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ceilidho · 3 months

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take me home, country road

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 2) part 1

The solid hand at your back guides you through the dusty streets towards the courthouse in the middle of town. It’s not an easy walk. Your shoes catch on the skirt of your dress a handful of times in Price’s haste, each time almost causing you to tumble forward before you manage to catch yourself.

It’s patently unfair. The strides of his long legs would easily have you losing him in a crowd were it not for the way he refuses to leave you behind; every time you so much as slow down a tad to catch your breath, the firm hand on your low back presses you forward again. You’d be snippier if you weren’t still addled from the events of just five minutes previous.

“I beg you, please—” you plead, heart skittering in your chest when you chance a glance up to find Price’s face set. Everything about him feels purposeful now, driven. “If you just—if you would just let me explain!”

“Nothing more to know, darling,” he says, not bothering to meet your desperate eyes. Clearly not in any mood to continue arguing with you on the status of your identity.

He tugs you along when he takes a right turn down a road leading into the center of town. The belt of bullets around his waist rattles with every step. It’s a constant reminder of who you’re with and why you should not be with him. Every step feels like a step towards your own sentencing, like accompanying your jailer to your cell. It’s perhaps fool’s luck that the sheriff hasn’t inquired further into your identity or your reason for coming into town. Makes you think that perhaps there isn’t yet a warrant out for your arrest. Maybe that’s only to come.

“Sure there’s more!” you insist. “There’s—there’s—” It’s like the words fly right out of your head, bucked off like a bronc rider. Too much has happened in too short a time. “There’s the matter of—oh, would you quit that, I am walking!” The last bit comes out snappish, peeved as Price pulls you towards the stone steps of a red-bricked building.

The words County Court House are inscribed above the second-story door girdled by a wrought iron balcony. It’s a simple building, far from the colonnaded buildings from back home with their cupolas and hand-carved lintels. Even in size it hardly compares, a meager three stories with perhaps a basement. Still, it catches the eye in a town as small as this, by far the most imposing building for miles around.

It’s also the one he pulls you towards, hand moving from the small of your back to take firm hold of your waist. You flinch at the touch and the way his fingers dig in, almost proprietarily. It’s a physical shock to your system. While you’re not unaccustomed to the rougher ways of men, you’ve also been largely shielded from it yourself. By chance or fortune or luck. Men may take an attitude with you, as they’re wont to do, but none have yet manhandled you the way Price feels free to do.

“Take a big step there now, darling,” he says, lifting the front of your dress for you a tad, to your shock. “No accidents before the wedding.”

“The wedding?” you shriek, face heating at the heads that turn to look over at the two of you.

The courthouse is bustling with townsfolk, still not as busy as in the bigger cities back east, but still clearly at the center of all business activities. The few people that pass you by on the way out of or into the courthouse are bold in their perusal, eyebrows lifting when they take notice of Price at your side—and how could they not, with the size of him and the badge pinned to the lapel of his vest that glimmers when it catches the light.

“If you were expecting something grander, you should’ve turned up last month when I sent for you,” Price says, stern again. In the foyer of the courthouse, you can see the way the long hallway cuts through the building, leading into the adjacent rooms until finally culminating with the courtroom at the very back. You watch as a man slowly closes the door to the last door, shutting the occupants in. “Might’ve been more amenable to it then.”

“I’m not asking for a nicer ceremony—”

“Good, then you won’t be disappointed.”

“—but that’s because I’m not the woman that you intended to marry in the first place,” you finish, quieting to a hissed whisper, conscious of those still lingering close enough to eavesdrop. In all likelihood, the other people milling around probably already know that the sheriff has been waiting for his mail order bride to arrive. They wouldn’t be the first people to mistake you for her.

He pulls you into an alcove off the side of the foyer. When Price turns to face you, no longer just the heavy presence at your side, it takes a moment for you to gather your bearings. He seems larger somehow, with his arms crossed over his chest and feet rooted into the floor, drawn up to his full height. The hair on his forearms draws your eyes momentarily before he steps into your space, forcing you to meet his eyes again.

He stares down at you with an intensity that makes you flinch. “Now, far be it for me to say that I know my wife-to-be by her demeanor alone, given that we’ve hardly corresponded beyond our initial agreement. But I find it mighty strange that a single, unaccompanied woman would show up in town with all of her earthly belongings as I’m expecting my own woman to show up any day. Hardly seems coincidental.”

“Don’t you think I would have sought you out if we were intended to wed?” you ask beseechingly. “Or that I would put up such a fuss now? What sort of bride would do that?”

“You want to know what I think, darling?” The timber of his voice deepens as he lowers his head slightly, wrapping the conversation in a layer of intimacy despite its public nature. There’s a darker note to his voice now, a thinly-veiled anger. “I think you’ve been keeping yourself housed and fed off the back of men like me and the money you’ve been sent to compensate for the rough journey. I think your guilty conscience brought you here because you know that the Lord doesn’t look too kindly on swindlers and thieves.”

“I’m not a thief,” you hiss in protest, affronted. Ironic that you’d be insulted by his words when the truth is far worse.

“I’m sure you had your reasons,” Price permits, a reluctant softness in his voice. “But your conscience did you right. Marriage will suit you far better than a life of crime ever could.”

If only he knew. “You’ve still got it all wrong—I’ve never once even glanced at the matrimonial pages or the personals. And I certainly didn’t come to town expecting to be wed.”

You did, however, arrive in town with a guilty conscience. Even you’re wise enough not to mention that, though.

“Then if you're not her, who are you?” he asks.

It’s clear from his tone that Price doesn’t believe you, but the question itself makes you antsier than even the thought of marrying this man. He still stares down at you in challenge, an eyebrow cocked. If you wanted to, you could easily answer his question and even furnish proof—a letter from an aunt or uncle or a telegram from a previous employer.

That last thought makes your throat squeeze tight. You could furnish proof, but at what cost? You’re still unclear on how much information has been disseminated or whether you're a wanted woman. Though only weeks have passed since the event that caused you to flee in a haste, there’s no telling whether a warrant has been put out for your arrest, no telling whether word has reached a town this far west.

“Not that it matters, but I’m from New York,” you say, scrunching up your nose.

The look he gives you is unimpressed. “I’m sure you lost the accent on the train ride.”

Embarrassment makes you dig your heels in deeper. “I didn’t grow up there, it’s just where I’ve lived for the past few years.”

“And what’s your name?”

“…Elizabeth Smith.”

It’s the first name that occurs to you, but the moment the words come out of your mouth, you can’t help feeling like you’ve made a huge mistake. Price must sense it too because he draws back up to his full height, lips twitching into a small smirk.

“You have family or a post back in New York, Miss Smith?” he asks in a patronizing tone.

“Family.”

“Alright, then it shouldn’t be too hard to get confirmation and settle this whole issue.” He points behind you to one of the unoccupied rooms. “Telegraph’s office just behind you. We’ll get in touch with the Census Bureau and ask them to confirm your identity. And, if you are who you say you are, Miss Smith, then we can put this issue to rights.”

Your blood goes cold. “That’ll—that’ll take time though. I can’t marry you today if they only get back to you in a week’s time.”

Price nods, his expression dissatisfied but resolved. “Wouldn’t be proper for you to stay at the house either, but I’ll make sure the inn lets you stay free of charge until this is settled. You’ll be in good hands under the Pattersons’ watch.”

He doesn’t say it outright, but you hear the implication in his words. You’d be essentially under house arrest, perhaps free to move about town, but certainly not free to take the next train out.

Your pulse thumps nervously at the base of your throat. Even swallowing takes effort now. The weight of his stare takes root in you, a living coil in your belly. No getting out of it. There’s no getting out of this. You don’t know why you thought you could, how you tricked yourself into thinking for even a moment that a man as formidable as the one set in front of you would simply give in. Let you go. You’ve hardly even moved the needle.

It’s there still in his eyes. Not even doubt—something quite far past that. Certainty.

“‘Elizabeth Smith of New York’, was it? Come, we’ll have them start the message and you can give me your birthday as well so it’ll be an easy find—” Price says, attempting to slip around you to head to the telegraph’s office.

“No.”

It slips out of you inadvertently, high and panicked. He pauses at the word. More than just your words. When you look down, you notice your fingers clenched in the fabric of his sleeve, bringing him to a halt. It pulls taut against the muscle of his forearm.

Softness bleeds back into him at your touch. You can see it smooth out the lines of his forehead and the jut of his brow. He ignores the onlookers still hovering by the double doors to twist back to you, now obscuring their view of you. The breadth of his shoulders nearly blocks the rest of the foyer from sight when he looms over you like this. Down the hall, you can hear a gavel pound down on wood and a litany of raised voices in unison from behind a shut door.

“You don’t have to make up stories,” Price murmurs, drawing a hand up to cup your cheek, holding it like a precious thing. “I told you before—all’s forgiven.”

His words remind you of being trapped in his office, drawers stripped down your ankles and skirt pulled up to your waist. Your bottom still smarts from the palm of his hand, still hot and sore to the touch. It’s hardly been long since then and yet it feels like an age ago, like trying to find your way in a dust storm.

You open and shut your mouth, lost for a way out. Caught between a rock and a hard place. Marriage or a jail cell. You swallow. Both sound like a sentencing.

But there are the cold, metal bars of a cell, and then there’s John Price. The first man in an age to elicit more than a passing glance from you. Deep blue eyes crinkled with the folds of old laughter, wide shoulders, and barrel chest. In another time, you think you would’ve jumped at the chance to be courted by a man like him. Keeled over at the very thought of being chased the way he hunts you down now.

“Alright,” you say instead, giving in. The hand fisting his sleeve shakes. “Alright.”

It’s not a pleasant giving in. Your permission is handed over with shot nerves. The coil bunched up in your core burns white hot, hissing and spitting like a rattlesnake.

Still, when he drags a thumb over the slope of your cheek, you fight not to let your eyelids flutter shut. “Good girl. We’ll make it work, love. Won’t be easy, but it never is.”

You don’t anticipate that it will be, but your mouth stays shut. Price must think you mollified, soothed rather than resigned to your fate, because he passes his thumb once more over your cheekbone, this time so tenderly that you wait for his lips to descend upon yours again, sure from the heat in his eyes that he won’t be able to keep from stealing another kiss. You lick your lips out of habit—not just to see the way his eyes follow the motion.

Then the door at the back of the building bursts open to a cacophony of shouts and hollering voices. The moment broken, Price drops his hand away from your cheek, only to take your hand in his this time, pulling you down the hall towards the register’s to await the circuit preacher. He makes you walk on the side closest to the wall, shielding you from the men that burst out of the courtroom, surging towards the doors. You think that someone must have been found guilty because the lot of them look joyous, clamoring over each other for attention.

You think that you might be spared another minute or two, enough time for them to clean up and reset the courtroom, but you’re shocked to find the circuit preacher ready to conduct the ceremony in the cramped register’s office. He and Price shake hands enthusiastically, the preacher turning to you to grasp your hands in welcome before turning back to the sheriff. They have a camaraderie that speaks of old friendship.

The cramped room where you’re married smells of patchouli and moth wings, like holes burrowed into sweaters at the back of a closet. The bookshelves along the walls are stacked with books old enough that you know they’d crinkle deliciously if opened. You try to listen as the preacher begins the introductory prayer. Behind you, another man slips into the room, a witness. He hardly bothers to introduce himself for such a brief affair.

You haven’t been to many weddings, but you always imagined that yours—if you were privileged enough to have one—might have more fanfare. The wedding you actually get is a brusque affair, a brief recital of vows that ends only when the preacher enjoins Price to kiss his wife.

His wife.

Your eyes go wide when a hand flattens along your spine and pulls you into a hard chest, John dipping his head down to kiss your mouth again. His kiss is less chaste this time, not restricted by convention as earlier. This time, his tongue licks hot into your mouth, like no kiss you’ve ever had before, beard scratching your face. His mouth tastes like something you’ve never had before, like heatburst. Hot and wet. Soft and suckling. Any kiss you’ve had before pales in comparison—juvenile fumbling, all dry and half-humiliated, unsure of yourself. Nothing like being kissed by your husband.

Your husband.

He only pulls away when the preacher finally clears his throat, a tad embarrassed. You’re too dazed to feel the same, fingers still sunk into the lapels of Price’s vest, clutched there. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up and your hands to unclench. You feel Price tug your hands away and slip something onto your finger.

The few documents needing to be signed hardly takes any longer. You finally notice the man that had slipped in behind the two of you, a masked man even larger than Price, who nods at him before glancing at you only long enough for you to notice that his eyes seem curiously blank.

“Thanks, Simon,” Price says as the man—Simon—signs under your names, but he only grunts. The ink is still wet when he leaves.

“How was it so fast?” you ask absently, staring at the papers as the ink sits drying and the preacher takes his own copy before handing John his.

“Everything’s practical out here, darling.” His hand holds you by the waist again, relaxed this time. Not worried about whether you might run. “Even the weddings.”

“You don’t…you don’t even serve dinner? Invite guests over? No gifts?” The questions are irrelevant, but you ask them anyway because it’s a way to focus on anything other than the preacher handing you the final copy of the papers and Price leading you back down the hall and out the doors.

There’s a ring on my finger, you think, looking down. It sparkles when you twist your hand from side to side. Topaz, instead of diamond.

“Maybe if you’d showed up on time,” Price reminds you. He no longer sounds upset about it, but it still seems to come out as an admonishment.

You don’t respond to that. Perhaps you’re still shell-shocked, looking at the world through new eyes. It feels unreal that in the span of less than a day, you’ve been plucked up and married off, to the sheriff no less. The one man you would’ve tried your hardest to avoid crossing paths with.

No chance of that now.

“Where are we going?” you ask, still in a daze. The sun makes you squint when you leave the courthouse, making you miss the hat back in your room at the inn. Maybe you can convince Price to let you go back to collect your things.

“I think we’re due for a honeymoon, don’t you, darling?”

You go doe-eyed at that. When you look up, your husband is already smiling down at you, crow’s feet wrinkling at the sides of his eyes.

“Let’s go home.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #john price #captain john price #price x reader #john price x reader #captain price #cod price #price/reader #price x you

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mo0nfairy · 11 months

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ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ UNCHAINED MELODY, PART ONE !

summary :: surviving raccoon city together, you catch the affections of leon kennedy, ada wong, jill valentine, and carlos oliveira. six years later, you reunite with them and realize their obsession with you has increased tenfold.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 5.7k.

content warnings :: mdni!! yandere!leon, yandere!ada, yandere!jill, yandere!carlos, noncon touching, drugging, kidnapping, ptsd, violence, explosions, weapons, death, mild sexual themes, sexual harassment (done by some random npc), car crash, hospitals, reader breaks their arm.

──── Rain.

It's the first thing you are able to scrutinize once you come out of your state of comatose. You listen to the tumultuous melody as the droplets batter against the roof of the car. Even with your eyes locked tight, you are able to figure out where you are just by the rumble of the car engine, jostling you around when the tires hit a crevice in the road. A fuzzy, knitted blanket is adorned around your body. Your headphones are set on top of your head, a playlist of your favorite songs playing on a low volume. The sounds come out distorted, somehow, as if the lyrics were tripping over themselves and the tunes were awkwardly dancing with one another. It's almost as if you had been drugged.

The right side of your face is squished against something, which you now perceive as somebody's neck. The surface pushes your headphones uncomfortably into the side of your head. In a fruitless attempt to take them off, you realize you are paralyzed from head to toe. An arm is draped around your shoulder, the other firmly around your legs which are draped among their lap. Whomever this stranger is, they are quite brawny as they tighten their thick arms around you. They press gentle kisses to your forehead, the stubble of their beard tickling your skin. A deep voice whispers sugary affirmations against your temple, but you are unable to dissect them through the warped music and white noise. Have I been kidnapped? Who the fuck is this person?

With what little strength you have left in your body, you are able to peel your eyes open just a crack. You find yourself in the middle of the backseat (the safest spot in the car, which was certainly done on purpose). You find the arms draped around you are tan, adorned in heaps of black hair. Casting your gaze forward, you look to the driver. You see a woman with short, dirty-blonde hair whose slender fingers grasp hold of the steering wheel. The identity of these two people remains unknown to you. Looking at the windows, the rain cascading down the glass prevents you from pinpointing any potential landmarks. The only thing you can do is slump against this stranger and let yourself be driven far, far away.

You rewind into the past to collect any memories that would help decipher the current events. All you are able to garner is a crisp October evening, where you snuggled beneath a blanket in the safe expanse of your bedroom. You remember wrapping the blanket around your shoulders and strolling into the kitchen, where you would then make yourself a hot cup of tea. This was your normal night routine, you recall in defeat. The last memory you had would be of no use, considering the large gap in your mind once you drank the first sip of tea. So, you rewind even further to see if anything abnormal had occurred during the day.

You remember how you had spent your morning journaling in the garden, analyzing the faces of other patients and doctors wandering through your memory. Nothing stuck out, however, so you abandoned your reminiscing of this past morning. You then think back to group therapy at noon, where others would express their traumas from Raccoon City six years prior. You would tell your own story of the agony you endured and how you met several people who had protected you with their lives. Leon Kennedy, Ada Wong, Jill Valentine, and Carlos Oliveira — four names you would never forget.

Then, you would express the grief you felt when you were told none of them had survived the night. You had never felt so alone after. But, fortunately, you were then taken under the wing of this sanctuary built just for survivors. You have stayed in their habitation since.

The faces of those listening to your story were people you have seen every day; none of their features matched the physicality of the people in this car. With that, you fast forward further into the afternoon to find anything that sticks out. The heightened security that seemed to be reserved for you made you furrow your brow. However, it was nothing explicit enough to explain your current circumstances. Several guards stood outside your room as you lost yourself in the book you checked out from the sanctuary's library. The headphones you wore blared your favorite music and tuned out any and all outside noise. Even the hushed noises straight from your kitchen.

The hours of the afternoon faded away while you read through your book. It wasn't until a friend had come to your door to remind you of your plans to go stargazing did you realize the sun had begun to set. As they left, you decided to brew yourself some tea before you would join the others outside. You remember sitting at your frail kitchen table, blanket adorning your shoulders like a cape as you watched the tea kettle on the stove. Silence pervades and you can't help letting your mind wander. It has been six full years since the incident in Raccoon City. Still, your brain always seems to saunter back to the memories of that night.

You think of Leon Kennedy that night. You remember those pale blue eyes, freckled innocence, puppy-soft hair; you remember how he had saved your life that night in Raccoon City. Working at the Mizoil Gas Station, sitting right on the outskirts of the city, you're bound to face your fair share of weird regulars. And Leon Kennedy, by far, was the weirdest. A week before the night that sent your life into a tornado, you had met the new rookie who just arrived in town. And for seven days, you would always spot that familiar green jeep outside your workplace. His relentless appearances made you worry he had a hole in his gas tank or something. However, his visits weren't to grab gas or a quick snack for the road, it was to awkwardly lean against the counter and pathetically try to win your heart.

"Oh, hey Y/N! Funny running into you here..." The twelve visits a day spoil his attempts at being suave. "Yeah. I work here, Leon." His name sounds like nectar on your tongue, to a point where he is on the verge of outright begging you to say it. Even once more.

You then think of how during your closing shift, a coworker had become something ghastly, something monstrous. It all just happened so fast. You think of how you shielded yourself in your cramped work locker, limbs jutting out against the uncomfortable metal walls. To this day, you can still feel the suffocating tightness in your chest from holding back your sobs. All while you helplessly listened to the horrific sounds of your coworkers and customers being torn apart. You're entirely shaken with trauma, but with your brain in survival mode, you know this was no time to rest. Who knows how many more of those things will arrive? Now was your only shot at escaping this hellhole. So, you begrudgingly peel open the locker door and carefully inspect your surroundings. You grab a six-pack of beer on the desk beside you and take one of the bottles out. It was your only available weapon against your zombified coworkers, after all.

Blood paints your sneakers red and cheap beer stains your uniform as you fight your way out of the station. The sight of the entrance feels like a light at the end of the tunnel. Your lungs tighten with exhaustion as you continue to run towards it. That is until a firm grasp on your wrist halts your intentions. Swinging the bottle towards the assailant, they block it with ease and disarm you. It wasn't until a stuttering, concerned voice gasps your name do you realize that you almost just stabbed Leon Kennedy in the face. But God, you never thought you would be so happy for the persistent neediness of this cop.

You don't even know what had overcome you, but the sight of something human fills you with so much relief, you engulf the man into a hug. It lasted a mere second, but it was more than enough to get Leon's heart thumping in his chest. Even in the face of death, a smile tugs at his lips with any crumb of affection he can extrapolate from you. Muttering an apology to him, Leon disregards it entirely and stares at you with that dumb, love-struck expression. Your drop-dead gorgeous self; your witty comebacks that have his ribs tough with laughter… You, of all people, initiated affection with him, you actually wanted to touch him!

The roar of something inhuman cuts Leon off, to where he then bends down and scoops you into his arms. Without a second to resist, Leon (who is far too elated for comfort) sprints through the door with you and books it to his jeep. You're too busy staring at the store in trepidation to stop Leon from opening the car door for you, placing you in the passenger seat, and fastening your seatbelt for you. Almost as if you were a child, incapable of using your own hands.

The car ride to the Raccoon Police Department is quiet. Other than a few hushed reassurances of comfort from Leon, a heavy silence sits between the two of you. It's so bewildering that the people you had spent every day with are all dead. Not even dead, but zombie-fied creatures groaning to tear your flesh asunder. Your brain drifts to one coworker, in particular. One who was a master at getting under your skin. Manipulating your time alone to ask you out to dinner for the umpteenth time while tracing his hands over your skin. You never agreed, but with every attempt to bring this problem to your manager, it was always swept under the rug. And at last, you would have to endure the eerie smile and roaming hands of this middle-aged creep.

But now, things are different. You think about how he is now dead and can never touch you again; you think of how sickeningly good it felt to drive the rear end of a half-shattered bottle into his skull. Looking at your hands, you find your palms caked with his blood. Leon takes notice of this, taking one hand off the wheel and using it to grasp your hand into his. Electricity tickles through him from the contact. "You didn't have a choice" he assures in that soft tone reserved for you, but he is wrong. You did have a choice, and in the end, you wanted to hurt him.

"I wanted to. I wanted to kill him." Your gaze is locked on your red hands as you confess; Leon's gaze is fixated on you. "I just couldn't put up with him anymore. I finally got to fucking get back at him for once, to take advantage of him while he was weak." You don't even notice the tears streaming down your emotionally-drained expression.

You especially don't notice the sheer affect your words have on Leon. Tense jaw, flared nostrils, chest rising up and down with short breaths. What the fuck did he do to you? What had he done to push you, the angel of Leon's life, to such violent measures? He imagines his disgusting hands, dirtying your heavenly form; he imagines your face scrunched up with dismay, tears brimming in your eyes. And it absolutely destroys him. His heavy stare remains locked on you, entirely oblivious to any outside sources. No zombies, no eight-foot-tall tyrants — all that mattered was the audacity this dead man had to put his hands on you. And god, it makes him red with rage.

"Leon- LEON-!!" You shout out to warn him before the jeep then collides into a car wreck. It is pure mayhem as you shield your head with your hands and prepare for your demise. Leon’s arm stretches out over you in a desperate attempt to protect you. How ironic that in the face of a zombie apocalypse, you would die because of someone's poor driving skills.

You reluctantly open your eyes; you're alive. With your ears ringing out and your vision fuzzy, you manage to wrestle your way out of the jeep that had been flipped upside down. A grunt escapes from your chest as you make contact with the pavement. Something wet trickles down your head and from your nose, which doesn't take much for you to perceive as blood. You are so disoriented, you entirely forget about the man who was driving you just moments before. So disoriented, in fact, you don't hear the weak whimpers of your name from Leon as he watches you stumble further and further and further away from him.

You think of Ada Wong that night. You remember the click of her heels, her expensive perfume, her manicured nails; you remember how she had saved your life that night in Raccoon City. Somehow in your bewildered state, you had found yourself in one of the holding cells of RPD. You had collapsed against a metal bench, catching sight of a blood-stained first aid kit just within reach. You then tend to your wounds with feeble efforts. Soon, your senses clear, to where horrifying screams of agony echo through the large expanse. An unseen force rattles the room, and chunks of wall soar through the air from the cell beside you. There's a pop! before a deafening silence settles in the room.

All that is left in the air is your rapid breathing, waiting for your inescapable demise to embrace you. But, there is simply nothing to greet you but you and your thoughts. The gentle tap of quiet footsteps fills the permeating quiet. A woman then enters your train of vision, dressed in a trench coat, sunglasses, and stiletto heels. She stops in her tracks upon seeing you, seemingly inspecting you from behind her eyewear. With a tilt of her head, the woman steps through the threshold of your cell, where you then bundle yourself in the corner of the room. And you are just so adorable how you cave into yourself, almost like a bunny. So frail and terrified; too damn cute.

The way she walks to you is as if she were on a catwalk. Your trauma-ridden body trembles in fear with every step she takes closer. When she is just within reach, you act on instinct and push her away from you, racing past her and out of the cell. She barely stumbles from your attempt at an attack, an amused chuckle vibrating from her chest. You get a good several steps away before you finally discover what had made such a booming noise before. A man lies dead on the ground in the locked cell beside yours with a punctured hole in the wall. His dry mouth is hung agape and his body sits lifeless. Both eyes have been popped out of their sockets, blood seeping down his face and to the ground below. The woman follows you in your footsteps as you stare in horror. She merely tuts at the sight, a sigh of disappointment filling the empty air. How in the world is she not as terrified as you are?

"Come with me." Her voice is feminine, oozing with sultry confidence. It's soothing to listen to.

"Why?" Meanwhile, your voice is nothing like hers. Your speech comes out shaky and quiet, adorned in the fear this woman was apparently immune to.

"Well, you wouldn't want to end up like Ben, would you?" Your silence serves as your unspoken agreement. "Come now." In addition to her poised nature, her voice is also flat with demanding dominance. You find yourself blindly following her as she struts away.

Accompanying this woman as she walks through the police department as if she were the headline of a fashion show, you soon make it to the grimy streets of the city. During that time, she had introduced herself to you as Ada Wong, a spy working to retrieve the G-Virus. Why is she telling you the whole truth about herself, she doesn't know. Why did she make you follow her when she knows she works better alone, she doesn't know, either. There's just something about the way you cower into her when a zombie growls and the way your eyes glimmer with gratitude when she annihilates the monsters in your path. It makes her feel worthy, for something other than violence or money. As if she were the big, bad wolf who had fallen for the helpless bunny rabbit.

Now standing at the end of the street before the sewer entrance, you stare below in apprehension for what you have now learned lies within. This whole time, all the secrets Umbrella have were hidden right beneath your nose. Or better yet, right beneath your feet. A tank truck lies on its side several feet away from you and behind it, a trail of fire travels closer and closer. The flames and oil mending together then causes an explosion to erupt. Before you even had a chance to process anything, you're in the air, where you land in a patch of grass with a loud crack. Permeating pain courses through your right arm. From the time you had broken your wrist in 5th grade from attempting to climb a tree, you can tell your arm has suffered the same fate.

A leather-gloved hand then places itself onto your cheek. You look to see Ada, now with no glasses, tousled hair, and her coat discolored from grass stains. A dandelion had managed to wrangle itself with one of the dark-colored strands on her head. Playfully, you pluck the dandelion from her hair and gift it to her. Then, you make some joking remark about how it's a "thanks for the save earlier" with a weak chuckle. Your hand touches hers and something flutters within Ada's stomach — something grand, something scary. Something... warm. It stuns her into silence and catches her entirely off guard.

Her gaze shifts to your lips. Despite how chapped and dry they are, your bottom lip seeping with blood after the tough fall, they couldn't look any more appetizing to Ada. The mere idea of pressing her lips to yours causes her to relentlessly fall further and further into this unfamiliar, twitter-pated oblivion. You are just so benevolent, softhearted, and so, so bright. Ada's head is so fogged up with all sorts of devoted insanity, she doesn't take notice of the mass of zombies treading closer. While Ada is crouching beside you, she is then tackled to the ground. A pandemonium of zombies roaring ensues, and you're attacked by the undead, as well. With a hard kick to the skull of your assailant, you're able to wrangle yourself out of their grip on your leg. You stand to your feet and search for Ada to no avail, the heaps of zombies restraining you from any clarity.

With that, you turn tail and slam open the doors of the closest shelter you could find: Gun Shop Kendo.

You think of Jill Valentine that night. You remember her calloused hands, her rough-edged attitude, her scent of gunpowder; you remember how she had saved your life that night in Raccoon City. When you enter the gun shop, you're met with a man and a woman, both disheveled with dirt and blood. They point their guns at you upon your rushed entrance and in response, you raise your hands to surrender. The pummeling on the doors then has you all racing to barricade the entrance, using abandoned shelves and boxes as impromptu defenses. With heavy panting and a hefty barrier, the three of you stand, exasperated, trying to catch your breath. You sink to the floor and hold your arm, flashes of agony pumping through the broken limb.

Despite the danger just outside and your arm overcome with pain, this is the best you'll get in your current state. Shelter and weapons. You'll just have to endure how the shop owner shoved the barrel of his gun in your face and how the cop beside him sees you as gum beneath her shoe. Jill treats you like she does everyone else: ice-cold and blunt. She doesn't say a word to you; she barely acknowledges your presence. For that, you assume she hates your guts. Considering the circumstances, however, you don't take it to heart. Instead, you thank the two for allowing you to stay in the shop while the storm of zombies outside dies down.

However, things are quite different on Jill's end. The simple way you exist — it stuns her. Throughout her entire life, this dull ache has resided in her chest. She feels nothing. She would try and garner any feeling whatsoever; she'd do something adrenaline-inducing to feel fear, she'd do something ignorant to feel guilt. She would do everything to fill this hollow void within her. But, her incessant efforts were all brought to no avail.

That is until you came along.

Even though you're just some helpless civilian with no other desires than temporary protection, something foreign pervades her brain. Jill has come to realize you are far more than just the pretty face on the surface (although the idea of others witnessing your beauty causes her stomach to churn). She then tends to your broken arm, acting as if her heart wasn't running a mile a minute from the close contact. Meanwhile, lust-driven fantasies that would make even a harlot blush muddle her brain. To have you beneath her, staring up at her like that. You can't expect her to not swoon at the mere thought of how you'd taste, how you'd sound, how you'd tremble from her touch. Her mouth waters at the mental image alone.

Without thinking, Jill leans in to kiss you, fully ready to take you here on the floor of this filthy gun shop. The cock of Kendo's gun brings her out of her haze. You, on the other hand, assume this woman views you as nothing but a burden despite the clear display of infatuation in front of you. She informs you with a flat tone how survivors would be taken to the subway station, where they would then be transported out of the city. You thank her again for her hospitality, but mostly out of culpability. With your arm now covered with swiftly-made bandages, you reach with the other for an abandoned gun. Now that you've accepted the assumption this woman doesn't want a thing to do with you, the only way you'll get out of Raccoon City is by yourself. However, she blocks your attempt with a gentle grasp of your wrist.

"No need." Her voice is rough, but beneath the facade, it is timid and fearful.

"Why not?"

"You have me. I won't let anything happen to you." You stare at her, completely flabbergasted at the sudden alter in attitude.

The journey to the subway station was a breeze, to say the least. With your new bodyguard there to obliterate any danger in your path, it was practically a stroll in the park. She tells you her name and you tell her yours. Y/N Valentine has kind of a ring to it, Jill thinks. But with only just a few blocks to cross, something large, something beastly, something entirely inhuman stops you in your tracks. Incredibly massive with its large teeth protruding from its mouth, it groans a deep "S.T.A.R.S" before it begins to stomp towards you. Terror submerges your senses and immobilizes you. A red laser points from the rocket launcher in its hands, the dot sitting right by your feet. Jill then grabs hold of your hand and tries to run off with you, but her futile attempts were too late. A rocket then strikes the pavement and its force sends the two of you into the air. Your bandaged arm lands first against the unforgiving ground, anguish permeating your entire body.

You think of Carlos Oliveira that night. You remember his gruff voice, his kind heart, his dirt-caked skin; you remember how he had saved your life that night in Raccoon City. The pain in your arm is so blinding, there is nothing else you can think about. Not Jill, not Ada, not Leon, not the myriad of monstrous creatures on your tail. The only thing that exists right now is the torturous misery coursing through you. You're writhing on the cold pavement as you cling to your arm, cries of distress and exhaustion trembling from your chest. God, when will this nightmare fucking end?

The gut-wrenching entrance you're in is broken when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You expect to find Jill and her stone-cold, yet concerned expression, only to turn over your shoulder and see a complete stranger. He has a head full of messy, dark hair, with loose strands shielding his face; a strong body, with his military vest filled with heavy weaponry. His expression, however, was the most memorable. God, he looks at you as if you've hung the moon. His appearance is unkempt and dirty, but still overwhelmed with cheesy rom-com levels of infatuation. Why is this stranger looking at you as if you were walking down the aisle on your wedding day? You don't know. Besides, there are far more important matters to concern yourself with.

The heavy slam of Jill's boots reverberates as she sprints over to you. She helps you to your feet, not without a quick glare at the man beside you that reads "don't you fucking touch them." Jill puts your intact arm around her and leads you into Moon's Donuts, all while the deafening sounds of gunfire and grisly roars echo from behind. You don't dare turn around; you couldn't bear to look at that abomination once more. The quiet hum of heavy rock welcomes you as you enter the deserted donut shop. You practically collapse into one of the booths, Jill following behind and sitting across from you. With an exhale of relief, you relax into the seat and hold your arm in an attempt for temporary comfort. The man from before enters shortly, as well, then barricades the entrance with ease.

Your bandages are now torn and peeling. In an effort to fix it yourself, that same agonizing pain satiates through your arm instead. You hiss in response, alerting the two others. The man leans down before you, introducing himself as Carlos Oliveira, then eagerly asking you to inform him of your name. You oblige and he visibly shivers when your skin makes contact with his, an expressed concoction of nerves and irrepressible obsession. Upon gingerly grasping hold of your arm, he uses medical equipment from the various pockets around his chest and tends to you. His touch is careful, delicate — as if you would drift away if he applied any pressure. With every whimper and groan of pain from you, shocks are sent straight to his heart. Carlos had just met you moments ago yet still, he can't fathom the idea of you in pain. He assumes it's merely empathy, but when he feels tears brim in his eyes at the sight of you suffering, he knows this isn't normal.

With Jill's hand on your shoulder, consoling you through the pain, Carlos finishes swiftly before reluctantly breaking physical contact with you. He then gives you his canteen bottle, allowing you some water after your exhausting efforts to survive. You down the water like you've been parched for years. In the process, you are entirely oblivious to the heavy breathing from Carlos, who is left stunned at the prospect of an indirect kiss. Your lips against his — he feels his cheeks heat up from the idea alone. He doesn't realize how totally deranged he looks in his lovesick hysteria before the sharp snap of Jill's fingers brings him back to reality. Her possessive stare, her physical affection with you. Carlos feels his world crumble at the revelation that falls: you belong to Jill. The partner of his dreams is sitting right in front of him, but at the same time, is entirely out of reach. And it shatters him.

With that being said, Carlos isn't always the most articulate with his attempts at garnering information, hence why he stuck to the guns. So, as Jill and Carlos guard you like feral dogs with a bone while you travel back to the subway, he lets his facade slip.

"So... Are you two-like... Are you guys-um? Like, together?" Smooth as silk, Carlos. Smooth as silk.

Jill rolls her eyes in response. Mostly due to how annoying she thought him to be, but especially due to the fact that you aren't actually hers. Meanwhile, you tilt your head in confusion like a lost puppy (and you miss the way they visibly melt from the sight). After another fit of relentless stammering from Carlos, Jill finally clears the air.

"No, we're not dating." It hurts her to say it, evident in the way she clenches her jaw in an attempt to suppress her protruding emotions. Meanwhile, Carlos is sent to cloud nine.

Despite the blood, death, and gore he had witnessed in a single night, he had never felt so elated in all his years alive. Jill scoffs at his thinly-veiled euphoria, before grasping your hand and treading forward. Through trial and error (and more zombies than you could count), the three of you finally make it back to the subway station. You could cry, it's almost over. However, you can't help but notice how Jill and Carlos are perceptibly devastated by the idea of letting you go.

You hug Jill. It was nothing intimate, merely a thanks for the help she had provided you. Still, her body goes rigid and her heart flourishes with every kind of emotion she has never felt before. Through all the revelations that have taken place in this hellhole of a night, none of it compared to the earth-shattering emotions you have given her. Fear, lust, jealousy, devotion — it's all so overwhelming and she loves it.

You hug Carlos next. Again, nothing intimate or ulterior about the act of affection. But just like Jill, his heart practically detonates from the close contact. If only you could see his love-struck face; his expression is practically straight out of a cartoon. Cupid's bow through his chest, bluebirds swarming around his head and all. When the friendly hug soon started to turn into a romantic embrace, you push yourself off of Carlos, excusing his actions as nothing short of post-traumatic nerves.

With that, you join the other civilians on the train. The subway doors close behind you as you look at the survivors around you. All of them are riddled with trauma, shaken and silently weeping from the sights they have witnessed. Despite the harrowing circumstances, you're alive. That is all that matters and you could not be more grateful. Sitting on an empty seat, an exhale of relief escapes your chest. The train whirs as it begins to move. You turn your shoulder and look through the filth-stained windows to find Jill and Carlos, eyes blown wide with emotion as they watch you leave them. They stand in the same place you had left them, gazing wistfully at the love of their life. Picking up speed, you are soon out of their sight and they are now without the one they love most. And the sheer affect it has on them is gut-wrenching.

Fortunately for you, the ride out of the city is plain sailing. And with no S.T.A.R.S. members on the train, there is no 8-foot-tall creature there to set everything ablaze. You have now become one of the very few people who can say they made it out of Raccoon City alive.

You think of Raccoon City the morning after and the consequences that came from surviving. You think about what Carlos had said to you in the midst of danger. "I'm not gonna die on you and leave you in a cold, cruel, Carlos-less world." Liar.

Upon escaping the city safely, you and the other survivors were sent to a local hospital. From thereon, you would spend the next several days there (and finally receive proper treatment for your broken arm). After several days of anxiously anticipating the well-being of your friends and the entirety of Raccoon City, a doctor you had never seen before enters your room in the dead of night. Introducing himself as Dr. Matt Gorkis, he then reveals the news of the missile strike sent to the city and how there were no other survivors. A wave of devastation and helplessness washes over you. Weeping softly, the doctor bluntly provides details of the matter.

He then informs you of a sanctuary being built just for survivors of the incident. There will be provided shelter, basic necessities, and all sorts of therapeutic activities that will help you during your healing journey. And with your job, your home, and all of your friends eradicated to dust, you know you have no other choice. With another month of being tested for infections and going through physical therapy, you are released from the hospital and sent away with the doctor. For the past six years, this sanctuary is what you have learned to call home.

The hissing of the tea kettle makes you jump, bringing an abrupt halt to your road trip down memory lane. And while you pour yourself a cup of tea, you realize that your memories will be of no use for your current circumstances. For now, you'll have to let yourself be lulled to sleep in the back of this stranger's vehicle, driven far away to god-knows-where. But, the embrace the person has on you is so warm, so inviting. Your body can’t help but succumb to the relaxation this stranger provides.

You just hope that when you wake up, whatever welcomes you isn't anything reminiscent of the nightmare you faced six years ago.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 ۫ you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ MY LOVE, MY DARLING

I'VE HUNGERED FOR YOUR TOUCH . . . ❞

not a single person had asked for this, but it has been all my brain has been able to think about. i hope u all can appreciate some breadcrumbs from the ramblings of my heart hehe.

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cyberslvts · 8 months

Text

SWEET TALKER || w.maximoff

Summary: In the bustling city of New York, two ambitious entrepreneurs, Wanda Maximoff and Y/n L/N, have been fierce competitors in the industry of mechanical engineering. You and Wanda have been at each others throats fighting for the top spot. However, Your opinions on the Scarlet woman change after she approaches you one night with a business proposal.

Warnings: 18+ rivals to lovers, office romance, angst, smut, teasing, oral (r recieving), fingering (r recieving), marking/biting, little twist at the end (i love drama). Wrote this on my flight to Hawaii (teehee)

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

WC: 6.1k

Part 2 | Part 3

The names Y/n L/n and Wanda Maximoff had become synonymous with power and dominance in the bustling streets of New York City.

Y/n L/n was the heir to the L/n family empire, a legacy that had its origins in the late 1950s. Back then, L/n technology had been at the forefront of demand, supplying the country with groundbreaking innovations. Their influence was so profound that buildings, schools, and billboards bore their name in honor. They became the embodiment of high society and untouchable success in America.

However, after the passing of Y/ns father, the company’s prestige and reputation went downhill. Soon L/n. Inc was buried by other up-incoming engineers with bigger ideas, faster solutions, and more efficient products. What was once America's most prestigious company was now a forgotten memory.

Until your twenty third birthday arrived, and your father's will stipulated that upon his passing, the empire would be handed over to the eldest L/n child.Taking charge of the company, you unleashed your unrelenting drive. For years, you had observed your father's tireless nights of work, and the dedication he poured into the company. His legacy became your purpose.

Growing up, your life revolved around your father's teachings and his pursuit of excellence. From a young age, he immersed you in the world of science and technology, and you soaked up knowledge like a sponge. As he explained the intricate molecular structure of vibranium, you sat in awe in your high chair, absorbing every word.

From that moment on, you were expected to be nothing short of a carbon copy of your brilliant father. Academics became your priority, and you quickly excelled in the math and science fields. However, this dedication came at a cost – you sacrificed social outings and events during high school, choosing instead to spend your time perfecting your craft and living up to your father's high standards. Long hours were spent hunched over a desk, diving deep into research and innovation. Now, with the responsibility of the company resting on your shoulders, you were determined not to let all your father's hard work go to waste. The thought of allowing untalented and entitled individuals to take over what was built with so much passion and dedication ignited a fierce determination within you.

After inheriting the company 10 years ago you immediately rose through the ranks and L/n. Inc was back on the tabloids as New York's top engineering company. Driven by a relentless ambition, you earned your place as a formidable figure in the engineering landscape. Your brilliant ideas along with your father's teachings allowed you to refine your technology and weapons to perfection. The demand for your products was through the roof and you made millions. High-paying investors from all around the world were coming to New York to see and buy your designs.

Your cold, focused, and reserved nature, along with your rapidly growing empire intimidated potential competitors, which gained you the respect and prestige you needed to uphold the company’s reputation.

You were unstoppable.

That was until Maximoff Industries.

Maximoff Industries was Sokovias most prominent and respected engineering company. Even though they were still relatively new to the field that didn’t stop them from breaking countless records and rising through the ranks Once they decided to relocate to New York. As expected they were quick to put a dent in your sales numbers.

At the heart of it all was Wanda Maximoff – a powerhouse of a woman, displaying a captivating aura that draws people in. While not as cold and detached as you, she maintains a level of professionalism that commands respect and admiration. Some might even describe her as friendly, with a warmth that contrasts the cool exterior of her competitor. But beneath her approachable demeanor lies an unwavering determination and a fierce desire to become the best engineering company the world has ever seen.

Thus, a rivalry was formed. The competition between both of your Companys was electric. Every Month either you or Wanda was ahead. You had your team work themselves until the brink of death coming up with new ideas that would outsell Maximoff Industries. The same trope echoed within Wanda's company, as her team matched your dedication step for step. Late nights and early mornings became the new reality as she dissected every aspect of your technology, searching for any imperfections. Anything she could use to break you down.

The rivalry between your companies intensified with each passing month, setting the business world abuzz with anticipation and excitement. Photos, articles, and Newspapers were being published every month detailing any upcoming projects or interactions you two had with each other. Whenever asked about anything Wanda related your responses were always the same.

“No comment”

“Would rather not say”

“I'm not allowed to say anything”

You always tried to stay out of the media as much as possible, you knew how everything was twisted or taken out of context in order to satisfy their audience. Wanda on the other hand couldn’t seem to get enough of the overwhelming attention. Always happy to give detailed responses to random interviewers on the street and pose for photographers, even though it was clear they were following her. She was basically their only outlet to you since she apparently had no filter when it came to the paparazzi.

“I heard she's working on a new type of AI device that's going to be used in search and rescue missions”

“Of course, we don’t hate each other! Just Friendly competition!”

“She's single, I think. But with her looks, who knows?”

Her latest interview sparked a plethora of theories among the people of New York, The press finding endless entertainment in your perceived connection. Were they secretly working together? Dating? Sleeping together?

Amidst all the success and recognition, there was one area that remained untouched – matters of the heart. Your relentless dedication to the company and your guarded demeanor left little room for personal connections. Love had always seemed like a distraction, and you found comfort in pouring your energy into your work, your empire, and your dreams.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, throwing the open-faced magazine on your desk. This is exactly why you stayed out of the press. Once they found out one little snippet of information about you they would twist it around just to fuel their crazy theories. Now you would have to prepare yourself to be bombarded with flashing camera lights and microphones being shoved in your face all while you were just trying to get to your car.

Yet, compared to past allegations, a dating rumor was almost a relief. In October, you'd been accused of murdering your father to claim the business. Another scandal involved pregnancy after declining a drink at a New Year's Eve party. A dating rumor would likely fade within a week.A dating rumor was a piece of cake. You’d been accused of sleeping with a number of people in the past. It would blow over within a week.

Your eyes trained back on the magazine cover “A secret scandalous affair” followed by photos of you and Wanda. Your thumb found its way to your teeth as you leaned back in your big office chair with the magazine in your hand. Your interest starting to peak. At least this rumor was somewhat entertaining for you. Typically the people you were accused of sleeping with were past friends of your father, who were old, fat, or balding.

Amongst your hatred for Wanda, you couldn’t help but be captivated by her. Her beauty was undeniable. Your eyes gazed upon the photo in the magazine, it was a photoshoot Wanda had done for a sponsorship a few months ago. She wore a dark red suit that fit perfectly around her body, her hair cascaded past her shoulders as she gazed into the camera with a gentle smile. She was posing in the streets of Manhattan, surrounded by giant buildings that framed her gorgeous figure. pedestrians blurred in the background which only highlighted her powerful presence. Her bright green eyes stared right back at you as you continued to observe the photograph. Her arms, legs, nose, lips-

“What are you reading?”

You were startled out of your daze, quickly shutting the magazine and sitting up straight in your seat to see Natasha raising an eyebrow and giving you a confused look.

“Nothing. just these ridiculous magazines I keep getting sent” you replied, moving a stack of papers over the cover.

Natasha suspiciously observed your rather shaken-up demeanor as she was expecting your serious deadpan face when she walked in not you ogling at a photo of Wanda Maximoff “Ok. Well… just wanted to tell you the monthly report came back in and once again we are second to Maximoff, by 5 sales this time”

“What. Are you sure? The last time I checked…” Your focus trailed off as you began clicking through different files on your computer.

“I'm sure. It's that new drone she just released. Stark Industries just bought ten of them” Natasha's hands were now in her pockets, observing your worried yet focused expression which was glued to the screen of your computer. Natasha was the Vice president of L/N Inc. And you owed most of your success to the redhead. She was the backbone of the company and shared the same passions and desires as you.

Those weeks were it seemed like you were working yourself into a grave in order to meet upcoming deadlines, She was right by your side, writing notes, crunching numbers, filling out spreadsheets and even correcting the mistakes you rarely made. She kept all of your employees at the top of their game when you weren't there to bark orders at everyone, and you were almost positive you and the rest of the company would be a chaotic mess if it weren't for her.

“We need to move up the timeline for the AI robot release if we want to get ahead next month” Natasha was now in front of your desk handing you a blue folder “This is a new updated timeline for the project. I know it's faster than we planned but I think if we can get this AI out before September we have a chance at getting ahead of Maximoff for the October reports”

You sighed as you looked over the papers “Thank you, Nat. I really wouldn’t be able to do any of this without you”

She gave you a sympathetic nod before turning to exit your office. You felt the stress build in your stomach as you read over the new timeline. It was almost a month ahead of schedule, and you were still a third of the way from finishing the final project.

You were starting to get really sick of Wanda Maximoff.

————————-

The sounds of keyboard clacking and rustling papers were the only things heard in your large office tower, The building was eerily dark, the only light coming from the conference room on the 27th floor. Your back ached and your eyes felt heavy from hours of being hunched over your desk.

You finally decided to take a break, stretching your arms above your head and looking out the big glass windows that overlooked the city, only to be met with the darkness of night and speckles of light illuminating from other buildings. You blinked in surprise checking your watch. 1:46 am. Have you really been here that long?

You sighed and looked at the sprawled-out papers that almost covered the entire conference table, you decided to migrate down to the conference room since your tiny desk wasn’t big enough for this chaotic mess. The situation was growing more and more impossible with each passing minute. Despite brainstorming a multitude of strategies, the looming project deadline for September remained a stark reminder of your impending failure.

Frustration gnawed at you, a tempestuous emotion ignited by the mere thought of Wanda outperforming you in the upcoming monthly report.

Defeat was not an option. Sleep was a distant memory, and your social life had become a casualty of your unwavering commitment to your work. With a determined huff, you settled back into your seat, your brows furrowing as your eyes scanned the multitude of charts, graphs, and spreadsheets demanding your attention. The focus of your thoughts was abruptly interupted by a gentle knock, followed by the slow creaking of your office door.

“Natasha. I already told you I would be staying late” you spoke without looking up from the documents in your hand.

A melodious chuckle filled the air, accompanied by a voice you weren't expecting. “You know, you've been holed up in this tower for so long, I'm starting to think you're avoiding me.

Your gaze immediately shot up once you recognized the sultry voice you had become all to familiar with. There she stood, Wanda Maximoff in all her glory. She wore a loose dark red blouse, tucked into her long black slacks. She must have come straight from her office.

“How did you get in here?” you abandoned the papers, your focus now being shifted to the tall redhead standing in the middle of your conference room.

“Micheal let me in, told him I had important business to discuss with Miss L/N” she replied, removing a hand from her pocket to hold up a day pass badge she must have received from the janitor.

“Well, it looks like I will have to talk to Micheal about letting strangers into the building in the middle of the night” You were beginning to get more frustrated, you had enough to deal with as it is.

“Strangers? Please. me and you both know were obsessed with each other” she said with a cocky tone, only fueling the burning fire in your stomach. She was right of course. The rivalry between you and Wanda was more than just professional competition; it was an obsession that fueled both of your careers. you couldn't count the endless nights you spent researching the Scarlett woman, Watching every interview you could find of her, reading every article. Trying to find any source of information you could use to take her down.

Wanda, too, was caught up in the same game. But unlike her, you were a master at guarding your private life, granting only a glimpse into your world through one or two interviews or photographs a month – sometimes three, if the mood struck you. You were excellent at avoiding the paparazzi, a talent wanda was not fond of. She craved to know the person that was always at the front of her mind, the person that had occupied almost all of her thoughts for the past 5 years. The secrecy of Y/n L/N ignited a flame of curiosity and desire inside her. Even though your office buildings were only 2 blocks from each other, she felt like you were on an entirely different planet.

Your rivalry had become a dance of fascination, a battle not only for success in the business world but also for the chance to understand the person behind the titles and achievements. The world may see you as rivals, but deep down, you both knew that there was something more.

“Don't flatter yourself” you spoke while rolling your eyes your patience was getting thinner and the smirk on Wanda's face was not helping. “What do you want wanda? why are you here”

“I wanted to see how you were,” she said, the sincerity evident in her words, this was true. The demands of your rapidly growing empire caused you to withdraw from the outside world. You had been locked away in your office day and night, immersed in your work. You were going out less and less, missing out on the countless business events where Wanda had the privilege of catching a glimpse of you.

Although she grew accustomed to only seeing your presence once and a while at board meetings, exclusive events, or walking through the streets of New York, she was beginning to get frustrated. And a little worried about your growing absence.

You scoffed “Im fine, thank you” turning your attention back to your work, Picking up your abandoned papers and tapping them against the desk to shape them into a neat pile “Now as you can see I am very busy, so if there is nothing else I can help you wi-”

“I have a business proposal for you” she confidently spoke, meeting your cold stare, watching your face briefly contort into confusion before returning back to your usual cold stare.

You narrowed your eyes at her, inspecting her face for any traces of sarcasm. To your surprise you found none. “What are you talking about?”

She watched as you raised a hand to move your reading glasses to the top of your head. Her eyes glossed over at the sight of your hair pushed back, exposing more of your beautiful face.

“Im sure you've heard of stark industries” Wanda spoke, you shifted, of course, you had heard of stark industries.No one had heard of Tony Stark until last year. Within his first year, he had already broken twice as many records as you did when you were first starting out and had already risen to the number four spot in the country. Uncomfortably close to your rank. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Wanda's heels clacking on the floor as she made her war closer to you. Now Standing just a few feet from you “He offered me a partnership deal.”

Your face fell and your body froze. This was not good. If Tony and wanda were to partner up, that would be it for you. Panic started to bubble in the pit of your stomach. this news put a crack in the facade you were desperately trying to uphold. Wanda seemed to be enjoying herself watching your serious and cold demeanor crumble in a matter of seconds. “But I turned it down”

“What?” You blinked, making sure you heard her correctly “Have you lost your mind? What could have possibly possessed you to make such a stupid decision.” of course you were immensely relieved that she had declined the offer, however, you couldn't stop the frustration at wanda for turning down such a rare opportunity, An opportunity you would have killed to have. “If you came here just to rub this in my face-”

“I think you and I should partner up”

You were once again at a loss for words. Wanda stepped forward to take a seat closest to you. On one of the many large black swivel chairs in the conference room. “I want you. y/n.” You felt yourself heat up at her choice of words. “Tony's proposal got me thinking. You and I have been the owners of the 2 most successful engineering companies for almost a decade now. I've seen what you're capable of, Y/n. Your innovative ideas, and your dedication to your team, it's admirable. And I can't help but wonder what we could achieve together." Wanda continued, her voice gentle yet confident.

Your heart pounded in your chest as her words sunk in. Joining forces? You never thought you'd hear those words coming from Wanda's lips. The tension between your companies had always been palpable, and yet here she was, proposing a partnership

The conference room seemed to fade away as you considered her proposal. Working together with Wanda would undoubtedly be challenging, but the potential for greatness was undeniable. The combined expertise, resources, and talent of your two companies could create an engineering powerhouse, one that could outshine any new competition that arose.

As you took a moment to gather your thoughts, Wanda leaned in closer, her hand moving to rest on your knee "Think about it, y/n. I believe we could not only dominate the market but also push the boundaries of what's possible in engineering."

You narrowed your eyes at the woman sitting in front of you “Wanda, where is all of this coming from? you and I have been at each other throats for the past five years and now all the sudden you want to work together?”

Wanda's demeanor shifted, her eyes pierced straight into yours as she leaned forward to take one of your hands in her own. Her touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you couldn't ignore the rush of emotions welling up inside.

“Y/N. you are truly brilliant. Your designs are impeccable and You have an undeniable talent that I have been trying to replicate for years.” her hold on your hand tightened. You fell speechless at this confession. A sudden warmth spread throughout your chest. You searched Wanda's eyes for any trace of dishonesty but were only met with a look of raw truth. “Aren't you tired of fighting? wouldn't it feel good to build something great together”

You fell silent as your brain tried to formulate a response. You really weren't expecting this “There's no way it would work, we hate each other”

Wandas eyes softened “Oh, baby, I could never hate you” she spoke, and you felt something twist inside you at her sudden use of a pet name. “sure your constant desire to be better than me gets on my nerves from time to time. But hate? Never.” the sincerity in her words brought a sense of relief and curiosity to you.

The proximity between the two of you was getting thinner. Wanda was now so close your knees were touching and the smell of her expensive perfume flooded your senses.

“Do you want to know what I think” Wanda questioned with a slight smirk on her lips. You hummed in response, the lids of your eyes relaxing as your mind focused on observing the features of her face. “I don't think you hate me as much as you say you do”

“And what makes you say that” You leaned in closer

Wanda's eyes went up and down your body taking in the lovely sight of your slightly exposed cleavage, having undone the first few buttons before she arrived. “I think you want me, and that frustrates you” There was a beat of silence before you responded.

“That's ridiculous” You slightly pulled away, turning your head to avoid her burning gaze. Wanda only moved in closer, putting a hand on your thigh “Oh no I don't think it is. I think deep down, you crave for me as much as I crave you.” you clenched your jaw in embarrassment, your face felt like it was on fire.

Suddenly, She stood up, her hands moving to place themselves on the arms of your chair, hovering over you, enveloping you in her presence. “Truth is, you make me so angry y/n” You turned to look up at Wanda.

“I've thought about you almost every day for the past 5 years. I've thought about every possible way I could breakdown those walls you set up, find any crack just so I could see who you really are.” you felt the ends of her long hair brush against the apples of your cheeks, leaning down further to rest her knee right in between you thighs, pushing your back further into the chair.

“I don't like how I can’t get to you, I hate how you shut me out.” Wanda brought a hand to your chin, angling your face upwards to stare right back into her emerald eyes. “I hate that I can't have you.”

your eyes softened, reaching out to place a hand on the soft skin of her cheek. despite all the chaos that was you and Wanda, you felt a sense of sorrow illuminating from her. You couldn't help the tug you felt in your heart.

Her knee between your thighs sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel the heat between you intensifying. The moment was electric, and the air seemed charged with unspoken desires. As she held your chin, her thumb gently caressing your cheek, you could see the raw emotion in her eyes, and it mirrored your own.

“Trust me, Wanda, I've always been yours,” you think in some twisted way it was true. You had practically built your empire on the dedication of her. You knew every detail about her, from the way her nose scrunched when she laughed, to the shimmer she got in her eyes just before she was about to tell a joke. You had invasively studied her for 5 long years. You went to bed dreaming of fiery red hair and woke up thinking about sea-green eyes. no other person had your attention like Wanda did.

Wanda's eyes darkened, her gaze moving down towards your lips. You felt all of the tension from the past 5 years building up in the room. What was about to happen was inevitable. You and Wanda both knew it.

Finally, Wanda leaned down to press her lips against yours, she started off slow, basking in the softness of your lips. As the kiss deepened, a sense of urgency overcame you both, and you could feel the walls that once separated you crumble.

Without a second thought, Wanda effortlessly lifted you off your chair and onto the desk. The sensation of being hoisted up caused you to gasp, to which Wanda took the opportunity to slide her tongue into your mouth. Wanda's arms held you securely as you instinctively wrapped your legs around her waist. You moaned when you felt the hard metal of her belt press against your clothed pussy.

You suddenly pulled back, Wanda furrowed her eyebrows and tried to chase after your lips, “Wanda. You know if we do this…things will change” you breathlessly spoke, your tone laced with caution but also lust.

“Yeah. Yeah. I know” Wanda quickly responded, attempting to reconnect your lips.

You put a hand on her chest, stopping her from devouring you “Things could get messy… and complicated”

All of a sudden, Wanda pushed you so your back laid flat against the mess of papers, your legs dangling off the edge of the desk. Using one hand she grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them above your head. You gasped, your heart pounding in your chest as she held you firmly against the desk “Y/n. I know. Trust me, I have thought about this a lot.”

You didn't have a chance to respond before Wanda smashed her lips back into yours, she used her other hand to run up the side of your thigh, pushing your skirt up to your hips. She moved her lips down to the edge of your jaw and then your neck. “Your so perfect” she mumbled against the soft skin of your neck.

Her fingers worked to undo the buttons of your blouse, practically ripping it from your body and tossing it to the side. Her mouth returned to your body, her teeth nipping at your collarbones as she moves her hand underneath you to unhook your bra.

You couldn't help but moan out when her mouth enclosed around one of your hardened nipples. With her hand still binding your wrists above your head you could only arch up your chest further into her mouth, letting out a pleasure-filled groan when she used her other hand to pinch a roll your other nipple between her fingers.

“You don't know how long I have been waiting to see you like this.” She groaned into your chest, Sending vibrations into your skin.

She finally let go of your wrists bringing her hand down to cup your pussy, now able to freely use your hands you tangled them in the mess of red hair that was splayed all over your chest.

Using her fingers she swiftly moved your panties to the side.

Wanda almost lost it when she pressed her hand against your pussy, feeling your wetness coat her fingertips. Her fingers ran up and down your slit, before she slipped them inside you, curling them right against your sweet spot.

“Fuck, Wanda” you harshly bit your lip, throwing your head back onto the desk. Wanda's fingers continued to pump in and out of you, setting a perfect rhythmic pace. You struggled to stifle the moans that threatened to escape, desperately attempting to hold onto any sense of dignity you had left amidst the overwhelming pleasure. However, It became clear that Wanda was determined to unravel you completely at this very moment.

“No, don't, I need to hear you.” Wanda breathlessly begged, momentarily pausing her fingers, causing you to let out a whine and buck your hips up to move her fingers deeper inside you. Surrendering, You moved your hand from your mouth, and as a reward she resumed her fingers, this time using her thumb to circle your clit. You were beginning to lose yourself in her, your senses becoming overwhelmed with Wanda. You wanted this feeling to last forever, to savor the feeling of her inside you.

Your moans were begining to get louder, Your jaw went slack against the side of her face as she continued to pump her fingers in and out of you at a ridiculous pace.

Wanda watched in pure adoration, your gorgeous face contorting in pleasure, your hips jumping up in fits to meet her hand, A rush of pride swelled up inside of her, knowing she could get this reaction out of you. y/n l/n. The daunting woman feared by half of the engineering industry. The same woman whom others could only dream of catching a mere glimpse of was now falling apart underneath her. Wanda couldn't help but want to be the only person who saw you in this intimate way. The thought of being the one who could unravel the layers of the formidable y/n l/n ignited a fiery wave of possessiveness within her.

“You're doing so good, baby” Wanda praised, returning her lips to your neck where she sunk her teeth into the softness of your skin and began to suck. Your eyes suddenly shot open and tugged on her hair causing Wanda to let out a groan, vibrating into your skin.

“Wanda don't, people will see” You were panting at this point, you could feel your orgasm building, the coil in your stomach threatening to snap at any given moment.

“I want them to see, I want everybody to know that you are mine.” her tone was assertive and dominating, her mouth never left the skin of your neck where she left behind deep red marks that you were sure would ache in the morning.

Her sudden possessiveness made you throb. A thrilling wave of desire surged through your body. Everything about Wanda was undeniably intoxicating – her confidence, her intelligence, the way she held herself with such magnetic allure. The way she looked at you with those intense, emerald eyes, the way her hands traced tenderly over your skin and the way she claimed you as hers ignited a primal response within you.

You surrendered to her, throwing your head back to give her complete access to you. her fingers just felt so good and her soft lips attacking your neck sent electric jolts throughout your body.

“God, fuck, wanda im gonna cum”

“Yeah? gonna be a good girl and make a mess all over my fingers?” Wandas fingers moved faster in you, her thumb moved to put more pressure on your clit, encouraging you to reach your climax. You buried your face in the crook of Wandas neck, biting into her shoulder as you fell into your orgasm, shaking and writhing against Wanda's tight hold.

“That's it, baby, keep going” wanda was moaning into your ear, feeling your wet walls tense and spasm around her fingers.

Wanda slowed down the pace of her fingers, letting you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm before gently pulling them out of you.

She placed soothing kisses over the bruises she had created on your neck, she kissed her way up your body until she met your lips. You sighed into the gentle feel of her lips against yours, basking in the feeling of your post-orgasmic glow.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, more than alright” you giggled, wanda smiled against your lips, holding your body flush against her. She pulled back to take in the sight of you. Your lips were swollen and red, a beautiful blush adorned your cheeks, and your chest was rising and falling with every heavy breath you took in. Your hair, which was now nothing more than a disheveled mess, cascaded past your shoulders, framing your face in a captivating way.

“Absolutely gorgeous” she breathed out. Her admiration evident in her voice

But before you could fully revel in the moment, your intimate bubble was abruptly burst by a loud knock on the door of the conference room. Both you and Wanda shot up, eyes wide with panic rising in you.

“Miss L/N, are you still in there? I need to vacuum before I head out for the night.” You immediately recognized the voice as the company's janitor Micheal—the one who had triggered the events of the night by letting Wanda into the building.

“Yes, Michael! I'll be out in a second!" Your voice came out slightly higher than normal as you swiftly pushed Wanda away, hastily pulling your skirt back down to your knees and frantically searching for your discarded top. Your heart raced with a mix of excitement and anxiety, trying to regain your composure as the interruption jolted you back to reality.

Wanda, seemingly amused by your frazzled state, observed you with a playful glint in her eye. You felt a rush of vulnerability as you ran around the room, both arms instinctively covering your chest to shield yourself from Wanda's piercing gaze.

As you searched for your top, she reached for the silk blouse that had been resting on the head of a swivel chair and offered it to you. You reached out to take it, but just as your fingers brushed against the fabric, Wanda pulled her arm back, causing you to stumble and fall into her embrace. She held you close, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you. In the closeness of the moment, her words rang in your ears, reminding you of the business proposal she had made earlier.

"I want you to consider my offer, y/n," she whispered softly, her breath tickling your ear. "I meant what I said before. I truly believe we could achieve great things together."

The wave of embarrassment mixed with the excitement of the moment as you tried to cover up your exposed front from Wanda's lingering gaze. “I will. But can we please discuss this later?”

Wanda gave you a satisfied grin, handing you your shirt before stepping away to give you some privacy. As you swiftly turned around, you threw your shirt over your shoulders to cover the exposed skin of your back, and your fingers worked to fasten the buttons of your blouse. She observed you for a moment, taking in the sight of you as you composed yourself.

Deciding to take her leave, Wanda's heels clacked against the floor as she headed towards the exit of the conference room. However, with your back turned, you didn't notice her discreetly slipping a little red folder under her arm.

Unbeknownst to you, that folder contained the new timeline for the AI release, a pivotal piece of information that could shape the future of your company. In the midst of the intimate encounter, Wanda had managed to seize an opportunity to further her goals, using the moment to her advantage.

As she made her exit, a mischievous glint danced in her eyes, knowing that she had just played her cards strategically. The rivalry between your companies still burned fiercely, and she wasn't about to let the opportunity slip through her fingers. With the information concealed in that little red folder, Wanda was one step closer to gaining an edge in the competitive race.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #fanfic #elizabeth olsen

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bomber-grl · 3 months

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“Wanna get married?”

Damian Wayne x Gn!Reader

(They’re about 19)

“WHAT??”

“What…? Why’re you so freaked out?” You and Damian were currently sitting across each other in the living room.

“What do you mean, why am I so freaked out?…explain yourself” his sudden mood changes never ceases to amaze you- something you seriously shouldn’t be thinking while being suspected of by an ex assassin .

“Well… Since we’re tired and bored, I asked if you’d wanna get married-“

“Yea, I understood the first time but why and…in what sense?” He interrupted you, rude

“Ok ok look, just hear me out” he glared at you but then sighed and just nodded.

“Alright” you sat up “so imagine this,me, you, fancy high end restaurant- AND before you say anything!” You shove a finger against Damian’s lips.

“Imagine the food, we can, idk… go in together and I could fake purpose to you for fun” you sat back and studied Damian’s facial expressions .

He let out the deepest sigh you’ve ever heard in your life that you’ve heard from him. Which is to say a lot since sighs from Damian aren’t exactly uncommon.

He leaned back and started thinking “where would you even get a ring-“

“I’ve thought of that” is how you responded and quickly pulled out the best looking ring you have.

“Okayyyy, I don’t know why you have that but, ugh, fine.” He said finally admitting defeat. He got to his feet and held out a hand for you to grab.

Show time.

The two of you decided to head out the the fanciest, high class restaurant damian knows and once the two of you got dressed you had Alfred drive you there.

You’d be lying if you said you and Damian didn’t look absolutely stunning, I mean anyone would be jealous if they saw the two of you, not knowing whether they’d want to be with you or you.

Once you finally stepped out you stayed behind and watched as Damian managed to get a seat despite not having a reservation, maybe all he said was that he was Bruce Wayne’s son.

Well anyway, a waiter led you there and had you two seated in a very public place, nice.

Although it was good for your plan it wasn’t exactly ideal, especially since Damian really hates being the center of attention.

Anyway the both of you ended up eating away without a care of the cost (mostly you) and when you saw it fit you got up, cleared your throat and began your plan.

“Damian Wayne, you and I had been friends for a long time now and we’ve been dating for a good while aswell. I’m aware we are young but our young age doesn’t make my love for you invalid. So I ask this with upmost sincerity-“ you go to kneel and continue your cringe ass over the top speech.

“I wish for you and I to be lovers and even more in the near future so-“ you pull into your pocket and get the ring and open the box “will you make me the happiest person alive and marry me?”

Collective gasps could be heard around the restaurant and even some people pulled out their phones to record- I mean imagine Damian Wayne and y/n l/n getting married of all people???

An event of the century

Well Damian’s shocked face was worth it and although unexpected, his blush certainly wasn’t unwelcomed.

Nice! He was s totally selling it

Anyway he got up abruptly and nodded his head, that wasn’t enough for you though. “What?-“

“YES ILL MARRY YOU” he hastily let you slip the ring on his finger and he called over the waiter to bring your check.

Someone had to have called paparazzi because when you stepped out of the establishment there was flashing lights all around you while you two hurriedly got into the vehicle driven by Alfred.

The very next day you were forced to go to the Wayne manor because of how much Damian kept pestering you.

Once you managed to sneak past the news reporters you entered the living room and the whole family was there, everyone had mixed reactions but most of them Thought it was hilarious.

But in all seriousness Bruce said that you’ll have to give an official statement saying it was all a stunt while a video of the news played on the tv talking about you and Damian’s new engagement.

The next few days were full of people spreading “Damian x y/n” all over previous haters and people were also mentioning how absurd it was due to your young age.

“Damian’s and y/ns engagement “ was trending all over twitter and any social media platform and although it was fun while it lasted an official statement had to be published eventually. 😔

It was fun calling Damian your “fiancé” when in interviews, but everything must come to an end 😔

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perpetual-stories · 2 years

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Starting Strong Scenes in Your Writing

Scenes are the fundamental building blocks of novels and short stories, and each one should propel a story toward the climax.

Generally speaking, your scene structure should mirror the story structure. In other words, take a novel-writing approach to a scene, crafting a beginning, middle, and end. Like a story, the beginning of a scene should have a strong entry hook that pulls the reader in.

Start with the setting. Often a new scene signifies a change in time and location. Establishing the setting at the top of a scene helps your readers get oriented. It also sets the tone and mood of what will unfold in the coming pages. A setting can serve as much more than a backdrop in literature. Have your scene take place somewhere that builds tension and hinders your protagonist. If you’re writing a thriller, describe a dark and foreboding place where the worst might happen. Be descriptive and use sensory details to make your setting come alive before you jump into the action.

Use visual imagery. In screenwriting, writers have to think in pictures. What images will excite an audience at the top of a scene? Your approach should be the same when writing any kind of fiction. As you write the opening of a scene, use descriptive language to engage a reader through detailed imagery. Think like a screenwriter as you’re writing scenes.

Drop the reader into the middle of the action. Hit the ground running by starting a great scene in media res. It doesn’t have to be a fight scene or a car chase, but physical movement creates momentum and builds tension in a story. It’s also a way to instantly engage a reader. Be sure you begin the scene before the high points of the action so you build up to the scene’s climax.

Write a character-driven scene opener. A good scene starts by giving characters a goal. Start by putting your protagonist in a situation that creates an obstacle or opportunity for both the scene and the overarching storyline. Try starting with dialogue, like an intense conversation between your POV character and a mystery character whose identity is revealed later in the scene. If you’re writing from an omniscient third-person point of view, consider starting a scene with a secondary character, even the antagonist, and use it as a chance for deeper character development.

Summarize past events. You might choose to use the beginning of the scene to do a quick recap of what’s brought your main character to this place and moment in time. A summary is especially helpful if you’re writing in third-person and a new scene switches to a different character. Take the opportunity to remind the reader where we left off. Instead of a straight-forward update, get creative. Go into deep POV and let a character’s thoughts provide the summary instead of the narrator. Be sure to keep this summary brief—just a line or two—so you can get back into the action.

Introduce a plot twist. The start of a new scene is a chance to pivot and take your story in a new direction. Start a new scene at a turning point in your story. Dive into a flashback or character’s backstory, revealing critical information that changes the course of the story going forward.

Keep the purpose of the scene in mind. Effective scenes are clear about what they set out to accomplish and how they contribute to the overall plot. They might include plot points or reveal important information needed to move a story forward. Establish your scene’s intention from the very first word and keep the rest of the scene on point.

Rewrite until you’ve found the perfect scene opening. When you’ve finished the first draft of a scene, go back and read it through. If your scene needs something, but you can’t figure out what, it might be how the scene starts. The best way to know if your opening works is by reading how it plays with the rest of the scene. Review the last paragraph and see if it ties back to your beginning. If the intro feels weak, rewrite it. Maybe your real opener is hidden in plain sight somewhere else in the body of the scene.

Make sure your opening scene is your strongest. While your entire book should be filled with compelling scenes that start strong, the very first scene of your book needs to lead the pack. This is the reader’s introduction to your story and where you’re revealing the characters, the setting, and kicking off the plotline with the inciting incident. This first scene has to hook the reader from the first line so they keep turning the pages.

Read a lot of books. If this is your first novel and you need some inspiration and ideas to help you start off your scenes, start by reading other books. Choose a book by a bestselling writer like Dan Brown or Margaret Atwood. Study the different ways they approach every scene. Reading other authors is a great way to hone your scene-writing skills.

Follow like and reblog if you find these helpful!

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #original writing #writers on tumblr #writersconnection #writerscommunity #short story #storytelling #writersupportingwriters

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blimbo-buddy · 7 months

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Scourge being FireStar's half-brother has and always will be a perfect narrative choice for Warriors. To say that this choice "makes no sense" or "has no real impact" is just tossing out the great narrative and symbolic layers that it adds to these two character's stories. Who cares if these two being brothers is never brought up, we don't need a scene where FireStar has a sudden revelation of "WHA-WHA-WHAT?! SCOURGE IS MY….. BROTHER?!", nobody needs to make that connection, because it a silent, invisible tragedy of two brothers who never knew of each other's blood connection.

Tiny has no support at home, Rusty has loving twolegs and amazing friends. In one point in time, a small runt ventures into the forest and is nearly killed, because he wanted to prove himself. And in another point, a little orange cat wanders into the forest and is eventually allowed access into this new, unfamiliar world. The two had different upbringings, then had a similar event in their life which then sent them onto different paths. Tiny was sent into the city and became Scourge, Rusty was allowed into the forest and became FireStar, and the two brothers finally met face to face, after all of these years. As enemies

That's why I think it removes so much narrative interest and great potential when you go and remove their blood relation because you "Think its dumb and serves no character-driven purpose", not everything needs to be acknowledged by the text, sometimes it's hidden within the words of the story, you just need to find it, is all

#blimbo rambles #wc

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ah-bee-blogs · 3 months

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I think one of the reasons Pit Babe is working so well with such a wild premise is because of the relationships between the characters. At its core, Pit Babe is about family. What makes a family? What lengths will you go to protect your family?

The writers and actors know these characters, and as a result, every character relationship feels substantial. The focus is on the relationships, whether platonic, paternal, romantic, hostile, etc. This makes the plot more character-driven than plot-driven. Clear character motivations cause plot events. Things don’t just happen out of thin air for the characters to react to.

So when Jeff finally gives Alan a full smile, we beam too.

Because how can we not?!

And when Kim becomes part of the x-hunter family, we know he’s where he was always meant to be.

And when Charlie is willing to risk his life for Babe, and Babe will do anything to avenge Charlie’s death, we root for their happy endings.

And when a ghost ship becomes canon…

We can wonder what other surprises are in store.

Anyways, these characters are family in one way or another, and that gives them purpose to get the guy, take down a truly evil pseudo-father/philanthropist, fake a death, and fight for love (all in the omegaverse).

#yes I’m still thinking about pit babe #found family is my fave #pit babe #pit babe the series #alanjeff #jeffalan #charlie x babe #babe x charlie #babecharlie #petekenta #kentapete #blabby abby

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shangchiswife · 1 year

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joel miller- the babysitter part 2

hi everyone thank you so much for all of the love on my previous post on here and on tik tok. i appreciate it so much <3 now here is the long-awaited second part. hope you enjoy!

asiya

....

summary: joel lets you have a turn at your pleasure

joel miller x fem!reader

warnings: smut, language

word count: 2448

link to part 1: part 1

....

You woke up early, the thrill of yesterday’s events with Joel filling your head. The ghost of his lips lingered on your lips as it sent electricity down your spine.

You immediately sprung out of bed and went to the bathroom, changing into your laciest, sexiest bra and matching panties. You covered your lingerie with an innocent-looking dress with flowers, an ode to Sarah who always used to give you flowers when you babysat her.

Before going to Sarah’s party, you had driven to the local bakery to buy her her favorite dessert: strawberry cheesecake cupcakes.

After buying the sweet dessert, you drove over to Joel’s house, buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing both Sarah and Joel.

The moment he opened the door, his breath caught in his throat at how beautiful you looked.

He put his hand out, brushing a stray hair from your cheeks.

“You look so pretty, sweetheart,” his eyes were soft as he caressed your cheek with one hand.

You whimpered at how close the two of you were, making his lips turn up in a smirk.

“Y/N!”

Sarah’s voice made Joel promptly drop his hand from your cheek as the young girl jumped into your arms.

“Thank you so much for coming!” she squealed.

You laughed at her excitement.

“Careful, I’m gonna drop these,” you said as she untangled herself from your arms and stared at the delicacies in your hand.

“Are those-no way! Strawberry cheesecake cupcakes? You’re the best Y/N!” she yelled, taking the cupcake box from your hands and sprinting to the kitchen to put them away.

Joel smiled fondly at you as he watched the interaction between his daughter and you.

You stared at him, your cheeks heating up.

His wet hair was slicked back and his body was adorned with one of his classic plaid shirts.

How did he always look so fucking amazing?

“See somethin’ you like?” he chuckled as his brown eyes bored into yours.

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. You were embarrassed that you had been caught staring.

He laughed once more.

“So damn cute, I can’t wait to ruin you,” his voice was deep, as he stared you down, watching your every movement.

Your whole body jittered with excitement.

“C’mon, let’s go see what Sarah’s up to,” he said, his Southern accent slipping into his words.

He put a hand on the small of your back sending shockwaves through your entire body as he led you to the kitchen.

You looked up at him as his lips curled up more.

He knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you and he was doing it on purpose. His mind was filled with what he planned to do to you.

Sarah was slumped over a purple colored bag as she poured contents into it.

“What’s that?” you asked, plopping next to her.

“A goody bag,” she said matter-of-factly before tying the purple bag and placing it at the edge of the table with the rest of the completed bags.

“Need some help?” you questioned, arching a brow.

“Yes please,” Sarah turned to you with worried eyes.

“Alright,” you shrugged your shoulders and started placing the small tubes of mascara and butterfly clips into the bag.

“Dad, don't just stand there help us out!” Sarah ordered as Joel placed his hands up in surrender and took a seat beside you. He carefully brushed one of his hands over your thighs, making you suck in a breath.

“Somethin’ wrong Y/N?” he questioned, obviously trying to get a reaction out of you.

You glared daggers at him as Sarah looked up with concern.

“Everything’s great,” you mumbled.

“That’s good,” Joel said happily before starting to tie the bags together.

This man is going to be the death of me, you thought before you continued assembling the bags.

Once you had finished the goody bags, Sarah’s friends started piling into the house and Joel had taken that as his cue to go upstairs in solitude. Joel had always been on the quieter side and was careful about who he got close to.

You would’ve joined him if it weren’t for Sarah looping you into a game of Musical Chairs and Never Have I Ever. You didn’t mind though, you loved Sarah.

After hours of playing games, watching a movie, snarfing on pizza, and eating birthday cake, it was time for Sarah and her friends to leave as her friend Lily’s mom was picking the girls up to go to the mall.

Joel came downstairs to say goodbye to the girls and converse with Lily’s mom about what time Sarah was going to be dropped off.

Lily’s mom was twirling a strand of her bleach-blonde hair while she checked Joel out. You felt your blood boil at the sight as you clenched your jaw at the sight.

Joel looked completely oblivious to her actions which made you angrier.

“Oh don’t worry, Joel she’ll be back before dinner. Now come on kids let’s get you all to the mall,” the woman chirped, sending him a quick wink before she herded all of the children out of the house.

“Bye dad, bye Y/N!” Sarah waved before she entered Lily’s mother’s large minivan.

Once the car cleared out of the driveway, Joel shut the door.

A mixture of silence and tension filled the room as Joel took a deep breath and turned around to face you.

Your heart pounded fast as he approached you and your breath caught in your throat as he looked you up and down once more.

You tapped your foot impatiently.

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” you crossed your arms as you saw Joel’s eyes flash.

In one moment you were on the wall with Joel’s lips on yours.

It was a messy kiss filled with passion and need.

You moaned into the kiss as you pushed his head closer to get better access to his lips.

You opened your mouth for a brief moment and he took the opportunity to thrust his tongue into your mouth, tongues battling for dominance. A battle that he easily won unsurprisingly.

With his win, Joel pushed you deeper into the wall and let his lips trail down to your neck, his teeth gently grazing your collarbone, making your panties wet.

“Joel,” you sighed with pleasure as he continued to kiss your neck softly. You could feel him smiling on your skin.

Cocky bastard, you thought.

He nudged your closed thighs together with his knee and you immediately started to grind on it, your dress riding up over your thighs giving him a peek at your racy panties.

“Such a needy girl,” he chuckled darkly before he started to suck harshly on your neck. Surely there would be bright marks the next morning.

You whimpered as you straddled his clothed thigh trying to relieve the ache you felt in your core.

“I saw you getting a little jealous with Lily’s mom over there, so fuckin’ cute,” his hot breath fanned over your ear as you closed your eyes with bliss.

Joel bounced his thigh, making your mouth contort into an o shape as you continued to grind on him, holding his shoulders for support.

“Yeah, you like that huh? Such a dirty girl getting off on an older man’s thigh,”

Your pussy clenched around nothing at his filthy words.

His thigh wasn’t enough for you. You wanted more.

“I want…I want your cock,” you panted as you continued to go up and down on his jeans, his rough texture scratching your thighs.

Joel smiled.

“You need to get prepped first, honey,” he said as he lifted you up and went to his bedroom, placing you gently on the bed as if you were royalty.

He made a movement to take off your dress but stopped.

“This feel okay?” his eyebrows furrowed with concern, putting two fingers under your chin as he watched your face.

You nodded.

“I couldn’t hear you,” he declared, his voice laced with lust.

“I want you,” you blurted out.

He growled at your admission before he lifted the dress off your body, exposing your black matching lingerie set.

“Holy fuck, so damn pretty,” he muttered as he took in your beautiful form as you smiled brightly at his compliment.

The older man placed a gentle kiss on the valley of your breasts before trailing kisses down your stomach.

Meanwhile, his hands groped your clothed breasts, squeezing them tightly.

You sighed breathlessly as he continued to kiss you until he was at your panties.

“I’m gonna take these off for you ok, baby?” he said as he used his teeth to skillfully pull down your panties and then used his hands to take them off your feet.

You moaned as the cool air hit your bare pussy.

Joel growled at the sight of it.

“So wet, I hope this is for me,” he teased, dipping one of his fingers into your folds, testing the waters.

“Only for you, Joel,” you sighed your fist clenching around the covers.

“Good,” he said as he dropped his head so that he was face to face with your pussy.

Oh, this was the game he wanted to play, you thought.

He started with gentle kitten licks that made you whimper with delight.

Then he licked large stripes and swirled his tongue around your pussy driving you insane.

“Stop fucking teasing, Joel,” you said before he thrust one of his digits in your pussy while his tongue flicked it simultaneously.

Your hands immediately grabbed his hair, grasping it tightly, causing him to let out a moan while he ate you out like a starved man.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he groaned.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as Joel added another finger, plunging them both in and out of your folds while his tongue skillfully glided across your slickness.

Once Joel started sucking on your clit, you knew you’d be done in a matter of moments.

“Joel I’m gonna-” you moaned loudly, your eyes blurring from the intensity and your thighs crushing his head.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” his vibrations urging your orgasm as you cummed all over his beard.

You panted, staring at Joel with blown-out pupils as he climbed on top of you.

You unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it on the floor while he started unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans and slid them off.

He was so fucking beautiful with his scarred olive skin and toned upper body. How did you even get so lucky?

The moment his cock sprung out of his boxers, you knew it was over for you.

His length was average but he was just so thick and girthy.

Your mouth watered at the sight as he watched you.

You reached over to pump it as Joel sighed at your touch.

“You keep doin’ that and I’m gonna cum and I don't think you want that to happen just yet,” he said, kissing your warm cheek before he lined himself with your entrance.

You braced yourself for the stretch as he pushed the tip of his throbbing cock through you.

You whined at the slight pain you felt from his thickness as he shushed you and placed a hand on your cheek.

“You’ll be alright, sweetheart, you can handle it,” his voice was soft as he bottomed out.

The pain of the stretch quickly subsided and was replaced with pleasure as you needed friction of some kind.

“Move,” you breathed out as he wasted no time, grabbing your hips and thrusting in and out.

You panted. The feeling of his cock sliding in and out of your cunt was delicious.

One of your hands moved to play with your clothed breasts as you squeezed it for additional pressure.

“Holy shit,” Joel moaned as he watched you toy with your bouncing boobs.

He brought one of his own hands down to your pussy and circled your clit with his thumb, putting more pressure each time he circled.

“Oh,” you sighed as he started to piston into you at a rougher pace, slamming into you fast. The sounds of your slickness and both of your panting filled the air.

“You keep making those pretty noises, honey,” he pressed his forehead against yours as his cock twitched inside of you making you gasp. You clenched around him as you dragged your fingernails along his spine.

“Such a good fucking girl, taking my cock so well,” Joel gritted his teeth as his thrusts started to falter.

His words sent electricity to your pussy making you see stars because the stimulation is just too much.

“I’m gonna-”

“Me too,” he admitted, continuing his fast thrusts as you squeezed your eyes together with pleasure as your climax hit you hard, your thighs shaking.

“Where,” Joel asked breathlessly.

“Inside,” you panted.

“Fuck,” Joel threw his head back in pleasure before he spilled his seed inside of you, painting your womb white.

He slipped out of you and then rolled beside you on the large king-sized bed.

“Holy shit, that was better than what I had dreamed of,” you said.

“Yeah,” he admitted before standing up and going to his bathroom and instantly returning with a cloth.

He started cleaning you and you just let him, shocked by this gentle action.

“I never took it, you were an aftercare guy,” you stated as he chuckled.

“Are you kidding me? I’m from the South, we have to have our Southern hospitality,” he said, dragging the piece of cloth on your pussy.

“True,” you laughed as you laid back against his mattress.

“You’re gettin’ quite comfy over there,” Joel said, disposing the cloth and moving to lay beside you.

“I can’t help it that my orgasms were too strong and your bed is too cozy,” you said, grabbing his pillow and nuzzling against it.

Joel let out a hearty chuckle.

“C’mere,” you took his hand and pulled him next to you.

“So damn strong,” he whistled as you placed your head on his chest.

“Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes before wrapping an arm around him.

In response, he rested a hand on your waist.

Joel’s body felt like a warm blanket around you making your eyes droop from the amount of comfort you felt.

“You gettin’ sleepy, baby girl?” he laughed.

“Mhm,” you smiled into his chest, heart singing from his nickname.

“Alright then, go to sleep, baby,” he cooed, raking a hand through your hair.

You shut your eyes at his words and immediately fell asleep instantly.

Joel pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Goodnight, princess,”

#joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut

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miguel-ohara-wifey · 9 months

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Spiderverse men and pet names Headcanons

Rating: 18+, Angst, Fluff, Hurt + Comfort

Tag list; @mcondance I know u like Hobie and Miguel so :3

Peter B. Parker

Honey

-Peter calls you something familiar to him as a New Yorker. He’s heard it all his life, it’s always a word for literal honey or your partner.

-He calls you honey in front of strangers, family, and friends. When he enters the privacy of your home, cuddling on the couch, sharing a shower, playfully fighting over the last slice of pizza.

-It’s also during praise, when you get that promotion at work. When you beat him at a game, when you’re just an excited puppy at a movie or show finally releasing. Just the gleam of life painting your Iris’s is enough to have him say honey.

-You two have had your fair share of squabbles over money, time, kids, etc. Even as the phrase shot from his mouth sandwiched by yelling and his lost temper. It’s a display he still loves you. He’ll still call you something soft and sweet when you’re screaming at him over his mistakes.

-Right before leaving to have your phone fixed like he promised beforehand. When he orders your favorite burger he writes “I’m sorry honey” in ketchup at the top of the cardboard box it came in. It doesn’t repair what was said, what he had done to provoke it. But you internalize he’s not willing to end your relationship over it. He’ll work on himself and you to keep it that way.

-Even at his worst, at your worst, and when the worlds at its worst. You’ll always be his honey. Only not when you will no longer have him.

Miguel O’Hara

Bebita

-Miguel’s a private man. He calls you bebita in form of a whisper when your mouths are breaths apart. When it’s you in his bed, in his arms, in complete domestic retreat from your usual lives.

-In your usual lives he’s as dismissively unemotional as always, there’s always a hint of his affection for you regardless. But his wall is up, and you know from experience no one can climb over unless he allows them.

-His tight ass professionalism outside of your home can crumble however. When he gets so desperate and touch starved. He’ll call you to his office under the lie of needing a copy of a report. Only for him to be on you as soon as the door closes behind you. Bebita leaving his mouth as your clothes leave your bodies.

-Not just during sex either, when he’s shaking under the covers of your bed. Waking him from his nightmare, he calls out bebita in the temporary mental fog of suddenly being awake. You huddle his head onto where your neck and shoulders connected. Big spooning him to calm his heart in his ribcage, still racing from what he saw and felt.

-When you know how to calm his worse instincts, he’d never harm you. But when he’s close to harming others in his anxiety driven rage. The softest slide of your hand on his chest stops him dead in his tracks.

-How Miguel can look at your image on a screen, briefly catches you going about your day around HQ. The word pleasantly swims in his head at the very sight of you. His whole body tenderly tugged into a bubble of warmth, Bebita.

Hobie Brown

Love

-The first instance was honest to god an accident. He runs on chaos after all, so did your relationship less so afterword however. He wasn’t in a rush to label what you two had. Truthfully he didn’t know what you two had, but he was never one to lean into certainty or a defined purpose.

-He’s punched armies of cops, Nazi’s, and fascists; preformed on stage in front of millions. All without a drop of anxiety entering his system. But somehow the possible dislike from you about him calling you love. Was so terrifying in the moment between both events. His heart sunk down into his gut, squeezing at his insides until your response.

-But you loved it, you loved him, it was love what you two had. He couldn’t be more elated. He’s had a noticeable pep in his step following. Quite eagerly calling you love in front of anyone and everyone you knew. Just to get the message across.

-Not out of insecurity, but it’s the excitement of a kid making there first best friend. He just absolutely had to make everyone aware. Even the cop/Nazi/fascist he was punching in the face he had to punctuate love as he called out to you punching your own cop/Nazi/fascist in the face.

-It was the hottest thing when you called him love draped in his sleeveless Jean jacket. It was littering the floor moments later as he compelled another noise complaint from his downstairs neighbors.

#peter b parker x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #hobie brown x reader #spiderverse #headcanons #18+#spiderverse headcanons #spiderverse hcs #hcs #spider punk #Spider-Man 2099 #Spider-Man

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hoverboards-and-dragons · 2 months

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Me when I'm so entirely normal about this character, he so queer and neurodivergent coded<3

Your honour his religious trauma are his daddy issues, i consider him not responsible for anything he's ever done

Say what you will about the Hellaverse's colour palette but there is power in evoking an incredible emotional response by making a character's eyes like a little more orange than yellow

I wanted God to be quite a loving and gentle entity but also very motive driven, He did make these things for an intended purpose and He's not upset when they stop being useful, they just aren't a part of plan anymore so He moves on, tools break after a certain amount of uses, they get warped into new shapes, put em aside, get out something else and continue

and a favourite tool gets worn the quickest

God is surprisingly physically affectionate with archangels but it is getting hugged by mist, idk maybe that is comfortable compared to how touch adverse the rest of heavenborn culture is

Anyway both Lucifer and God have fun dialogue quirks that I wanna talk about, they both have to do with capitalizing nouns and pronouns in reference to Him

God's committing crimes against English grammar by only capitalizing references to Himself and structuring the rest of the punctuation around that, God said "the sentence starts when I show up"

Every character will inherently use capital nouns and pronouns with God in dialogue, except for Lucifer who was assigned a terminal case of disrespectful at birth and has to consciously choose to use capitals, hence him using "(Y)ou" at first but dropping into lowercase after being startled

him wanting to show his Father respect and also paying enough attention to remember about it are 2 pretty rare events especially to overlap so you won't catch him doing it very often

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hellaverse #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel god

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xoxomireya · 3 months

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💄﹒➜﹒how to rebrand yourself as a blair waldorf inspired it girl﹐⇄

give people the same energy they give you.

Blair always returns the same energy to people without a second thought. Is someone being passive-aggressive to you? Act the same way with them. Is someone being nice to you? Be also nice to them!

casual clothing? what is that?

Don’t be ashamed of being overdressed, take pride in it. Spare no accessories, make your outfits interesting and don't save a piece of clothing for 'a special occasion', everyday is a special occasion.

social networking is your biggest ally.

This world is ruled by connections. Make them and eventually you’ll be surprised on how many opportunities you receive. Stay active in social circles, attend social events, make yourself known in a community such as blogging or open discussions in your work field. Participation is key.

use your time wisely.

Blair Waldorf never sits still. She manages to land the best internship, maintain a 4.0 GPA for multiple seasons, and manage a multi-million dollar company. Be productive, don’t waste your time on things that aren’t going to matter in 5 years and focus on what’s really important.

live a purposeful life.

Have a vision: know what you like, what you don’t like, your goals… Act aligned to your values and ambitions. Purpose-driven leadership is a critical factor for individual and organizational success.

strategise your way into business.

Being a scheming queen is Blair’s biggest personality trait. Be prepared for every encounter, research in detail and stay active in your industry. And most importantly, strategize like the best version of yourself would do.

fake it until you make it.

Having a confident aura is crucial. People treat you different when you are confident and you react to things differently. You’re not confident? Work on it. Fake it until you make it.

take pride in your achievements.

If you have dedicated time and resources into something, why would you not celebrate your achievements? If you keep underestimating your achievements you’re going to have to deal with low self esteem in the future which can lead to issues like looking for academic validation.

ambition is power.

Do not let anyone get in the way of your goals and ambitions. Work smarter AND harder to accomplish your objectives and dream big.

fashion is the most powerful art there is.

The way you put yourself together will absolutely change the way people view you and will make you feel more or less connected to your inner self. Do you still think that fashion isn’t important?

THINGS THAT CAN MAKE YOU FEEL A BIT MORE ALIGNED TO BLAIR:

Invest in some satin/silk bedsheets. Ever since I saw Blair’s bedroom I KNEW I needed a comfy-looking bed like hers, and now that I have satin bedsheets I feel like a princess.

Spend time dolling up. Blair Waldorf never leaves her house without looking absolutely perfect. Spending time dolling up can help you feel more aligned with yourself and can boost your self esteem.

Host an annual sleepover with your friends: A night in which you can just focus on having fun with your friends and having a sweet tradition.

Getting a Dorota might be hard, but you can still make a gourmet breakfast fit for royalty by yourself.

Just like Blair always uses Chanel N5, choose a signature scent that embodies your personal style and sense of luxury.

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imaginesforfandom · 2 months

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A Wolverine's Heartache - Part III

Part I Part II

i'm so sorry it took so long for me to post this!! i've been drowning in work :,(

Logan/James Howlett x Reader

She/Her pronouns used!!

Summary: Logan struggles after seeing a person he loves alive. Will he be able to save her?

In the moments leading up to Logan's journey back in time, the Xavier Institute was a hub of frantic activity, a beacon of hope in the face of impending doom. The threat of the Sentinels loomed large, casting a shadow of fear and uncertainty over the mutant community.

Logan, haunted by the memory of Y/N's tragic death and driven by a desperate need to prevent further loss, had become the linchpin in a daring plan to alter the course of history. With the help of Professor Xavier and a handful of trusted allies, Logan prepared to embark on a mission that would defy the very fabric of time itself.

The decision to send Logan back in time was not made lightly. It required sacrifices – sacrifices that weighed heavily on the hearts of those left behind. Yet, in the face of imminent destruction, there was no room for hesitation.

As Logan stood before the makeshift time-travel device, his resolve hardened like steel. The weight of his mission bore down on him, a burden he carried with grim determination. He knew the risks – the possibility of altering the timeline, of facing enemies both old and new – but the chance to rewrite history and save those he loved was a gamble he was willing to take.

Before he could second-guess himself, Logan braced himself for the journey ahead. With a final glance at his comrades, a silent promise etched in his eyes, he stepped into the swirling vortex of energy, disappearing into the unknown depths of the past.

In that pivotal moment, the fate of the world hung in the balance. For Logan, it was a journey fraught with peril and uncertainty, but it was also a journey fueled by hope – hope for redemption, for a chance to right the wrongs of the past, and for a future where Y/N's death would be nothing more than a distant memory.

As Logan's consciousness shifted through time, propelled back to a pivotal moment before the devastation wrought by the Sentinels, a sense of urgency gripped him like a vice. His mission was clear: to prevent the cataclysmic events that had led to Y/N's tragic demise.

Arriving in the past, Logan found himself in a world that was both familiar and yet subtly different. The Xavier Institute bustled with life, its halls alive with the laughter of students and the gentle hum of telepathic conversations. But for Logan, it was a world tinged with sorrow, a reminder of the losses he had endured.

As he navigated the bustling corridors, searching for allies to aid him in his quest, Logan's heart quickened at the thought of encountering Y/N. She existed in this timeline, vibrant and alive, yet unaware of the role she would play in shaping their shared destiny.

When Logan finally came face to face with Y/N, his breath caught in his throat. She was different here – a younger version of the person he had known, her features softened by innocence and untainted by the scars of war. And yet, there was an undeniable familiarity in her presence, a connection that transcended the boundaries of time.

As their eyes met, Logan felt a surge of emotions wash over him – longing, regret, and a fierce determination to protect her at all costs. In that fleeting moment, he saw echoes of the Y/N he had lost, a reminder of the bond they had shared across time and space.

But for Y/N, Logan was a stranger – a mysterious figure with haunted eyes and a sense of purpose that seemed to emanate from his very being. And yet, there was something in his gaze, a depth of emotion that stirred something within her – a feeling she couldn't quite place.

As Logan reached out to Y/N, his hand trembling with the weight of unspoken truths, he knew that convincing her to join him would be no easy task. But for Y/N, Logan's presence ignited a spark of curiosity, a whisper of destiny that beckoned her towards a future she could not yet fathom.

As Logan stood before the younger version of Y/N, his heart clenched with a mixture of emotions – longing, regret, and an urgent sense of purpose. He knew that convincing her of the impending danger would be no easy task, especially considering she had no recollection of their shared history.

Y/N regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice tinged with a hint of defiance.

Logan took a deep breath, steeling himself for the difficult task ahead. "I know this is hard to believe, but you need to listen to me. I'm from the future, and I've seen what happens if we don't act now."

Y/N's eyes widened in disbelief, a scoff escaping her lips. "From the future? That's impossible. Why should I trust you?"

Logan knew he had to choose his words carefully, to break through the wall of skepticism that surrounded her. "I know this is a lot to take in, but I've seen the devastation caused by the Sentinels. They've hunted us down, taken everything from us. If we don't stop them now, there won't be a future for any of us."

Y/N's expression softened slightly, but her hesitation remained palpable. "And why should I believe you? You could be anyone, spinning tales to manipulate me."

Logan's jaw tightened with frustration, but he forced himself to remain calm. He understood her skepticism – after all, he was asking her to believe in the impossible. "I understand your doubts, but you have to trust me. Lives are at stake here, including yours. We need to work together to stop this."

Y/N's gaze flickered with uncertainty, torn between disbelief and a nagging sense of curiosity. She wanted to dismiss Logan's words as the ramblings of a madman, but there was something in his eyes – a depth of sincerity that gave her pause.

As Logan pleaded with her to heed his warning, Y/N felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over her – fear, anger, and a flicker of hope. In that moment of uncertainty, she grappled with the weight of the decision before her, knowing that the fate of the world rested in her hands – and in the hands of the enigmatic stranger who claimed to hold the key to their salvation.

The moment hung suspended in time, a fragile balance between doubt and determination. Y/N stood before Logan, her gaze locked with his, uncertainty etched into the lines of her face. Logan's plea echoed in the air, a whispered promise of redemption and salvation, and for a fleeting instant, Y/N hesitated.

But then, something shifted within her – a spark of resolve that ignited in the depths of her soul. It was a quiet realization, born from the depths of her own courage and fueled by the unwavering belief that together, they could make a difference.

With a steadying breath, Y/N met Logan's gaze, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her. "Alright. I'll help you."

The words hung in the air like a beacon of hope, a testament to the strength of her conviction. In that moment, a weight lifted from Logan's shoulders, replaced by a surge of gratitude and relief. He had expected resistance, perhaps even outright rejection, but Y/N's willingness to trust him filled him with a sense of purpose unlike anything he had ever known.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the tension reached its peak in the crowded conference room, Logan and Y/N moved with precision and determination, their eyes locked in silent communication. They had trained for this moment, prepared for the pivotal role they would play in altering the course of history.

Amidst the chaos, Mystique, disguised as a government official, made her move, her gun trained on Trask, the architect of the Sentinel program. But before she could pull the trigger, Logan sprang into action, his instincts honed by years of combat.

With a swift motion, he intercepted Mystique's shot, deflecting the bullet away from its intended target. The room erupted into chaos as panic spread like wildfire, but Logan remained focused, his gaze never wavering from Mystique's determined form.

Beside him, Y/N moved with a grace and precision that belied her years, her powers weaving through the air like a symphony of light and shadow. With a flick of her wrist, she immobilized Mystique, her telekinetic abilities holding her captive in a shimmering cocoon of energy.

As the dust settled and order was restored, Logan and Y/N shared a fleeting glance, a silent acknowledgment of the pivotal role they had played in preventing catastrophe. In that moment, the bond between them deepened, forged in the crucible of adversity.

But as they stood amidst the aftermath of their actions, a sense of uncertainty lingered in the air. The future remains uncertain, and the threat of the Sentinels still loomed large. Yet, for the first time in a long time, Logan allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope – a hope that with Y/N by his side, they could face whatever challenges lay ahead, together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Logan's consciousness shifted back to the future, his senses reeled from the disorienting transition. The world around him was a blur of chaos and destruction, the aftermath of the battle against the Sentinels evident in the smoldering ruins that surrounded him. But amidst the devastation, one sight stood out like a beacon of light in the darkness.

There, among the ragged survivors, stood Y/N – her presence a ray of hope amidst the despair. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Logan's gaze locked onto her familiar form, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and gratitude.

Without hesitation, he moved towards her, his steps fueled by an overwhelming urge to reach her side. As he drew closer, their eyes met, and in that instant, a flood of emotions washed over him – longing, regret, and a fierce determination to protect her at all costs.

Unable to resist any longer, Logan closed the distance between them in a single stride, his arms enveloping Y/N in a tight embrace. It was a gesture born from the depths of his soul, a silent vow to never let her go again.

In that poignant moment, as Logan's arms enveloped Y/N in a tight embrace amidst the wreckage of their war-torn world, a whirlwind of emotions stirred within him, threatening to overwhelm his senses.

First and foremost was an overwhelming sense of relief – relief that Y/N was alive and standing before him, a beacon of hope amidst the devastation. The mere sight of her, her presence a comforting reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged, filled his heart with a profound sense of gratitude.

But alongside relief, there was also a deep-seated longing – a longing for the lost time, for the moments they had shared before the world had descended into chaos. Seeing Y/N again awakened a flood of memories, memories of laughter and camaraderie, of unspoken connections and shared moments that now felt like distant echoes in the wake of tragedy.

Mixed with longing was a potent undercurrent of regret – regret for the pain and suffering they had endured, for the lives lost and the futures stolen. Logan couldn't help but wonder if there was more he could have done, if he could have somehow prevented the devastation that had torn them apart.

Yet, amidst the tumult of emotions, there was also a fierce determination – a determination to protect Y/N at all costs, to ensure that she would never again face the horrors of war alone. In that moment, as he held her close, Logan made a silent vow to do whatever it took to keep her safe, to carve out a future where they could finally find peace.

And underlying it all was a profound sense of love – a love that transcended time and space, a love that had endured despite the odds. In Y/N's arms, Logan found solace amidst the chaos, a glimmer of hope in a world consumed by darkness.

After the embrace had ended, Logan held onto Y/N's hands tightly, his gaze locking with hers with a newfound intensity. In that moment, the weight of his unspoken emotions pressed heavily upon him, urging him to finally lay bare the truth that had long been buried within his heart.

"Y/N," he began, his voice rough with emotion, "I… I need you to know something. I've been a fool, blind to what's been right in front of me all along."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her heart fluttering with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. She waited with bated breath as Logan continued, his words carrying the weight of a lifetime's worth of regrets.

"I love you, Y/N," Logan confessed, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with an undeniable sincerity. "I've loved you for longer than I care to admit, but I was too damn stubborn to see it. I let my fears and insecurities cloud my judgment, and for that, I'm sorry."

Tears welled in Y/N's eyes at Logan's confession, her heart swelling with a rush of emotions she could hardly comprehend. In that moment, the walls she had built around her heart crumbled, leaving her vulnerable but unafraid.

"Logan," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, "I love you too. I've loved you for as long as I can remember, but I was too afraid to say it. Too afraid of what it might mean, of what we might lose."

Their hands tightened around each other's, a silent vow passing between them. In that shared moment of vulnerability, Logan and Y/N laid bare their hearts, their love for each other a beacon of hope in a world shrouded in darkness.

And as they stood together, tears mingling with smiles, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as they were together, they would face them with unwavering courage and unyielding love. For in each other's arms, they had found a home – a sanctuary amidst the chaos, where their love could flourish and grow stronger with each passing day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

again, i'm so sorry it took me so long!!! this term has been so exhausting :,(

i really hope you guys liked the final part!! i hadn't meant to make it this long but i got a little carried away lol. i know it's not fully canon to the movies, sorry bout that.

#logan howlett #james howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #james howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #james howlett x you #wolverine x you #logan howlett x y/n #james howlett x y/n #wolverine x y/n #logan howlett imagine #james howlett imagine #wolverine imagine #logan howlett oneshot #james howlett oneshot #wolverine oneshot

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doodle-pops · 5 months

Text

Love Languages | Imladris

A/N: You can find the others over here: Feanorians | Gondolin

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` Elrond

• 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Elrond stands out as one of the most supportive individuals in all of Middle Earth, possessing a remarkable ability to lavish you with praise and compliments, capable of brightening even your darkest moments. Whether you're grappling with insecurity, depression, or simply overwhelmed by stress and sadness, Elrond possesses an uncanny knack for choosing the perfect words to convey his emotions and bring comfort and joy into your life. Despite the tumultuous events he has endured, he remains a true inspiration, driven by a fervent desire to prevent you from suffering as he once did. With unwavering determination, he will go to great lengths to bring smiles and laughter to your world.

• 𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞: As a busy elf responsible for the administration of Imladris, a role akin to that of a grandparent to all, Elrond is keenly aware of the precious moments that can be lost in the demands of his responsibilities. Consequently, he strives to carve out time amidst his packed schedule to be with you. Whether it's a shared breakfast, a leisurely lunch, a quiet walk, or simply snuggling together, he exerts his utmost effort to ensure your time together is well-spent. On occasion, he may even dedicate an entire day solely for the purpose of being in your company.

• 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭–𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠: As the esteemed Lord of Imladris, Elrond has an abundance of resources at his disposal, and he is more than willing to indulge your desires. Initially, he may not have comprehended the significance of showering a beloved with extravagant or numerous gifts. However, with your presence in his life, he has developed an irresistible urge to provide you with everything and anything you desire, as long as it brings you happiness. Witnessing the satisfaction and delight that lights up your face when he presents you with a new item is a source of immense joy for him, and he is committed to maintaining this gesture of love and affection.

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` Erestor

• 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Erestor, though often reserved and seemingly distant, harbours a deep affection for physical touch, especially when initiated by you. He may appear a tad gruff or out of touch with physical intimacy, but once you draw him into a hug or share a kiss, his heart warms to the gesture. In this regard, he typically defers to you to take the lead in initiating any form of physical closeness. However, there are moments when his mood swings unexpectedly, prompting him to seek your presence and casually drape himself over you when you're in private. He harbours a strong aversion to the thought of someone intruding on your intimate moments, which is why he prefers them to be private.

• 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Erestor's scholarly and advisory background has endowed him with an impressive command of language. His vocabulary is rich, and he strives to employ the most eloquent words when describing your beauty or personality. As a meticulous and directive individual, uplifting your spirits is a profound duty for him. He recognizes that his words can be straightforward, and when he senses you're in a foul mood, he tends to be especially cautious with his choice of words, often opting for physical touch instead. However, on occasions when he indulges in a bit too much wine, he can become quite eloquent and flowery in his expressions, much to your delight.

• 𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞: Erestor finds great joy in spending quality time with you, particularly in serene moments where you both relax together. He cherishes the times you lie side by side on the balcony or lounge on comfortable sofas, engrossed in reading. More often than not, he takes the initiative to read to you, his soothing voice creating a tranquil atmosphere that enhances the experience. These moments, where you are entwined in each other's arms with his soothing narration in the background, are the ones he treasures most in your relationship.

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` Elrohir

• 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭–𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠: Elrohir shares many traits with his parents, particularly his father, and he's exceptionally attentive to your preferences. During your cherished moments together, he listens carefully to everything you mention, creating a mental catalogue of your desires. A week later, you'll often find thoughtful gifts waiting on your doorstep, and he'll greet you with a small, contented smile and a slight dip of his head when he sees your happiness. His gifts are meaningful and simple, never extravagant or ostentatious, reflecting the depth of his feelings for you.

• 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Every moment spent with Elrohir is a treasure, and while he may not be as touchy-feely as his brother or mother, he finds great comfort in physical closeness. Simple gestures like holding your hand, brushing his knuckles against your cheek, or tenderly kissing the back of your hand are his way of showing affection. He's a romantic at heart, and his actions reflect this aspect of his personality. He's not one for overt public displays of affection (PDA) and prefers to save heavy kisses and cuddling for private moments behind closed doors. You might be pleasantly surprised by the passionate intensity of his touch when you're alone – longer, more heated kisses, sneakily affectionate pinches and touches, and a tendency to cling to you.

• 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Similar to his father in this regard, Elrohir has a natural way with words. A gentle smile and a few whispered words of love and praise have the power to melt your heart. His words are like a warm, spring sunshine that brightens your aura, making you feel lighter and elated by his expressions of love and compliments. He has a poetic and flowery way with words, and his charisma shines through when he speaks. The sight of his one-sided dimpled smile after he's poured his heart out to you is a sight to behold.

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` Elladan

• 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Elladan is exuberant and unabashed in expressing his love physically. He revels in showering you with affection, from sweet hand-holding to passionate kisses that occasionally earn him a scolding from his father. In private, he becomes an endearing, needy puppy who can't seem to get enough of your touch. He longs to be wrapped up in your embrace, cuddling with you for hours on end. You both enjoy evenings on the balcony, overlooking the valley, intertwined together, savouring those precious moments.

• 𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞: Elladan possesses a spontaneous spirit and a yearning for adventure that sets him apart from his brother. He often embarks on orc-hunting expeditions, but when he returns home, he is eager to spend every possible moment with you. Whether you're an outdoor enthusiast or prefer indoor activities, he adapts to your preferences without hesitation. His primary goal is to be near you and witness your smile, leading him to plan a variety of activities to ensure you both have a great time. Even if it involves cosying up by the fireplace and reading to each other, Elladan is more than willing to oblige.

• 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Traveling Middle Earth with his brother, Elladan learns and enthusiastically experiments with various phrases used to express love. These phrases often blend elven and mortal languages, and they can range from charming to surprising to downright flabbergasting. While he may not always grasp the full depth of their hidden meanings, his intentions are rooted in love. His compliments are a delightful blend of sweetness, cheesiness, and warmth, guaranteed to bring a smile to your face.

Masterlist

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estherax · 1 year

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Disco Elysium creative team VS Studio ZA/UM: the complete(?) timeline (updated on March 24th)

Recent news confused a lot of people, including me, so I made a timeline of events to understand the situation better! If you have any corrections, more info and sources feel free to reach out to me or add to this post!

Important parts are highlighted in orange, names and organizations to keep in mind are in italics, the newest corrections and updates are highlighted in green, other information elaborating on the situation is in (brackets).

October 1st, 2022. Martin Luiga puts out a Medium post announcing the dissolution of ZA/UM cultural association and confirming that Kurvitz, Hindpere, Rostov no longer work at ZA/UM studio "since the end of last year and their leaving the company was involuntary."

October 3rd 2022. Kotaku published an article, claiming "the studio hasn’t been transparent about what exactly happened with staff either." According to "two sources familiar with the situation, the studio’s internal announcement of Kurvitz’s departure late last year [2021] also contained a threat of possible legal action against him. Any split would have been made messier by Kurvitz and Rostov being shareholders in the studio, the sources said. It’s also clear ZA/UM has gone out of its way to try and keep the situation quiet. Kotaku reached out for an interview with Kurvitz in February [2022]. The studio declined on his behalf, but provided no indication the developer had already left the company." Kotaku also mentions a tweet from Martin Luiga announcing the dissolution of ZA/UM cultural association. One of Martin's tweets (further elaborating on the dissolution) was quote tweeted by user nob69691 with caption "the suits have killed disco", to which he responded with pictures of the game’s executive producers, Tõnis Haavel and Kaur Kender.

October 25th, 2022. Kotaku Australia reports Kurvitz’s company, Telomer, has filed an application against Studio ZA/UM to "obtain information and review documents." Court date is listed as November 28th, 2022.

Kotaku also reached out to Martin Luiga for a comment; when asked if the case’s purpose was to regain control of the Elysium IP, he responded, “What else could it possibly be?”

November 9th, 2022. Studio ZA/UM puts out a statement detailing the dismissed employees (unnamed) "had limited to no engagement in their responsibilities and work, created a toxic work environment, demonstrated misconduct towards other employees including verbal abuse and gender discrimination, and attempted to illegally sell ZA/UM's intellectual property".

In an Estonian newspaper, Estonian Ekspress, ZA/UM CEO Ilmar Kompus has further accused Kurvitz and shareholder Saandar Taal (Rostov's alias) of "humiliating colleagues and intending to steal IP" as well as "belittling women and co-workers."

Kompus added that their dismissal was demanded and carried out by Kaur Kender, executive producer on Disco Elysium and their direct manager at the time. Kender was placed on a leave of absence on medical grounds in late August according to Kompus.

Speaking to the Estonian Ekspress, Martin Luiga said he was "driven to drink by the unnatural work arrangement" at the studio. "The work was organised in such a way that the goal did not seem to be to make games, but rather to make people quarrel with each other."

(I am also adding anonymous claims, take them with a grain of salt)

One source that spoke to GamesIndustry.biz, who asked to remain anonymous, described the situation as "not black and white," and said that long-term staff were reluctant to speak out about Kurvitz’ behaviour because they respected him, and felt like they owed him for their positions. Sources that spoke to the Estonian Ekspress described a clash of two visions between the business team of ZA/UM led by Kompus, and the creative team formerly headed by Robert Kurvitz, which considered profit "secondary." This was corroborated by our sources, one of which described the situation as "CEO corporate scheming on one side, a toxic auteur on the other."

On the same day, Kurvitz and Rostov shared a Medium post explaining their side. Kurvitz and Rostov are minority shareholders in Studio ZA/UM, while "the majority of this company’s shares were initially held by Margus Linnamäe, who provided the initial capital. In 2021, Linnamäe was bought out by another minority shareholder," a company called Tütreke. They say this company "is a vehicle for two Estonian businessmen — Ilmar Kompus and Tõnis Haavel." Kurvitz and Rostov described Linnamäe as a trusted majority shareholder, but didn't share the same sentiment regarding Kompus and Haavel. "As soon as they became majority shareholders, we were quickly excluded from daily operations, our employment was terminated and our access to the company’s information was shut off. Our firing came weeks after we started asking for documents and financial data, which is still being kept from us. We have now learned that Tütreke OÜ must have obtained control over Zaum Studio OÜ by fraud. We believe the money used by Tütreke OÜ to buy the majority stake was taken illegally from Zaum Studio OÜ itself".

Studio ZA/UM denied any claims of fraud and insisted that dismissal of wokers "was a decision that had to be taken for the wellbeing of the collective."

Correction: Ilmar Kompus's statement came out first on Estonian Ekspress on November 8th 2022 21:06. His statement and Studio ZA/UM's statement given to GameIndustry.biz were reproduced and published in a GameIndustry.biz report on November 9th. Rostov and Kurvitz's Medium statement came out later on November 9th. GameIndustry.biz report added an excerpt from Medium on November 10th. (i used Wayback Machine to check this, the report was updated between 11:08 and 11:53)

November 9th 2022. Kotaku puts out an article, summarizing the above statments from Studio ZA/UM, Kompus, Kurvitz and Rostov. "When asked by Kotaku, a spokesperson for ZA/UM declined to elaborate beyond its original statement [about dismissal of employees over misconduct], including whether the allegations also applied to Rostov as well as Helen Hindpere."

23rd of November, 2022. PC Gamer reports a hearing was held in Harju County Court in October, where Kurvitz and Rostov argued that Kompus had allegedly sold four concept sketches (for Disco Elysium sequel), to Tütreke for just over €1 and then immediately bought them back for €4.8 million using Studio ZA/UM's money. This amount is what was apparently used to buy Linnamäe's large stake, and put it in the hands of Kompus. "Kompus allegedly hoped that ZA/UM and Disco Elysium could be resold quickly. [...] But there remained a problem: Robert Kurvitz is the creator of Disco Elysium, still owns a piece of it, and has the right to block any acquisition."

The latest legal battle was lodged by Kaur Kender, executive producer and marketing manager of the game, "who claimed in court that Kompus cheated him out of just under €1,000,000." At Kender's request, the court seized Kompus' stake in Studio ZA/UM to prevent a sale or transfer of holdings during the proceedings.

Haavel is also accused in the lawsuit of following Kompus' actions. The filing pointed out that the holder of the IP rights to Disco Elysium is a subsidiary called YESSIRNOSIR LTD, which is owned by ZA/UM UK. The director of ZA/UM UK is Anu Reiman, who is also reportedly a partner of Haavel's. Kender claims that Haavel's involvement is being "kept secret" because he's €11.2 million in debt as a result of his 2015 conviction.

Speaking to the Estonian Ekspress, Kompus denied the existence of a lawsuit against him, and Haavel called the allegations "completely absurd." Both were shown legal documents by the outlet and did not respond.

December 8th, 2022. According to GamesIndustry.biz article, Kaur Kender has withdrawn a lawsuit against Tütreke.

Studio ZA/UM provided a statement from Kompus, but could not provide a reason for Kender's withdrawal. Kompus says: "We are pleased that Kender and his attorneys have chosen to withdraw their lawsuit – one that should never have been filed in the first place. Their decision affirms there was no basis for their accusations and that I have acted appropriately and responsibly, as underscored by the corporate records I provided."

The article also mentions Studio ZA/UM was unable to provide an update on the suit's progression against Kurvitz's company, Telomer.

PC Gamer reached for comment, Kender stated that his lawsuit against the owner of Studio ZA/UM proved to be successful and provided a timeline of the lawsuit:

Kaur Kender's lawsuit against the owner of ZA/UM was successful.

Kaur Kender's (his company, Chromed Investing OÜ) lawsuit against the owner of Zaum Studio OÜ proved to be successful.

On October 25, 2022, Kaur Kender's company filed a lawsuit against OÜ Tütreke (Ilmar Kompus company), in which was demanded the seizure of Zaum Studio OÜ's share belonging to OÜ Tütreke.

On October 29, 2022, the Estonian court secured the action and shares belonging to OÜ Tütreke were seized.

On October 31, 2022, the order securing the action was forwarded to Nasdaq and the Estonian Business Register.

On November 1, 2022, Kaur Kender sent a letter in English to contacts, including Ilmar Kompus and Tõnis Haavel, stating that the minority shareholders demand the convening of a general meeting.

On November 4, 2022, Ilmar Kompus' company OÜ Tütreke paid a total of 4 million euros to Zaum Studios OÜ in two payments.

On November 11, 2022, Ilmar Kompus' company OÜ Tütreke paid 800,000 euros to ZA/UM Studios OÜ.

Ilmar Kompus referred in the corresponding payment orders: "Return of the amounts received on the basis of the contract on 12.2021-01.2022 due to the nullity of the contract".

To the extent that Ilmar Kompus returned the illegally taken 4,800,000 euros, Kaur Kender achieved the goal of the lawsuit filed, and the court proceedings in this case will be terminated.

PC Gamer also provided commentary and an excerpt from Estonian Ekspress: "Eesti Ekspress reports that Kompus "paid back" €4.8 million to Studio ZA/UM in November. The outlet says that the reason provided for the transaction was that the €4.8 million "was received on the basis of a void transaction." Eesti Ekspress points out that Kompus "controls both sides" of that void transaction. [...] By now transferring €4.8 million to the company to repay it for a "void transaction," the intended message seems to be that he didn't use company money to buy his shares. But why did he have the €4.8 million in the first place?"

Robert Kurvitz told PC Gamer that his party is aware of "Kompus’s view that the money taken from ZA/UM Studio was 'repaid'." Kurvitz says he's seen a "partial bank statement allegedly confirming such repayment," but remains unclear on the "source and legal nature of this repayment, and the further use of the allegedly repaid funds."

"Further, any 'repayment' of the company’s money which was used to illegally acquire a majority stake does not erase the main consequence of the initial injustice⁠—which is that Kompus remains the majority owner, a position that he was only able to attain by using the company’s money as his own," said Kurvitz. "In light of this, there has been no material change in our situation, and we continue to consider our legal options. We cannot comment on the decisions taken by Kaur Kender with regard to his claim, to which we were never a party."

March 14, 2023. GamesIndustry.biz reports legal dispute between Studio ZA/UM and the game's producer Kaur Kender has been resolved.

"ZA/UM has announced that ex-staffer Kender has repaid all debts owed to it. Also, per a court order, Kender has repaid CEO Ilmar Kompus for legal fees from a lawsuit that was eventually withdrawn back in December. Additionally, he's divested all his shares in the games company.

Studio ZA/UM says both Kurvitz and Rostov have dropped their "unfair dismissal" claims due to lack of evidence. However, the company says it continues to face a "series of baseless allegations from former employees" and expects more claims to "fall apart under legal and factual scrutiny."

March 16, 2023. In a statement sent to GamesIndustry.biz, Kurvitz and Taal (alias for Aleksander Rostov) said the press release is false in multiple areas. The pair maintain they are the remaining minority shareholders of the studio. The developers explained, "The press release implies that our employment claims against the studio were withdrawn for lack of evidence. They were not. We see our dismissal as part of a larger campaign against us and will pursue legal options accordingly." The statement adds that they disagreed with Kender admitting the lawsuit he withdrew in December 2022 was misguided.

"Kender's lawsuit was based on the misuse of ZA/UM's funds (€4.8 million) by the majority shareholders [Ilmar Kompus and Tõnis Haavel] to increase their own stake in the company. In the press release, Kompus and Haavel admit to this misuse, arguing only that the money has been 'paid back to ZA/UM,' " the duo explained.

"Paying back stolen money, however, does not undo the crime; here, it does not undo the majority that Kompus and Haavel have illegally gained in ZA/UM."

Additionally, they described that, unlike Kender, they will not be silenced in this ongoing legal dispute. "Unlike Kender, we have not participated in the looting of ZA/UM, and Kompus and Haavel have no power over us."

March 23rd 2023. GamesIndustry.biz updates initial post with a reply statment from ZA/UM. The studio reiterated that Kender admitted that the lawsuit was misguided on his part. It said, "In addition, as part of a court order, he also paid the legal fees for CEO Ilmar Kompus, who had to respond to that now-withdrawn claim." ZA/UM adds, "Using details like 'looting,' 'stolen money,' and 'crime' make for riveting reading but are far from reality. The actual harm to the studio is not from some fictional 'looting,' but rather from Mr. Kurvitz and Mr. Taal, while employed by the studio, refusing to do their jobs, creating a toxic workplace, demeaning colleagues, and attempting to misappropriate Studio IP."

Additionally, the studio explained that Kurvitz and Taal are welcome to challenge these facts in court.

(The next court hearing is scheduled for September 11th.)

#disco elysium #de #studio zaum #za/um #i read like 15 articles for this i hope it helps #if i got something wrong please let me know

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