a bit of a bottomless pit when it comes to food! I'll eat (mostly) anything, am willing to try (mostly) everything and am hungry 24/7. Please, feed me.

11 - My favorite food is kind of specific, but: I love Thanksgiving pies. And breakfast foods. But anything that's chicken or has corn is also very damn good.

12 - I don't really like fruits. Most of them feel either bland (apples taste like NOTHING!) or straight up gross. I hate, HATE peach. Mango, guaba and pineapple too. Disgusting. I'm team vegetables all the way. Lemon and watermelon are the only ones that get a pass.

13 - My favorite ice cream favorite is chocomint!

14 - When it comes to drinks... I like coffee, as long as it has milk and unholy amounts of sugar (hate bitter coffee, as contradictory as it is). And while I'm not too big on alcoholic drinks, I like champagne.

15 - I also like biking, but, much like studying ASL and French, I don't have enough free time nowadays to really get into it again... But I try to bike every weekend I can!

16 - As a kid, I was in singing classes! I really enjoyed it and was pretty decent at it, but nowadays I do it just for fun. Love singing and listening to music around the house while doing other things.

17 - I have eight tattoos on total: Flower sleeves on both arms (featuring a clock among the flowers on the left arm and a bird on the right), music player symbols on the left side of my chest, "keep going" on the right side, an anchor on my upper back, a sun and a crescent moon on my lower back, a sea monster's tentacles going through my right hip and a paper plane on my left ankle!

18 - I also have a bunch of moles. On my face, on my back and on my chest. I used to be embarrassed by them, but nowadays, not nearly as much.

19 - I have been dyeing my hair blonde ever since college. I'm actually a brunette! I like being a blondie, but I'm considering going back to my roots... My hair is screaming for help. [He goes back to being a brunette and lets his hair grow after the events of Escape]

20 - Oh yeah, speaking of college... I have a Law degree. And am working on this field. Ya-hoo... Unfortunately, I needed a more lucrative career to support my family. But my long-term life goal is to be able to quit and live from art! And I like to believe I'm almost there.

21 - I pierced my ears in college too! I usually only wear my lucky sun earrings, but if I'm feeling fancy, I can go with a larger one.

22 - I considered becoming an English major for a while, but didn't happen either.

23 - I have a weird love for plaid jackets (of any color, but especially blue ones) and grungy bracelets. If you wanna give me anything that's wearable, going with either of these is the safest bet! Can't ever have enough of these!

24 - My favorite animals are octopuses (I had an obsession with sea monsters as a kid and this love never really died) and peacocks (they're just awesome)!

25 - My lucky number is sixteen, because my birthday is on February 16th, and because if you put "Félix Victor" together, there's a sixteen in Roman numerals right in the middle: XVI!

26 - Also, I'm 30 as of 2024, and... It's terrifying, to be honest. Buuut I'll find comfort on the fact that I look like I'm 20, hehe.

27 - This one will be hard to explain, but... I really like the sun. From summer to sunflowers to sun imageries... I like the sun. And all because of my dad. It's a long history, but yeah.

28 - I have a younger sister, her name is Alice! She's in college right now, she's History major! And... She's my pride and joy.

29 - And I also have five younger cousins: Ariel, Rafael, Leon, Joyce and Mercedes! I love them all, they're like my siblings. [Joyce is actually my Sunflower listener!]

30 - I... Have a... Weird relationship with my mom. It has been getting worse these last few years... Ah, nevermind, I shouldn't have brought this up.

31 - I had three relationships in my life... Well, three and a half, if you count that high school fling, but I digress: My first boyfriend lasted, like, half a year of my freshman year in college. It was nice, we just realized quickly that neither of us were serious. And my second boyfriend... Ergh. Tristan. We began dating in my junior year, and had a pretty messy break-up right after my graduation...

32 - ...But, nearly a whole decade after that, he sent me a DM on Instagram asking me how I was, and I mistakenly thought he became a decent human being. Hell, he was the one who got me my current job. He works in the Marketing department and was kind enough to tell me that Legal was hiring. I thought that we could at least be friends again, but... He's still a pain in the ass, at the end of the day. And still wants me back. ERGH...

33 - ...But, actually, I should thank him for that. Ironically, by trying to get back with me, he got me my third and current boyfriend... And... I won't talk too much about our relationship, but... This is the happiest I've ever been with someone. I mean it.

34 - Ok, how do I say this? I... Have been told that I... Have a pretty high libido. Or, if you want to be meaner, I'm a horny bastard. I... Will not elaborate if that's true or not. [It Is Literally Canonical]

35 - But even if I WAS a horny bastard, I'm a romantic at heart, believe it or not! I like being swept off my feet! I like flowers! I like cheesy pick-up lines! I like cuddles, god, I really like cuddles... Anyway.

36 - I'm a petite lil' guy. I'm 1m69cm tall... Or 5'8ft.

37 - I have ADHD. I was diagnosed when I was 20. I've been taking meds to help with my lack of focus, and it really has been helping.

38 - I also have insomnia. It isn't as bad as it was a few years ago, but it still sucks.

39 - My favorite song of all time is "Don't Stop (Color on the Walls)" by Foster The People!

40 - My favorite movie of all time... It's a tie between Footloose and Burlesque.

41 - My favorite animated movie of all time is Ponyo!

42 - My MBTI is ENFP, my Enneagram is 2w3, and I'm an Aquarius!

43 - In my opinion, my biggest strengths as a person are that I'm pretty charming, I can get along with nearly any kind of person (given enough time), and that I'm notoriously hard to piss off. As long as you're not messing with my loved ones, it takes A LOT to make me actually angry.

44 - And my weaknesses... Well, I let people get away with stepping all over me pretty frequently... And I'm very restless. And I don't mean only physically, I mean like... Mentally. I feel like I'm a shark: If I stop moving, I'll die, y’know? Oh, I've been told that I can be pretty shameless and a bit nosy... And, welp. I... Can't really deny that.

45 - I hate the cold. I hate winter. I hate snow. Fuck you, northern hemisphere.

46 - I really like sitting on the floor, ever since I was a little boy. It just... Grounds me. No pun intended.

47 - My favorite color is blue, but yellow and orange are also lovely... And I've been getting real fond of red these days. Hehe (Can't believe that it took me this long to say my favorite color, we're on fact 47th...).

48 - I'm a dog person! I never got to have one, though...

49 - I, not-so-secretly, really like cute things. I may or may not have a big octopus plushie on my bed. And may or may not love Pompompurin and Gudetama.

50 - I'm overall pretty confident on my looks... Except for my smile and my laugh. My ex-boyfriend (Tristan) once said that my smile is wide enough to be scary, and my mom said that my laugh is too loud, and I've been restraining myself from truly smiling and laughing out loud in public ever since. But I tend to let go when near people I trust.

51 (bonus!) - I have a very sensitive neck... Now, if I see it as a good thing or a bad thing... Depends on what your intentions are... If you know what I mean.

52 (bonus!)² - I'm also pretty great at typing. My words per minute game is insane, modesty aside.

53 (bonus!)³ - I... Can be a little bit jealous when I'm dating someone. I was never a pain in the ass about it, I mostly just sulk in silence, but... Yeah. It's my toxic trait.

#yuurivoice #yuurivoice listener #yuurivoice auron #auron yuurivouce #yuurivoice rook #felix (rookie)

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

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Infatuation

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: It’s not a secret that Corpse prefers taking care of his hair himself rather than going to a hair salon to get it trimmed and/or tampered. However, he only has so much knowledge of how to properly do it without having to obliterate his budget. Luckily, his girlfriend comes to his rescue.

Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for the incredibly fluffy request! I’ve been very pumped to write it and now here it finally is - so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but I still hope you come across it and give it a read! Love, Vy ❤

“Um, what are you doing?“

I just walked into Corpse’s apartment to find him barricaded in the bathroom, giving himself a hair appointment. We were supposed to have a chill night in watching movies, but it seems to me like those plans will either have to be delayed or canceled, given the chaotic state both Corpse and his bathroom are in. I mean, how dumb was I to expect he was actually doing his hair justice when he told me he styled it himself? Why didn’t that immediately raise an army of red flags in my head and lead me to question his methods?

I’m honestly quite jealous of Corpse’s hair. It’s always so soft and silky and no matter how much or how little effort he’s put in it, it always looks good: either evidently carefully styled or boyishly messy, it leaves me with heart-eyes regardless. But to see him massacre it like this, it makes me wish I could report it as a crime.

“Ain’t obvious?“ He sounds rather frustrated and I feel at least slightly better due to this fact. He deserves to be as frustrated as I am by the sight of the crap he’s doing. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to wait for me for...a little while. I just need to get this under control and, um, clean the mess. Sorry for ruining your night like this, babe. I-I really wasn’t planning on it to take this long but I forgot to buy one of the products and I thought I could wing it without it but...I very clearly can’t so...“

“Please, stop talking. I don’t need to know what sins you’ve committed - if I do I’ll probably have to give you the silent treatment for like a week or so.“ I call out to him as I quickly skip over to the kitchen to leave the food I bought on my way over before returning to the bathroom and carefully taking a step inside, mindful of where there are hair strands on the tiles. Even severed, his hair is beautiful and I have a ton of respect for it - ok fine, I adore it. Corpse definitely doesn’t appreciate it properly. I walk over to the shower, reaching out to the two shelves inside which are lined with different types of hair products. “Oh fuck...“ I let out the whisper without even realizing it because I’m so stunned by the brands I see on those shelves. “Corpse, um, what the actual fuck?”

He turns to me, eyes wide and terrified because of my menacing tone. “What? What is it?” His gaze searches the spot where mine was just pointed at, looking for anything that could’ve provoked such a reaction from me. Seeing nothing but the hair products, he meets my deadly glare yet again, “What’s wrong?”

Alright, this man-child needs some serious help

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.“ I say, stomping towards the exit of the bathroom, “You’re gonna stay here and wait for me to come back and don’t you DARE, even touch your hair, let alone bring a pair of scissors or any chemical near it. Copy?“

“Copied and pasted, ma’am.“ He salutes me, knowing better than to ask questions when I enter my commander role. There are quite a few things that set me off into this bossy-ass persona, and hair mistreatment is most definitely one of them. Thing is, Corpse doesn’t know that. Well, he didn’t know that, pretty sure he’s guessed it by now.

Feeling myself soften at his obedience and trust, I give him a smile and a wink over my shoulder as I go to grab my bag and leave the apartment to complete my mission, “Good boy.”

* * *

“Isn’t that a lot better?“ I ask, gently running my fingers through Corpse’s freshly cut, washed and dried hair. I’ve spent a good five minutes just smoothing through it with my fingers. I bet he’s expecting me to say ‘my precious‘ at any moment now, and trust me it’s tempting, but I still don’t, I won’t give him the pleasure of predicting my actions. Wow, we’ve really reached that level of being familiar with one another that I predict that he’s predicting what I’m gonna do next. While I’m a guessing game for him, I tend to think of myself as more of an open book. You just gotta be fluent in the language it’s written in to understand it.

I’ve gone off-topic, my bad.

“Yeah, you’re a lot less scary now.“ He tells me, his hand finding mine in his hair and taking it to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles.

We’re positioned so that we’re in front of the bathroom mirror with Corpse seated in a chair in front of me and I’m for once in my life towering over him from behind. Our height difference was threatening to be a hinderance in my work on his hair, but we easily figured it out.

I can’t help but laugh, “You know what I meant.“ I curl one of his already curly strands around the pointer finger of the hand that’s still wandering around the soft dark curls while the other remains in his gentle hold, resting on his shoulder.

“And you know what I meant.“ He shifts in his seat to look at me directly, not via the mirror, “Since when do you have a hair infatuation?“

I roll my eyes and retract my hands, defensively folding my arms over my chest, “It’s not an infatuation with hair, dummy. It’s an infatuation with your hair.” I correct him, doing quick work of styling the stray strands that fall over his forehead and eyes. “I really like your hair, you already know that. I can’t handle the thought you’re doing such a shitty job taking care of it.”

He shrugs, furrowing his brows, “Hey, I was buying top-shelf products, cost me a fortune every month, my hair was being treated like royalty.”

I roll my eyes once again, “High price doesn’t always equal high quality, Corpse. Did you ever stop to read what was in those products?” I don’t let him answer, I don’t need him to confirm what I already know. “Even if you did - which you didn’t - you wouldn’t know what each of those ingredients do to your hair. You see, taking care of hair, especially hair like yours, takes patience and knowledge. It’s practically an art form. It’s not like you can just buy any product that has ‘suitable for curly hair’ on it. There’s a lot more to that.”

It’s only after I finish my monologue that I realize he’s looking at me with amazed amusement in his gaze, almost like a parent listening to their kid talk about their wish of becoming an astronaut. “Since when do you know so much about hair? You’ve been using the same shampoo and conditioner since I know you and now you wanna lecture me on hair care?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, exasperated by his stubbornness on the matter, “Who said being consistent with your hair products is a bad thing? You know, frequent changing of brands has the potential of being damaging as much as aiding.” I explain with the most amount of patience I can muster, now taking over the parent role myself, “And as for your previous question, I know so much because my mother is a hairdresser.”

His eyes widen in surprise. I can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to recall if I’ve ever told him this before.

“How come I don’t know that?“ He asks finally after a long moment of silence. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“You ask that as though I just tell you things like that on the regular. Did you also want me to drop the info that my dad’s a mechanic in passing conversation about video games? Cause that’s a little hard to shoehorn in....“ He cuts off my sarcastic rambling with a brief peck to the lips. He’s the only person allowed to shut me up, and only like that. Anything else will earn him either an earful or a silent treatment.

Just kidding....unless...

“So, does that mean you’re continuing the family business?“ he asks when he pulls away, “I mean, you’re technically my personal hairdresser now.“

I furrow my brows playfully, “Wait, what? Since when?”

“Since I hired you approximately an hour ago.“ He beams up at me, satisfied that I’ve fallen in his trap.

“And what about my payment?“ I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He looks to be contemplating for a second before he stands up from the chair, taking my hand in his leading me out of the bathroom, “Well, each appointment you’ll give me a different price, Miss Y/L/N. But, considering today was your first day, I choose to pay you with dinner.“ He sends a wink my way, laughing when he’s met with an unamused expression on my part as I stop in my tracks, causing him to halt his movements as well.

“You really plan on paying me with the dinner I bought?“ I raise an eyebrow at him, freeing my hand from his so I can put both my hands on my hips for the complete 'I’m far from impressed’ look.

“Yeah...? Problem?“ He asks, faking nervousness and guilt as he closes the distance between us, once again returning to the default of towering over me instead of it being the other way around.

“Several actually. First of all...“ I raise my finger in the air accusingly, ready to go off but the arm that wraps around my waist and lifts me off the ground causes my words to die down, evaporating in a frightened squeal, “Corpse no!! Put me down!“

Of course, he ignores me, carrying me into the living room while I don’t know whether to thrash or stay as still as possible.

Tsk, so much for gratitude

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tuiccim · 4 years ago

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Terrigenisis (Part 1)

Pairing: Avengers X Inhuman!Reader

Words: 3870

Summary: Your life is torn apart after undergoing terrigenisis unwillingly your life is turned upside down when you are deemed too dangerous to return to civilian life. You are put with the Avengers team to train and rebuild your life.

—————————————

“Charlie, the car’s packed. Are you ready?” You called. Your first vacation in two years ahead. A rock climbing trip to Arizona.

“Almost. Come here.” Charlie called from the apartment kitchen.

“What’s up?” You smile as you walk into the kitchen and see Charlie holding out a small medicine cup. “What am I taking today?” You smile at your husband who is currently on a vitamin kick.

“Magnesium, fish oil, vitamin d, and a multi.” He smiles as he picks up his own cup and clinks it together with yours.

You both take the vitamins and then you lean in for a quick kiss. “Okay, good lookin’, vacation time.”

You turn to head for the door but Charlie’s voice brings you back around, “What’s happening?” he says in a panicked voice, “(Y/N)!” You turn to see his body being covered by rocks.

“Charlie!” You reach out for him.

“Don’t touch me!” He yells, but then you feel something strange yourself. Looking down you see the rocks beginning to cover you, too.

“Charlie!” You yell again.

“I love you!” He says just before the rocks cover him completely.

“I love you!” You cry and then are overtaken.

Fourteen months later.

“So, you’re just gonna spring me on them?” You look at Nicky Fury as he drives to the Avenger’s compound.

“Not like we had a lot of time. Coulson's team had to move. This will be the safest place for you and you can be trained as an Avenger here.” Fury states.

You roll your eyes. Not like you hadn’t been training for the last six months with Coulson’s team, but apparently you can’t even tell anyone about them. Now, you’re supposed to join this team and everything will be all better. You put your earbuds in.

You’re brought into the conference room and face the Avengers team. Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Sam Wilson, and Bucky Barnes.

“Avengers, meet your newest trainee.” Fury states.

You keep your gaze down not wanting to see the anger on everyone’s faces.

“What is this, Fury?” Captain Rogers is the first to speak.

“Look, we need a place for her to train and become mission ready. Right now, here is the safest place for that. I’ll let you get acquainted.” With that, Fury leaves.

You stare after him as he leaves you to the team’s mercy. You turn to look at Captain Rogers, apprehension clear on your face. He seems to take some pity on you.

“You’re an agent?” He asks.

“Fury didn’t give you my file?” You ask quietly.

“What he just said is what he gave me on you.” Captain says, not unkindly.

“Great.” Your quiet, sarcastic reply.

“Why don’t you sit down and we can figure this all out?” Captain Rogers motions to the chair at the head of the table. You felt like you were sitting in front of a jury.

You looked around the table slowly at each solemn face. Miss Maximoff offers you a small smile and it bolsters a bit of courage in you.

“Okay. What’s your deal, then?” Mr. Stark questions.

“I guess it’d just be best to lay it all out for you from the beginning, huh?” You look to Captain Rogers.

“That would make things easier.” Agent Romanoff says.

You look at her and nod. “Fourteen months ago, I underwent terrigenesis.”

“Where did you get a terrigen crystal?” Dr. Banner asks.

“My husband, Charlie, handed me our morning vitamins. One was a new fish oil we were trying.” You say.

“Oh my god. You were one of the accidentally exposed?” Miss Maximoff says sadly.

“Yes.” You nod.

“Your husband?” She asks.

“He was not an Inhuman.” You look away for a minute to compose yourself. The loss of Charlie was still painful. You swallow and continue, “I, however, am. I emerged from the chrysalis with the ability to understand any vocal communication.”

“You mean verbal communication?” Dr. Banner says.

“No, I mean vocal. A dog barks and I know what it’s communicating, not exact words but the meaning. Eventually after hearing any human language for a time I can speak it also. I was fluent in English and Spanish before, but since I’ve become fluent in Mandarin and Cantonese, and I have working knowledge of a few others. I’m basically a universal translator.”

Agent Romanoff speaks then in Russian “You can understand anything said to you even if you don’t know the language?”

“That’s correct. I actually don’t know any Russian. If you could speak it to me when we talk I’ll pick it up eventually. If any of you know other languages, it would be helpful for me to learn to speak them.”

“I would be happy to help you with Sokovian.” Miss Maximoff says in her language.

“Thank you. I’m grateful for whatever I can learn.” You smile at her.

“And that’s it? You can’t go back to your life because you can understand what everyone says?” Mr. Stark snarks.

“No. With being Inhuman comes additional strength and stamina, my gifts also include increased hearing and I can, um, warg for lack of a better term.” You give a half shrug.

“Warg? Like embody animals?” Agent Barton says.

“Yes. I can see, hear, feel through them. I have a Red-tailed Hawk who I’ve built a relationship with. I use her often to train.”

“Where is she?” Agent Barton asks.

You warg into her for a moment turning your eyes yellow as the hawks. “She’s in a dogwood tree on the north side of the compound.”

“Did you just…?” Agent Barton raises his eyebrows.

“Yes.” Turning back to Mr. Stark you say, “To answer your questions, Mr. Stark, the combination of my Inhuman abilities with the fact that I am a black belt in Krav Maga and Karate, an expert level climber, and a computer programmer put me in the threat category.”

“Programmer?” Mr. Stark smirks, “You mean hacker?”

“No. I mean programmer. I was not a part of anything clandestine… Until SHIELD.” you roll your eyes and a few of the team chuckled. “I could already kill someone with my bare hands, add in extra strength.” You shrug again. “Anyway, I’ve spent the last six months training with another Inhuman to hone my skills. They needed the full team to be field ready and Fury decided to move me here.”

“What are you lacking for field readiness?” Captain Rogers asks.

“Firearms training mostly.” You reply. “I have control of my abilities. My hand to hand is more than sufficient.”

“Do you have any experience with firearms?” Sergeant Barnes asks.

“Kinda why I got a black belt in Krav Maga and Karate was hoping to never need one. And if I do, I’ll take one.”

“Family?” Captain Rogers asks.

You shake your head, “My mom died when I was three. My dad raised me. He was a Coast Guard pilot. Died five years ago in a helicopter crash.”

“I’m sorry.” He says sincerely.

“Thanks. Any other questions? Anybody?” You look around the table.

“I think you’ve given us enough for now. Do you have bags or boxes we can help you move into a room?” Captain Rogers asks.

“Just those two. I’ve got them.” You pick up the large duffle and backpack.

“Why don’t you take an hour to settle in and then we’ll meet to start training.”

You nod, a little surprised he wants to start training so soon.

“I’ll show you to your room.” Miss Maximoff says. “Where’s she going?” she asks the Captain.

You see a cloud come over Captain Roger’s face for a moment before he says, “There’s a free room on my end.”

You realize he was trying to figure out where to put you and decided to keep the newbie nearby. You didn’t mind.

“Thank you.” You say to Captain Rogers and you nod to the rest of the team before you follow Miss Maximoff. “Thank you for showing me to the room, Miss Maximoff.”

Wanda giggles, “You can call me Wanda.”

“Thanks. Please call me (Y/N). And I thought you were gonna speak Sokovian to me?” You give her a small smile as you walk to the elevator.

“Oh, of course.” She says in Sokovian while hitting the elevator button.

“I wonder how good her hearing is.” You hear the whisper in the conference room.

“Good enough I can hear you from out here, Agent Barton.” You call back and grin at Wanda.

“Thanks!” He calls back.

“Not so loud! Geez” You and Wanda giggle together as you get on the elevator.

“What did he say? I couldn’t hear anything from where we were.” Wanda asks.

“Oh, he just wondered how good my hearing is.”

“Is it really sensitive?”

“Yeah. I have to sleep with earplugs and I wear headphones a lot to block some of it out. It’s taken a while to get used to it. At first, it was super overwhelming.”

“I understand. It was very brave the way you told everyone what happened to you.”

“Seemed fair. I got the chance to read all of your files, so I know about everyone else.”

“Here we are. Do you want help unpacking? I can stick around for a little bit.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to do that. I’ll see you at training?”

“Yes, I’ll be there. If you need anything ask FRIDAY she can direct you where you need to go and answer your questions.” Wanda waves as she leaves you alone in the room.

The room is nicer than what you expected. A queen bed, desk, bookshelves, tv, walk in closet, and your own bathroom. You would definitely need to go to a store soon to pick up a few things. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be a problem with Captain Rogers. You empty your duffle bag, put your clothes away, and place your toiletries in the bathroom. You unwrap the two framed pictures and place them on your desk. One is you and Charlie smiling in a waterfall grotto after a long hike. The other is your wedding day, you in a short lace dress, him in a white button down and khaki pants, with the sun setting behind you on the beach just after you said your vows. You gently touch the photo, “Love you, Charlie.” you whisper.

You decide to change and head to wherever training would be. You stop at the panel by your door, "Uh, FRI...FRIDAY?"

"How may I be of assistance, Ms. (L/N)?"

"Where would I go to meet the others for training?"

"The training room is located on the first floor." She says as she flashes a map up.

"Thank you." You feel kind of sheepish talking to the AI.

Once in the training room you look around at the well equipped room. Every type of weights, machines, a boxing ring, mats, weapon lockers, and even a rock climbing wall you saw with excitement. Looking up at the ceiling you see it's criss crossed with beams and you get a wicked idea. You grab a climbing rope hanging down at one end of the room and shimmy up it quickly. You're able to swing yourself to the beam fairly easily from there and then walk the beams towards the entrance to the room. You take a seat with your back to a joist and stretch your legs out in front of you. It's not long before Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes come in together.

"Wonder if she’s as skilled as it sounds.” Sergeant Barnes says.

“Black belts in karate and krav maga? I’m sure she has some skills but getting her to Avenger status may be a challenge.” Captain Rogers says.

“Guess the question is, is she up for it?” Sergeant Barnes scoffs.

“I certainly plan to try, Sergeant.” You say from your perch.

“What the hell?” Sergeant Barnes looks up at you and you give a little wave.

“What are you doing up there, (Y/N)?” Captain Rogers says.

“Waiting.” You say simply.

“You felt the need to do that twenty feet in the air?” Captain Rogers scoffs.

You shrug, “Felt like climbing.” Getting up, you walk along the beams.

“Can you come down, please?” Sergeant Barnes says.

“Sure.” You walk back towards the climbing rope, once close enough you jump to it, and slide down.

Sergeant Barnes is right next to you when you turn around, “What would have happened if you’d fallen?”

“It’d hurt,” you say and look up to the beams, “A lot.”

“Might want to reconsider using the beams as a waiting room.” He snarks.

“Nah, I like being up high. I’m pretty sure-footed.” You look back to his face and he is scowling down at you. “What?”

“Nothing.” He says, “I’ll take that to mean you're warmed up. Let’s do some sparring and see how you do.”

“Okay.”

You follow him to the mat. Captain Rogers is standing to the side watching. You take stance and Sergeant Barnes begins. You can tell he is holding back and you go harder at him. After sparring with Melinda May for months you weren’t about to let him patronize you. You were holding your own and noticed the rest of the team filtering in and watching. He grabbed your arm and you used the leverage to jump up, throw your legs around his neck, and throw him to the ground. He rolled to his feet immediately and came right back at you. After a few more minutes, Captain Rogers called out, “Alright. Let’s switch it up.” You stopped but kept your eyes on Sergeant Barnes until he retreated.

“Not bad.” Sergeant Barnes says to Captain.

“Natasha.” Captain Rogers looks at her and she nods.

“Agent Romanoff.” You incline your head to her as she approaches.

“Natasha’s fine.” She smiles.

“(Y/N). Thanks.” You smile back and Natasha throws the first punch. You manage to hold your own for a while but in the end Natasha managed to pin you to the mat.

“Well done.” Natasha says.

“Not well enough.” You say with a mirthless chuckle.

“Who or what is next, Captain?” You say looking at the super soldier.

He looks over to Sergeant Barnes, “Bucky, can you take her to the range and gauge her abilities there?”

“Sure.” He eyes you and then makes a motion for you to follow.

As you walk out of the training room and turn down a hallway towards the range, you say to him, “I don’t have a lot of experience with guns, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Bucky.”

“What?”

“Call me Bucky.”

“Okay. I don’t have a lot of experience with guns, Bucky. I’ve shot a few times, but the last year has really been about my abilities and honing hand to hand.”

“Well, we’ll see what we have to work with and go from there.” Bucky says as he holds the door to the range open for you. You slip in past him and watch as he goes to the locker and pulls out a Glock, a clip, and a box of ammo. He then sets it all down in front of you with protective gear and stands back with arms crossed.

You reign in a smirk at his demeanor. He really is testing you. You pick up the clip, add the ammo, load and cock the gun. Clicking the safety into place, you put the protective gear on, pick the gun back up, and move to aim at the target. You take the safety off, aim, and fire. When you’ve emptied the clip, you set the gun down and turn to Bucky while removing the headphones. “It’s still loud even through these things.”

Bucky actually chuckles and hits the button to bring the target up for inspection. “You at least know how to load and shoot, but your aim needs work.”

While you had hit the target with each bullet, the rounds were dispersed throughout the torso. Yeah, your aim was lacking.

"Yup. Want me to go again?"

"No, just trying to get an idea." He gives you a tight smile that you return.

When you return to the training room, Captain Rogers takes you through a workout and then brings you a bottle of water. "Good work today."

"Thanks, Captain. I know it was awkward having me sprung on you."

"You can call me Steve. We all go by first names around here." He says.

"My, uh, my dad always required I called people by their title until invited otherwise. Old habits." You shrug.

"Yeah, I get it. Go get some rest and I'll show you around later."

"That would be great. Thanks."

An hour later you had showered and changed. You went to the common room to see if Captain Rogers, erm, Steve was around for the tour he had offered. Sam Wilson looked up from the couch.

“Hey, newbie.” He smiles.

“Hello.”

”I’m Sam. So, you have a hawk friend? What’s its name?”

“Doesn’t really have an English translation. It’s kind of a mix between a squawk and screech so I just call her Redtail.” You say.

“I’m trying to figure out if you're kidding.” Sam eyes you.

“The first part, yeah. But I really do call her Redtail.” You smirk.

“So, you can… what did you call it?”

“Warg. Warging.” You say.

“You can warg into her anytime you want?”

“Generally. I try to be respectful of her. She’s not a pet. She’s a companion that has chosen to befriend me and allow me to use her. Would you like to meet her later?”

“Yeah. That would be cool.” Sam smiles.

“(Y/N).” Steve strides into the room.

“Captain. Sorry. Steve.” You give him a small smile.

“Ready to take a tour?” He asks.

“Yes, thank you. Would you care to join us, Sam?”

“I’m good, but don’t forget about introducing me to Redtail.” Sam says from his spot on the couch.

“You got it.” You say as you go to follow Steve.

“Redtail?” Steve asks.

“The hawk I mentioned.” You say.

Steve shows you around the compound, explains FRIDAY’s functions, and talks a little bit about the team. He’s very kind through the whole process but you can tell he has some concerns about you becoming part of the team.

“Steve, can I ask you something?” You finally work up the courage to say.

“Yeah.” He turns to look at you.

“How does everyone feel about me being dropped on you? There’s bound to be some resentment.”

“I wouldn’t say resentment. Everyone’s just a bit guarded when it comes to new people. You must have done something right for Fury to put you here, though. Most of them know that.”

“Any helpful hints?”

“They’re all good people. Just give them time. They’ll warm up. And, seriously, don’t ever steal Natasha’s cookies.” He says.

You laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind. Would you like to meet Redtail?”

“That’d be great.”

“FRIDAY, will you let Sam know to meet us at the North entrance?”

“Getting used to FRIDAY already, huh?” Steve smiles.

“I can see how useful she is.”

A few minutes later Sam appears with Bucky following behind.

“Hey Buck.” Steve greets, “Wanted to meet Redtail, too?”

“Uh, yeah, if that’s okay, (Y/N)?” Bucky asks.

“Sure.” You give a small smile and head outside. “Gimme about 15 feet of space, guys. Don’t want to scare her.”

The guys move back as asked and you put your hands around your mouth and let out a loud “CAW CAW!” You look back at the bewildered expressions of the three and start laughing. “Just kidding. Sorry I couldn’t resist.” They all chuckle.

You reach in your back pocket and pull out a falconry glove. Slipping it on, you warg into Redtail turning your eyes yellow and ask her to come to you. Redtail makes a graceful arc from the dogwood tree she had been resting in and landed on your upheld hand. “Hello there, sweet girl. How do you like your new spot?” Redtail looks at you tilting her head.

“Does she understand you?” Sam asks.

“No, we can communicate when I warg, but it’s more like an exchange of images than it is talking.” You warg for a moment to ask Redtail if she can bring her closer to the three curious men and once you receive her consent you release the warg. “I’m going to bring her closer but please keep your hands down, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Steve says.

“So, she’s your pet?” Bucky asks as you walk closer.

“No, I don't take care of her. She’s not my pet. She’s my companion, my friend.” You say petting the bird's chest. “Would you like to pet her?”

Bucky nods and you take his right hand in yours and bring it up to Redtail’s chest allowing him to pet her. She makes a small chittering sound and you smile at Bucky, “She likes you.” He smiles sweetly.

You move to Sam next and Redtail immediately starts chittering again. You take Sam’s hand and bring it up to her chest like you did with Bucky. Redtail leans into Sam’s hand and tilts her head back and forth studying him. She starts to reach a claw out to move to his hand but you warg to her and show her her talons tearing his skin. “Wow, she really likes you. I guess she sees a fellow bird.” You laugh.

“I do have a way with the ladies.” Sam grins.

You move to Steve last and allow him to pet Redtail. When you look at him he’s grinning and you can’t help but smile at the reactions each of the guys had to her. You look at Redtail, “Thank you, my friend.” You lift your arm in the air and she takes flight.

“She’s beautiful.” Steve says.

“Yeah, she is. I’m so grateful for how she’s stuck with me. I try to always give her the respect she deserves.” You say.

“So, you warg into her just whenever you want?” Bucky asks.

“I can. I usually warg into her and ask her permission. She’s rarely denied me. She was always curious about humans and she feels safe with me, but she’s still a wild animal and I don’t want her to lose that. I want her to always be free, ya know?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Bucky says with a smile.

“Why don’t we head in and find some dinner?” Steve suggests.

“Sounds good to me. I’m starving.” Sam says.

As you walk in, you remember you have no food here and need to go to a store. “Hey Steve. Is there a vehicle I can use?”

“What for?” He asks.

“My grand escape plan.” You deadpan, “I’d like to go to a store and pick up a few things. Or am I confined to the compound?”

“No, of course not. You can use the SUV in the garage. Keys are in the locker. Scan your thumb to access it.” Steve says.

“Great. Thanks. You guys need anything?”

A round of no’s from them, you head to the store to pick up some essentials and food. The rest of the night is spent settling in.

Part 2

Masterlist

#marvel #marvel fanfic #inhuman #inhuman fanfic #avengers #avengers fanfic #bucky #steve #captain america #fanfic #terrigenisis #x you #x reader #reader insert #bucky barnes #steve rogers

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jiminniethemarshmallow · 4 years ago

Text

His Bedroom (M)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Smut, ???

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: toxic relationship (you’ll see), hair pulling, possessive dirty talk, face sitting, plot twist?, mentions of stalking and kidnapping

(A/N): This is just an idea I thought up while on a run one day. I have no idea why it took me so long to write whatever tf this is and I apologize.

As soon as you step foot into the bedroom you feel hot all over. Jimin is close behind, snatching off his shirt with trembling fingers as you work on ridding yourself of the troublesome gown draped over your frame. Tonight was perfect. He cooked the perfect dinner for you, served it by the poolside and you sat outside stargazing as you ate. The water had been cool when you dipped in your toes, swinging your feet and holding hands as you talked about any and everything. You enjoyed Jimin’s company, it can get pretty lonely in the mansion while he’s away, and normally, seeing him is the highlight of your often uneventful days.

He combs your hair back with delicate fingers, smiling at you before connecting your lips, and you feel goosebumps rise on your skin. The kiss is electric and it leaves you clinging to him in search of more.

“Get on the bed.” He breathes, gently pushing you away so you can follow his order. You love showing off for him, love the way his eyes follow your every movement as you slink onto the mattress, arching your back as deeply as you can to make sure he gets a view of your slick folds. He makes you feel sexy, like you’re the only girl in the world, and you bask in the feeling as you put on a show for him in the middle of his sheets. Watching him as he removes the rest of his own clothing makes your heart race, you know he’d be smirking right now if he saw how you were drooling over every chiseled inch of his body, but he’s too busy studying you, committing every detail of you to memory as if he hadn’t seen it a thousand times already. As if it isn’t the same body he’ll be seeing for the rest of his life.

“Jimin~” You croon once he’s as naked as you, beckoning him over with honey eyes. In three swift steps he’s upon you, staring down at your face, then your chest, then shifting down until he’s looking directly at your heat.

“You’re always so wet for me,” His thumbs skim dangerously close to your lips. “Just for me.” It’s almost like he’s lost in you, speaking to your body and listening to all it has to say to him. He’s fluent in its language, always knowing exactly how to work you up, how to bring you to the edge, how to make you scream, and his skill amazes you every time without fail. You’re practically writing beneath him just from the way he spreads you to look at your treasure, his treasure, and by the time he leans in to blow cool air on you, your eyes are already rolling. He flips you with ease, hands guiding you over his face so he can have his meal, and your body bursts into flames when he makes first contact.

It’s heavenly the way he swirls his tongue like that, licking broad stripes through your folds and suckling your clit sensationally. His eyes are closed as he eats you, humming in tandem with your moans, possibly enjoying it just as much as you are. Eager hands knead at your hips, encouraging you to press down on his mouth to your heart’s content, and it’s because you know he loves to please you so much that you do. He lives for making you feel good and having you praise him, moaning out your compliments while rocking your hips against his lips, building up to an orgasm with his tongue inside you. Your taste, your smell, your voice, everything about you fires him up, makes him want to love you till you drop. He’d let you smother him between your legs if you wanted. You know from experience that he enjoys drowning in you, resurfacing red faced and sweating, gasping for air with a smile on his face.

It doesn’t take long for you to start losing control, bucking your hips wildly onto his tongue to chase the feeling, oblivious to his hand pumping at his shaft in time with your movements. He groans, dripping precum from his tip as you leak down his chin, his eyes finally cracking open to catch the beginning of your high just as you start to stutter above him. Tugging at his hair, you whimper and gasp, fighting with your leg muscles to hold yourself firm above him when trembles threaten to overcome you. If he doesn’t let go of his cock now he’ll end up ruining everything, but he’s so close from watching you that it takes every last reserve of willpower in him to stop his hand.

He sits up and pulls you onto his lap hastily, dragging your face to his in a searing kiss that steals your breath. “Have you been good today, babygirl?” He mumbles against you, whispering kisses down your neck.

“Yes, Jimin.” You respond dazedly, getting lost in the dizzying sensation of him sucking at your pulse point.

“My good girl hasn’t tried to leave home, has she?” He asks, glancing up at you with a quick yet intimidating glare.

“Of course not, I belong here with you.” This brings a smile to his face. And if you weren’t so brainwashed, you probably wouldn’t be glowing at the sight of it. It’s been nearly a month since he locked you in the mansion, forbidding you to leave for any reason. He goes out to work everyday, shops for anything you may need, takes care of any business you might have outside of his walls, and you remain his princess locked in her tower, away from every other human that’s not him.

“That’s right, angel. There’s nothing for you out there, everything you could ever need and want is right here. I am right here. And I can protect you from everything.” He licks around your nipple delicately, groaning when you begin to rock your hips.

Three months into your relationship, things started to become complicated. A friend of yours had confessed his secret love for you and urged you to break up with Jimin. He claimed that your new boyfriend was controlling and overprotective— he was almost on the verge of tears when he expressed to you how he feared for your safety— but you chose not to listen to him. You convinced yourself that he was the crazy one, so it came as a total shock when you discovered one night that you could not leave Jimin’s mansion after your date. You vividly remember the feeling that washed over you when you realized your fate, like ice water being poured down your spine; freezing you instantly. He said that he had to do this to protect you because it was obvious that your friend was trying to manipulate you and steal you away. You cried the first night at your loss of freedom.

Now, you’re crying out at the feeling of Jimin slipping 2 of his chubby fingers into your drenched core. When you take him easily, he flips you onto your stomach and lifts your ass with a growl, kissing and biting each cheek possessively.

“I know you would never leave me, baby. You know why?” You moan as he rubs himself between your ass cheeks, dripping his own arousal onto your skin. “Because no one can love you the way I do. No one can fuck you the way I can.” He emphasizes this as he pushes through your walls steadily, watching you take him with fiery eyes. “You need me, and I need you. There’s no one else in this entire world who can make you feel like this. We were made for each other.” As soon as he starts moving, your limbs go weak. His hips effortlessly hold their steady pace as he aims to dig deep inside you.

You aren’t afraid of Jimin, he’s never given you a reason to be. He is still the perfect boyfriend he was before you got yourself into this... situation— in fact, he’s even better now that he no longer has to worry about anyone interfering with your love. Getting “kidnapped” by him was probably for the best and you have done nothing but benefit from it. After all, it means you have this whole mansion, and Jimin, to yourself. Out of all of the rooms, this bedroom, his bedroom, has to be your favorite. It’s almost like this room changes him once you enter the threshold. Outside this room you are another one of his beloved possessions, something for him to keep in perfect condition and out of sight from greedy thieves. Here, however, it is all about you: your needs, your feelings, your comfort. Your pleasure. And Jimin could spend hours pleasing you just as he is now, angling his hips up to press right into that sweet spot that makes stars sparkle behind your eyelids, still engorged from your previous high. He trapped you in this room in the first week of your confinement but he let you out on good behavior, though these days you choose to stay here just to be worshipped by the man you love. And you do still love him very much.

You bury your face into the fluffy duvet when he starts to fuck you harder, but his hands are quick to grip your hair and pull your face up. The pain shoots delightfully to your core and you clench. “Let me hear those beautiful noises, babygirl. Tell me how much you love it.” He practically purrs above you as sweat beads at his temples.

“I love when you fuck me, Jimin! I don’t want anyone else, baby, only want you,” You hiccup between moans, drooling down your chin probably but you didn’t care.

“You think that Bastard could ever fuck you like this? Hm? Make you cream all over his cock and make a mess on his sheets like this? Tell me, angel.” He’s correct, your fluids cover his shaft and stick to the inside of your thighs and his balls as he continues to slap against you. You must be dripping by now and every thrust from him just adds to your puddle. He’s almost swimming in you.

“N-No, he wouldn’t!” You grit out when he pulls on your scalp harder to lift you until your arms can stretch out beneath you. His free hand tugs at a nipple, his plump lips returning to their place on your marked neck.

“That’s right, and he’ll never get the chance to try. No one will, you’re all mine. Forever.” Jimin says this gently as if it’s the sweetest thing he could have ever said to you. As though the underlying truth of his statement isn’t objectively horrifying. But the only thing you feel when he says this is a burst of fluttering butterflies in your belly and a warmth in your cheeks.

A few weeks prior to your imprisonment, Jimin had become very skeptical of your relationship with your male friend. You told him that he had confessed to you and he didn’t take it so well— as any boyfriend would— and suddenly Jimin began to appear whenever you were anywhere near that friend. Whether it was in public or not, Jimin was there to watch and monitor, never allowing the two of you to talk privately and therefore preventing the man from further warning you of your sketchy boyfriend. You found it cute how protective both of them were over you until that friend convinced your other friends to “help” you leave the relationship (or at least encourage you to), and when Jimin found out, you found yourself trapped in his home.

“All yours.” You repeat in a breath. You know why he did it, they wouldn’t understand, and just when you start thinking about how upsetting it is that your closest friends don’t approve of your relationship, he brings you back to the present with deft fingers on your clit.

“Stay with me.” He whispers at your brief inattention, though you know that statement is loaded. Your arms become shaky as they hold you up. Trying your best to rock back into him, you widen your legs further around his for leverage. It isn’t hard to please your boyfriend because he loves everything you do, but it drives him absolutely nuts when you work with him, when you sync up with his strokes perfectly in the way that shoots lightening bolts through both of your bodies. He especially loves when you beg to ride him to completion until he complies, watching his face the entire time as he falls apart because of you. But that will have to wait until another time because he is already close to his end with how tightly you squeeze him. His fingers slip and slide against you and it makes your toes curl, your head nearly smacking into his when you throw it back to land on his shoulder instead. His breathing picks up with the pace, his warm breaths dancing along the surface of your skin sending shudders of bliss throughout you.

Like a ball of fire, the coil in your abdomen burns and swirls more intensely with every passing second, but it seems that your lover will find his release before you. Jimin grunts deeply behind you as he pushes hair from his eyes. Your sweet moans and pleas for him are everything he’s ever dreamed of— he remembers the first time you blessed him with your heavenly moans, looking up at him with your gorgeous eyes— and it seems like your voice gets more and more lovely each time you’re with him. The way you sound right now is enough to have him twitching against your walls, and both of his hands relocate to your chest to hold you when he succumbs to the pleasure. Losing control of himself a bit, Jimin squeezes the globes in his hands as he thrusts to his heart’s content, chasing his high with a selfishness he promises to make up for when he can think more clearly. But right now all he can do is groan into your ear and pull your body closer to his as he prepares to finish. And every hitch of his breath and unrestrained moan he allows to escape makes you that much tighter, your wetness pouring over him and giving the push he needs to find his bliss.

It’s indescribable; the feeling of him pulsing within you, holding you so close to his heart that you can feel it beating against your back, strong arms locking you in place. Your name slips from him in a relieved whisper after a few seconds of stillness, your hips rocking restlessly against his to ride out the remnants of his orgasm and keep the burn of yours. You close your eyes and think of his face in this moment, you’ve seen it many times when he’s high off your warmth, but you wish to see it again. You wouldn’t care if he left you high and dry just like this if it meant you got to look in his eyes and kiss him right now. But he won’t allow you to turn with his arms so tight, and he refuses to leave you like this when he can tell how close you are with his tip grazing your cervix and cum leaking from your opening. With a quick kiss to your neck, he pushes your front back down to the bed and assumes his position kneeling behind you again.

Jimin pounds into you with the intent to please, not too fast because he knows it feels better when you can feel every inch of him, and he fights off the sensitivity that twists around him as you squeeze his head with the muscles deep inside you. Your hands clasp together as they reach above your head, which is now resting on the sheets with your forehead taking the brunt of your weight, and from another perspective it would look like you were praying. Repeating your mantra of Jimin’s name when one of his feet plants itself onto the mattress beside you for leverage.

“Oh my g-“ Your voice breaks off into a squeak, the pressure in your core building so intensely that you almost feel lightheaded. Looking down at you, Jimin watches you quiver and buck, your back arching into a dangerous curve that only makes him go harder. He’s so sensitive now, but he would gladly take the ticklish torture in return for your orgasm— just as you gladly trade the air in your lungs for his dick in you, gasping out uncontrolled moans as you gallop toward your end. His eyes glaze over, scanning your entire body when your hand slips under you to circle your clit and you begin to tense. Your other hand tears at his sheets in desperation. He looks on with almost crazed eyes.

“That’s it, angel. Can you cum for me again? Be a good girl and cum, baby,” He encourages with a shaky voice, supplementing his softening length with harder strokes. But it’s enough. With only a few more sloppy flicks of your bud, you’re flying off the edge with a scream, pulsing so hard around him that he has to stop moving to avoid pulling out from overstimulation. But he loves the tingles that spread up and down his limbs and spine as you ride out your paradise with twitching fingers, watching your high almost feeling better to him than experiencing his own. “Good girl, I knew you could do it. No one else can make you cum this hard, huh? Only me. You’re mine.” He whispers when you start to come down, slipping out of you when you fall flat onto your stomach in front of him. He follows you down slowly, relaxing his weight on you as he kisses his way up the middle of your sweaty back and neck, his flaccid member pressing into your ass.

This feeling— him resting on top of you, nestling his face against the side of your head and neck— it’s comfortable, and you find yourself sighing into him. It almost felt normal and you liked that, though you’ve already resigned yourself to the knowledge that you’ll likely never see normal again. At least not with him. Still, it’s nice to imagine in these sweet moments. When you’ve both had time to catch your breath, he pulls you up and carries you to the connected bathroom, running a shower and stepping in behind you. His hands are caring and gentle as they wash you, lathering aromatic soap onto your skin and kissing your lips each time his eyes meet yours.

You don’t need him to tell you how much he loves you because his actions have shown it, but he tells you anyway, gaining confidence whenever you say it back. You know he loves you, it’s just that his methods of showing it are a bit drastic. But love makes you do crazy things, that you can understand.

Jimin falls asleep relatively quickly, unaware that your eyes stare off into the darkness of the room, waiting for him to slip into unconsciousness. Once you are certain that he is in a deep sleep, you gently push the sheets from your body and tiptoe into your walk-in closet, shutting the door noiselessly behind you before flicking on the light. In the corner sits a laptop and headphones that Jimin has no knowledge of, housing incriminating evidence that he would probably be dissatisfied to find you operating.

Ignoring the worried emails and messages from your friends, you open your favorite program, smiling at the files of audio and video data that have been collected and compiled from today. You click on the first one, taken at 9:53am, and listen to a conversation Jimin had with one of his coworkers, his voice sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

You are by no means a technological genius, but you have enough skill to accomplish your goals. You had only started to dabble in such technologies six months ago when you first spotted Jimin from afar and decided that he was worth looking into. It wasn’t difficult to find him, a reverse image search of his face had provided you with a name and occupation, and after becoming thoroughly invested in him, you decided that Park Jimin was the man you wanted. Things came easily after that thanks to the tracker you had secretly planted on the case of his phone during your first official meeting, and every “coincidental” run-in you had with him led you straight on the path to a relationship. He was bound to take notice of you eventually, you shared just the right amount of interests and intersecting routines for it to be easy for him to approach and befriend you, and you were just the perfect amount of intentionally oblivious to ignore any warnings your friends gave you once Jimin started hanging around. It is amazing how easily men can be manipulated as long as they think they’re the ones in control.

Of course you had noticed the subtle way Jimin stalked you after you had made your presence known to him, how he would pop up in places he wouldn’t normally be just to conveniently bump into you. Of course you noticed, because you had gone out of your way to be at those locations when you knew it was convenient for him to follow you there. You lived under the pretense of working in a different county to justify why your home was nowhere near where you spent most of your days, and Jimin was none the wiser to your cover story that you had spent countless hours fabricating so that no amount of research he did could uncover all of the lies you told.

The tracking device on his phone was a start, which then upgraded to an audio recorder that you used to listen in on his personal life and gather more information about him. You intended to craft yourself into the most desirable version of you that would make him fall in love with you, but soon discovered that that wasn’t needed. Jimin had fallen fast and hard just as you had, and the slight tinge of crazy that you perceived in him made the two of you attract like magnets. It was you who had set everything in motion and influenced the outcome, but Jimin took care of everything in between, going farther than you had imagined just to have you.

The night he trapped you here, you were blindsided by his actions, but not surprised. Yes, you cried real tears when everything finally sunk in, but they were not of fear or despair like he likely thought. They were of indescribable joy. Everything you had done up to that point was to make him fall so utterly and irrevocably in love with you that he would never want to leave, and now he had locked you up so that you wouldn’t leave, meaning that he feels just as strongly— if not more— toward you as you feel toward him. And that is more than you could ever hope for. You’re sure he can sense your comfort and contentment with this situation, but you also completely understand his hesitation to completely believe you at times because it almost seems too good to be true. But he’s beginning to grasp that you really are wholly his.

But just because you are his, doesn’t mean that he has to be yours. So you installed audio and video surveillance devices in his clothes to monitor his behavior when he is away from you, so miniature and imperceptible that no one has noticed that the second button on all of his shirts contain a shiny black dot in the center that differs from the others. Not that you don’t trust him, it’s just that he is the perfect man and you do not trust the other people that he interacts with on a daily basis.

Which is why you’re reviewing the footage now, your lip tightening when you see the absurdly inappropriate attire one of his subordinates wears as she enters the CEO’s office. You swear her skirt is an inch shorter than it has been in the past, and her bosom seems to poke out noticeably with the serpentine arc of her spine, the top of her shirt unbuttoned just a button too far. Your blood nearly boils over when she looks at Jimin for a second too long while handing off a pile of paperwork before spinning dramatically and making her exit with an extra sway to her hips. Jimin most likely wasn’t looking at any of that, his obsession with you acting as a visor that blinds him to other women, but her efforts to get him to notice are the real problem.

You wonder if she heard about what happened to Jimin’s past assistant and why she quit. More importantly, you wonder if she would also enjoy having a dead rat delivered to her front door with a lovely handwritten note penned with its blood. As you continue watching his day, she enters his office several times, none of her visits appearing to be for any reason you can surmise other than to see your boyfriend and for him to see her. Maybe you’ll do something more creative this time, like hacking her accounts and posting lewd pictures and messages that would get her fired. It won’t be too hard to dig up dirt on her, especially since you have access to all of Jimin’s employee info. That would be quite swift and effective and could possibly even ruin her life. It’s a fun idea that you chew on quietly as you finish reviewing your recordings, closing out of the program and spending a short time answering the messages of the friends you’re still on good terms with.

Next week you’ll be able to invite some of them here, a generous reward for good behavior granted to you by Jimin. He promised that you would eventually gain back your freedom and has slowly been allowing you more access to the outside world, but you aren’t too keen on leaving. You like it here in your safe bubble, where you don’t have to worry about anyone but the man you love, where he can have you and keep you without issue. If you wanted to escape, you could’ve left weeks ago with all of the knowledge and technology you have access to in this single building, but that would go against everything you have worked for up until this point. You wish you could convey that to Jimin somehow as you crawl back in bed beside him, wrapping your arms around him and pressing yourself to his back to ear his soft snores. Normally kidnapping people doesn’t go this smoothly, so you understand his underlying skepticism toward you, but honestly, there is nowhere else that you would rather be than in his home, in his bedroom— no, you live here too. And you’re sure he would say this is your home now, too. Your bedroom.

#jimin smut #bts smut #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #btscreatorscorner

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aesthbaby · 4 years ago

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Her Secret

Summary: We’re all aware of Emily’s untold secrets that she took to the grave with her but what about Lauren? The one thing both woman have in common is you, and the memories they took with them in both of their deaths

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x Reader

Prompt/request: None, just an idea I’ve had in my head for a while.

Warnings: Cursing | Death

Wordcount: Almost 4k

Master List

AN: Time line might be a little spotty because the show did not give many details but I promise its still comprehensible.

Its beautiful for a sad event. The white flowers are such a stark contrast to her personality. The color reminds you of a time before, before they knew her and before all of this happened. One of your eyes feels kind of funny so you reach for it, pulling back to examine the small drop of water on your finger. You compose yourself and push the large, black, sunglasses up your nose. Maybe you shouldn’t be here. You were dressed in all black with a black umbrella. Despite it being a sad day, it was unnecessarily sunny.

You spot her team making their way down the walk way. Three men carrying the dark coffin with one Caned man in the front and the women in tow. You take a step back into the shadows as they near the podium. As the service progresses the amount of speeches and tears are--overwhelming. Images of Emily, once known to you as Lauren, flash across your mind as you hold back any and all emotions associated with this event.

You knew she wasn't really "dead," she couldn’t be. Emily Prentiss is invincible and would never go like that. You saw the woman known as "JJ" glances your way but she says nothing about it. Probably assuming you were another one of Emily's secrets taken to the grave.

Emily’s not dead. Emily wouldn’t die like that.

You kept repeating it in your head.

Italy - 2004

The violets surround the mansion like a protective field. Their peaceful existence mocking your volunteer imprisonment. You only took this job because you and this other agent were the only ones who spoke fluent Italian. She was supposed to take it and you were the understudy or whatever but then she got knocked up so here you are. Being mocked by fucking flowers. Your thoughts are interrupted by Doyle approaching you with his brunette arm dealer on his arm. You turn away from the balcony upon his approach.

“Lauren deve restare qui mentre scappo. Per favore, tienila d'occhio.” Lauren has to stay here while I run out. Please keep an eye on her. He’s always been so bossy, and for what? To make himself seem more powerful than he actually is? We’re all aware of the danger working for him provides.

“Si signore.” Yes sir. You turn to acknowledge the woman in front of you but she speaks first.

“Perché? Non posso venire con te?” Why is that? Can't I come with you? She whines.

He gives her a look and she backs down. The Captain heads out with his guards behind him, leaving you alone with his lover.

You’re not sure what to do with her. Is this a form of babysitting?

She clears her throat. “I know.”

Hearing her speak English was a surprise but it makes sense, there was always something different about her. You arch an eyebrow and reply, “Sai...che cosa?” You know....what?

She holds up a finger for you to give her a moment. She turns around and sticks her head out the door; then closes and locks it. “You’re not really from Tirana, are you?” Who is this woman? You maintain a neutral face while she continues. “The fact that you never eat with us was a dead give away. You’re always held up in this room.” She gestures to the large room filled with files, records, and books. “Like you’re trying to avoid something. I’d also like to point out how you rarely present any Albanian customs.” Where are you going with this Reynolds... “At first I thought, ‘Maybe they’re one of Doyle’s assassins that I’m not supposed to know about.’ But then I started paying attention and realized you’re nothing like that.” You let out a sharp breath. “Its okay.” She takes one of your hands. “I won’t tell Ian. There’s already enough death in his life and I wouldn’t want to see you be one of his next victims.”

You’re stuck in the moment and words are hard to form. All of your training is slipping through your fingers. For all you know she could be bluffing, trying to get you killed. You go with your safest option because you don’t know this woman at all. You pull your hand from her and take a step closer. Peering into her eyes for any sign of fear and when you find none, you proceed. Leaning in as close as possible to her. “Non farei acquisizioni così pericolose se fossi in te.” I wouldn't make such dangerous acquisitions if I were you. You whisper. You could never be sure if your suspicions were correct but this, this was all the confirmation you needed. What’s that old saying? Takes one to know one. “Agente.” Finishing off that last word you brush past her.

Virginia - present

Being back in The States with Doyle still running around is unnecessarily risking. Emily’s defeat is the only reason you’ve come back. To watch her team grieve over the coffin is saddening but having to hide is the shadows is unfair. Am I not allowed to publicly grieve? Are my tears not worthy? The grip on your umbrella tightens. She’s not dead. Emily doesn’t loose. Emotions are running high and the speeches are getting long. Last time you talked, she claimed to be alone. No family and no fiends but clearly she was wrong. What you’d give to be laying under a plum tree on a wool woven blanket with her head in your lap. Eating pastries you raided from the kitchen and telling the Captain that you needed her to help analyze costs. What a fool.

You were so entranced with the memory that you didn’t notice when the pale, dark haired agent approached you. Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief if I’m not mistaken. “Agent.” He acknowledges.

“Sir?” You mumble.

“Your profession was easy enough to guess, though I’m not sure of your name.” Those knitted brown sweaters and golden, dainty necklaces. The short chestnut hair with soft curls that smelled of honey shampoo. The way she’d nudge your foot during dinner while casting discreet glances. Its all gone. “Agent?” He calls again. “Are you alright?”

Before you say anything you make sure your voice is clear. “Tell me Agent Hotchner, did she suffer?” That question didn’t need to be answered but you just had to know. A favor was called in on your behalf by Lieutenant Parks, he gave very few details about her death but you’ll take that over nothing at all. This was the one question you didn’t have an answer for. With nothing but silence from the man, you have your answer.

Reaching for your pocket there’s a small clear box; inside of the plastic is a handful of pressed violets. Without looking you hold the slim box out to him. “Please, make sure she gets them.” After he takes them you make one last note of the sight in front of you. All of her friends, family, and coworkers gathered in one place with Emily’s grave as the centerpiece. You turn to finally face the man, tilting your shades so he can see a bit of your eyes. “Dead or alive.” And then disappearing in to the back of the cemetary.

Italy - Spring of 04′

Two months ago you were staring off of Doyle’s Spanish-styled balcony thinking, “What would happen if I called it quits?” You had enough evidence and entail for him to never see freedom again. So what was stopping you?

Her. She was making you second guess.

After having her call you out for being a spy, you were very careful about what you did and said around her. Its not like she had any definitive proof but at the same time neither did you. What you said that day was a total bluff. Its a miracle you’re still alive. You were left with only two conclusions: one was that she herself is a spy, or two, she’s one of the smartest people Ian has ever brought home.

Then came a day where the boys went out to wherever and it was just you, her, and the maids. Most of them are Russian and speak poor Italian so they usually keep to themselves. You’re at the dining room table pretending to run numbers since that’s literally your job- well that and vetting backgrounds of sellers and buyers. Essentially a secretary with dangerous patrons. The position is mind numbingly boring but it does allow you to remain invisible while observing the operation. Think about it, who’s going to notice the secretary while discussing millions? They’re idiots. They allow you to sit in on every single meeting because you’re just the person who runs numbers. A debatable perk to this job is the amount of free time you posses. Usually its spent digging around the operation, sending information back to HQ, or actually enjoying small aspects of the city. That brings you to right now where you’re doodling random shapes on the bottom corner of the paper.

Lauren is on the couch wearing a button up satin dress, quite short for Ian’s taste so you’re surprised to see her wearing it. She’s read something you’ve never heard of, not that it matters. With no idea why she’s in here with you, you retreat back into your own mind.

“The maids have left.” You suddenly hear beside you, nearly jumping out of your skin.

“You scared me!” At the realization of your chosen language you gasp and watch as Lauren smiles widely. You shoot to your feet repeating no over and over. Actively trying to take back your words while she looks rather amused.

“I knew it!” She points at you all accusingly and shit. You keep shaking your head no and trying to get her to be quiet. “I was right about you!” And here’s the perfect time to have a maid to walk in. Lauren says something to her but you’re too wrapped up in your head to translate. All your years of training, expierence, undercover work has just been thrown away over your stupid mistake.

They’re going to kill me. They’re going to have my head on a stake in the middle of the garden for the world to see- or worse! I’ll be tortured for my crimes by one of Doyle’s men.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the brunette waving her hand in front of your face. “Don’t worry,” She say softly as you notice the house keeper is no longer with you. “I told her they could take a break...” At your confused face she continues. “So now we can talk.”

Virginia - present

To say you had no idea where you were going, was an understatement.

You hadn’t been to Virginia in years so everything felt unfamiliar. You took quick peaks at your surroundings as the rented porshe pushed through the traffic. Everything hurt, not the traditional pain you experience over a broken toe but the emotional kind that coursed through your entire body.

Is this what a broken heart feels like?

You kept telling yourself she wasn’t dead; couldn’t be. Not your Emily, the woman you know is a fighter. She’s fucking invincible and would never let herself die at the hand of that monster. If she was really dead, wouldn’t you feel it? Wouldn’t you feel your connection to her sever?

At the reorganization of the build ahead of you, you pull the car into the left lane.

Italy - Spring of 04′

She is so fucking clingy. Always starring at me when no one is watching and going on less missions with Doyle. Speaking of him, the man likes to take her everywhere; calls her “Ho il mio portafortuna” his good luck charm. She usual goes out with him whenever he’s traveling but lately she’s been making little excuses on why she wants to stay for the day. Instead of spending the day recuperating from a headache (like she’s told him) she’ll bother you.

That accent and the way she pronounces her R’s makes you wanna melt, but then she starts asking you a million and one questions. What’s your favorite food? When’s your birthday? Have you ever broken a bone? Do you enjoy reading? Its always something with her. I think she’s trying to annoy me. So far you’ve been answering her questions in Italian to insure that you don’t fuck up again.

Doyle is none the wiser, he still sees you as a secretary and her as arm candy.

But you must admit that Lauren is growing on you. She hasn’t said anything in English to you lately or exposed you to Doyle. You’re rarely ever alone but when you are, she gives you one of her finished books and sits in the room quietly. Its comforting. Today she’s given you Niccolo Ammaniti with a note scribbled in pencil on the 5th page, “Hang in there.” Smart woman, writing it in light pencil so I can easily erase it without leaving a trace...also paranoid woman but rightfully so.

Virginia - present

You adjust your shoe so as not to slip before going into the building and suck the shades into your pocket. The giant letters, I. O. D. S. stare back at you in Ariel font.

Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this. Just accept her death and move on.

Inside of Investigations of Death Services you nod to the secretary, an ex of yours, and continue on to your destination. While in the elevatored your vision feels blurry but now isn’t the time for tears. Arriving at your floor, you spot his office and walk in without so much as a knock or invitation.

“One second,” he speaks into the phone. “Can I help you?” His dark eyes look angry, like he doesn’t recognize you. You take a step forward, offering your closed palm to him. “What? What is this? A fucking magic trick?” You slowly open your palm towards him, revealing the silver clover pin. The suited man looks like he’s just seen a ghost. “Shane, I’ll have to call you back.” He hangs up the phone, then reaches from you hand. “Where did you get this?”

Snatching you hand back and putting the silver back in your pocket. “You really don’t remember me, do you?”

He narrows his eyes on you before answering. “Can’t say I do.”

“Back in 03′ you knocked up Carin and proposed I go on assignment. Granted I was the only person who was fluent in Italian--or so I thought. Come to find out there were five other agents who could’ve been assigned there. You chose me because I was up for your job.” Your anger is boiling over quickly. “You were a shitty employee and they were ready to fire you.” You take a daring step forward. “Until you proposed infiltrating Valhalla with one of the foreign operative agents. You told them there were only two fluent agents. Back then we had never met but I knew who you were, Hell, we all knew how much of a screw up you were. Guess you don’t recognize me anymore? I mean in your defense its been years and I’ve lost a few pounds due to the stress you caused me but that’s for another day. How about we go back to 2003.” For a man with toxic masculinity issues, he looks pretty scared. “You couldn’t just out right suggest me so you have to offer up someone else. Coincidently Carin got pregnant right around the time she was starting her training, by you I might add, and could no longer go.” A wide smile starts to grow on your face. “Bet you were counting on my death, huh?” Awe poor baby seems to be shaking. “No...you’re too much of a pussy for that. I bet you were hoping I’d go to Italy and screw things up for the whole operation.” Now you’re toe-to-toe with him. “Mess up so bad that they’d have pull me out and demote me. Or! Reveal myself and hope Doyle’s men killed me or I’d go sprinting home with my tail between my legs.” His silence is starting to irritate you. “So which is it, Mark? Hmm? Cat got your tongue?”

“I’m sorry!” He yells with a reddened face. Out of the corner of your eye you see his co-works looking through his glass walls but you couldn’t care less. “I’m sorry, y/n. What do you want from me? I’ll do anything!” Now we’re getting somewhere.

You push the pin into his face “Where is she, Mark?”

“Where is who?” He’s still fucking shaking.

“Asking me another stupid question and there will be hell to pay.” You’re not really going to hurt him but considering the circumstances, this is justified. The man put your life on the line over some stupid position, a bit of threatening wouldn’t hurt.

“Okay okay. All I know is that after you left she was taken by ALPHA and later faked her death. When Lauren Reynolds died, Emily Prentiss got to go home and Ian Doyle went to a North Korean prison.”

“And now...”

“Last I heard she was working for the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI but was recently killed under suspicious circumstances.” At your expression, he continues. “We know she died during a scuffle with Doyle and there was a funeral but we are yet to have a death certificate on record. Sometimes it take anywhere from a week to a month for us to receive proper records on agent deaths. I thought that-”

“Stop, talking.” You cut him off through gritted teath.

Italy - Autumn 04′

“What is your problem, Lauren?” You’re out on the patio in front of the pool on a warm day. Lauren has a four course meal on the table, courtesy of the chefs.

“Nothing...” She shrugs with a mouthful of strawberry.

“You want me to leave.”

Another fucking shrug.

“Be serious.” You’re trying to stop yourself from stomping your foot.

She puts down her food and clasps her hands together. “Yes I want you to leave.” You watch as she gets up and smooths her skirt; taking your hands in hers. “Your time is thinning and you’ve been her a lot longer than me.”

“And leave you here alone? No way, I know you’re invincible but even Superman had his down fall.”

“Superman?” She loops you in closer. “Why not superwoman? Awfully sexist of you.”

“Oh, shut up.” You nudge her back a bit. “But wouldn’t you miss me?”

She gives you one of her wide smiles. “Let me show how much I’d miss you.” She leans in for a light kiss against your lips. You pull away quickly so as not to be seen. El, like the letter, picked out a blind spot that’s covered partially in shadows. “I have to leave in 15 minutes but until then...” She trails with a very telling expression.

“Where?” You laugh. “Not in the second floor bathroom again because that was...tight.”

Her perfectly plucked eyebrow arches upward, “And you were loud!”

You hop past her to sneak a grape. “Hey! You do know that was mine, right?”

“What are you going to do about it, Superwoman?” You turn to grab another grape, while doing so you feel her presence behind you. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, L.”

“Oh why not?” She lightly trails down your backside. “It’ll be so much fun.”

You turn back to her. “Ten minutes?”

“In the library?” She smirks and you nod along.

Virginia - present

This four hundred dollar airplane ticket is going to serve its purpose but paying it back is going to suck. Your government salary was nice and all but $400 is still a lot.

Just two days before, you rushed around you place to pack all of the essentials for a quick flight to Paris; charger, hygiene, two outfits, and the pin all tucked into a stylish backpack.

That brings us here, standing in the streets of downtown Paris alongside the buzzing mopeds weaving through the streets. In front of you is the little café Elle would go on and on about, naturally this is the first place you could think to look.

You didn’t even know what you were looking for. The woman you fell for was a brunette with light curls and bangs.

You were looking for Emily. The woman Lauren introduced you to. The woman you grew to love in the same way you love Lauren, but Lauren is dead. Has been for awhile, now its time to find Emily. Your Emily.

You find nothing, no one who even slightly revels Emily on your first day there. So you find a hostel to lay your head in and continue on the next day. Again and again with the same routine for five days straight.

You wasted all of your time here for what? A memory? A dream? Two woman who no longer exist on the same astral plane as you?

That’s when you see it, a head of dark brown hair a few tables ahead of where you’re standing. With all hope lost you almost think its a mirage.

You sit a few tables ahead of her, careful to keep your face hidden. When the waiter comes around to take your order you give him very specific instructions.

Emily’s POV

Being a dead woman is lonely and isolating...at least the coffee is good. The waiter who dropped off the hot beverage not too long ago has circled back with a cheese croissant in hand. That’s odd, I hate cheese croissants. “Cette personne là-bas m'a demandé de te livrer ça.” That person over there has asked me to deliver this to you. He points over his shoulder to a person who’s face I can’t quite make out. “Ils m'ont également demandé de vous donner ceci.” They also asked me to give this to you. He reaches from his front pocket and softly places a silver clover pin that I haven’t seen in years, and a pressed Violet. I can feel the air drain out of my lungs at the objects in front of me. “Merci beaucoup.” The only person who knows what these objects mean are Doyle and-

At the sense of being watched my head shoots up at the source. At first there’s nothing there but then I spot the familiar figure. Its been weeks since I’ve actually seen them, it can’t be. I must be seeing things. Closing my eyes and taking in a deep breathe, I open them to see that they’re gone.

“Boo.” I hear in my right ear; looking up to see y/n standing beside me with a bright smile.

“You scared me!” Realizing how loud I am, I take a breath.

“Miss me Elle?” I left you behind, twice. I died twice without letting you know. You’ve had to start over too many times and its not far.

“Y/n, how did you find me?”

“Really, Elle. Did you really think I’d fall for that party trick you pulled at the BAU? I’m not dull, and besides,” Y/n/n gently puts their hand over mine on the coffee mug. “You’re my Superwoman, you’ll never die.”

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･**･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*˚✧₊⁎ ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟ･*:.

@beyondprincess @confused-and-really-hungry @millipop18 @supercorp8388 @groovygoob @emilyprentisswife@covetedcoven @justaghostmonument @rabid-wild-misfits @nomit16 @afuckingshituniverse @mys2425 @fanfictionfangirl04 @aaron-hotchner187 @lisztomaniacalice @thestrawberrygirl @miidguardian-exe @criminalmindsmoodrn @ssacandice-ray @davidrossiismydad @garcias-batcave @ssaemxlyprentxss @andreaxxg13 @emilyprentissistoocute @mortallythoughtfulgurl @iamyouknow-yours @aesthbaby

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anachronisticcrab · 4 years ago

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Nico and Portuguese

I don’t know if this bugged anyone else, but in the Hidden Oracle it didn’t sit right with me that Chiara and Apollo, who were both fluent in Italian, couldn’t understand Paolo when he spoke Portuguese, even though Nico could understand him because he speaks Italian (as seen in BoO when he read the Portuguese inscription in the Church of Bones, and when he was able to translate that Paolo wanted Apollo to have his lucky bandanna). At first I figured it was just weird Uncle Rick discrepancies and stuff, but then I figured why not do a bit of googling to see if I could find an explanation. I did a bit research on Italian dialects and second languages, as well as its connections to Portuguese, Catalan, and Spanish, and I think I discovered why Nico could speak with Paolo and understand Portuguese when no one else could

Just as a forewarning, I want to say is that I don’t speak Italian or Portuguese, I have never been to Italy or Portugal (or any other country that speaks Portuguese), and I am in no way an expert on the subject of any language. If you have any information on this topic, please correct any mistakes I make and feel free to add anything related to this. That being said, let’s get into this monster of a post

First of all, obviously Italian and Portuguese are very close together (they are both derived from Vulgar Latin, and have at least superficial similarities). However, this post will be looking into specific dialects and historical facts that would support Nico understanding Portuguese from Italian whereas the other two people who are confirmed to be fluent have no idea what Paolo says

I started trying to find out a bit more about Italian (because I knew there were differences in the language depending on where you are in the country, because everything in Italy varies from region to region). It turns out there are around 34 recognized spoken dialects within the country of Italy, and Standard Italian comes from Old Tuscany/Florence. The dialects vary from region to region, and even city to city in the country. All the different dialects are vastly different, especially between North Italy and South Italy. If you had a southern Italian speaking their native dialect and a northern Italian speaking theirs, neither of them would have any idea what the other was saying, unlike with different dialects in English, where you still know what the other person is saying. For example, in Venice, the dialect changes depending on the island you are on (ie. Burano to Pellestrina)

If we look specifically at the Veneto Region (where Venice and Verona are, and where Nico is from), one of the dialects is Venetian, although there isn’t a lot of information on the language that I could find, and even less about it’s roots. However I did find out that it is closer to Spanish, Catalan, and Portuguese than it is to Standard Italian (Tuscan), and the language isn’t just spoken in and around Venice, but also in Trieste, Croatia (which led me down the path of Croatia and Venice thanks to Nico visiting there, and I’m gonna make a post about that too now because it’s really cool to me and I’ve got ideas for that) , Slovenia, Mexico and Brazil

Apparently, in certain parts of Brazil, the Talian dialect of Venetian holds co-official status with Portuguese. (I couldn’t find a whole lot of info on this, so I’m not sure where or if this is a true/accurate fact). From around 1875 to the 1920′s, there was a mass boom of Venetian immigrants to Brazil, and of the largest place in the world for people of direct Italian descent is actually Sao Paolo, Brazil. The only article I could find on the Talian dialect cut off two paragraphs in and required a paid subscription to read more (which I couldn’t do since I’m broke), so all I know is that a Portuguese dialect of Venetian is spoken in some areas of Brazil, more of them down south from what I could gather

In my research on Talian, I found out about another dialect, this one of Portuguese. It is called the Paulistano dialect, and is spoken in and around Sao Paolo, the city I brought up before. Paulistano has direct influences from the Venetian language, as it was created thanks to Northern Italian immigrants who spoke with think foreign accents, and a new dialect was created, and preserves characteristics from Venetian

Not gonna lie, I think that they might just be different names for the same language, but I’m probably wrong about that. As I said, I really couldn’t find a lot of information on this topic so I’m probably very wrong by saying that

On top of that, historically, Venice and Portugal (the places that created both languages) have had extremely close relations. In the 15th century, the Portuguese kings used Venice’s ports to help with the spice trade from Asia, South America, and Europe. There were Portuguese and Spanish people coming in and out of Venice’s docks all the time. This is presumably why Venetian is much closer to Spanish and Portuguese than it is to Italian

As you can see, Venetian and Portuguese have deep rooted histories and simmilarities, and show how Nico would be able to understand Portuguese. Nico would’ve grown up speaking a very similar language to Paolo’s, and Paolo may have grown up speaking a dialect inspired by Venetian

I did try to use Paolo’s name to see if I could get an idea of where in Brazil he might be from, but I have absolutely no idea. Montes was originally a French or Spanish surname, suggesting he might have had French or Spanish roots, but that could also be pure bullshit, because I genuinely don’t know. If he was Spanish somewhere along the line, he most likely lived towards the south, closer to Sao Paolo and probably knew either Talian or Paulistano

At this point, you might be wondering why Apollo or Chiara can’t speak or understand Portuguese, and my answer is the following:

Apollo was probably only fluent in Standard Italian/ Tuscan after the country unified in 1861. After all, Italy is the capital of music, art, and is well known for being sunny and warm all the time, and Apollo is the god of all that stuff. Therefore, he probably learned the standardized language, and didn’t bother with any local dialects (after all, most people don’t speak the individual dialects with tourists/foreigners)

Now Chiara was a bit different. She was from Italy, so she would’ve known a regional dialect, and I came up with an issue there. She could have been from Venice, and that would have thrown this whole thing into the trash. That would have thrown out this idea, and mean that my research would have been for nothing, and that it really was just a stupid error on Rick’s part

So I looked up the origins of her name to check this out, praying to all the gods I could think of that my two days of research and googling wasn’t for nothing. The first thing I saw was that most Italian surnames with an ‘i’ at the end are from northern Italy. Just as I was about to start crying, I found a link on ‘The Noble House of Benvenuti’, and it turns out she was most likely Tuscan. Therefore, she probably speaks a regional dialect of New Tuscan or something of the like, and wouldn’t know Venetian

Also, after a bit more digging just to double check some of the facts in this post, I found out that even if she was Venetian, she might not have spoken it. Since Venice is a dying city, apparently Venetian is a dying language, and most people who are fluent in it are older, and there are lot’s of other dialects in the Veneto region anyways. Nico probably only knows it because he lived in Venice before the city started really dying out! The only reason Paolo can communicate with someone could be because of the whole hotel thing!

#nico di angelo #paolo montes #chiara benvunuti #apollo pjo #apollo #trials of apollo #toa #hidden oracle #tho #italy #venice #my research basically amounted to no one can tell me anything about venetian #really tho #no one knows if it's a language or a dialect #brazil #sao montes #portugal

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frodos-bizarre-adventure · 3 years ago

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@gingerreggg bust au brainrot is real

Heads Up- Part 6 (Joseph x Bust! Caesar)

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

Suzi awoke on the sofa with a start. It was already late at night, and the TV was still on, already halfway through showing yet another Fast and the Furious sequel. The living room was dimly lit, though she could clearly see Joseph crouched next to her with a concerned expression on his face.

"It's...it's Caesar," he sighed. "He's quite upset."

Rising from the couch in a worried hurry, Suzi made her way over to the front door, and was greeted with the sight of Caesar, his neck base covered in mud and dirt and the most bitter expression on his face.

"Caesar?" she asked, bending down, trying to maintain eye contact, despite Caesar trying to look away. "Did you try to run away?"

"I can only bounce," Caesar joked half-heartedly. "I don't have feet."

"Well, did you try to bounce away?" she asked again, with the patience of a kind schoolteacher.

Caesar sighed, knowing that trying to break the tension with his usual dry humor wouldn't work.

"There's a big world out there and I'm not even allowed to see it," Caesar lamented. "I'm alive, but I'm just stuck in this little house, because no one can know I exist."

"I just want to be free," he said, somewhat impulsively.

"Look, Caesar, we're just worried about you, okay?" Joseph told his sculpture. "We're just afraid that someone would discover you and take you away. And we can't have that, can we? You're a prized creation I worked so hard on. You're a living, talking miracle. And most importantly, Caesar... you're my friend."

"You're precious in so many different ways," Suzi added.

Without a further word Caesar bowed his head sadly, and began to hop toward Joseph's room.

Joseph couldn't help but notice, however, that Caesar winced and groaned with every hop. It wasn't his usual grunts of effort. He sounded hurt.

"Caesar, let me check on you, will ya?" he asked, walking over to Caesar's side. Gently lifting him up --with Caesar too upset to retaliate-- he inspected the bust's underside, and grimaced.

"Now look what you've did to yourself, Caesar. You've chipped away your paint and got sand into your skin. I'm gonna have to clean and fix you up," he said with a frown.

------

Suzi watched as Joseph worked all night, repairing Caesar's damage that he'd sustained during his little trek in the yard. He skillfully used delicate carving tools and wet brushes to clear away the debris that had stuck themselves to Caesar's underside.

Caesar was leaned backwards against a wooden stand, so that Joseph could inspect his underside without having to lay him down and risking flattening his facial features. Caesar was not too pleased, however, and winced painfully and complained as Joseph got to work.

"I guess he doesn't appreciate you meddling with his butt," Suzi mused.

"I don't have a butt," Caesar grumbled.

"Well, I mean it sort of is your bottom, isn't it? Which would mean that you're technically sitting whenever you're upright..." she pondered.

"Don't you go overthinking everything too much," Caesar retorted, scrunching up his face at the sting of a splinter being pulled out of his base. "I know me existing at all raises a lot of questions I'd rather not answer."

Joseph, however, was more concerned about the fact that Caesar's underside was able to feel pain. "This is why we don't go barefoot on rough ground, Caesar."

Caesar rolled his eyes, as he often did with Joseph and his antics around. "What are you gonna do? Make me wear one big shoe?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, the mental image was funny enough to elicit a smile from both artists.

"Maybe," snarked Joseph in response, smirking.

Once Caesar's underside was clean, Joseph commenced on repainting it. He coated the base with a pale flesh tone, identical to the shade of the rest of Caesar's clay skin, and, with a few minutes of drying, Caesar looked good as new.

"Hold on, there's one more thing I ought to do," Joseph said, shaking a can of spray-on varnish. "Cover your noses everyone! Uh...or maybe just me and Suzi."

"I don't breathe but I can smell!" Caesar yelled, but too late to block out the harsh scent. Caesar groaned and wrinkled his face in disgust.

With a few loud spritzes and a few moments more for the clear varnish to harden, Joseph finally lifted Caesar back onto the floor. "So, what do you think? Does it still hurt?"

Caesar made a few experimental hops.

"Huh, it doesn't," he said, testing his newly-varnished base like a child with a new pair of sneakers. His thumps sounded a bit squeakier, and he could still feel the texture of the floor, but he felt less of the rough friction of the ground that rubbed against his bottom.

"This varnish should protect your butt in case you go scraping yourself around again. Not that you should be doing that to begin with, anyway." Joseph instructed.

"Yeah, sure," Caesar huffed. "And for the last goddamn time, I don't have a butt."

------

It was early the next morning when Suzi sat on the couch, lazily flipping through channels, when she saw Caesar squeakily hopping across the floor past her.

Her curiosity sparked, and she couldn't resist asking.

"Do you find hopping around on your neck difficult? I've seen you hop around all day and it looks like a tiring way to get around," she said, with a bit of pity.

Caesar twitched his rudimentary shoulders in what was his equivalent of a shrug. "It's the only way I am able to move, so I'm not complaining. I'm just glad I'm even able to move around at all," he said matter-of-factly.

"Besides, there isn't really much else for me to do, anyway. Hop over here, hop over there, bounce around until Joseph wants something to do with me, it's quite boring, really."

"Say, I've got some books to pass the time," Suzi said, seating herself down. Caesar eagerly hopped over to her side as she pulled out a book from her bag. "You do know how to read, don't you?" she asked Caesar.

"I can," Caesar replied. "I mean, I've only been alive less than a week, but yeah, somehow I can read."

"Really?" Suzi said, intrigued, as she presented him a book on Greek mythology from her literature class. "So there are things you just...know? Like how to speak fluent English? What places and things are called? Joseph's name, maybe?"

"Actually, he was wearing a nametag with 'Joseph' on it when we met, when I first awoke." Caesar corrected.

"But do you remember anything before that?"

Caesar's face went blank for a moment.

"Nothing. I may remember what things are, what words mean, but about me..." His voice just trailed away, and he shook his head sadly.

Suzi's attention was caught by a loud snoring from Joseph's room.

"Poor fella," Suzi said. "He was working really hard to fix you last night. He must be exhausted. He hasn't had a wink of sleep."

Caesar hummed regrettably. He couldn't help but felt guilty at having made Joseph labor all evening to repair the damages of his recklessness.

------------

That afternoon, as Joseph and Suzi sat at the dining table enjoying their lunch, Joseph decided to bring up a topic that everyone had been awkwardly skirting around since the beginning.

"Caesar has no body." Joseph said.

"Well, no shit, Sherlock," Caesar quipped, like he did the first day, from the living room floor. He was absorbed in Suzi's mythology book, using his nose to flip through the pages.

"Well, he's seemed to have gotten used to it," Suzi pondered. "He's gotten pretty independent."

"Yes, but he's just a head, and it's my fault! I created him!" Joseph said repentantly. "I wish there was something I could do about it."

Suzi raised an eyebrow. "You mean...make him a body?"

Joseph looked over to the living room, where he saw Caesar struggling to adjust the position of the book with his chin.

"It's the right thing to do, I guess. But...how?"

"We're gonna need clay. Lots of it. And I think I might know just the place."

-----------

(Previous Chapter)

(Next Chapter)

#jjba #gingerreggg #jojo's bizarre adventure #battle tendency #caesar x joseph #caejose #hands of life au #bust!caesar #sculptor!joseph #heads up

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that-was-anticlimactic · 4 years ago

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I was tagged by the lovely and wonderful @zukosaturtle-duck :) thank you, Ellen:)

1. name/nickname: Corey actually is my nickname! My full name is Corrina but when I first made an Instagram fan account in 2012, someone asked my name and sixth grade me panicked and said Corey! I’m sick of having my name mispronounced even after correcting them, so I like giving people options:) I’ve also had two teachers accidentally call me Corona in the past year so I guess that’s a nickname too lol

2. gender: female

3. star sign: Capricorn

4. height: so. I haven’t measured or weighed myself in literal years because I just didn’t ?? Last time I measured myself, I was 5’1 1/2, but I think I’m 5’2 now?? Maybe 5’2 1/2???? I should probably measure myself haha

5. time: 12:31pm

6. birthday: December 29th

7. favorite bands/groups: ... I listen to Broadway:) so I’ll just name my favorite musicals: Aladdin, A Chorus Line, Come From Away, and Starry:)

8. favorite solo artist: ummm again, I listen to mostly Broadway so umm I’ll just name some more musical I like: Dogfight, Finding Neverland, anything by Team Starkid, Into the Woods, The Lightning Thief:)

9. song stuck in my head: Love Thy Neighbor from The Prom

10. last movie: Legend of Everfree

11. last show: I’m actually currently rewatching Psych (like literally right now I’m watching the episode Shawn (and Gus) of the Dead as I type this). It’s, in my opinion, the best live action show out there.

12. when did i create this blog: imma be real— I don’t remember?? Either 2017 or 2018???

13. what do i post: my blog used to be Ninjago, but now it’s a mix of atla / lok, Ninjago, The Hollow, and pretty much any cartoon! I also reblog some musical stuff, friendly reminders, and just stuff I think is important! I do post fanfiction on occasion as well! Love reblogging art because I can’t draw for crap and seeing beautiful art is 🥺🥰

14. last thing i googled: “when is kiss of the spider woman set” I was on a face time with my internet friends last night and every night I practice trying to say all of the MLP episodes in a season (alternates by night) in order, so I did s5 and then my other friend was like “gimme a year and I bet I can name all of the Tony nominees for best musical every year” and we were double checking haha

15. other blogs: this is my only blog akbekejrj

16. do i get asks: sometimes! The majority of my asks have to do with Sokka with Tourette’s headcanons or anything with TS, and I love that:)

17. why did i choose this url: my favorite word is anticlimactic and one of the scenes that made me laugh the hardest in Ninjago is in s5 ep4 when Cole thinks the other three are playing a prank on him and they’re running after him and Jay screams “DON’T OPEN THAT DOOR” and then nothing happens and Kai just goes “... well that was anticlimactic” and it’s just my favorite thing ever and I’ve considered changing my url to zukkaclimactic but I love that line so much I’m wjevjebr

18. following: 253 (crap I should follow more people wksbejje)

19. followers: 434🥺 thanks for putting up with my crap, friends🥺

20. average hours of sleep: hahahhaha umm god question. not sure. terrible sleep schedule, just ask Grace lol

21. lucky number: 3! I just love odd numbers and years ago (like sixth grade again) my friend and I made a dumb little Ninjago number code for whatever reason and my favorite character was three and idk I’ve felt a “connection” with three ever since haha

22. instruments: I played alto saxophone in band for seven-eight years, three years in marching band and tenor sax one year in marching band and part of my junior / senior year of high school!

23. what am i wearing: lol haven’t left my bed yet today so pajama pants with cute little cartoon pigs on them and a black long sleeve shirt hahahha

24. dream job: well, I’m going to college for English education, so teaching high school English is absolutely a dream job, but my impossible dream job would be voice acting, Broadway (if I could I actually sing ugh), or I would like to write a cartoon television show (and also lowkey voice a character). I do actually love my major, though, and it is a dream job!

25. dream trip: DENMARK DENMARK DENAMRK DENMARK!!! I love Denmark. I’m literally attempting to learn Danish for fun because I love Denmark. I know three Danish sign language words (I’m also almost fluent in asl but this is Danish sign language I—) but um ahem aside from Denmark, any trip where I meet my internet friends

26. favorite food: ngl I really like tomatoes. I eat whole tomatoes like apples a lot. Fantastic.

27. nationality: american

28. favorite song: my favorite song will always be High Adventure from Aladdin. That song is so important to me for reasons I won’t get into right now because this is long enough as it is, but that will always be my favorite song.

29. last book read: hmm I think the last book I read was fanfiction uhh but I am currently reading The Color Purple!

30. 3 fictional universes you’d like to live in: bro. Bro. Can I just live in a fictional universe. How must I choose only three ??? Umm Equestria from MLP, there’s just something so magical and powerful about the world from Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts and maybe it’s the fact that in the end humans and mutes live on the surface together so that’s my number two, and uhhh the world in Land of Stories like the book world.

Oh boy the hardest part: tagging people who haven’t been tagged yet. Umm @evelinaonline (I know you aren’t on tumblr as much, but friendship is magic haha), @tikmasjiens , @dnd-beyond (my fellow starkid fan), @rainydaysammy , and @canyourscienceexplainthis (feel free to not do this if you don’t want to! There’s no pressure to do it!)

#tag game #ellen I love you #thank you for the means to procrastinate #and rant about musicals lol

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beenbaanbuun · 5 years ago

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WAYV’s reaction to their S/O having a strong British accent

this is perfect for me bc i have a very strong derbyshire accent (if you don’t know what it sounds like, its such a good accent, i suggest you look it up). also, feel free to request anything at all - lilly

KUN

When you spoke any language other than English, it was pretty hard to tell that you had a strong accent; people often found it difficult to understand you when you spoke with an accent. Kun often walked over to your apartment when he was done with practice, but on this particular day, you were on the phone to your mum back in the UK.

“Nah, I promise, mum, I’m alright. Kun’s taking proper good care of me. I’m perfectly safe here.” Kun had never heard you speak your native language before, but he found it extremely endearing. “Mum, chill for a minute. I’m fine.” He couldn’t help but smile as he tried to work out what you were saying. Your accent was much harder to understand than he thought it would be.

As soon as you hung up and put your phone down, Kun coughed, letting you know of his presence in the room.

“I couldn’t help but hear your accent. I like it, but I had no clue what you said.”

TEN

When you first met, you both tried to communicate in Korean, but when neither of you were getting very far, he did a bit of digging and realised you were English. That was perfect for him, as it meant you could both talk a lot easier. It was late at night, and you fancied a walk so you called him up and asked him to go with you. Of course he obliged; he was more than happy to go a walk with his baby. When he arrived, he saw you wrapped up in his jumper and thought you were the cutest thing on the planet.

“Hey baby. How are you?” You couldn’t help but notice the language he was speaking in wasn’t Korean, but English instead. You laughed, shocked, but happy at the fact that you didn’t have to butcher Korean anymore.

“Hello, Ten dearest. I see you’re speaking my language.” As soon as your spoke and Ten heard your thick accent, he was shocked, but he was so in love. The way you spoke, and they way your accent was so thick did something to him. He was so glad he made this discovery, and he would never let you speak any language other than English from now on.

“You know what, baby? I think we should go back to the dorms.”

WINWIN

Winwin was so happy you could speak Chinese; after all, he wasn’t fluent in any other language. He did, however, enjoy laying his head on your lap when he was tired and listening to you speaking to him in your native language. The way your voice lulled his to sleep, and your thick accent melted him made his fall deeper for you.

He often lay there staring into your eyes as you spoke to him about what happened in your day in English. He didn’t always understand everything that you were saying, but he always tried his hardest and asked you to repeat anything in Chinese if he didn't understand it.

“And then she just told me that I was the one being rude, after she purposefully spilled coffee on the documents I’d literally just signed. How dare she.” Winwin mumbled something in reply, but you didn’t hear it properly. “Huh? What did you say baby?” You spoke in Chinese so you knew he’d understand.

“I understood about three words that you said. Can you repeat it in Chinese?”

LUCAS

You spoke to him in English 24/7 because he wasn’t the best at Korean, and you weren’t the best at Chinese. Part of you wondered whether he purposefully made his Korean worse when he was around you, just to hear you speak in English. He made no effort to hide the fact that he loved you accent; he screamed every time he heard you speak with your thick accent.

Once, you were at the dorms, talking to Kun in Korean, which obviously made Lucas even more clingy than usual because he wasn’t sure what some of the words meant. He whined every so often, just to get your attention for a split second, but you weren’t going to give in that easy. That was until he wrapped his leg around you, stopping you from moving all together.

“Lucas! Let me talk to Kun for a bit please. I’ll come cuddle in a second, yeah?”He groaned, releasing his leg but refusing to remove his arms from your waist.

“We can cuddle on the bed, but I’m staying where I am.”

XIAOJUN

One of Xiajun’s favourite things about you was your interest in languages, it allowed you to communicate after all. The only thing is you found it incredibly hard to mask your accent when you spoke. It was interesting the say the least, Xiaojun sometimes found it difficult to understand what you were saying, but he appreciated your effort so much.

“Xiaojun, can you come and lie down with me for a while. I’m tired.” Your words were mumbled because you were sleepy, and your accent was strong, but you were still trying. Xiaojun looked down at you from where he stood, his eyes were full of love, but he had to admit, he didn’t understand a word that came out of your mouth.

“Can you repeat that, (Y/N)? I have no idea what you just said” You frowned, jokingly making Xiaojun let out a laugh. He loved you so, so much.

HENDERY

He spoke English with you at every opportunity, even though you were fluent in Mandarin. He loved your accent with a passion, but he tried to keep it secret. Whenever you spoke, he would laugh or coo, teasing you. His favourite would be when you complimented you in English.

You often visited him at the dorms to see him, and whenever you did, he would be so happy. He loved seeing you at every opportunity he could, and joking about your accent. One night, you were sat in the dorms, him listening to you complain about being hungry.

“I swear to god, if the food doesn’t arrive in the next 10 minutes, I will cry.” Hendery let out a loud laugh, causing YangYang and Kun to look at him and shake their heads.

“Baby, I love your accent. Please say something else.”

YangYang

You’d always wanted to learn German, and lucky for you, your boyfriend spoke German. Every time you went to visit him, he would give you a short lesson. He couldn’t lie, you were bad, mainly because of your accent. Normally, he loved to hear it, but when he was speaking to you in German, it frustrated him to hear your accent coming through.

He never got angry at you though; he was always so gentle when correcting your accent, making you so happy he was your teacher. Your old teacher was very harsh, but not YangYang.

“Hallo, ich bin (Y/N) und...” You stopped speaking, not knowing what comes next. YangYang just smiled at you and took one of your hands in his, giving it a light squeeze. Whenever he did that, you knew you’d got the accent wrong somewhere.

“That was good, baby, you just need to work on the accent a little in a few places. Yours is still coming through.”

#nct #wayv #wayv reactions #wayv requests #wayv scenarios #nct reactions #nct scenarios

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years ago

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Hippie Sabotage || Morgan & Evelyn (feat. Cecily)

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @thronesofshadows & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan needs a special ingredient for her ritual, and Evelyn knows a woman, Lady Cecily Ashford, who can give it to them. But some things are easier said than done.

CONTAINS: Poshness and sass

Morgan didn’t trust the stars to align in her favor. Not as easily as this seemed to come together. After everything that had already happened, how could Evelyn just happen to know some Baroness with a home museum of dark creepy artifacts, including the bol d’éventre Morgan had been tearing her hair out looking for? Where was the catch? When was the other shoe going to drop? She gripped her friend’s arm as they approached the Haven Hotel where this woman was staying, her face knotted with worry. It was bad form, she knew, to show someone how desperate you were to have something. But she didn’t know how to hide this either. Constance was cruel and slippery and every day she got to hang around the twenty-first century consequences free, Morgan burned as if she’d been slapped. “Do I have to call her Lady Ashford? Mrs. Ashford? Do we..I mean...obviously, you know more about this fancy stuff than I do, but I need the bowl, unless you’re telling her that you need it?” She gave Evelyn a sidelong look, her brow clenched with anxiety. “Am I overthinking this? I’m overthinking this.” Deep breath. “It doesn’t matter. Slong as we get the bowl, whatever else happens.” She pulled on what strings of hope she still had left in her and smiled.

Cecily Ashford only sat on the wretched florals in the hotel parlor because she refused to loiter at the window like a dolt. The world was not as it had once been, but there were still enclaves of auctioneers and traders making do in such rustic, pastoral hamlets such as this. Even the inn, or all its faults, was not without potential. And a visit from a young friend could brighten even a dour day, under the right circumstances. Cecily beamed through her net veil as her visitors arrived. “My dear, Eva, it’s been too long. Let me look at you-- the parties are getting duller by the year, and more of your cohorts are running off to greener pastures. But, at least you seem to be doing fine. Very fine indeed. And who--” Cecily was far too well bred to allow her speech to falter, but her eyes told a most subtle story of surprise to Evelyn. “Might this young woman be?”

She loathed the idea of meeting someone from her past again. Evelyn had run away from England for that very reason, to escape the suffocating feeling that came with living in that house. In that city. In that country. Though she found herself unable to feel true panic, she had been seized with a certain unfamiliar sense of worry upon finding out that Cecily Ashford was in town. There was a certain part of it all that made her feel like a child again, like she should wear the white lace dresses that her father had placed her in, ones that make her throat itch regardless of the fact that they were made with the finest of fabrics. However, if this was what would help Morgan, she would deal with it. Make pleasant small-talk and get the bowl that would rid her friend of her troubles. “I will take the lead, no need to worry.” She spoke in a gentle whisper to Morgan as they approached the hotel. “I call her Cecily, and she is rather fond of me, so I think you might be able to get away with that as well.”

Evelyn opened the door and made her way into the lobby. She had not expected the woman to be there, and led Morgan around until they were in the first-floor parlor. Though it had been a number of years since she had seen the woman, she could still smell the same perfume that she’d been wearing ever since Evelyn was a child. The past is past, she reminded herself as the two of them made their way over. “Cecily.” She offered a small smile, wincing for a moment at the nickname. “It has been too long.” Evelyn straightened her posture, hands running against the skirt of her dress. “I can imagine the parties are getting duller - though I am certain you do your best to liven them up.” She let another grin cross her face. “I am doing fine, and I appreciate that you have noticed. Making my way best as any of us can.” She remained standing, waiting for the woman to motion for them to sit before she did so, though the hand of the arm that was not occupied by Morgan's grip traced the armrest of a chair opposite Cecily. “This is Morgan. We have come to ask you about something of yours. Of course to catch up as well, but when I heard you were in town I could not pass up the opportunity. May we?” She finally said, nodding in the direction of the chairs. “Let me pay for some tea - or something stronger, if you wish.”

“Oh, my dear, I couldn’t possibly drink before three. Although if I recall, you do delight in breaking decorum. I think the Duke of Richmond is still nursing that foot to this day,” Cecily teased, looking the girl over once again. “But, perhaps some sherry. To be among the young is to feel devilish again.” She looked at the woman called Morgan as she said this. There was something impertinent in her face, even as she shrunk behind Evelyn like some Victorian lady’s companion. Well, Evelyn did have an odd taste in playthings, and who was she to make a fuss? “Shall we sit? I was rather surprised to hear about your sudden interest in my collection. You know I don’t part with my treasures so easily, my dear. Not even for friends.” She squinted over at Morgan thoughtfully, then to Evelyn, then back again to Morgan. “And what is your part in this, Morgan, correct?”

Morgan, who could feel Evelyn bristling next to her, gave her best smile. “Oh, I’m, you know, just here to...look pretty?” She waited a moment to see if the bit would land, but her look turned self conscious before she could really find out. “I mean, I just, have a vested interest, I guess. And it’s not every day I get to meet and esteemed gentlewoman, or, uh, lady, such as yourself.” Somewhere in her mind was a faint voice in her head that said she should stop while she was ahead, but with the older woman’s apathy and smugness, clearly so practiced to make her indecipherable on purpose, at least to someone not already fluent in her nonsense. She saw possibility shrinking before her eyes, along with all its potential. Another door closing in her face, throwing her back down into Constance’s grasp. “You do have it, right? The bowl de--eventre?”

“Well, I have a spirited personality, or so I have been told.” Though Evelyn often supposed that many people who had told her and her father that had meant defiant instead. She was not going to fully deny that, either - though she may have not appreciated the tone with which the remarks had been given, she could hardly deny them, especially given that she had run away on her birthday. “I hardly weighed anything, but I have always been able to make a memorable impression.” She shrugged. “I think sherry could be lovely. “Yes, let us sit.” Evelyn sat down opposite Cecily, not wanting to break away from Morgan just yet. After all, she was here in order to help her, it just so happened that she knew an important player in this. She supposed that in the end, it did make sense -- she knew a great many people and even if they were not themselves aware of the value that items they owned held, it did make sense that they would have had such items. Evelyn made a mental note to inquire at some point or another to see if Morgan or anyone else knew if any of the many items she had amassed over the years held any value outside of a monetary one.

She flashed a grin to Morgan at the looking pretty comment, though it seemed to fall flat on Cecily’s sense of humor. Evelyn straightened her posture. She was not about to let the other woman talk down to Morgan - even if that was not entirely her intent, Evelyn was all too aware of how easy it was to do just that. She knew that she was more than a little guilty of it herself, too. More than just occasionally, but right now was not the time to focus on the similarities that she shared with the woman opposite her. The pull to fall back into old habits was alluring - more than she would have imagined, but in a flash she could see her father reminding her to be quiet, to be everything everyone thought she was. “She does.” Evelyn interjected before Cecily could speak. “Right?” She raised an eyebrow at the older woman. “Morgan is a,” she took in a breath, the word friend still feeling far too foreign, “friend. She is a friend of mine, and I trust her, so if she says that it is something that she - we - I - we,” Evelyn finally decided, “need, then it must be quite something. I do have something of a memory of adoring looking at it as a child, though it was your company and the Yorkshire puddings that your cook always used to make that truly made those visits special.”

Cecily was charmed by Evelyn’s flexible manner, but not impressed. She had no intention of giving up her prize, not if this was some lark and certainly not if it turned out to be more significant than she had first imagined. But she did truly miss Evelyn, and if she could find out the cause for this sudden enthusiasm, so much the better. She leaned back in her chair, still composed, and regarded the pair with a smile. “How very sweet you are, Eva,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me more about this...need of yours.”

Morgan looked at Evelyn, gauging how much she ought to explain. Cecily’s eyes were squarely on her, somehow gentle and intimidating at once. She reminded her of Lydia, but not in a way that gave any comfort. “I’m uh...a scholar in several fields, including some obscure ones. This bowl, when applied in a specific context, can…” Well, it united the energy of the ingredients with the incantation thanks to some skillful carving work. It served as a stabilizing agent for the spell. Negative intentions could be volatile, or so common wisdom usually went. So some structural unity and metaphysical braces were usually in order. At least, hypothetically. Morgan had never gotten around to doing something like this before. “Create some incredible reactions. And this context, this application of the bowl’s properties, it’s going to save a lot of people’s lives and do a lot of good for this community. And your bowl is, as far as I’m aware, one of the very last surviving of its kind. If not the actual last. If the need wasn’t so urgent, I--we--would happily put our energy elsewhere. It’s not my intention to inconvenience anyone. But we...need this. We just need this, ma’am. Very dearly.”

“An obscure life-saving silver bowl?” Cecily said, her brow reaching for the heavens. “My dears, if what you say is true, why in god’s name should I part with it for the good of this place?”

“Well, you know that people always found me engaging, even as a young child.” Evelyn replied in turn. However, she supposed that her years away from London had made her a bit more naïve in that she had thought that it would have been rather easy to have Cecily simply hand over the bowl. However, Morgan was here, and the other woman’s explanations were something that Evelyn found herself in dire need of. Even if Morgan’s explanations did not come out as precisely as she had come to expect from the other woman. However, she appeared to have at least more confidence in the way she held herself than the first time she and Evelyn had met, all those many months past. “Precisely. We would certainly put our efforts elsewhere, but you were due to be in town and I recalled this specific object, and, well, you know I have never been able to get an idea out of my head once I have my heart set on it.” She giggled, twirling her hair around her fingers. “Yes, it is life-saving but just think - you would be doing the world a great deal of good, though I understand that you find this sort of thing rather complicated.” She waved one of the staff over, and requested a bottle of sherry before turning back to Cecily and squeezed Morgan’s hand. “However, I am willing to pay whatever price you might request, I have no qualms about that. Save for returning to England.” That much I cannot do.

“Oh, Eva. You know I care for philanthropy as much as the next woman. The hospital board takes up ever so much of my time, and I’m an investor in a number of nonprofits,” Cecily chided. “But you must be reasonable. Is the bowl even going to survive whatever ‘reaction’ you perform on it? Surely its value will decrease with use. Why shouldn’t I give it up at auction and let the proceeds go to some other, more deserving community? Why not keep it for myself and direct these ‘contexts’ for my own needs? You make this sound like the key to blazing world peace.” She laughed, a cruel, tittering sound that chided them for asking the question in the first place.

“Because you can’t!” The words burst out of Morgan before she could stop herself. She flinched, looking abashed at the woman and Evelyn both. “I just mean… look, it’s a specialized sort of thing and you’re not going to believe me if I told you and you wouldn’t care even if you did. But it’s my life and my family, the family I’ve made here, which includes Evelyn, is on the line. My entire existence is on the line. It’s specific, it’s magic, for crying out loud.” She laughed haplessly. She didn’t know this woman, she didn’t have the code for how to make her remember how to give a damn about something besides these stupid boards and nonprofits and whatever else she would rather be doing. “Please,” she said, no longer awkward or halting, but fully earnest. “Please do this for us. Please…”

Cecily’s face betrayed nothing. She looked to Evelyn, and spoke as if she hadn’t heard Morgan at all. “You should consider returning to where you belong, Eva my dear,” she said. “Your father misses you terribly. I’ll tell him what a treat it was to see you when I return, though, hm?”

“Well, Lady Fowler did have a leg up on most all of us, but you are correct.” Evelyn laughed, twirling her hair around her fingertips. She was more than okay with playing the stuck-up socialite that Cecily knew her if it got them what they wanted. Turning back into who she’d been as a teenager didn’t entirely sit right with her, but she found it far easier to do than she would have liked. “I will pay you anything you want and you can give the money to whatever charity, get another library dedicated in your name.” Cecily’s laugh cut through her bones - she’d heard it before, though not directed at her. She used to join in in such laughter.

Morgan was talking again and Evelyn found herself once again grateful, even if the look on Cecily’s face implied that she was less than pleased, and that in and of itself was never a good sign, not much at all. “We - yes. It will help us a great deal. More than you could ever know.” They weren’t getting through to her, and Evelyn cursed herself for it. Because she had believed so fiercely that this would help, that she’d be able to charm Cecily into doing whatever she wanted. Her lips curved up into a small smile at Morgan’s mention of family, though that moment was cut short by Cecily’s next comment. “I am not going home - not going back to England. I have made a life here.” No. “Please do not.” Evelyn could feel her breath catch in her throat. This was everything she didn’t want. She had escaped her life back home, her life with her father and being forced to be everything she was not. She knew he wanted her back, she’d seen the news when she first ran away. Perhaps she’d gotten far too cavalier with her actions, with what she’d posted. She’d walked into this. “Please do not tell him where I am.”

Of course Cecily had known that Evelyn’s abrupt disappearance would be something of a sore spot. One did not vanish from respectable society altogether unless there was a cause. But she had not expected such an impassioned reaction either. It was good to have such precious information on hand, and to know its value. “You’ve been out of the game too long, my dear,” Cecily sighed. “You’ve shown your hand and you have nothing to offer me of value. Now, I won’t go blabbing to your father yet, but, that may prove conditional later on. Do keep that in mind next time I call, Eva.” She rose from her chair and patted Evelyn’s cheek as she had when she was a girl, for old time’s sake.

“Stop calling her that!” Morgan snapped. “She’s not a child, and this isn’t some game for you to power play!” Her hand was out to swat the woman’s away. She only stopped to think when she found herself struck in turn. She shrank back, too stunned to process being slapped or anything else. The only thing she knew for sure was that this whole thing had been a mistake.

“I have not.” Evelyn practically hissed. She had let her emotions get the better of her once again - which continued to prove time and time again that shuttering away how she was feeling was the better way to go. Better than reacting in far too much of an impassioned way. She ought to have known that Cecily wasn’t here for the sake of altruism. She hadn’t ever been keen on that, not back in England, and clearly the few years that had passed had done little to change that. “Please.” Though pleading was hardly something she wished to resort to, she couldn’t help herself. She pressed her lips together firmly, doing her best not to flinch at the woman’s hand against her cheek, no matter how gentle it was, it now felt little other than patronizing.

Then there was Morgan again, Morgan who was far too good, defending Evelyn. The sound of Cecily’s hand against Morgan’s cheek caused Evelyn to stand up, her height almost even with Cecily’s. “You do not get to walk into my life and hurt my friends. I had heard you were coming to town and I figured that you would be able to assist with something I need. I thought that perhaps you would have been more keen to do some sort of good, particularly given that I remember this bowl collecting dust in a cabinet of yours.”

“Then that makes it your mistake of underestimating me, Eva,” Cecily said the name with emphasis, just to prove how undaunted she was by this childish display from the pair. “You should know I give nothing away for free. But do be in touch, my dear. Pleasure seeing you, as always.” She gave Evelyn a curt nod and swept out of the parlor, back towards her room.

Morgan slumped back in her seat, face in her hands. “I am...so sorry…” she groaned. “I just...I didn’t like how she...and I’ve never seen you like that before either. It was just… I reacted, and I didn’t give you time to think things through, or come up with a better bargaining chip, or a sales pitch or…” she let out a long exhale. “Tell me what I can do, Evelyn. Are you okay?” she mumbled.

She could do little besides blink as Cecily left them - that in and of itself was alarming, given that she didn’t have to. Only blinked because that was what humans did. Evelyn turned to face Morgan. “You do not have to be.” She brushed against Morgan’s shoulder, and reached out for the other woman’s hands, much like they had the first time they had met, all those many months ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago, and she supposed that for Morgan, it had been. “No - I…” her voice trailed off. “I ran away from home, four years ago.” Morgan’s hand, no matter how cold, felt good. Better than Cecily’s, that much was certain. “My father - he cannot know where I am. I feel as though I am the most myself I have ever been.” She shook her head. “It - it is not your own doing. I should have - I got too caught up in the dream of being able to get her to give this up. I should have thought through this more.” Biting her lip, she looked over to Morgan again. “We will fix this. I will fix this.” She paused, taking in a shaky breath, “I mean, I will fix whatever I can.” She shrugged, in response to Morgan’s question. “Up for debate.”

Morgan slumped deeper into her seat and squeezed Evelyn’s hands. “I had no idea. I didn’t realize you were taking such a risk for me, Evelyn, I wouldn’t have pressed so much if I--” Morgan grimaced. Yes, she would’ve, but she would’ve felt bad about it in the moment and not just in the aftermath. Maybe exercised some more caution, but that didn’t always work out well for her either. Maybe they really would have always wound up here. “I’m still sorry, for putting you through that. Come on, at least one of us should get drunk after all that. My treat. We can figure out the next move after.”

“You are worth a risk.” Evelyn shrugged. “It - well, I had to, did I not? I think my years here have somehow made me softer than I should have liked. More willing to believe in the goodness of others?” She scrunched her nose. It was not entirely true, she certainly still held her reservations but she had come to understand that growing up as sheltered as she did, despite studying human behavior for her degree (and excelling in it) - had made her quite a bit less able to always understand everyone else’s true self. “I think I believed that I would surely manage - well, I do not know…” her voice trailed off. “You need not to be sorry. We can go and get drinks, certainly. I - we will make this work. We just have to be two steps ahead of her next time.” She stood up, dropping her hand from Morgan’s. “I may have a few ideas already.”

#wr evelyn #wr chatzy #wr evelyn chatzy #hippie sabotage #wickedswriting

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purplellamanator · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! I saw your list and that make me so excited. My request is ShinRan for Arranged or Foreign Thank you

Thanks so much for the ask anon!! I really enjoyed doing this one. Of course it got a little out of hand cause I have no self control so it is extremely long! Further in the story you’ll probably notice I had the other language being spoken as Japanese. I am not fluent and my knowledge of the language is very slim! Anything in the story was translated from google translate which I know is not a good source but if you notice the mistakes, I do apologize! Feel free to correct me and I will try to edit it as I go. Also, I know I say it every time but I am so sorry for the wait. I work in a pharmacy so as you can probably guess, work has been crazy during all of this covid stuff! I hope everybody is being safe and healthy and that even if it is such a small thing, that I can provide some decent entertainment for someone that is stuck in quarantine! Be safe y’all! Arranged~ Person A is royalty and has to wed. They choose Person B, and B is not happy about it

Foreign~ Person A and B have been arranged to marry to keep peace between their lands. Too bad Person B can't understand a lick of what their fiancé has to say

oOo

"It's the law."

Shinichi rolled his eyes before petulantly saying, "I thought you always said my word was law."

The old man sputtered, having his words twisted around. Finally his adviser waggled a finger at him. "Your father will not be pleased by this, Shinichi-kun!"

"Is he ever?" Shinichi shrugged uncaringly and reaching his blowing point, the adviser stormed from the room, almost knocking into the head guard as he made his leave.

Staring at where the old man had made an angry exit and back to the Prince, Hattori chuckled. "I take it you're still looking for a bride," he called casually as he entered the dining hall.

Shinichi snorted before rolling his eyes. Not bothering to acknowledge the guard, he slammed his elbow on the table and braced his chin in his palm.

"You know the more difficult you be, the longer and more painful this process will be," his friend said in a sing song voice.

Huffing, he still refused to move from his position. "I could care less how long this takes. If they're worried about that, then they should call this whole thing off."

Hattori actually full on laughed at that. "Yeah, you know that's never going to happen," he said, his lips still twitching from trying to contain his giggles.

The Prince frowned. Of course he knew that but he could always hope.

"Come on," Hattori baited as he sat himself on the armrest of the chair the Prince sat in. "What was wrong with the last one? She was pretty... Well endowed," his friend wiggled his eyebrows as his gaze shot to his chest playfully.

His friend was joking. They both knew that there was no way he'd ever settle on Princess Momiji. So spoiled, and her voice grated on his nerves. She was pretty all right but she was too aware of that fact and when she realized her womanly wiles would not work on him- she had tried them on his guard.

She was not his worst option by any means. At least she was the same age. Shinichi was not really a vain person and looks were by no means what he based his decision on, but he had no desire to marry someone that could be his mother.

"You're being too picky, Shin-chan," his actual mother griped. "Maybe I'll just choose for you."

His eyes had gone panicked at the threat. He could just imagine her choice. Bubbly, full of energy, never a quiet moment. Someone that was exactly like her. And he would sooner throw himself off his balcony then be forced to share a bed with someone like that.

There was one thing he would agree on. Shinichi was being picky. He had met just about every Princess that was eligible for marriage. And not one of them were what he wanted. None of them were all the same either. Some of them wanting as much to do with him as he wanted them. Which meant not at all. Others were all over him and he knew he would never get a moment's peace.

One thing they all had in common though- their kingdoms. Each one of them had their own laws; their own norms they needed to abide to. But for the most part, they were pretty similar to his own kingdom's and Shinichi didn't understand the point of marrying one of them when they had nothing new to offer his people.

His kingdom was not struggling. His people were flourishing; the society thriving. Which was likely why he had so many offers. Because his kingdom had so much to offer while theirs had nothing but a dowry at best. And he had no need for that. He had plenty of money. He had plenty of land.

Shinichi didn't know how to explain that- or rather he did, and everybody just didn't understand. It was out of complete desperation that he had finally made his choice however. After being summoned by the King- his father, he knew he had taken too long. If he didn't have someone in mind, then a bride would be chosen for him.

But as he stood in his father's study- staring angrily at the desk his father sat before as he practically got reprimanded, his eyes focused on the map that lay sprawled out.

"How about the kingdom in the northern islands?" The thought had hit him as he continued staring at the map- the little cluster of land that was out in the middle of the ocean.

"Northern Isles?" The King furrowed his brows before noticing his son's gaze and following it.

Shinichi could understand his father's trepidation. The Kingdom of the Islands wasn't necessarily their enemy, but they also weren't their allies. After the Great War, and the threat of other more powerful kingdoms showed their colors, they had resorted themselves to complete isolation. That being said, it was a practically unknown kingdom- an entirely other world just to the north of them.

"Getting a response- let alone a positive one, is not likely," his father still appeared confused. "That and we don't even know if they have someone that is eligible for a union with you."

The King caved however. He would send a messenger with their offer. But Shinichi had already been warned.

"If this falls through- I am choosing for you."

The threat made Shinichi sweat. Not that he didn't trust the King. He trusted him more than the Queen. It was just the idea of his choice being stripped away from him.

The plans did not fall through. The response was not quick nor was it immediate, but they had indeed responded. The only thing was, the Princess would not be leaving the islands. Not until he came to visit and presented himself formally.

And got an approval.

As promised, the King left the decision up to his son. So Shinichi packed his bags.

oOo

Though many had traveled to his kingdom in hopes of having their daughter cross his eye, this would be the first he actually had to leave his own land as a possible suitor. Not that it was unusual. It was actually quite odd that he hadn't been doing it that way. But what was more unusual was the amount of effort he was putting in. The amount of effort he was putting in on trying to woo a woman he had never met let alone seen.

Well, some didn't understand but he knew the King was able to figure it out easily.

A foreign land. A foreign kingdom. Foreign Princess. There was so much to be gained from that. Knowledge wise anyway. And since he was confident his kingdom didn't lack anything else, that's all he wanted. He didn't even care to know what the Princess looked like.

And there was so much to learn about this place. The moment they were in what was considered their waters, Shinichi could already feel it from the way the humid air just lifted. The days that he was used to in his kingdom were hot ones and sometimes even the nights. The sun was always out and blazing while there was hardly ever a rainy day to cool it down.

Here, as their ships pulled even closer, a fog seemed to surround them. But the waters were calm and the mist, relaxing. Thankfully they had no issues docking even though the fog was not something they were used to though according to his escort, was very much the norm here.

Shinichi was fascinated either way. He took in the architecture of the buildings, the way people dressed, the way people looked in general. It was so different to his own land and people. He was thankful that if anything, no matter how this meeting went, at least he had seen a place so refreshingly new. Honestly, he envies what their palace looked like and was amazed of how open it was. There were no guards and practically no doors. The buildings for the most part were without windows and if they had them, they were open wide.

And he realized, there was no fear for safety here. Everybody was so open and trusting and though he got quite a few bizarre stares, nobody looked at him in any way short of polite. Shinichi was fully amazed.

But the most baffling thing yet- he needed a translator.

"The Princess can not speak in your tongue."

Shinichi almost couldn't believe his ears. He wanted foreign but maybe this was a little too much. . . How could he marry someone that he couldn't even speak to without someone else standing there to translate for them? Of course he knew that she'd have to learn his language but . . . could he really make that work. . ?

Still, he came all this way. He would meet her. It would be rude to make such a bold offer and to just leave without a word. Not to mention his father would be furious with him and also. . . be picking his future bride if he came back alone.

Shinichi shivered at the thought.

But upon introduction, the way his breath stuttered and how he could practically feel a nervous blush crawling up his neck, was humiliating. That and his instantaneous thought.

He could make this work.

"Her highness, Princess Ran."

The translator was who pulled him out of whatever reverie he had been trapped in and hurriedly, he snapped his mouth shut after having realized it was slightly agape. Stumbling over himself, he quickly bowed his head forward in respect as well as gave a greeting that he could briefly hear being translated to both monarchs.

It was at the quick quip that the Princess replied back that had him looking up slightly from his still bowing position. Of course he didn't understand a word she said but from her tone. . . he could guess. Still, he found himself looking to the translator expectantly.

The man cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh. . The Princess welcomes you and your guests. Says she prays you had a safe journey." His eyes were not meeting the Prince's as he spoke.

Yeah- that was definitely not what she said . . . Even now, she was glaring at him with such discontent till finally as if getting sick of looking at him, she looked away, turning her nose up.

Figures. The one Princess he thought he could actually tolerate and she wanted nothing to do with him.

oOo

After their initial meeting and at the refusal of his escort to translate anything the Princess actually said, dinner was a . . tense affair. The King and his wife were welcoming enough. Albeit they obviously didn't trust his intentions quite yet but they hadn't showed any outward malice like their daughter had. It also probably didn't help his image in their eyes if the Princess couldn't even bare to say something the slightest bit kind to him.

Even though it would all have to be said through his escort, Shinichi tried to begin any conversation with her. And each time the translator would look at him almost tired, as if asking if Shinichi were really going to make him try to talk to her again. Shinichi couldn't very well respond properly if he didn't know what she was actually saying to him. It was clear she didn't think highly of him and that the escort was merely trying to keep them cordial. He knew they were aware of how influential his kingdom was and it was clear he didn't want their Princess to risk making him angry with her disrespect. But he couldn't fix what he didn't know.

It was exhausting. And the language barrier was making it all the more frustrating. He was a full day in and had somehow angered the very woman he had basically already proposed to. Shinichi wanted to yell at the escort to cut the formalities- to just tell him what the Princess was saying. Before he could have the chance though, she was already spouting words that sounded as aggravated as she looked. The King responded in kind with the same amount of annoyance but this time, directed at his daughter.

Shinichi could only watch, lost.

The translator gave another uncomfortable cough. "The Princess is not feeling well. She apologizes, but she'd like to take her leave."

Shinichi was pretty sure she wasn't sorry at all but still, he nodded his head slowly while looking at her. "I hope she feels better."

If possible, she seemed even more angry with his response and in a huff, she was spinning out of her chair and exiting the dining hall.

Not long after that, they all excused themselves. Of course his escort showed him to his room. But Shinichi couldn't help but want to wander- though at the moment it may not of been a good idea. He was in foreign lands as it was and already things were tense between him and the Princess. He didn't want to aggravate the situation even more by offending their hospitality- though he'd say what the Princess showed him could hardly be called that.

That line of thinking lasted till he woke up early morning. He was usually a late sleeper but he figured due to the unknown environment, his body woke him up sooner than usual. And he sat in his designated room for about thirty minutes before he concluded that this wasn't going to work.

The Princess already showed she held no interest in his proposal- which was disappointing but there was nothing he could do to change that. The woman wouldn't even look at him unless she had to. So Shinichi figured he'd soak up this opportunity as much as possible for as long as he could. He was only invited to be here for a week, which would shorten if they gave him a response to his proposal earlier. He already had a feeling he'd be turned away so there was no use on dwelling about it or worrying if he'd upset her further. This was a new place for him- a new Kingdom. They spoke another language, held different customs. He would experience everything within his reach before he was forced to leave.

He was up, dressed, and wandering the palace halls in no time.

Again, he couldn't help but be struck by the beauty that went into the kingdom itself. Natural light flooded their halls but the fact there were no windows allowed the cool breeze from outside to flow through easily. Shinichi couldn't believe how . . . open everything was. Had they never had to deal with a threat before? To not even have guards walking around the halls- it amazed as well as reassured him. It was nice for once not to have someone breathing down his neck constantly.

This all was almost like a vacation. A vacation to get him a wife . . . but still-a vacation! He hadn't had one of those in . . well ever. The past few years had been his parents scrambling to get him engaged. As the days passed on, the scrambling got more hectic when they realized he was not making it easy.

But here, it was so open. For once he could experience a nice, sunny day without it being unbearably hot outside. And he had hardly got to experience the town when he arrived. He had been hurriedly rushed to the Palace but that was mostly by his guards wanting to get him somewhere secure. Now that no one was there however, he wondered to one of the larger windows.

He was not insane enough to take a leap from this high up but from this vantage point he could at least look upon what he had walked right by. And it was. . tiny. Not tiny in a bad way but compared to where he lived, the town was so small and quiet. And underdeveloped. But again- that wasn't in a bad way. It was fitting to the kingdom he was standing in. There were more trees and it was all colorful. There were even more animals which had him surprised. Again, his town was too large and noisy for anything to want to come close. And that was if he could ever see over the giant stone wall that served as a barrier between him and his people.

There was no barrier here. And he envied that.

Wind brushing his hair, the tree that was just beside the window finally caught his eye. Like everything else that was outside, it was so bright and full of color. It was filled with vibrant purple flowers that he definitely had never seen before. They were . . breathtaking. And he had never been one to care about such things but even he found his hand reaching out.

He wanted to take one. See if he could possibly press it into his journal to take back home. He had never seen any flower with such bright petals and he was curious if someone at home would be able to identify it for him. Someone he could ask without the use of that terrible translator.

Suddenly someone was yelling out. And from the way he was all alone, he could only assume it was directed at him. Before he could even look over though, his hand that had been leaning forward was roughly slapped and had him stumbling back in shock. Hand ringing from the sharp sting, it was probably funny how he stared at it- eyes wide and blinking.

No one had ever raised a hand to him.

Staring intently where he had been hit, he saw that it was already turning a scorching red and swelling. It honestly hadn't hurt. It was just startling. And finally looking at just who had hit him, he was even more stunned.

"Sorera ni furenaide kudasai!"

The Princess. She was yelling at him looking absolutely furious to the point tears were brimming her eyes. She was angry and that was all he could understand because he still couldn't speak her damn language. For her to slap him though he must've been about to do something awful.

Rubbing his sore hand, he glanced back at the flower he had been about to pluck and realized he had probably greatly offended her. Shinichi had been to other kingdoms where it was forbidden to remove anything from their land- places where they worshiped the actual ground they stood on and it was a crime to simply pull a flower off its branch. Foolishly he thought he'd been alone but he should've known that in a palace, there were eyes everywhere.

When he started rubbing the red flesh attempting to sooth away the sting she gave him, that must've been when she realized what she had done. Even for her it was wildishly outlandish of her to be so forward enough to hit him.

Her violet eyes got huge and she looked almost frightened. He noticed her swallow hard as if gulping before all he could see was the crown of her head, her pretty brunette hair sliding down her shoulders to hang low.

She was bowing. And saying the same thing over and over repeatedly.

"Gomen nasai! Gomen nasai! Gomen nasai!"

She was apologizing for hitting him. He didn't need to know exactly what she was saying to get that much. But honestly, he didn't even care that she did. His first instinct had told him he was the that should kneel and grovel. He was the one that was wondering around a foreign palace as a guest and with no regard to their laws or customs. Watching her panic though, he could only freeze up. He had not been expecting her to say sorry. She wasn't stopping though and it was beginning to make him uncomfortable.

"Uh. . R-Ran-?" Shinichi asked uneasily to get her attention. He did not know anything about her kingdom or their titles but he was sure if he used his own from his home she would've been confused. But he cut himself off when he realized that calling her by her first name alone definitely would've been offensive. That and her name sounded so odd on his tongue. Even with it not being his own language, he knew he sounded every bit the foreigner when he just said her name alone. It probably sounded as awkward as it felt for him to say it.

At his nervous call though, she definitely detected her name somewhere in there because she straightened abruptly to look at him with a red face.

"Don't apologize. I'm sorry," he said belatedly forgetting that she couldn't understand a word he said. When he could practically see the question mark on her face, he looked back at the flower pointedly before pressing his palms together in front of his face as if praying. "I'm sorry." He said that three times as she had done to hopefully get the meaning across as well as he bowed his head slightly.

When he finally looked her in the eye again, she was watching him intently; curiously. She was thinking about something, probably a way to speak where he could actually get what she was saying. She looked both troubled and frustrated that she couldn't properly communicate with him. To make it easier on him, he pointed back to the flower and everything else that was within his reach.

"I won't touch anything," he said firmly as he held his hands up in a defensive gesture. He assumed that's what she had been trying to tell him. That he was not allowed to touch anything that wasn't explicitly handed to him. But when she frowned he got the feeling he was wrong that or he had completely lost her.

Softly she said something, that of course, he could not understand. Her pointing finger at the flower he had just been about to touch gave him a clue though. That as well as why she actually stopped him earlier when she was taking that same pointing finger and dragging it across her neck in a straight horizontal line.

"Shi."

The very obvious and universal symbol for dead.

His eyes widened a bit at she continued to speak. If he hadn't just had the sudden realization he almost died from touching a flower, he would've found it amusing that her tone seemed kind of slow. As if not talking as fast would still help him comprehend another language. But again, he could guess. She was probably explaining what the flower was and how it would've killed him.

It made him frown because he really was curious. He would have to ask once she learned English. That and why did they have a flower that was so deadly, practically inside their palace walls where anybody could make his mistake.

Realizing his mind had already assumed and gotten used to the idea of her leaving with him to his home made him want to slap himself. There was no confirmation yet. If anything he'd probably get the opposite. It was hard not to think that though when she was looking at him for the first time without any malice or disdain. Sure it took him almost dying to get that, but at least it meant she didn't truly hate him. If anything she looked concerned.

That was when he realized her earlier expression of what he thought had been anger hadn't been that at all. It was similar to the one she was staring at him with now. It was panic- worry. Panic that he was that dumb and worried he almost touched a deadly plant. He almost died and wondered what his face looked like as he came to that conclusion.

He really wouldn't touch anything after this.

The Princess seemed to have other ideas. Suddenly she started speaking again and pointing out the window. The blank expression he gave her hopefully showed that he didn't understand but just in case he was sure to tell her that.

Looking outside where she was pointing, he looked back at her drawing a total blank. "I don't understand," he shook his head while shrugging. Hopefully they would be able to communicate through these small gestures. She'd have no way of knowing what he really said but she'd at least be able to guess.

Ran only grinned, probably expecting that. Alarming him, with a soft hand, she gently grabbed his own. His face immediately got a small blush but as he looked at her in shock he realized it wasn't nearly as crimson as her own. By the way it kept getting darker, he knew she was aware that he was watching her intently. She wouldn't look at him though and simply pulled him forward. Her tug wasn't forceful or hard though as her significantly tinier fingers latched onto his palm.

If he had been paying attention to anything but her pretty face, he would've noticed what she was doing a lot sooner. It wasn't till his fingers were brushing against something light and smooth that he looked away.

She had placed his palm on another plant. It was attached to some vines that seemed to coil around the window. This one looked simpler and not nearly as intriguing as the deathly one he had been about to grab, but it was something new all the same and was still able to fascinate him. But when she started rubbing his hand into the petals and in doing so rubbing her hand against his- he recoiled and snapped his hand out from under hers.

Face scorching, it was his turn to swallow in nervousness as he took a small step back. Though he knew she would not understand, he couldn't help but ask, "What are you doing?" He didn't know if it was good or bad that she only stared up at him with the most innocent look. It was clear she didn't get why he pulled away. Was that normal to . . . touch people . . like that. . . ?

But then she was laughing and pressing her own palm into the leaves, rubbing her fingers delicately over the petals. When she was done, she stepped forward till she was almost chest to chest with him. Her proximity was starting to make him anxious again but she didn't seem to be as affected. Before he could attempt to move back, she was holding her hands up to him, palms facing upward.

Confused, he didn't really know what to do. Was she asking him to kiss her hand like that snob Princess Momiji? But then she was shoving her fingers forward, as if telling him to hurry up. She kept nudging her head giving him the go ahead sign but it was only when her palm was just under his nose that he understood.

Forgetting his nervousness for a moment, he leaned down slightly towards her awaiting hands. Curiously, he sniffed the tops of her fingers.

His eyes shot open.

"Vanilla?" He questioned completely surprised and also completely forgetting she probably wouldn't understand.

But surprising him, she nodded her head happily. "Banira!" She had a happy smile spread across her face.

Well at least they both understood one word.

Proving his earlier assumptions wrong though, not wasting a second she broke the flower from its tangled vine and held it out to him expectantly. Since he had been thinking it was a crime for him to take such a thing, he only stared at it suspiciously. But her hand shoving closer to him forced him to grab it.

She must've realized he wanted to take one. Twirling the flower by the stem, he looked at it before flicking his gaze back to her. "It's pretty," he complimented to the gift she gave him.

The Princess's head was tilting to the side again in her confusion. "P-pretty. . . ?" Her voice stumbled over the word uncomfortably; her accent twisting it cutely.

Shinichi nodded before nudging his head at her. "Pretty," he said addressing her like an example of the meaning before looking at the flower again. "Pretty," he repeated.

She wasn't getting it. Her brows scrunched as a small frown turned down her lips. But as far as he was concerned it wasn't important to address any of that. Especially if it would be embarrassing for him the moment she did understand. Instead he thanked her for her gift, sticking to his charades to hopefully get their meaning across.

oOo

After his brief and almost fatal exploration, she was kind and escorted him to the dining hall where they could be served breakfast. The moment he was in sight, the translator had been attached to him, almost panicking and wondering where he had been for the entire morning.

Shinichi was never one to lie. He was upfront and explained that he had walked around. Of course he left out the part where the Princess slapped him and just . . . the Princess in general. When they had started talking, he hadn't even been thinking.

It was incredibly offensive to just be walking around alone with a Princess- especially one you had proposed to. They were both unaccompanied and since he didn't know their customs very well, it would probably be best to assume that that was the same no matter what kingdom he journeyed to. As way of excuse for walking in with her, he explained that they had run into each other just outside the door. The translator didn't seem to care to question it and wanting to get further away from the topic, he asked to be shown a tour.

His escort knew a lot, Shinichi could tell. But the man mostly seemed focused on explaining their laws. Some of their customs were bizarre. They had . . female guards. It wasn't unheard of for a woman to want to become a knight in his kingdom but it seldom ever happened. They didn't grow up with the same league and in most cases, fell behind and became outclassed. Here, it seemed it may have almost been the opposite.

"The Princess took some lessons herself," the translator boasted proudly and Shinichi's brows raised further. It was odd enough for a woman to do such things but a Princess? But now that the topic had reverted to Ran, he became curious.

"Princess Ran," he started slowly while looking at his feet as he trailed along beside his escort. "Why does she dislike me so much?" He knew it was bold of him to ask such a question so outright but he didn't know how else to get a straight answer. The Princess herself would probably tell him if she could but with their language barrier that obviously wasn't a possibility.

Like he knew it would, the subject made the translator uncomfortable. He did not want to address this topic and Shinichi was pretty sure it was because he didn't want to upset nor offend another monarch from another kingdom. The Prince didn't say anything however and simply waited for a response.

When he thought he wouldn't be getting an answer and that the translator looked like he wanted to claim he himself couldn't understand, the man sighed in defeat. "She doesn't like how . . . popular you are," his escort said a little unsurely.

Shinichi's brows raised. That had not been what he was expecting and he was honestly confused by the response. They were royalty. Weren't they all popular in their own right?

The translator winced. "That wasn't the best way to say that. You must understand your language is not my first," he apologized. "It's not you necessarily that she doesn't like. It's what your kingdom represents."

He still wasn't following. His face must've shown that because the older man looked troubled trying to think of the vocabulary to get his point across.

"Your kingdom is known far and wide, Prince. Even in our isolated state we knew of you. Her being an eligible maiden, our King was also aware you were looking for a bride."

"So she does not want to be married . . . ?" Shinichi questioned doing his best to understand.

"The Princess does not want to change," the man clarified. "She knows that if she were to marry you, she would have to leave with you; not meaning just her home. She would have to abandon her customs, her laws- her language."

Suddenly it all made sense to him. And all at once he felt like a jerk. But at the same time, he also felt like he was extremely misunderstood. He had no intention of forcing her to conform. He had no desire to change her. Yes, if they were to be wed, she'd have to learn the language of his home. But that didn't mean he wanted to completely eradicate her own. Because if they were married, it would no longer be just his home or her home. It would be their home.

Maybe his intentions hadn't been clear enough.

When he happened to find her alone again, he came at her like an explosion.

"I don't want you to change!" His voice was raised and he probably looked angry. It wasn't at all surprising that she took a step back. He was probably scaring her. But he took the same step forward and noticing she had a book in her hands, he pulled it from her without even thinking.

She gave a startled gasp but did not fight him. Again, she looked like she wanted to put some distance between them. But he wouldn't allow her to. Much like she had done to him yesterday, he snatched her hand into his own and tugged her closer.

He wasn't thinking clearly. If he had been he would’ve stopped the moment he heard her small yelp but he just wanted her to understand him. She thought wrongly of him and he wanted to correct that image of him. He wanted to change the incorrect assumptions she created about him.

Taking her palm that was latched in his own, he forced her fingers onto the page that was wide open; the page she had been reading before he rudely bombarded her. "Teach me," he said completely serious, his eyes staring into hers intently. "I want to learn."

He knew she was probably still freaked out and had no idea what he was saying. She probably thought he was losing his mind, which he very well might be. He just snatched a book she had been reading and started yelling at her in a language she could not understand.

But when she finally glanced up to meet his gaze, his breath hitched. She had been staring bizarrely at where he had forced her hand, but once she was looking at him directly, she didn't look frightened anymore. She looked incredulous and still a little unsure.

"Your language," he reiterated slowly while also pantomiming and gesturing to the writing that was very clearly in a language he could not discern- her language. Then he was pointing at his chest that was heaving from how worked up he had gotten. "I want to learn."

#dcmk #shinran #dcmk fanfic #shinichi kudo #ran mouri #fanfic #fanfiction #asks #drabble #requests #shinran fanfic

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demerso3 · 4 years ago

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Regarding Language-learning

English is my native language. I don't say I'm "fluent" in English here because some of you in the comments section are probably joking about any grammatical mistakes in this post. Regardless, English is the language I'm best at, as difficult and sad as that may be to believe. I could not talk until I was five; perhaps this is a testament to how difficult the English language is to learn.

However, just because I was born into speaking the world's dominant language does not mean I haven't tried to learn others. Growing up I tried my hand at Spanish, and most recently, I've been learning Japanese. Now some of you in the comments are calling me a weeaboo, or otaku, or whatever.

Despite years of practice, I am fluent in neither, and am increasingly concerned that I will never be fluent as I grow older. From my understanding, it is much easier to learn a language when one is younger, given the neurology and malleability of the brain. Unfortunately, as time moves ever forward, the ability to learn a language wanes significantly.

Now, I will be the first to admit that there are things I could have done differently to improve my Spanish and Japanese studies, respectively (such as getting over nerves about public speaking, along with better study techniques). My perception is that I've picked up on Japanese more quickly than Spanish in part due to the fact that I could learn from mistakes I made when I was younger. However, I maintain that, given the knowledge I knew at the time, I was doing my best.

Similarly, if I could tell my younger self one thing, it would be to not care what other people think. Growing up in Texas, there were a lot of Spanish-speakers. Making a mistake in Spanish class was embarrassing (or at least, I perceived it as embarrassing) because my peers either already knew the language, or were picking up on it quickly. Laughs and chuckles would ensue, which was admittedly a blow to my self-confidence.

Speaking of which, it always seemed that I was slower to learn a language than my peers. Verb conjugations were always tricky for me. While it was "easy" (or for the more sophisticated, "intuitive") for my peers to tell the difference between "hablaron" and "hablaban," for me, it was anything but. Cumulatively, over time, I began to resent some of my bilingual friends, who I felt were gatekeeping the Spanish language by using a combination of peer pressure and destructive criticism to send a message that I was incapable of learning a second language. This has happened in my Japanese language-learning as well, though not to the same extent. Given that I am now older, the people who I hang out with are older as well. However, this “gatekeeping” still occurs, and it frustrates me when it does happen.

Perhaps most frustrating is when I see this happen to somebody other than myself. My good friend Caesar (I have changed his name here to protect his identity), fluent in both English and Spanish, was once stationed on the Sinai Peninsula as part of a UN Peacekeeping mission. Caesar quickly made friends with many of the Fijians who were stationed there as well. Caesar, being the intelligent and curious man that he is, was interested to learn more about the Fijian language. Members of the peacekeeping mission who were from Fiji were described as being “laid back,” and “jokesters,” but wanted to help Caesar learn more about the language - at least, ostensibly they did.

Caesar was told that to say “hello” in Fijian, you must say something along the lines of “bula bula tavale.” Now, from a quick Google search, it seems that “bula bula” is used as a common greeting across Fiji. People in the comments section can feel free to correct me or add on to this as needed. However, the “tavale” part is a little sketchy - the word gets into kinship and familial relations in a way that does not necessarily appear to be tied to the word “hello.”

Regardless, Caesar was assured he had learned the proper greeting for “hello” in Fijian. Caesar would eventually leave the military and, about a decade after his time on the Sinai Peninsula had concluded, went to a Polynesian Cultural Center in Hawai’i as part of a vacation with his wife. There they saw an exhibit on Fiji, being presented by, naturally, two Fijians. Caesar was excited to say “hello!” to these gentlemen in the Fijian language, and repeated the “greeting” he had learned years earlier.

The two men started laughing hysterically, and informed Caesar that he did not say “hello,” but in fact, asked permission to marry his sister. Caesar was embarrassed, and when he told me this anecdote, I was vicariously upset.

Here, Caesar had the opportunity to learn a piece of the Fijian language. It was a first-hand learning experience not afforded to many, and while the Fijians on Sinai were under no obligation to teach Caesar any part of the language, feeding him bad information is worse than declining to teach him at all. Instead of teaching him the proper way to say “hello,” the soldiers set Caesar up to fail, get embarrassed, and look like an idiot in the process.

Caesar’s story resonates with me, in that the tomfoolery showcased by the party that knows the language - and taking advantage of somebody who does not know the language - is but one reason why, generally speaking, I don’t look forward to studying languages like Spanish or Japanese.

And then, to top everything off, people have the audacity to get mad at people like me when we make a good faith effort to learn a new language, but simply “aren’t getting it.” Alternatively, critics of the monolingual say that learning a new language is “easy,” and question one’s work ethic in doing so.

To reiterate, I understand that, upon reflection, there are certain things I could have done to make it easier on myself to learn a second language. Furthermore, I plan to continue studying Japanese, and hopefully work up on my Spanish. I maintain that “society,” broadly defined, has made it unnecessarily difficult for me to learn a second language, and that there are other monolinguals - and even multilinguals - who feel the same way.

#language #linguistics

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leafallsonelines · 4 years ago

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Bizarre Love Triangle

I'm not sure what this could mean I don't think you're what you seem I do admit to myself, that if I hurt someone else Then I'll never see just what we're meant to be -New Order

I didn't want to get into a relationship.

He wore me down and soon enough I was the one crazy about him. I always answer to the undefinably strong pull toward a certain person. I was soul weary and needed a break from emotional turmoil. When you meet somebody else, they're the main character of their own love story (just like I am in mine; as it should be). I'm privy to fact that we all have a history, especially when dating in your late 20's and 30's. I wasn't ready for our stories to collide.

I desperately wanted to avoid cluttering my life with someone else's relationship baggage when I haven't even taken care of mine. He campaigned hard for the relationship. I went for it.

Despite my better judgment I always cave—give in to that desire — anticipate and absorb the pain that inevitably follows.

I told you that story to tell you this one.

Back in 2014 the term Cool Girl ™ was coined to describe women who change their personality for male approval. (The shtick is contrived and annoying once you spot it.) She doesn't have a solid sense of self and basks in attention to fill. That void; hoards men like Thanksgiving hams and gets territorial when she's not The Girl. She gets kicks from seeing how uncomfortable she can make other girls by openly flirting with their boyfriends just to watch them squirm. This act is so played out most people have an eye roll ready for anyone flying the “I'm not like other girls” banner. (Gen Z now calls them Pick-Me-Girls ™.)

I crossed paths with one in 2018 — my boyfriend's best friend of sixteen years. A self-indulgent, selfish friendship. I wasn't initially jealous, didn't interrupt, and it came back to bite me; it was hideously unfair.

For storytelling purposes let's call her “Kate Luu.” Kate, an incestuous tigermom who gets jealous of any girl her son gets with, a petulant toddler that would rather break a toy than let someone else play with it. Probably has BPD. Definitely needs a good therapist.

Like a lot of dewy eyed girls newly in love I conveniently dismissed the red flags around my boyfriend and Kate. I had empathy for them because of my past platonic friendships with flirty undertones. Guys would respectfully fall back when they got into relationships or if I Was in one. I struggled with the slow withdrawal of warmth, missed the emotional intimacy, but recognized it as the right call and moved on. A lot of young adults exploring their sexuality go through this. As I got older I favored female friendships for being uncomplicated, preferring to avoid unwanted sexual tension.

Empathy without boundaries is self-destruction.

A couple weeks after celebrating our one year anniversary Kate texts me, “We need to talk.” Alarms immediately go off in my head. The last few months I had started bringing attention to the bad vibe I was getting and the inappropriate nature of the relationship. I got tired of biting my tongue. He didn't know how to process it or correct it. His lingering infatuation with her made it impossible for him to distance himself or enforce new boundaries. He started hiding it instead. I caught him being intentionally ambiguous about his plans when going to see her. He fumbled himself into an emotional affair.

Princess Diana famously described her marriage to Charles as “crowded.” It was an unmistakable reference to his affair with Camilla. Looking back the (justifiable) anxiety I had was from being crowded. Intuition is not insecurity.

I met Kate for coffee and she read aloud a pathetic five page letter telling me I'm a bad girlfriend and “full of shit.” She was intervening on his behalf as the person who knows what's best for my boyfriend.

“It's none of your business.”

But no, she has the authority to interfere as his best friend of sixteen years and I was a one year nothing. She brought up the fact he was attracted to her first, told me I'm spineless and ruining their friendship with my insecurity. (She _really _ran with the words spineless and insecure.)

Accusations are confessions when they come from a manipulative person. Textbook projection. She was mad her narcissistic supply was tapering off. (Gaslighting Pro-tip: Label rightful jealousy as insecurity.)

My boyfriend gave her personal, intimate details of my life during their oversharings and she used that information to bully me. Nothing was off the table, including my sexual history. I can see how she manipulated him, but it was inexcusable. People who enable They leave the door open for endless rows of inappropriate behavior. All of this was happening behind my back for a year. That kind of intimate toxicity are suckers for ego massages.

Don't you just love a story where the villain puts all the evidence of her misdeeds in one letter and unravels into epic, illogical rage all in one afternoon, in the space of two hours?

How did Kate have time to write five pages of false narratives designed to destroy a relationship she was jealous of? She doesn't have a job. She's a pampered dog mom living in her rich fiancé's house for free. A busybody performatively taking care of other people to avoid a mountain of personal issues. (An unevolved Virgo.)

Don't worry about what I'm doing. Worry about why you're worried about what I'm doing.

Kate has many noticeable traits as an obnoxious, self-important person — an absolute fake. She calls herself a _philanthropist _without having done anything philanthropic or even knowing how to use the word; she literally saw a big SAT word that means good person and attached Herself to it. (A word assigned to big charitable donors like Bill Gates, not bloggers). She has the same relationship with the word “unconventional” and thinks using a bigger word for unique or quirky makes her even more unique and quirky. Nope, still basic.) In place of possessing any actual humor she repeats memorized dad jokes and leans into corny, forced puns. If this isn't annoying enough she then insists she's funny. (Funny people just make you laugh. They never have to tell people they're funny. Barfs in, “I speak fluent sarcasm.”)

If I poked a finger through her shallow veneer I'd find loose dirt and dog shit.

And you know what? I'm not even against intense friend love. I get it. I groove to “One Love.” Emotional freedom is important. Expressions of love are multitudinous. It should transform to fit the situation. She didn't respect basic boundaries to make room for all of us to be comfortable. She was just mad she got demoted and tried to burn the whole thing down.

Kate wanted to be the main character in my boyfriend's love story without ever actually dating him. Oh yes, I know — the audacity, the toxic lack of boundaries, the mind numbing arrogance. She's not even protagonist material — a papier-mâché hipster who got her personality from an Urban Outfitters catalog and can't stop contradicting herself despite the fact she is working off a pre-written letter. I have never encountered someone who thought so highly of herself while having almost no substance. She calls herself a writer , but is just a pseudo-intellectual English major who posts aesthetic word salad on Instagram.

Later on I realized that if someone is mean to you unprovoked it's jealousy. One of the catalysts for the meetup was a heartfelt anniversary post I wrote on Instagram. It's not my usual style, but I felt gushy and really went full blown poetic and swoony She's jealous that her own, brought up love and Birth of Venus, blah blah blah. She mentioned my IG post and even admitted it was poetic and well written, but proceeded to use that as the jumping off point to invalidate the love in it. writing is try-hard drivel; a woman in her thirties mentally stuck in 2011 tumblr cringe.

If she truly wanted him she should have pursued him honestly and not wait to mess with another person. Hell, even just owning up to her feelings and saying, “I realize I may have lost my chance with you. Is there still anything in our sixteen year history that makes you want to give us a shot instead? ”à la My Best Friend's Wedding. Treading some moral gray area, but way more acceptable than actively sabotaging a relationship.

She didn't really want him though. She just wanted to continue their friendship in that inappropriate flirtationship space to feed her ego. After the coffee date she ended their friendship in an email. That really important sixteen year friendship became disposable to her once she wasn't able to control it.

Sometimes trash does the public service of loudly identifying itself as trash and takes itself out.

If you're a female best “friend” to a guy in a relationship and you need to flex on “I was here first” and “We did this before you were in the picture,” then you were never interested in seeing that friend thrive in a romantic relationship. You just get off on being his favorite unfulfilled option. If seeing him in love with someone new has you feeling that miserable you're just being selfish. Real love doesn't overstep in a new relationship so you can hog their spotlight. You're not even a friend; you're a skunk marking your territory and keeping him in the friendzone while not really wanting him to have a girlfriend.

You learn to love somebody in their love language and not just yours. Selfish love is not real love. That's just using someone to fill a place. Maybe a distraction. Seeking anything in return isn't real love because if you want that you actually don't have love to give; it's fake; it's toxic. If there's someone who isn't around anymore and you miss them consider the fact that you might just miss the place they held in your life. (You have the freedom to fill that space anyway you want.)

She realized she burned through all her goodwill thus the sudden ghosting and extracting herself. I never asked my partner to pick me or issued any ultimatums. Sometimes important questions stay unanswered. Sometimes you have to move on without the apology you deserve. There is grief in never receiving closure.

My partner finally saw my concerns validated in the aftermath. I bubbled with rage remembering excuses he made for her. Day in and day out I was drinking from an overflowing cup of righteous anger. So what was his role in this? Stupid or co- conspirator?

He was oblivious.

“I can't believe you could've left me for a wannabe influencer.”

I switched my phone wallpaper from his picture to a solid color. Looking at his face filled me with disgust. There's only so much letting go you can ask someone to do. I knew I still loved him, but anytime a woman is hurt she becomes less interested.

How do you recover from unknowingly letting a toxic bitch walk all over and jeopardize your relationship?

Friends told me to move on, date other people. He campaigned for the relationship again. We did the work of picking up the pieces and starting over.

I'm not pretending to be perfect. I was reeling from back to back traumas. My soft spots turned hard and cynical. It was my turn to be the toxic one. I drove to work sobbing everyday for a month. I complained constantly. My default became anxious and suspicious. I'm so out of touch with the person I was before; she's a stupidly innocent, free-spirited stranger to me. It took time for the poison leach out.

It's a lot of baggage.

The couples who make it aren't always the ones that never had a reason to break up. They're the ones that decide their commitment to each other is more important than their mistakes. Fast forward to the herculean effort he made to earn back my trust and we're still very happily together. (This is published with his permission.)

Our relationship is more grounded in reality now. It's not crowded anymore. Somethings more precious from having almost been lost. Somethings will never be the same. I'm the villain in her story, just as much as she's the villain in mine. We get to live out our own endings and there is peace in that.

Hurtful, painful, memories. Memories of deep regrets, memories of hurting and being hurt. Memories of being abandoned. Only those with such memories buried in their hearts can become stronger, more passionate, and emotionally flexible. Only those can obtain happiness. So Don't forget any of it. Remember it all and overcome it. If you don't overcome it, you'll always be a kid whose soul never grows. -The Boy Who Fed On Nightmares

#coolgirl #pickme #microcheating #emotional cheating #emotional affair

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