#apparently his friends described him as a ‘ladies man but didn’t actually try to get any girI’ 😒😒

[jentlemahae]

#apparently his friends described him as a ‘ladies man but didn’t actually try to get any girI’ 😒😒 #terrible! #anw he looks very pretty here or whatever #mk

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: WWX and NHS's adventures in both children's storybook and adult porn publishing

ao3

“It’s not that we lie,” Nie Huaisang explained to the very nice lady at the convention booth next to his. They’d both been placed at complete random by their publishers, or possibly the organizers of the literary convention they were attending; at any rate, not knowing someone had never stopped Nie Huaisang from pouring his sorrows into their ears. “It’s that no one ever believes us.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, look at me,” Nie Huaisang used his fan to gesture at himself. “I mean, really look at me. I’m soft. Round-faced. A bit chubby, even. Short. Harmless. Cheerful.”

“Well, of course you are, dear! Not, mind you, that those are anything bad to be.”

“They aren’t! Standing alone, I’m sure no one would judge me purely based on my looks – authors come in all shapes and sizes, wouldn’t you say…? But, you see, the problem is that I’ve shacked up with…him.”

Him being Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian was tall, dark, and rakish. He had a devilish smirk and swagger, and he looked like trouble.

He was trouble.

What he was not, however, was an author of pornography.

Unfortunately, everyone thought he was.

See, there’d been a fairly terrible mix-up at some point. Wei Wuxian had moved out of his home – there’d been a fairly complicated sequence of events which Nie Huaisang was no longer even trying to keep track of, which given his usual love for all sorts of terrible gossip was saying something – and ended up briefly in Yiling with a group of Wens in what was an even more complicated sequence of events, but long story short…really, honestly, this was the short version…he’d ended up getting his happy ending, true love and all.

(The true love, Nie Huaisang wanted to be clear, was not Nie Huaisang. This was something that was very important to make clear, on account of Lan Wangji – the true love in question – being exceptionally jealous and also rather viciously petty, albeit only in ways that Nie Huaisang would notice. They were childhood sandbox enemies, these things stuck around.)

Anyway, finding a happy ending didn’t necessarily excuse Wei Wuxian from having to make a living, so he’d decided to become employed. Only, see, for all of his talent and competence, Wei Wuxian actually wasn’t very good at the whole ‘daily work’ thing. He could work non-stop for three days, then sleep for a week, he could work wonders and be competent at everything, but with his problems with authority, quick mouth and quicker temper…well, he couldn’t keep a job.

Now, again, this wouldn’t necessarily seem to be a problem, as Wei Wuxian had grown up shoulder-to-shoulder with a wealthy family (Jiang Cheng might sulk all he’d like about some of the aforementioned not described complicated sequence of dramatics and all, but he’d probably shove an unlimited credit card and a new apartment into Wei Wuxian’s hand if Wei Wuxian would take it) and had also married a very wealthy husband (it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility for even casual acquaintances to have heard of Lan Wangji, actually, though usually under the name by which he was better known, ‘Hanguang-jun’), and he also had a fair set of wealthy friends – Nie Huaisang included – but apparently Wei Wuxian didn’t like the feeling of being a kept man.

(More fool him. Being a kept man was awesome…not that Nie Huaisang would know about that. The only person who kept him was his extremely long-suffering older brother.)

Anyway.

Long story short – too late, yes, but whatever – at any rate, when Nie Huaisang – who was an author of pornography, and an exceptionally good one, too, with a range that spanned the high-brow type that was traditionally known as erotica and the much more pedestrian smut that made up the majority of sales – went to go visit his dear friend Wei Wuxian, he found him telling stories to a bunch of fascinated little brats that he’d been babysitting. Having listened to them and thinking they were quite good, he suggested that Wei Wuxian take up a writing career similar to his own.

Only, you know, more kids and less porn.

Wei Wuxian had been doubtful, but he’d given it a shot, and the agent Nie Huaisang had introduced him to had gone from mildly bored to exceptionally enthusiastic upon reading the draft.

And that, really, was that.

…except for one little thing.

See, Wei Wuxian worked better with people around, and since his so-respectable husband had an actual job, that meant he needed someone else – someone, say, who kept similar hours to him, meaning sleeping late, staying up late, and not, say, waking up at ungodly hours of the morning every day because that was the routine they’d grown up with since childhood unlike some people.

(Lan Wangji. Nie Huaisang was talking about Lan Wangji. All the Lans, really, but Lan Xichen made up for his terrible waking habits by being perfect, so the problem clearly was with Lan Wangji.)

They’d ended up solving the problem by buying a penthouse duplex, where Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian lived on the bottom floor and Nie Huaisang on the top, and if Wei Wuxian slept with Lan Wangji at night he still spent most of his days with Nie Huaisang – it was a bit like having a part-time roommate, really, which was quite nice. Also, they’d tried it the other way around (meaning Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian at the top apartment, Nie Huaisang in the bottom one, not by mixing around who lived with whom) only there had been an awful lot of floor shaking if one got the drift.

Not that that’s relevant, just, you know, he was stating for the record.

(He was a porn author. He had to make sure these things got into the record.)

Anyway, and, really, he swore he was getting to the point this time, the main issue with that set up, really, was that most people one look at short round smiling Nie Huaisang and his roommate, lanky smirky bad boy Wei Wuxian, and made a snap decision as to which one of the two authors was which – and they were always, always wrong.

It would be one thing if it was just strangers, or maybe someone from the publishing house, or whatever…but the person putting together the dust covers for their books (a first for each of them: Nie Huaisang’s first officially published collection of erotic and filthy short stories, when before he’d mostly been working in magazines or online or whatnot, and Wei Wuxian’s colorfully animated children’s story about a little boy who was planted in the earth like a radish) had also made the same mistake. And people had continued to make that mistake right up until they’d put the wrong picture with the wrong book.

By the time anyone figured it out, the books had already been spread out in bookstores throughout the country, flying off the shelves – they were both very good at what they did – and that wasn’t counting the people who’d pre-ordered…well, long story short, it was too late to take it back.

People had expectations now.

“…and that,” Nie Huaisang concluded, “is why he signs for my books and I sign for his. You see?”

“I do indeed,” the nice lady said, nodding along gamely. “In fact, my own first publication was a bit of a comedy of errors as well – I really wasn’t expecting it.”

“What, really? You?” Nie Huaisang’s eyebrows arched. “But you’re – I mean, you’re famous! You’ve written so many books! You’re…you’re Jessica Fletcher!”

She smiled. “Oh, don’t you flatter me! I’m far too wise to that sort of thing. Anyway, it wasn’t just the first publication that’s been odd, it’s that I keep getting all wrapped up in all sorts of strange situations, time and time again, and sometimes I just like to lend a hand…oh, heavens, I’m getting distracted again! It must be contagious. Tell me, now – what was that you were saying earlier, about your roommate having once been friends with the victim?”

“Oh, Wen Ning? Well, see, that’s also a bit of a long story…”

Her nose wrinkled a little, involuntarily. “Make an effort,” she said dryly. “Keep it short.”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #wangxian #crossover guest star #my fic #my fics

[madamebaggio]

Notes: I did say I could have one more WIP if I finished another.

So...

Summary!

So… Yeah…

I mean, I’m a weak woman, I don’t even try anymore, blah blah blah… You guys know the drill ;)

This an AU, Londinium is part of the Seven Kingdoms (which actually makes it 8 now, but you get the idea). I’ll explain much more of what happened in future chapters, but the North did go to war, Ned did die, but Sansa was not in King’s Landing with the Lannisters and she never married Tyrion.

Also, I am making her older, just so it’s not completely creepy the fact that she and Arthur consummated the marriage. It’s for my personal comfort.

Also also… I know this summary and first chapter make it sound very serious… But it’s most certainly not. This is going to be full of fluff and shenanigans.

I hope you enjoy.

Oh, one more thing. I am just posting this as a reward for myself, but all updates are blocked until I finish the three other WIPs I had on my update list. So… Yeah.

***

Chapter 1

Sansa Stark first met her husband, Arthur Pendragon, on the day of their wedding. The first time she saw him was early the same day when he arrived for the ceremony. He’d been dirty, dressed in rags with his long hair was quite greasy. He’d barely looked at her, but moved instantly to talk to Robb.

Her mother consoled her, saying this was not a normal courtship, this was a wedding for an alliance.

Everything Sansa knew about Arthur, she’d heard from other people’s conversation. No one would really talk to her about him, not even her mother. All they told her was that he was a good man, and his father had been her father’s friend.

The other tales she’d heard around the camp: his uncle had killed his father and stolen his birthright. The Lannisters had helped and abetted this treachery. He’d been raised by whores at a brothel. Robb had promised to help him get Londinium back. His father’s former bannermen were more than willing to betray his uncle, the Warden of Londinium, for him.

Arthur was apparently happy to throw his lot with the North and call Robb his King, if it meant to get revenge on his uncle.

Sansa’s opinion hardly mattered, as Robb hadn’t asked, but only told her she’d marry this man.

The second time she saw him was in front of a crowd that was there to watch the wedding. Her mother dressed her for the ceremony, and -at least -her groom had washed for it. 

She barely remembered it, for Sansa felt as if she was sleep-walking through it all.

That wasn’t what she wanted, she didn’t even know him, but sacrifices had to be made, apparently.

The feast was a somber affair, as they were at war and couldn’t waste provisions for it.

The bedding was even worse. At that point they’d hardly exchanged more than a few words, he’d drunk quite a bit of ale, before they were carried to the chambers.

He took her in the dark. He wasn’t a brute about it, but he also wasn’t sweet. The only word Sansa could use to describe the whole thing on his part was practical. It felt as if he was doing what was expected of him in the easiest possible way. On her part, it had been painful, uncomfortable and… Empty.

She was very happy when he finished his business and promptly fell asleep beside her.

She was even happier with the fact that they didn’t have to repeat it at all.

Seven days later, her husband was gone.

Sansa was sent back to Winterfell with her siblings.

One year later, she was told she should go to Camelot as the Lady of the Keep.

She lived there for a bit over a year when refugees from the North started coming there because of Long Night and Night King.

She saw dragons flying over the land.

A few months later, news came that it was safe to return to the North.

A month later she received a raven. After three years, her husband was coming home.

Sansa was not impressed.

#madame baggio #fanfiction #posted on ao3 #crossover #crossover pairings #gifs not mine #AU #game of thrones #king arthur legend of the sword #sansa stark #arthur pendragon #sansa x arthur #lady of all she touches

[itadori-yujiii]

watch a half functioning braincelll read the first 5 chapters of red queen

1st chapter 

ooh she’s a thief~ i already like this mare

okay, she’s 17 nice, nice

aww now i want 3 piercings on the same ear

wHo iS tHiS mAn? hE….. iS …… Kilorn Warren

you dumb fool.

hEr DAD IS MISSING A LEG AND A LUNG?!

noo poor kil don’t starve

ok ok so there are strong arms, telkies, swifties—- i mean swifts, nymphs, greenys (blueys) and stone-skins

oOh this guy likes violence 

Samson, can i call you sam? WAIT ACTUALLY NO SAM IS THE NAME OF A TEACHER THAT HATES ME

SAMSON’S A WHISPER THATS SOCOOL

2nd chapter

wait didn’t her mom leave the fam *flicks back a few pages* “Kilorn’s mother ran off after that” OHH OKAY 

okay her sister has red hair like fire

I dunno if i should trust this sister

the mom’s worse at cooking than me

WHAT KIND OF SISTER FORGETS HER BOTHER’S LETTER

ahh okay so the dad’s an anteater when it comes to shade’s letters, makes sense

I like this shade we should be friends

“her chair scrapes as she stands up” ouch just reading it hurt my ears

“i hope you like black eyes because i have no problem giving you one for this” i was scared kil would punch mare here

oh no kil don’t cry

DONT GO KIL PLEASE DONT GO TO WAR

que go to war by nothing more

3rd chapter

“his voice cracks, though he coughs to try and cover it up” nooo bby

“the heat in my cheeks surges faster than any flame” oooh someone has a cruushhh

whenever you need to be transported somewhere, just look for the black market

obviously the grandpa is gonna have access to the black market

LadyFarleyis hot 

here you go lady farley: 

( i added a thousand crown emojis but APPARENTLY theres a limit)

now that that’s done, i have a pickup line: why tf would you need a thousand crowns for? you’re ALREADY a queen

and plus people would be sus about how you would have that many crowns

“oh yeah i was human trafficking and the price was a thousand crowns”

*chokes on literal air* THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW?!?!

Lady, I think you need to sit down

oh no how’s she gonna tell kil 

4th chapter

okay first can i say that i had a dream that mare was a telkie or a whisper … if that’s how you spell it

do all silvers have rdf’s?

how much you guys wanna bet she’ll leave gee here and get arrested

FARLEY AND GRANDPA WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO

okay but that was very baddie of Farley

why would you drown the innocent red? If he was part of the scarlet guard, he would be terrorizing with his cult, wouldn’t he? That’s like killing every German because of Hitler

Mare didn’t even get a single thing

so there are also cloners. They. Are. Scary.

please don’t beat up gee and mare, please don’t beat up gee and mare

WHAT THE HECK DID YOU JUST DO TO GEE

THAT OFFICER IS GETTING BEAT UP

WHAT DO YOU MEAN “ITS THE LAW” SHE DIDN’T ACTUALLY STEAL ANYTHING. EVEN IF SHE DID YOU COULD JUST TAKE IT FROM HER AND SEND HER TO JAIL NOT BEAT UP HER HANDS

I WILL FIND THE OFFICER AND BEAT HIM UP

5th chapter

I wonder where she’s planning to go 

“I do it every summer, but Kilorn is always with me, smiling into a drink as he watches me work. I don’t suppose I’ll see his smile for much longer.” NOOO PLEASE SHUT UP DONT MAKE ME MISS HIM ALREADY

“I guess causing pain is all I’m good for” NO SHUT UP YOU WERE ONLY TRYING TO GET A THOUSAND CROWNS TO KEEP KILORN WITH YOU IT WASN’T YOUR FAULT

also stop sulking and do something about it 

uh oh she got caught

the guy who caught her is going to be important. Not once has she described anyone with such detail.

“He is the strangest person I’ve ever met” could it be that guy “Cal” I’ve heard about? If I’m right, you all owe me a chicken nugget

“His smile returns, and the comfort it gives me is unsettling” HAH NOW I KNOW ITS CAL

“I’m Cal” WHAT DID I SAY YOU ALL OWE ME A CHICKEN NUGGET

Was Cal at the Hall too?

I like Cal

So, what, does Cal pay her every time he pities her?

“Something about the mud and shadows makes Cal uncomfortable” Is that going to be important?

“You shouldn’t worry your mother like that” IS HER DAD NOT EVEN GOING TO CONSIDER THE GUILT SHE FEELS?!

Why is the dad worried about the light shortage in the house aND NOT HIS DAUGHTER’S BROKEN HANDS

Does her turning the light on magically have something to do with her powers that are mentioned in the back?

Her dad is now has a profession in lecturing mare about false hope

How can Gee sleep? If that were me i’d be shaking and whimpering and crying until sunrise

OH MY GOD SHADE’S PART OF THE SCARLET GUARD

#red queen #victoria aveyard #mare barrow

[thefoldedbird]

how about some small introductions for your wow ocs? 👀

Hell yeah! I would love to ❤️ I apologize in advance as I have a lot of these dudes.

Orla

She’s a human mage that went from no magic to being patroned by a very old deity to revive Vol’jin. She cannot return home unless she is successful. Apparently far from the first person her deity has done this to but the others are implied to have kinda…died. Is just trying to roll with the punches but the pressure is getting to her.

T’sangra

A grumpy old green troll and the captain of a horde trade ship. Once upon a time he was quite the ladies man. Took a sword to the face about a decade ago and the wound never quite healed right.

Eril

She’s 58 years old but hasn’t smiled in 50 thanks to a bargain on behalf of her parents to a demon. She currently studies fae magic and enchantments. Is not actually magic herself. Her neighbor is simply an nuisance. Her two adopted sons are her pride and joy and she has and will again murder to keep them safe.

Gohn

Eril’s first son. A troll that ran away from home as a child. She raised him on her small farm on the Eastern Kingdoms but he’s since gone back to Kalimdor with the intention of reconnection with his tribe and proving himself to them as a hunter. He’s a mama’s boy with a very soft spot for cows. Could easily be described as a mom friend.

Sad’iekke

Eril’s second adopted son. A zandalari boy and a priest of Rezan. He’s young, naive, curious, anxious, and has a considerable amount of family trauma to work through but he’s sweet as honey and ultimately just wants to be a really good healer. Too nice for his own good sometimes.

Basha

My Gurubashi troll. He’s an older dude and kind of an ass. He’s got a big voice, has a hot temper, yells a lot, and will start a fight just for fun. His wife poisoned him right before he left for Zandalar. He gets jumped by goblins and left for dead in a ditch. His pride takes the brunt of the damage.

Roma

Was a knight but sustained an injury in her leg and didn’t treat it properly. Now she can’t put weight on it and now uses magic to float around and travels in hopes that she can find a way to fix it. Can’t bear to cut it off. Is fatigued 110% of the time. Is named after the tomato, yes.

Nao

A dragon! Part of the emerald dragonflight. Their dragon form is very Aztec in design. They’re a partier with a deep love for drums and dancing.

Rasmundy

Is a wizard in a similar situation as Orla. Except he’s also a cowboy whose magic staff is just a gun that fires whatever he tells it to. Still looks, sounds, and requires reloading like a normal gun. He’s a real jovial dude who’s just trying to vibe. Mostly a joke character.

Jeanne & Mintawix

A Gnome and a Goblin respectively who are both very in love but very bad with their emotions so they just send each other hateful poems in the mail with bombs attached and call the other their Pen(emy) pal to cope.

#world of warcraft #my ocs #oc introduction #ask #krch-1982 #long post #answer #wow #warcraft #two spirits au #thank you so much #for asking about my ocs #🥺❤️ #I will never not love gushing about them #Sad’iekke especially #holy shit #this kid is going through developments 👏👏👏 #FF WOW

[kitterary]

Book Review: You Shouldn’t Have Come Here by Jeneva Rose

Full transparency: I listened to the audiobook version of this book while driving home from a fun Halloween weekend after seeing one of my favorite bands live two nights in a row, and suffering from post-concert blues.   I opened the Libby app (support your local library!) hoping for something spooky to listen to and settled on this as it was the first thriller available.  The book did a great job of keeping me fully entertained for the entire 7 ½ hour drive home… because it was like watching a car wreck you couldn’t look away from.  This being said, I don’t have a physical copy to reference back to in case I make a mistake on something that happens in the book.

The book follows Grace Evans, just your typical bookworm loner gal who selects her solo vacations by throwing a dart at a dartboard and going wherever the dart lands (except all this is a lie, but we’ll get to that) and Calvin Wells, sad tragic backstory country boy running an Airbnb out of his ranch to ease his loneliness (also a lie) and their budding romance while the entire town feels like it’s falling apart around them. The book goes back and forth between these two character viewpoints.

Grace gets to her vacation home and *to no one’s surprise* she has no cell phone signal and no wi-fi access. (Why does she not question how Calvin is running an Airbnb without wi-fi?)  There IS a working landline phone, which Grace never uses until towards the end of the book despite saying that she needed to text her friend to let them know she made it safely.  Grace DOES, however, have enough signal to stream Spotify while taking a run up and down the driveway, which is the point where I realized this was not going to be a good book.

I have so many random complaints about the writing of this book. Grace’s identity is that she loves books, so much so that she just *had* to describe exactly why she chose the books that she wants to read and why she’s reading them in the order she’s reading them, and yet she sat and read her book once for maybe 20 minutes.  But a huge “clue” for Calvin being a liar was that he also apparently liked to read but she never saw him read, as if the man didn’t literally run a farm on his own and spend all of his alone time trying to woo Grace.

This book has too many characters and WAY too much going on for its own good.  There’s jealous childhood friend who can’t get over the one night stand she has with Calvin who straight up tells Grace she hopes she dies, Calvin’s estranged brother who may or may not have purposefully killed Calvin’s ex-girlfriend a year before, an older lady who runs the local clothing shop who acts as Calvin’s mother but also is off her medication, which apparently means she is not to be trusted?  Then there are Calvin’s dead parents who went from just dying in a fire to the mother murdering the father and then setting the house on fire while she was still inside, which was meant to act as a shock to the reader but it had literally nothing to do with what was actually happening in the book. Many of the characters also make passive comments about the house potentially being haunted so you sit and wonder if that’s true (unfortunately not). Random mountain lion attack? Yep. Falling into a pit of animal corpses that also, just like 90% of the events of this book, has no relevance to the plot? Check.  The only side plot that matters in any way was the missing girl who was supposed to be a previous Airbnb guest of Calvin’s.  This alone would have been a plenty interesting plot without everything else but I truly feel like the author didn’t know what direction they wanted to go in, so they included everything.

Then the ending happens.  Turns out, Grace isn’t Grace but is actually using an alias because she’s a serial killer and goes to Airbnb’s to murder their hosts and it just turns out that Calvin also happened to be a serial killer.  I don’t HATE the ending but it felt almost out of nowhere.  Other than one offhand moment Calvin makes about Grace acting like a different person while they were all drinking at a bar, there was no build up to this happening at all, and it just felt like the author couldn’t figure out how to end the book in a way where Not Grace and the missing girl that was being held captive live at the end. I don’t read thrillers, but according to other reviews I’ve read this is apparently a cop-out kind of ending.  I could definitely see that being true.

Final review: I shouldn’t have read this book. 2/5 for simply being so absurd it made a 7 ½ hour drive less boring.

#book review #you shouldn't have come here #bookish

[falcons-wings]

spark

bucky barnes x female reader

summary: when trying to get away from a guy who wont leave reader alone, bucky helps get rid of him

warnings: piece of shit dude who harasses and doesnt take no for an answer, swearing ,, pretty fluffy especially towards the end

wc: 1.3k+

masterlist

a/n: decided to do my first bucky work to beef up my masterlist a little and as a small break from the sam series im gonna post soon ,, hope its alright :)

(gif by @1038276637 )

Bucky still felt uncomfortable in incredibly crowded places, he didn’t know whether this was because of his time in the war or all of the shit that happened to him afterwards; either way loud places just like this bar he had been dragged to by Sam unnerved him - there were just so many noises and different possible dangers, so he was on edge all night.

He wasn’t even sure where Sam had disappeared to, he last saw him with a pretty girl, leaving him sat at the bar alone. He didn’t hold this against him though, he knew he wasn’t always the best person to be around, especially in a place like this, but Dr Raynor kept telling him he ‘needed to reenter society and spend time with friends’. And unfortunately for him Wilson was one of the only people he could maybe consider a friend at the moment and who had been annoying him about coming out to this bar for a while, so here he was, drinking a beer that had no effect on him at the bar on his own and listening to the weird music of the 21st century playing in the background.

He was almost finished with his drink and ready to leave when you sat next to him, you leaned into him as if you knew him and your smile was kind, but he could see a slight panic in your eyes. Something was obviously wrong and you leaned slightly closer to kiss his cheek whilst whispering so quiet he almost missed it.

“Really sorry about this but there’s a creepy guy who won’t leave me alone can you quickly pretend you’re here with me?”

Before Bucky even had a chance to reply to you or react, a large man with a gruff face and the smell of alcohol on his breath appeared at your shoulder with a predatory look in his eyes. Bucky’s eyes didn’t leave the man as soon as he was in sight, so he felt more than saw you move closer to him and away from this man who was eyeing you like a piece of meat.

“Hey sweetheart you left before we finished our conversation, why don’t we finish it somewhere else?”

You opened your mouth as if you were gonna say something, but apparently thought better of it and instead turned to Bucky with pleading eyes. He knew he couldn’t make a scene as that would end badly for multiple people so he was now just trying to control his anger at this piece of shit human being before he beat him up.

Bucky put his hand on your shoulder to pull you a little closer and to try and comfort you a little , “She’s with me, so why don’t you leave?” He made sure his voice was firm and clear, hoping this man would get the idea to leave you alone.

The man looked at him, and his arm around you, and glared, apparently able to tell that Bucky wasn’t one to mess with.

The man looked at you again before huffing out a breath, giving one last glare at Bucky before turning around and stalking back into the crowd.

“Again, I am really sorry about that.” You shuffled away slightly to break the contact you had with him, turning to face him instead, and he couldn’t help but find himself almost missing the close contact.

“Was he bothering you for long?”

“Not really, it was only about 10 minutes but anytime I tried to show or say I wasn’t interested he didn’t seem to get the hint unfortunately.” You gave him a small smile as if to say ‘what can you do?’ But this was completely not fine and Bucky thought that surely it should be a bigger deal than you were making it out to be?

“Have you seen him at this bar before?”

“Um no, this is the first time I’ve actually been to this place, my friends said I should have some fun for once - but obviously that wasn’t what actually happened tonight”

“Oh, well I’m sorry even if it hasn’t got anything to do with me and honestly I don’t come out at all but my friend actually annoyed me into coming tonight before he disappeared on me.” He laughed, glad to see you smile slightly too.

It was clear you were much more comfortable now the creep was gone but you still weren’t at ease, fiddling with your ring on your thumb during the conversation.

“I really am thankful you helped me though, and if you’re not usually here I am glad you were tonight, not sure I want to think about what would have happened if you weren’t.”

“Well you don’t have to think about it.”

You looked up at him to give him a small smile, making proper eye contact with for the first time since you sat down.

“I do have one question though.” He asked, waiting for you to nod before he continued, “Why did you pick me to help you? I mean I’m happy to, it’s just there’s just plenty of other men here who would probably love to scare someone away from you.”

“You looked the most serious and not as drunk as everyone else, so I assumed you would be more reliable and-“

You hesitated slightly as if you were embarrassed before continuing, “And I guess you looked a little lonely and could do with some company.”

Bucky almost choked on his drink, he could admit the wasn’t the most social person but normally when people describe him its things like: mean, tired, cold and stuff like that - normally lonely wasn’t used.

“Oh shit was that rude? I’ll get going now.”

“No don’t worry there’s much worse things you could’ve said.”

“That’s good then, I wouldn’t want to insult my fake boyfriend on our first date.” You laughed, a proper laugh that Bucky couldn’t help but laugh with you, and despite barely knowing you, he would do anything to hear you laugh like that again.

“Are you still planning on heading out?”

“Yeah my bed is calling my name after this long day I think.”

“Do you feel safe walking on your own? Because as you said I’m very sober and it would be irresponsible if I didn’t make sure a lovely lady like you got home safe.”

“Wow a man of honour,” you smirked at him, “but yes if you don’t mind that would actually be great. On one condition though.”

“What condition?”

“You tell me your name, I can’t go around being protected by a man I don’t know the name of.”

“Bucky.”

Your smile grew a little wider and he absolutely loved seeing it, “Well Bucky, it’s nice to meet you, I’m y/n.”

You held out your hand for him to shake as you both stood up, and despite the warm feeling Bucky got in his chest at being in proximity to you, he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so stepped away. He held the door of the bar open for you as you left, and kept a small distance away from you the whole way to your apartment block, being a complete gentlemen, just like he was raised.

When the two of you were outside your apartment, he stood to the side whilst you fumbled with your keys, and when you were finally successful in opening the door you turned back to him, a nice smile on your face.

“Thanks again for all the help Bucky, you were a fantastic fake boyfriend and it was lovely to meet you.”

“Again it was no problem, and you weren’t too bad at being a fake girlfriend yourself doll.”

There was a slight blush on your cheeks as you looked at him one last time, “Goodnight Bucky.”

You didn’t wait for his response, instead just walking into your apartment, and Bucky found himself with an uncharacteristic grin on his face as he stood there, whispering “Goodnight y/n.” before walking away, hoping that he would bump into you again some day.

#ngl this isnt my best work but ive been writing whilst tipsy from like 5 cocktails so its something yous are gonna have to deal with #once ive written something it is officially Not My Problem #falcons-wings #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #sam wilson #marvel #mcu #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #mcu fic #bucky barnes imagine #the winter soldier #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic

[3laxx]

Maternal Feelings

There she was.

Her tiny granddaughter.

She had a bit lighter skin than Luz and just about Amity’s hair color. And she was so damn tiny.

Eda found herself getting scared, suddenly. This was a really small kid. This was like, a stupidly small child. She would not hold that baby for any number of snails.

---

Eda meets her newborn grandddaughter for the first time.

I don't know man I'm just chucking out words rn like I'm running from something.

But I had this thought of Eda meeting a very small child and my stupid brain was like "We can do that instead of sleeping" xD

So yeah, have this incredibly fluffy oneshot about Eda coming to terms with her Momma feelings and adjusting to being a grandma.

I just really wanted Eda to get emotional over a baby

Don't even ask Idk

Have fun reading! <3

Ao3 / FF.net

---

Eda had never been the most maternal.

Not in her youth, not when she had found King, and not when she had sort of adopted and sheltered Luz until she had graduated and been able to stand on her own two feet.

Not when King had taken her name and not when Amity had asked her for Luz’s hand, which had in truth just been a mockery of her parents’ traditions and had given Eda nothing more than an excuse to drink some apple blood with her future daughter-in-law.

Of course, she had seen Luz as a daughter at some point, had called herself her mother, had cared for her.

She had made their meals, had helped Luz with the homework – even if that had disgusted her – she had taught Luz and King everything she knew, she had tucked King in, cared for Luz when she had gotten sick or sad. She had of course done everything in her power to make sure her kids were content and happy.

That didn’t mean she had felt as though she was a mother. She had liked pretending to be the sort of crazy aunt, in charge of all the bad decisions.

But she had never seen herself as maternal.

Well, she supposed that came from not really setting any rules. When she had been younger, she had always been under the impression that mothers had to set rules, educate their children, and raise them. She had never really raised King or Luz.

She had just sort of made them laugh, given them food, and then they hadn’t left anymore. Like the free-loaders they were. Kind of like pests, actually.

It had always made them laugh if she had called them that. It had made her laugh.

Because she loved them, of course. She didn’t know love alone could turn her, the irresponsible, free-spirited wild witch a mother.

She supposed she had been a mother for King and Luz. Without setting rules, without all the raising stuff. She supposed her kids had turned her the littlest bit maternal.

Was it normal for friends to stay up at night and change the cold applications on Luz’s forehead in the hopes of bringing her fever down? Was it called caring and loving when she went out of her way to get King’s favorite toy, to get Luz the food she could actually digest, to make sure King was free of fleas and bathed and tucked in at night?

Did it make her a mother if she risked her own life to ensure they could lead a happy life?

Eda never knew the line between loving, as friends, and maternal.

Raine had started calling her out on her maternal feelings once she got the littlest bit protective of Luz.

Well, it wasn’t her fault that everything made her jump after Belos had almost – had, in fact – killed Luz on the day of unity. It wasn’t her fault that she woke up at night in a cold sweat, rushing to check on her daughter in the room next to hers sleeping peacefully, only to return to a sleepy Raine dazedly grinning at her with a smug, shit-eating expression of “Told you so”.

Every time, they would roll over their mattress in her nest and wrap an arm around her waist and tell her she was such a sweet mother.

Well, she was. She was the Momma of the Owl House.

But maternal?

Eda supposed she was.

After all, even if friends would do the same as her, a mother would make sure everything stayed safe and protected in her house. Making sure there was food on the table that Luz could eat. Making sure King was feeling loved, despite having discovered his past.

Making sure Luz had all her school materials, spending money on icky, stupid books. Giving her an allowance. Keeping her and King safe.

Well, Eda had never really tried finding a definition for maternal. All the love she had gained for King and Luz had just been that to her – love. And it had been enough.

She had loved calling herself Momma and had loved treating Luz like her daughter and King like her son, and she had loved calling them her kids. She just supposed the word itself – maternal – didn’t exactly describe what she was. She, herself, as Eda the Owl Lady, the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles, an agent of chaos and the most daring criminal history had ever seen.

She had just assumed a mother wouldn’t call herself these titles.

Seemed like her view of a mother had been wrong.

Any person could be a mother, a parent, a father, or anything remotely close to this. And she supposed, caring for Luz and King, taking them in, giving them food, kind of did make her a maternal person, while never losing her pride as a criminal and generally irresponsible person.

A mother.

Well, whatever a mother was, or whatever maternal feelings were, or whatever she defined herself at and whatever she did for Luz and King.

Here she found herself, fidgeting next to her spouse, her excited teenage son in tow who was already towering over her height, in front of the healer’s coven building.

Whatever a mother was, she would probably feel that way. Well, Camila – Luz’s other mother – next to her other side was buzzing in excitement just as much as she was. The two women exchanged a glance before Camila gave her a small smile and she felt Raine taking her hand.

King gave a groan when he finally placed his claws on Eda’s and Camila’s shoulders and pushed them up the three steps into the main entrance, rolling his eyes.

After Belos had been taken down – after he had actually very much killed Luz, Eda had just brought her back to life – Luz and her friends had taken on graduation while the Boiling Isles had experienced a change in the government. Covens were no longer used to steal or limit magic. Instead, they had been used as a way to form a working parliament, with an elected group of government heads. After the gang had graduated, Luz had worked towards getting a way back home while helping establish a stable government form from the makeshift temporary one they had managed to create after Belos’ defeat. Luz had actually helped them quite a bit by telling of experiences made in the human realm, where politics were apparently a lot more twisted than here on the Isles.

Eda and Lilith had been elected as part of the group forming the government, even if Eda had dropped out after one or two periods, while her sister had taken charge like it had been the most natural thing for her.

Discovering that politics hadn’t really been up to her alley – she was way more interested in rebellions than anything else – she had begun building a legal business since she didn’t have to fear being captured anymore. It had gone pretty well.

Raine had started working in the government as well as Amity, while Luz had started working to mastering all forms of glyphs she could find, admitting her studies to the academics, and shortly after, had been offered to become a teacher at Hexside by Bump to teach magicless witches and demons glyph magic.

After traveling the Isles and working on her studies, Luz had accepted and finally settled down with Amity. It really hadn’t been a surprise to Eda when Amity had come to her and Raine with a ring and asked them to marry Eda’s daughter.

After already asking Camila that is.

Eda faintly felt King pushing her into the cool building that smelled like disinfectant – a nifty cleaning drug from the human realm that Luz had introduced them to – before hearing herself asking the receptionist where the room of the Noceda-Blights was.

A kind of bored-looking demon sighed and looked the room number up in the list, before pointing them in the direction. Again, Eda’s feet felt like they had been planted into the tiles below her.

Only after Raine gave her a light push, she moved again.

So, the world now had some sort of order. Nobody was forced into covens anymore, and the coven seals had been removed, setting the magic free again.

Raine and she had married shortly after her daughter had accepted Amity’s proposal, and now, ten years after Luz had first set foot on the Boiling Isles chasing after her book, Eda found herself feeling more maternal than ever. Whatever that meant.

Her hands were fidgety, and not even Raine’s steadying grip could calm her. Camila tried not to look around too much, even after so many years of knowing the Boiling Isles and having visited her daughter regularly, she still wasn’t used to all of it.

Stopping in front of their room, Eda tried breathing through. King sighed again, but Raine shot him a glare and he shut up. At least her spouse understood that this was a big step for her. Looking to her side, Camila tried another smile and Eda nodded at her.

“If you want to, you and King can go ahead. I’ll-… I still need a minute.”

More than willing, Camila accepted. She knocked, and upon hearing Luz’s call, she stepped in. Eda shuffled to the side to let King through, so he could duck through the doorframe and maneuver his broad shoulders in without hitting anything. The door closed and Eda breathed through once more, feeling Raine’s grip tightening.

“How do you feel?”

Shooting them a grin, Eda turned, shrugging and trying to play it cool, “Old, honestly.”

Laughing, Raine pulled her aside to the row of chairs and made her sit down.

“No, I mean, how do you feel about Luz and Amity?”, they tried again and Eda sighed, staring at the blank wooden door with the small eighteen next to it.

“… Proud. I’m proud of them for making this commitment.”, looking back to Raine, she added, “And kind of scared. I haven’t really been the most-… Well, involved.”

Unimpressed, Raine lifted an eyebrow.

“… You’re kidding, right?”

Groaning, Eda shrugged again and leaned back, before closing her eyes, resting her head against the wall.

“I-… I never made the commitment they made. King has his father and Luz has her mother. I was more a friend to them than a mom. Sure, I liked seeing myself that way, and they liked seeing themselves as my kids, but-… It was fun having them. King had always been mostly independent and Luz was already a teenager when I met her. I’ve never-… Well, been around-…”

Raine softly placed their hand on Eda’s hands that she had folded in her lap and when she opened her eyes again, the gaze of her spouse was humored.

“Come on, Eda. How hard can it be to be a not-grandmother?”, at the joke, Eda groaned, “It’s not much different to being a not-mom to your kids.”

Grumbling, she got up again before straightening her back and nodding.

“You know what, you’re right. That kid is family now and whoever the hell cares what a mother or a grandmother is.”

A little confused, Raine got up after her and pumped a fist, albeit half-heartedly.

“That’s the spirit?”, they laughed and Eda huffed, before knocking and getting her own call to be let in.

The room was warm and humid. Eda let in Raine and quickly closed the door after them, not to let too much of the warmth escape, before turning back to her daughter.

Luz looked tired when she approached them.

Well, that wasn’t a surprise, given that she and Amity had arrived in the hospital two days ago before their little daughter had been born just this morning in the earliest hours. She had probably been awake all this time to be there for Amity.

Giving Eda a big hug, she nuzzled her face into the crook of her mother’s neck, before deeply breathing out. Eda could tell that Luz had just overcome a big step for herself.

“… I’m glad you’re here…”, she breathed and Eda wrapped her arms around the now-grown woman, tilting her own head into the embrace. The younger witch snuggled close while Raine squeezed past them to join Camila and King around the crib next to Amity’s bed.

Eda tried so hard not to cry.

This was a happy occasion and she would sure as hell not shed a tear about this. Just when she pressed a little kiss to Luz’s head, a tear rolled into her dark curls as well. Well, there went this promise.

“I’m proud of you, kid.”, she whispered and Luz held her tighter, smiling against her neck, “I’m so, so proud of you. If you ever need some help, I’ll do my damn best to provide.”

Sniffling, Luz nodded, before parting from her.

The exhaustion was evident on her face. She wiped her cheek before Eda placed a hand on her shoulder and caught her gaze. They exchanged a silent smile, then she looked up and around her daughter to her future daughter-in-law on the bed, obviously exhausted as well.

Amity gave a small wave, but it was obvious to see she was under the influence of some strong sedatives. That was the logical thing to do, Eda supposed, to keep her from acting protective over her child while all her family and friends wanted to meet the newest family member.

Witches only carried six months until giving birth, before incubating their pup for another three months. Which was why this room was so damn hot.

But upon giving birth, new mothers would also become a lot more protective of their pups than humans would. Luz had been new to all of this and Eda had had to educate her on the reproduction of witches, because Amity had been too busy laughing. Well, Eda had laughed as well, but not as hard as Luz’s fiancé.

Looking back to her daughter, she finally noticed the bandage she was wearing around one hand. Smirking, she gestured to that.

“Don’t tell me your weak nerd arms gave in.”, she joked and Luz huffed, rubbing the bandage with the healing sticker.

“Amity just had to transform her hand into a damn abomination while in labor. Seriously, who even does that? She sliced my hand right in half.”, grumbling, she looked back to her fiancé and gave her a small smile before looking back to Eda, “I almost missed the birth because the healers had to patch me up first. But there won’t even be a scar because they had my hand reattached just a second after it happened.”

Still grinning, Eda punched her shoulder, then Luz leaned closer to her, lowering her voice.

“Just don’t tell Mami. She’d lose her cool.”

Shaking her head and laughing, Eda walked past her.

“I won’t, don’t worry.”, after making her way around the bed, she sat down on the edge and caught Amity’s dazed gaze, taking her hand after permission, “Hey Minty. How’re you feeling?”

“… ’M good.”, the young witch slurred, trying a small smile, before breathing through and looking to the side where she kept her pup in view, “… Tired.”

Eda nodded, cupping her hand with both of hers, before softly patting the back of her hand.

“Lily will be here this afternoon to look after you two. Your siblings are still in Latissa on Government business, they asked me to tell you because they couldn’t get a hold of you. But they’ll be back tomorrow.”

She could tell that was a lot of information for Amity to process so she made a note to tell Luz as well. Leaving the witch to try and observe the room again – probably to make sure it stayed safe for her pup – she turned to the crib now finally.

There she was.

Her tiny granddaughter.

She had a bit lighter skin than Luz and just about Amity’s hair color. And she was so damn tiny.

Eda found herself getting scared, suddenly. This was a really small kid. This was like, a stupidly small child. She would not hold that baby for any number of snails.

Camila seemed a lot more comfortable around the baby, though. She had respected Luz’s wish to leave her in her crib for the time being, so Amity could get used to so many people around her pup so suddenly, but she was already reaching in and brushing the tiny thing over her cheek.

Well, okay, that seemed easy enough. Eda could do that, someday, when the kid was like twelve or something.

King and Luz were talking about something while Raine looked just about as amazed by the small creature as Camila was.

Sensing their amazement and figuring that Raine didn’t exactly have that much experience with children, either, Camila took the hand of Eda’s spouse and guided them down into the crib, brushing their knuckles against the incredibly soft skin of the baby’s cheek.

Amity didn’t even flinch at that. Either the sedatives were really strong or she felt incredibly comfortable with the people in the room. Looking back to the young witch, Eda confirmed the latter. Through half-lidded eyes, Amity was leaning back against the pillow, her other hand that was not held by Eda draped across her belly, while she was calmly watching Camila guiding Raine’s hand against the infant’s cheek.

She wondered how much Amity had actually adopted Luz’s family as her own once her parents had been imprisoned for their crimes against the public.

Judging by her calm reaction, she didn’t mind them being around her and her loved ones in the slightest, even in the now starting incubation period. Finally, Luz leaned around King and reached into the crib to lift her little daughter up and cradling her close to her chest. The baby didn’t even wake up, which made Eda chuckle.

“She’s got your sleeping habits, kid.”

Amity’s hand in hers shook when she started laughing alongside the older witch and Luz flushed in deep red when her mother confirmed.

“Sometimes, not even me shaking her would wake her up to school.”, Camila added and Luz huffed, bopping the infant in her arms.

“You guys are being mean to me in front of my daughter.”, she tried pouting, but King deadpanned.

“In front of your sleeping daughter. She won’t hear any of this.”

They started laughing again while Luz couldn’t suppress a little smile herself while looking down at the infant. When they had all quieted down a little, Luz pressed a soft kiss to her daughter’s forehead, before approaching Camila. Shooting a gaze towards Amity first to ask her permission, she then placed the baby in her mother’s arms and kept her hand cupped on the baby’s head, smiling.

“That’s your abuelita, mija.”, Luz mumbled softly and Eda almost felt her own heart breaking with the light sniffle Camila gave. After all these years of calling Luz her mija, Luz starting to use that label for her own daughter now made the human tear up.

While Camila greeted the little pup, Eda turned back to Amity whose head was softly nicking every time her eyelids fell. She had to be exhausted.

Tugging on her hand, Eda got her attention, then she lightly pushed the crib away to get up and adjust Amity’s pillow for her.

“C’mon, let’s get you lying down. We’ll take care of your pup.”

A sleepy gaze crossed with Eda’s but before Amity could object, the older witch was already adjusting the settings of the mattress to be flat again, before helping Amity lie down on her side.

“You can stay awake for as long as you want, but you should be comfortable with it at least.”, shooting her a grateful gaze, the younger witch yawned, then she adjusted the blanket around her future daughter-in-law and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Don’t worry about your pup, okay? Luz is taking care of her.”

That seemed to soothe Amity. She mumbled a soft “thank you” towards Eda and curled up a little, before continuing to watch the scene before her, the blinking of her eyelids already getting slower.

When Eda turned back to Camila, she discovered that Luz had taken her daughter back already and was safely cradling her before going around the crib and catching Eda’s gaze.

She knew that Luz wanted her to say hi, too.

“Luz, I’m not so sure about holding-”

Chuckling, her daughter adjusted the baby, before taking Eda’s hand.

“You can greet them like this first if you don’t wanna hold her. Or you can sit down if you like.”

Huffing, Eda fidgeted shortly, before rubbing her hands together and breathing through.

“Just, uh-… Sitting would be nice. I’m-… Holding the bat kids was an entirely different thing, you know? They could fly. Your kid can’t fly.”

Luz had to laugh at Eda’s rambling, pulling on her hand, she ushered King out of the chair by the window, before letting her adoptive mother sit down in it. Camila helped out by placing a pillow on Eda’s lap, then she was all set. Luz studied her face again.

“If you’re too nervous, you don’t have to hold her. I can hold her over your lap if you want to.”

Trying to wave her off, Eda forced a laugh.

“Pfft, you can just say you don’t trust me holding a baby, kid.”, she tried to joke around, but Luz just gave her a smile.

“If you feel uncomfortable, you don’t have to. That’s all I’m saying.”

But Eda wanted to. She definitely did kind of want to hold the tiny fragile baby that Luz had made together with her fiancé. Even if she was nervous and a little bit scared and so amazed by how small such a tiny thing could actually be, she did kind of want to hold that baby. Patting the pillow, she finally breathed through, then she opened her arms.

“Okay, I’m ready. Bring it, kid.”

Smirking at her antics, Luz leaned in and kneeled, then she slowly placed the baby in Eda’s arms. It was so tiny. It was so stupidly tiny, it wasn’t even as long as Eda’s forearm. Hiccupping, the older witch instinctively cradled the tiny, tiny infant in her arms and a warm feeling overcame her.

A really warm feeling.

If that was maternal feelings, then Eda swore she was going to be the best dang grandmother she could be for that child.

She brushed over her temple and the baby squirmed slightly. Apparently, she had woken up sometime during Camila holding her and was now kind of fighting against the snug swaddle blanket she was trapped in. Eda didn’t even notice she had tears in her eyes when she already felt the first tear rolling down her cheek.

“Wow… You’re my granddaughter now, hm?”, she asked and that tiny thing yawned, her arms struggling in the swaddle, before softly smacking her incredibly small lips. Eda found herself smiling immediately, “Titan, that’s new.”

Luz’s hands undid the blanket that was wrapped around the baby, then Eda laughed tearily when the infant stretched, her absolutely tiny fists stretching up to her face and rubbing her cheeks. She was apparently waking up and while she knew that incubating infants didn’t open their eyes yet, she found herself wondering what eye color the child would have. Adjusting the baby, she cradled them closer, then she smuggled a finger into the fist and giggled in delight when the baby grabbed it, despite not wanting to open the fist at first.

Looking up to Luz, who was still kneeling in front of her, she managed a smile, her teary expression probably matching the one on her daughter’s face.

“She’s perfect, Luz. But, let’s be honest, you two made a stupidly small baby.”

Laughing under tears, Luz nodded then she brushed over her daughter’s head and pressed a small kiss to her forehead to which the baby responded with a huff.

“Yeah, when I first held her, I was so scared she’d just slip right through my arms. But I think Amity would have killed me if I had so much as stumbled so I concentrated really hard not to let that happen.”

Eda’s gaze shot up from her granddaughter to her future daughter-in-law who was calling from the bed, her words slurred from the sedatives and sleepiness, but still very much poised if needed.

“… You better not drop our child, Luz.”

Raine had to laugh at that and went to soothe the new mother, while Eda turned back to the baby in her arms with a smile.

“Titan she’s small…”

The following few minutes were pretty much filled with tearful giggles and a very excited King who almost knocked the crib over when Luz called him to say hi as well. When Eda and King had calmed down a little, Camila had taken Luz outside for a little mother-daughter walk in the nearby park and King had gone with them for snacks. The older witch got up and carried the baby back to the crib, smiling when she lifted them up to her face. Resting her forehead against theirs, she kept like this for a moment, before stopping in front of the crib.

Amity had fallen asleep by now, even if she was flinching with every littlest sound her daughter made, so Eda looked over to Raine.

“Wanna hold the baby, too?”, she asked and Raine blushed.

“I’d-… I’d rather wait until she’s a little bit older.”, she admitted and Eda nodded before still gesturing her spouse over. Raine got up from the edge of Amity’s bed and joined Eda, putting an arm around her waist while Eda still cradled the baby close, taking care not to jostle her too much.

She yawned again and from the corner of her eyes, Eda saw Amity’s eyes opening, unfocused and probably very much still asleep but still attentive to her daughter. Chuckling, she turned back to Raine.

“Boy, I’m sure glad I only had two adoptive children.”

Shrugging, Raine caught the baby’s fist with their free hand and tickled their tiny fingers, but she wouldn’t open her hand this time.

“I’m sure you would’ve made a great biological mother as well. As you’re already a great adoptive mother, too.”

Shrugging, Eda brushed over her temple again, leaning into Raine.

“Nah, I’m glad I never had a baby. I don’t think I would’ve wanted to go through that.”

“Fair enough.”, Raine whispered, but their tone indicated that they had stopped listening to Eda, engrossed by the child in her arms. She softly kicked, which caused them to chuckle, before she settled back against Eda’s chest, curling in slightly and breathing through, apparently getting ready for her next nap. Raine sighed softly.

“Honestly, I’m glad I never had a baby, too. But having a grandchild is amazing.”

Grinning, Eda kissed their forehead, before carefully maneuvering the baby back into the crib and swaddling them the best she could, watching her breaths deepening and calming as she fell asleep again. Then, Eda pushed the crib next to Amity’s bed, to which the young witch immediately responded by reaching into the crib from the side and resting her hand on her daughter’s belly. Smiling, Eda took Raine into her arms and watched as both her future daughter-in-law and her granddaughter slept peacefully, leaning her head against Raine’s.

“… You’re right this is amazing.”

She already knew that this child would have the two best mothers she could ask for. And she knew that her entire family, including her furry uncle, three grandmothers, and one grandparent, and their twin uncle and aunt would do their damn best to make sure this child had everything she needed.

Smiling, Eda reached down to brush over the baby’s cheek and pulled Raine closer.

Maternal feelings or not, this was amazing.

---

Let me know if you liked it!

#toh #the owl house #eda clawthorne #king #camila noceda #raine whispers #luz noceda #amity blight #lumity fanchild #lumity #edaine #raineda #idk their ship name #fanfic #my work #maternal feelings #good parents #fluff #softness #toh raeda #raeda

[iwishicanbeagoodpianist]

the Wifilcon and the Winter Router

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC/Reader Summary: When Bucky learns that his neighbor has been stealing his wifi for months. Warnings: None A/N: I'm not a fanfic writer at all, this, like all my stories, are adaptations to fanfics. My original stories are not written in english, so this is also a translation. please do not repost my work

For an instant, Bucky thought that the knocking he was hearing was coming directly from his head, I mean, it wouldn't be the first time his mind played tricks on him, but he realized that the sound was actually coming, unluckily for him, from his apartment door. Oh no no no no no no no, I just got back from putting up with Sam for almost 6 full weeks, I don't need interaction with more people for now.

Bucky thought for a minute to ignore the sound, to wait for the person to give up and leave, anyway he didn't spend many days on this apartment, almost no one had seen him leave or enter the building and he had no contact with the neighbors, only with the lady on the 7th floor who once lost one of her cats, which ended up in Bucky's apartment, accidentally. Not that I found the cat in the alley and actually brought him to my apartment, it doesn't mean that I stole the cat, he was in the street by himself, I rescued him.

When the banging on the door stopped and Bucky thought he could breathe calmly again, a voice between altered and annoyed was heard all the way to the living room where he was sitting trying to overcome his third panic attack and fourth existential crisis of the day .

-"I know you're in there! I saw you coming in a few hours ago! I've been waiting for days for you to come back!"-

More out of instinct than anything else, Bucky pulled out the knife hidden in his right boot as he slowly backed away from the door. Do I really have a spy as a neighbor? Should I call Sam? Is he in danger too? Never mind now, you need an escape route Bucky, concentrate, third floor, window to the alley, 2 minutes max, the bike is parked far away, I'll have to run, but to where, rendezvous point, safe place, think....

- "for God's sake, open the door, I need you to pay for your fucking internet plan, I'm in the last season of my series and I need to know if Carolina died or not!"-

- "The internet?"- Between the andrenaline from escaping and the shock of not understanding what was happening Bucky spoke louder than an assassin, with over 60 years of experience, should have spoken. Oh, shoot.

-"Yes! Your wifi, I need it to finish watching my series"-

Whispering "wifi" to himself, Bucky tries to remember where he has heard that word before, this is what I get for never listening to Sam when he talks to me. But before he can continue his mental analysis of all the conversations with Sam about such stupid things as his favorite American Football team, the New Orleans Saints, that I remember, to how Antonio could possibly leave María on the last episode of the 6 o'clock telenovela of which Sam is a fan, his apparent "neighbor" spoke up again:

-"Jesus Christ, can you open the door? So we can resolve this like adults"-

Bucky resigned to the fact that he has given his position to the "enemy", walks to the door and opens it waiting for his death. Well at least if I die I won't have to listen to Sam again talking about Antonio and María. But on the other side of the door, there was a woman, who in her pajamas, very unthreatening but cute, was watching him as if he were a ghost but still with defiance in her eyes, in one breath she introduced herself and continued her speech about her complaint to Bucky:

-"As I was saying, I need you to pay for your internet"-

-"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I understand what you mean"- mumbled Bucky.

- "Good Lord"- To Bucky's surprise his neighbor, pushes him and enters his home, well not so much a home home, more like the headquarters of his secret club, of which he is the president, vice president and only member, the point is that it is his place, where he can (and wants to be alone), as she lives here. This must be a dream, maybe I hit my head too hard in the last mission and I am unconscious in the hospital.

Crossing the room, Bucky's unwanted visitor looks around searching for something while whispering the words "I see you are quite minimalist, but maybe this is too much, someone urgently needs to look for some inspiration on Pinterest". She stops abruptly in front of the shelf where, in theory, a TV should go, while shouting: "EUREKA", she bends down and picks up a white device which has two antennas and like a million little blinking lights, damn, that looks like something out of a spaceship, I'm being watched by aliens? I'm being spied on by Kree?

-"This is your router, this is where the internet signal comes from, which I need you to pay for so I can finish watching my series"-.

Bucky, still in shock for the third time in less than 15 minutes, as he processes the idea that perhaps Thanos' unknowing twin is spying on him for a second invasion of earth and revenge for his brother's death. He can only nod to his now more relaxed and happy neighbor.

-"Perfect, thanks! I need to check the food I left in the oven, I'll talk to you later"- and as quickly as she came she left through the same door, leaving Bucky with more doubts than answers, peeking down the hallway, he realizes that she is the neighbor who lives next door, to his right. When Bucky comes out of his initial stupor, still not fully understanding what is going on, he decides to take his cell phone out of his pocket and call his own personal Google to solve his doubts about this century: Sam Wilson.

-"Hey Buck! What's up?"-how does he always manage to sound so happy? focus Buck.

-"What the hell is a router and why do I have one in my house?"- somehow Bucky manages to formulate, although maybe his voice cracked a little on the last words.

-"That thing's been there for at least two months and you didn't even notice it? Have you even paid the bill?"-

-"You put this in here? Without telling me????"- maybe Sam is also a Kree? Who can I trust now? It's all a trap?

Listening to Bucky's accelerated breathing, Sam tries to explain to him slowly, that in this century life without internet is not life, but obviously as Bucky does not even know how to set the alarm on his own cell phone, he was in charge of buying the router and creating the contract with the company so that, the 106 year old man could have his personal network at home. He had given it the name but he had not given it a password so that Bucky himself could set it up later. "I am an excellent friend, I mean co-worker, if I may say so"

-"Sorry man, after all that happened, we got called for a mission and I forgot to tell you, do you have your laptop over there? I'll help you set up a password, so your neighbors won't steal your internet anymore"- and with that comment everything started to make sense in Bucky's slightly screwed up but functional mind about the events with his seemingly non-spy and harmless neighbor.

Meanwhile Bucky was trying to remember his own password to unlock the laptop in front of him, also courtesy of Sam. "Bucky, when you learn about online banking and that you can pay your rent, electricity, phone and everything with a click of your computer, you will thank me". It should be noted that Bucky hasn't used that laptop once, like a good 100 year old grandpa he goes to the bank to make his deposits and pay his debts, which obviously consisted only of electricity, water, gas and phone because the man had no idea that there was a device in his house that spit out internet, apparently only his next door neighbor knew this. Buck tells Sam how he thought his router was an alien device and how he thought his neighbor was a KGB agent coming to kill him. "Relax Buck we all have undesirable neighbors that steal our internet signal sometimes", well undesirable is not the word I would use to describe her but ok.

When Sam finally explains to him how to connect his computer to the internet, Bucky can finally see the name that his wonderful co-worker, not friend, because he could never be friends with someone so stupid as to think that the name "THE WIFILCON AND THE WINTER ROUTER" was a good name.

- "my god Sam, you're such an asshole!"-

-"HEY! That's a great name!"- Sam responds with as much indignation as possible, he's the best at naming everything from dogs to wifis.

- "I can't believe you're Captain America, I can't believe we're even friends"- Bucky really can't understand his luck to have friends, well, co-workers whatever.

- "Well excuse me but we're co-workers..."-

- "Well, take this call as my formal resignation, bye"-

-"Wait a minute Buck..."- Bucky ended the call, to finish -his self-imposed- punishment of listening to Sam Wilson talk for over an hour. At least I asked him how to use the bank's website to pay for the internet. Suddenly, without warning and without explanation, the memory of his neighbor is lodged in his head, her hair in a ponytail, her reading glasses, pink shorts, her sweater from some university of which he can't even remember the name because he was watching out for other things... that she wouldn't kill me obviously, he was watching out that she wouldn't pull a knife out of her back and kill me right there. The message on his laptop indicating that he can now set a new name and password to his wifi distracts him enough to stop thinking about his sweet and cute non-spy neighbor and how she would look with her hair down and her glasses off.

Still with the sweet feeling in his chest and the desire to see her again he writes as the new name of the wifi, while laughing:

"If you want free internet, you owe me at least one free dinner"

After paying the internet debt and closing the laptop, Bucky gets up hoping to find something edible in the kitchen, while leaning over to look inside his fridge and analyzing how bad it would be to eat a fried egg with pasta and sriracha, he hears again a knock on the door, but this time it does not cause Bucky the anguish and anxiety that caused him the first time, but quite the opposite.

-"Open the door Winter Router! I prepared chicken pot pie for dinner"-.

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #marvel fanfiction #the winter soldier #winter soldier #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x OC #marvel #mcu #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #james bucky barnes x original character #james bucky barnes x OC #sebastian stan

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Subtitles: Episode 2, Don’t Touch That Dial

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: A nondescript amount of time has passed since [Y/N] has met the Maximoff couple and the trio has since then gotten better settled in Westview, although none of them have yet to make the best impressions with their neighbors. [Y/N], Vision, and Wanda have found friends and confidants in each other when they haven’t much elsewhere but [Y/N]’s crush remains, begging the question, ‘Is there anything more to come?’ Meanwhile, the people of the cul-de-sac are planning a talent show and the atmosphere in Westview appears to be shifting. Follow along as the happy little world of Westview begins fraying at the seams while strange happenings occur and an unseen power desperately seeks to stitch it back together…

Word count: 13,766

Warnings: This one’s even longer. Fluff, sappy rom-com vibes, more possible second-hand embarrassment. It’s just as weird as the episode.

Tag List: @madamevirgo​

~~~

    “[Y/N], hon. I really think you should cool it on the coffee for the rest of the day.”

    It’s possible that Agnes was right. The tiredness that was caused by a windy, sleepless night has recently been replaced by chaotic, synthetic energy that had your eyes wide and hands shaking slightly. You were on your fourth cup now, which you’d brought with you from the diner you and Agnes had had breakfast at. The two of you were going to pick up Wanda and go over to Dottie’s for actual breakfast—well, brunch—but you both had rocky relationships with the queen of the neighborhood and needed to mentally prepare. You had been up for a better part of the last night due to bushes and tree branches rattling against your windows, not to mention all your previous encounters with Dottie have been disastrous; you needed the caffeinated courage. Agnes just wanted to have something on her stomach beforehand so the alcohol hidden away in her handbag would sit better.

    You hummed around your mouthful of coffee in response to Agnes’s mild worrying. You swallowed, then threw back the last of the no longer hot beverage and scurried over to a random trash can to toss the cup away. “There, see? All done. All nifty.” Just as an extra bit of proof, you gave her some jazz hands and shimmied as you walked back over to link your arm with hers.

    Agnes tried to hold down a smirk but broke into a laugh when the shimmying started. “You look as jittery as a squirrel.”

    “Not as fluffy as a bunny?” you asked with a wide-eyed pout, then reached over to poke a finger in the cage that your companion held; the rabbit inside, Agnes’s pet, immediately offered his head to be scratched. “Señor Scratchy, more like Mr. Cutie Patootie.”

    “Fluffy too, of course,” Agnes offered, giving your curled updo a ruffle. “In a good mood too, which I suppose isn’t a bad thing. With Dottie around, we’ll need it.”

    You almost cracked a grin but then thought about how you’d feel hearing someone say that about you and felt somewhat sad. Luckily, you found a quick reason to grin anyway as Wanda’s house came into view up ahead—

    Only for the grin to turn into a look of confusion as a buzzing suddenly started in your ear.

    You stopped cold, cocking your head as you strained to listen. The buzzing sounded almost like a lawnmower but coming from the sky—a helicopter, perhaps, but there was something off about it like it was happening inside your head—and the sound grew louder until it stopped with a sudden bang, making you jump.

    “[Y/N]?” Agnes’s voice called. “[Y/N], are you alright?”

    Drawn back to your surroundings, you felt a cold sweat on your back and noticed your hands had become clammy; the hair on your neck and arms stood straight up and your body felt suddenly achy, almost have you had come down with a cold out of the blue. You looked at Agnes with wide eyes and saw her staring at you, concerned with both arms gripping your sleeve.

    It took you several moments to recover and when you did, you asked, “Did you hear that?”

    Agnes looked at you incredulously, shaking her head just slightly. “Hear what?” 

    She hadn’t heard it? You felt like the strange sounds had happened right next to you.

    The woman at your side continued, “I didn’t hear anything at all, except for Wanda coming outside. Then you just stopped walking and stood there, I couldn’t even budge you.”

    Agnes nodded in the direction in Wanda’s direction and you looked that way. Wanda was indeed outside now, though she hadn’t seemed to notice you two coming up the sidewalk yet. Instead, she was looking down in the bushes near her fence, seemingly distressed. You followed her gaze and saw something glittering in the sunlight there.

    “Well,” Agnes said loudly, officially snapping you out of your daze, “you seem fine now, at least. I told you all that caffeine was going to make you go looney!” She picked up the rabbit cage she apparently put down while you were… doing whatever it had been that you were doing, then kept walking as if nothing had happened. 

    You watched her for a moment before following. Then you noticed Wanda lean over and pick up whatever it was she was looking at but you couldn’t see what it was as Agnes obscured most of the view. You could, however, see Wanda’s distraught expression and it made you want to run and make sure she was okay; you noted that Agnes still had no reaction, though, and decided perhaps all that caffeine was the actual cause of all these weird feelings. 

    You felt the familiar pang of a headache as you and Agnes got closer. 

    “Look, it’s the star of the show!” Agnes chirped, leaning against the fence bordering the Maximoff lawn. You saw Wanda gasp and drop the thing back into the bushes but Agnes just grinned.

    “Agnes!” Wanda replied in a way that seemed a little strained. She leaned over and covered the bush with an arm. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Then she noticed you, still a little ways behind Agnes, and the tension in her shoulders seemed to relax slightly. “And [Y/N]!”

    You gave her a sheepish wave, still trying to recollect yourself. The faint headache was still there, getting a bit stronger whenever your eyes or thoughts drifted to the object Wanda was obviously trying to hide. At least you weren’t sweaty and clammy anymore, though. Not that that would matter. It’s not like you would be holding anybody’s hand on the way to Dottie’s.

    You wouldn’t mind doing so if it happened to happen though.

    Stop, you chided yourself, Bad. No holding hands with Wanda.

    Unless you hold hands with both her and her husband, your brain decided to think on its own, which is totally cool too.

    No, you chided your brain this time, no holding hands with married couples.

    Fine, your brain conceded. Then after a moment, Just kiss them instead.

    No!

    Good god, that had been too much coffee. 

    You shook your head slightly and watched and Agnes handed Señor Scratchy over to Wanda who headed back to the house with him, though you hadn’t been paying attention to what they were saying prior.

    “...he played baby Jesus in last year’s Christmas pageant!” Agnes was saying, to which Wanda looked over her shoulder and answered, “Ah!”

    Then Agnes looked over her shoulder, and yours, and said, “Oh, morning, Dennis!”

    You side-stepped to let the man pass and took the advantage to move to Agnes’s other side as she chatted the mailman up. You couldn’t help laughing a bit as she made finger guns at him and told him to stick ‘em up.

    “Ho,” Dennis responded, putting his hands up momentarily and smiling, “Don’t shoot, I’m just the messenger.”

    “Pew pew!” Agnes sounded, waggling her “guns” at him.

    You offered your own, less theatrical greeting to Dennis as he walked by, then leaned over and bumped hips with Agnes when you caught her watching him walk away.

    “Please tell me you’re not having an affair with the mailman,” you said.

    Agnes choked, then threw back her head and did what you could only describe as a cackle. “What? Heavens no!”

    “Good,” you replied, then slid a bit closer. Shimmying your shoulders at her, you teased, “Because I’m the only one you need.”

    Agnes snorted and swatted you over the head but she was smiling. “You bird dog, get out of here. I’m married!”

    “And I will duel your husband at dawn,” you cried, “I am the only one who gets to fight bar stools for the lady’s affections!”

    The two of you chortled and separated as Wanda came walking out of the house and back towards you. She looked rather lovely in the pants and cardigan combo that she wore; you also quite liked the pattern of her shirt.

    She looked between the two of you—you felt like her eyes settled on you for just a second longer but that was probably the caffeine too—and as she got closer said, “Shall we?” 

    “Oh, we shall,” Agnes replied, stepping back from leaning on the fence and offering Wanda her arm.

    You saw Wanda glance back at the bushes and she linked her arm with Agnes’s and before you could think about your headache and stop yourself, you followed her gaze. You were now standing on the other side of the fence of the bushes that Wanda had tried to hide the object she’d found in and with a quick peer, you could make out a toy helicopter within the branches.

    There was something very off about the helicopter, as there had been about the sound earlier. Looking at it was like the effects of one of your worse migraines but without the intense pain. Time appeared to slow way down and your head somehow felt like it was both floating and behind crushed at the same time. When you tried to look around it was like you were moving outside of your body, as if you had turned around to look at your own house across the street and yet hadn’t moved at all. Images of Wanda and Agnes’s faces, the Maximoff house and your own, faces and places that you didn’t quite recognize, the helicopter all floated through your line of vision, mushing together or overlaying on top of each other, and you couldn’t be sure whether you were actually looking around or if you had closed your eyes and this was all happening behind your eyelids. 

After what seemed like a century but you were sure was only a very slow second, the helicopter came into focus again, and you felt like you were gasping or squinting or both, but without actually doing either. The toy had a very bizarre color scheme as if the colors didn’t exist in this realm of existence; you couldn’t quite place the names of them no matter how hard you tried. The helicopter’s bright colors—almost too bright to you; it felt like looking at the sun but you couldn’t look away—appeared to turn the entire world around you to shades of gray, including yourself. Yet again, you felt like you moved without actually doing so as you raised your hand, a shade of gray instead of your skin tone. Looking further, your entire outfit wasn’t the combination of your two favorite colors that you thought it was but a variety of grays, as well as the sidewalk you stood on and the fence and bushes you stood next to. 

Your gaze settled on the toy helicopter again even though you were pretty sure you’d never actually looked away.

Blood? The helicopter was the color of blood and sand, with a touch of the color you suddenly hated with every fiber of your being, shimmery gray. 

Then there was a sound like a thunderclap happening directly inside your head and everything was back to normal.

Wanda has just finished linking arms with Agnes and the girls were stepping to one side so you could join their line. Looking at Wanda’s smile directed at Agnes, and Agnes’s scheming look directed at you, the world didn’t seem so out of sorts anymore. You felt both very solid and like you needed to steady yourself but you didn’t have time for the latter and instead, you stepped forward, seeming much more confident than you felt, to link arms with Agnes. 

Agnes, with her scheming look, clearly had other ideas. She suddenly stepped off the curb, jerking herself and Wanda to the side, not only blocking the way you were walking but pulling Wanda directly in front of you. Agnes herself settled easily but Wanda, who had no idea what just happened, stumbled and tripped; she tried to catch herself on Agnes’s arm she held, only to find it was no longer there and ended up falling backward.

Your arms shot out reflexively and caught her around the waist. Wanda, in response, reached behind her and braced herself by throwing one arm around your shoulders while the other caught one of your wrists and twisting in such a way that caused her to turn towards you and kick one leg up so she could steady herself on the other. The result was an almost picture-perfect dip, with you cradling Wanda’s upper body in your arms, her embracing you, and the two of you staring at each other in pure shock. 

Then there was Agnes, standing next to the curb and brushing out a crease in her dress, looking oh so pleased with herself.

A deep blush bloomed across your face as you looked down at the woman—the very married and greatly loved by her husband woman—and your outsides and insides had the same idea of wanting to curl in on themselves and… either scream in joy or die, you couldn’t be sure. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of Wanda right away; along with the longing you often felt when seeing either her or her husband, though it was multiplied by infinity in the current moment, you felt a sudden fierce protectiveness over her come almost out of nowhere. You wanted Wanda Maximoff to be as happy and as safe as could be and it felt like if you let her go any moment before she was properly standing and solid on her feet that something very bad would happen like she would tip and fall and shatter into a million pieces.

Holding her was just very nice in general too.

You felt your fingers twitch at her waist and it drew you back out of your head. You noticed Wanda hadn’t yet pulled away either or moved in general, and you felt like you were going to spontaneously combust when you focused back on the face looking up at you.

Although she couldn’t possibly as red as you were, Wanda was flushed from her neck to the tips of her ears—she had the prettiest blushing face you’d ever seen, you were sure of it—and she was looking up at you from under her lashes, the expression on her face a mix of surprise and embarrassment and something softer than you couldn’t quite place. You felt her arm, warm and strong against the back of your shoulders, and her hands still tightly gripping your shoulder and wrist. For a moment, you felt the hand on your shoulder lightly knead the fabric of your jacket, as if testing something, before her entire grip on you loosened.

“Um,” she started, her voice sounding as dry as your throat felt, “thank you. For catching me.”

“Happy to help,” you croaked, then mentally kicked yourself and cleared your throat; the slight smile that appeared on Wanda’s lips wasn’t lost on you, though.

    “Oh, lovebirds,” Agnes hollered over her shoulder as she walked ahead of you and Wanda, “the Queen of the Cul de Sac will order off with our heads if we don’t hurry!”

    I had no idea that the devil wears plaid, you thought. Then you weren’t how long you and Wanda had been standing like that, or who had seen, and you were panicking. 

    You thought that maybe the two of you might scramble away from each other but it was quite the opposite. Wanda lowered the leg she still had raised and in one fluid motion, Wanda was back standing upright; in another, you twirled her around to your side and linked arms with her, and then the two of you were hustling after Agnes, who stopped and waited with her arm out so that you could link up with her too.

    It was like something out of an old rom-com movie. Except it was a rom-com movie where the main character fancied both the love interest and her husband, something far too farfetched to end happily. 

    “Dottie can’t possibly be as bad as you say,” Wanda said. She looked from Agnes to you and you gave her a sympathetic look. 

    “Well, you’ll notice her roses bloom under penalty of death,” Agnes affirmed as the three of you made it to the outskirts of Queen Dottie’s castle and paused there. “If you don’t believe me, ask [Y/N].”

    Wanda’s eyebrows raised.

    You sighed. “The first day of meeting her I spilled wine on her dress and now I’m ninety percent sure that she thinks I want her dead. She also very much dislikes the idea of a lone stray cat living in her neighborhood.” You unlinked your arms with the ladies to gesture at yourself. “I was getting home late from work one night and she saw me, stepped outside to make sure I wasn’t going to dig through her trash bins.”

    “Oh,” Wanda said with a grimace, “goodness.”

    “I’m sure you’ll do fine, though,” you added quickly, “You’re lovely; I can’t imagine anyone not loving you.”

    Agnes rolled her eyes while you blushed and scratched your neck. You could already see her gearing up for a pre-Dottie tutoring session.

    And then she started with a look-over of Wanda’s outfit. “Wanda—”

    “Hm?”

    “—can I give you a bit of friendly advice?”     Wanda must have caught the look too because she glanced over her outfit, the outfit you quite liked. Raising a hand to her chest, she asked, “Is it about the way I’m dressed?”

    “Yes, but it’s too late for that.”

    You scowled as worry bloomed on Wanda’s face. Unfortunately, you yourself had to learn how important dress was at these social events. You’d expected it to be just a gathering of friendly neighbors but it’s much more like a secret society and you had to look just right to fit it. Now you regretted not telling her sooner; you’d failed your first and only attempt at making a good impression so were content wearing whatever you wanted for the most part but Wanda definitely deserve the poor treatment she was going to get. 

    “Dottie is the key to everything in this town,” Agnes continued, unphased. “Country club memberships.”

    Something you didn’t have.

    “Parties.”

    Something you didn’t go to.

    “School admissions.”

    Something you didn’t have to worry about any time soon but the way Agnes’s gaze drifted towards Wanda’s stomach made you wonder if the Maximoffs did. The thought made your stomach churn but you couldn’t figure out why.

    “Well let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Wanda interjected with a smile and roll of her eyes. She happened to look your way and you thought the smile softened with her gaze just a tad.

    You relaxed your shoulders.

    Agnes trudged on. “You get in with Dottie and it’ll be smooth sailing from here on out. Just mind your P’s and Q’s and you’re gonna do just fine.”

    “Or maybe I could just be myself, more or less.” 

    “I quite like that idea,” you offered. A wide-eyed glance from Agnes went unnoticed as you were too focused on the smile Wanda definitely gave you that time.

    “Oh, Wanda, [Y/N]” Agnes said with a laugh, “that’s good.”

    Wanda’s excitement for the event today seemed to lessen and you, apparently still high off the moment you thought you two had, gave her arm a gentle squeeze and an encouraging look. 

    She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she gave you an appreciative glance and pat on the hand. Your and her hands lingered for perhaps a second or two too long before they dropped back to your sides. 

    And then the queen and her merry homemakers sauntered their way out the front door.

    “Everybody, hurry up please!” Dottie sang over her shoulder as she quickly walked down the front steps, followed by a line of housewives carrying various covered dishes.

    Agnes twisted to look her way and waved. “Hiya, Dottie, your roses are divine!”

    Both you and Wanda offered a polite wave as Dottie thanked Agnes, although she didn’t stop to chat. Her eyes did do a scan of your trio, though, and you felt your ears burn when a distasteful look was sent your way. 

    Agnes gave you a sympathetic smile and Wanda a look that said “Good luck; you’ll need it!” before sliding her arms under one of each of Wanda’s and yours and tugging the two of you along.

    Your eyes wandered as one of the wives, Bev, talked animatedly about the setup for the talent show happening this weekend. Bored and feeling out of place, you looked over the group of women sitting a circle underneath the canopy tent by Dottie’s pool, purposely excluding Dottie and the woman talking, then the man jumping into said pool, then the man cleaning said pool. 

    You shouldn’t be here. This gathering really was a secret society of women of the neighborhood—not only women but wives in particular—to discuss homely and neighborhood business matters; you weren’t a wife and after screwing up with Dottie, you certainly weren’t involved in any of the other important business, nor did you have any interesting household gossip since you lived alone. The main you were here was because while out of place, you got along more decently with the wives than the husbands and when you’d first moved to town, Agnes thought you would be entertaining company to keep. She’d immediately hung you out to dry by telling her fellow women about you calling out their husbands’ poor attempts at comedy, which amused some of them enough to welcome you; in fact, Dottie had been one of those people, impressed by your initiative if nothing else, until you ruined your chances by ruining her dress. At the current meeting, you’d been specifically invited only because you were taking part in the talent show performance, which had also happened because Agnes heard you singing while doing garden work one day and somewhat strong-armed you in. 

    Your bored eyes eventually settled on watching Wanda, who sat a couple of chairs away on the other side of your mutual companion, and you were no longer bored. While you watched Wanda, she was watching Dottie like a hawk, awkwardly but cutely trying to mimic everything the other woman was doing. She stopped when Dottie started speaking, gripping the cup she was holding a lifeline and you chuckled moments before catty laughter erupted around you. You hadn’t heard what caused it, so you decided to tune back in.

    “The devil’s in the details, Bev,” Dottie criticized, masking disdain with the lightness of her voice. 

    You heard Agnes mutter to Wanda, “That’s not the only place he is.” You couldn’t help but snicker.

    Dottie was standing now and continued on, “As you all know, the talent show is the sole fundraiser for Westview Elementary…”

    Agnes passed a flask to Bev with a cheeky grin as she sat down next to you and after taking a sip, Bev offered it to you. You didn’t have to think twice before snagging a drink of your own and handing it back over to its home.

    “I hear you’re singing,” Bev chirped quietly to you, “For the talent show? I bet you’re a lovely singer, can’t wait to hear it.”

    You blushed slightly and thanked her but didn’t say much more to avoid Dottie’s wrath.

    The wrath that Wanda and her current companion, a woman with dark skin who looked oddly familiar but whose name you couldn’t place, weren’t able to avoid themselves, apparently. 

    “We only have a few hours until showtime,” Dottie said, “so a little less cross-chatter and a little more focus.” 

    As Dottie prattled on, you observed the two women curiously.

    “...is for the children,” Dottie finished.

    “For the children,” the other women echoed.

    “For the children,” Wanda added after everyone else had already spoken, earning several displeased looks.

    You didn’t bother to say anything, opting to take Agnes’s flask and have another sip.

    “So, I want you all to give yourselves a big hand—”

    Wanda, looking petrified, stopped in the middle of taking a bite of a cookie and started clapping. You hid your laugh behind a hand; she still had an entire cookie hanging from her mouth.

    “—at the appropriate time, of course,” Dottie chastised, then continued on yet again.

    Oh, darling Wanda, you thought with a grin, you poor, sweet thing, you. You rested your chin in your hand and watched as she made herself proper until Bev nudged you to take your elbow off the table. You huffed slightly but did so anyway, then tried to catch Wanda’s eye for a moment of solidarity, only to see her talking to the dark-skinned woman again. 

    Your gaze shifted from Wanda to the other woman and your brows furrowed. You swore you knew her from somewhere though try as you might, you just couldn’t place that face, those eyes, that awkward but friendly smile. Perhaps another newcomer to the area that you’ve seen t on the streets or at a shop? You couldn’t imagine where she moved into, though, as you were sure the last two open houses had been the ones occupied by you and Wanda and Vision.

    You felt a sharp pang in your temple and grunted softly. You weren’t about to have an episode here of all places, so you quickly looked away and put the thoughts aside.

    Just as Wanda and the stranger shook hands over their table. Uh-oh.

    “I’m Wanda.”

    “I’m, uh, Geraldine!”

    “And I’m irritated!”

    After getting scolded by Dottie a second time, Wanda locked her jaw and resigned to sitting in her seat with her hands tucked in her lap. She finally looked over at you with helplessness in her eyes.

    You responded with a mouthed “I told you so” and a wink, then silently told her that you’d talk to her after the meeting.

    A comforting face seemed to be what she needed because she relaxed again, though not completely. She settled in for the rest of the meeting and, finishing off Agnes’s flask, so did you.

    After the meeting was over, Dottie asked Wanda to sit back and help her clean up, which you knew meant Dottie doing nothing but being condescending while Wanda did all the work. While Agnes tried to get you to walk her home and then warned you against your plan, you were adamant about staying back and making sure Wanda got through the rest of her first Dottie encounter in one piece. At this point, you knew fitting in and having people’s positive opinions was important to Wanda; you oftentimes felt like that yourself. Unfortunately, Dottie wasn’t the type of person to give out positive opinions easily—you had to earn it, which was hard enough without accidentally interrupting the main meeting multiple times—and that protective feeling for Wanda that had come out of nowhere earlier today still hadn’t faded. You knew Wanda Maximoff of all people didn’t necessarily need you but you wanted to stick around, just in case she did.

    Maybe you were hoping that she would.

    That and you couldn’t help but take one last shot at getting on Dottie’s good side.

    “...and that is why you never do a seating chart on an empty stomach,” Dottie was finishing from her perch on the edge of a pool chair. 

    Wanda walked over to where you stood organizing a cart of dirty dishes so they didn’t all come tumbling down when whichever pretty busboy that Dottie paid finally came to take it away. She was huffing, carrying over yet another pile of dirty plates on a large tray; you skirted around the dish cart and quickly came to her aid, taking as much as your hands could carry from off the top. She offered a grateful smile that you returned before you both unloaded onto the cart.

    Who owned or even used this ungodly amount of dishes?

    A person who paid various pretty people to just be around, you concluded a moment later.

    As you continued to organize, Wanda turned back around to grab a pair of three-tiered dessert stands, both of which had a decent amount of desserts left on them. “Golly, you’re a wiz at all this committee stuff, Dottie. Thank you for choosing me to help you clean up today, I feel so lucky.”

    “You are,” Dottie agreed.

    Wanda turned back to you again and made a face, then stuck out her tongue. You choked down a laugh after catching Dottie’s steely gaze over Wanda’s shoulder, settling for a smile as you took the trays.

    Dottie was just as displeased as you’d expected she’d be that you insisted to stay behind and help.

    “I really should try to make amends before this is over, shouldn’t I?” Wanda muttered. She caught a few plates slipping from the top of a pile and rearranged them.

    “If you manage to do so, you really would be a Westview miracle,” you replied, taking a cup Wanda managed to catch before it tipped off the cart. “But first, how about I make you look ten times better, hm?”

    Wanda gave you a confused look but you just patted her hand before switching places with Wanda and going to grab another tray of dishes.

    You put on your friendliest smile as you began stacking as many cups as you could balance in one arm. “Say, Dottie—”

    “Be careful,” Dottie chimed back, “or at least let me get out of your way first. Wouldn’t want a repeat of our first meeting, hm?” She ended her sentence with a venom-laced laugh, then gave you a tight smile.

    You were pretty sure your eye twitched but you carried on, chuckling with her, “No, I suppose not. I really do apologize about that but you really shouldn’t hold such grudges. Worrying so much causes early-set wrinkles, you know.”

    Dottie’s smile tightened further. You heard Wanda gasp and choke from behind you.

    “Anyway, though, I really would like to make it up to you some time. My boss’s wife gave me two tickets to a food tasting event in town next weekend. I thought it might be something nice to do, plus it might give you some ideas for catering during the next event—”

    “My husband and I would love to go out next weekend, thank you so much. Feel free to drop the tickets in the mailbox the next time you come around.” Dottie paused, then added. “Mailbox, on the opposite side of the porch than the trash bins.”

    Your eye definitely twitched, maybe even both of them. You feigned an appreciative look as you finished stacking your dishes, then scowled as soon as you turned around and walked back to Wanda.

    “Now,” you grumbled, “I beg the sweet release of death to come in a more timely manner. Oh, and whatever you do can’t possibly be worse than me, although I’m sure that was the case either way.”

    “You poor thing.” Was all Wanda could manage, giving your arm a squeeze. “Guess it’s my turn.”

    “Good luck, darling,” you said, then almost immediately regretted it. You don’t know why you decided to fake a British accent, nor why you felt the need to call her darling, but you couldn’t take back either of them now.

    Wanda blinked, then laughed— before it was cut off by Dottie telling you both to get back to work.

    “It’s more dahrling, less dahling,” Wanda teased. “British people do still use R’s.”

    “Fascinating.”

    Wanda grinned, gave you a final pat on the arm, then turned around to take her shot with Dottie. “I can’t help but wonder if you and I haven’t gotten off on the wrong foot, Dottie, and I would like to correct that if I can.”

    A much better approach than you, you noted with an impressed nod. You walked a little ways off to grab another cart to even out the load of dishes; the current one seemed to sag under the weight.

    “And how would you do that?” Dottie asked and you heard the rustle of fabrics rubbing together as she stood. “I’ve heard things about you. You and your husband.”

    You stopped from your place behind the canopy’s pulled-back curtain. What on earth could she be talking about?

    Wanda has the same thought. “Well, I don’t know what… you’ve been told… but I assure you, I don’t mean anyone… any harm.”

    Your brows knitted together and you shuffled around the canopy’s aluminum frame to hear a little better. You couldn’t imagine Wanda hurting anybody, not on purpose anyway.

    A pang in your temple. A surge of that fierce protectiveness.

    You poked your head out just slightly from behind the canopy. All you could see was Wanda’s back and Dottie’s determined expression from beyond Wanda’s shoulder, and the fact that they were standing very close together.

    “I don’t believe you,” Dottie stated simply. 

    As if on cue, the radio on the table started acting up, the music cutting to static combined with a jumble of noises. Like many things today, though, it sounded strange, as if it was coming from all around you, or directly from inside your skull. It stopped almost immediately as it started and music, regular-sounding music, returned. Normal, you thought, until you focused harder, and noticed a voice creeping from the background. It continued to creep closer, get louder like a person walking towards you would, until it was as loud as the static had been and the music was no longer audible. Your head throbbed as the voice sounded like it was coming out of your brain instead of into your ears but you couldn’t anything other than tighten your grip on the canopy.

    The voice said, “Wanda. Wanda. Who’s doing this to you, Wanda? Wanda. Wanda. Wan—”

    The radio shorted out, there was the sound of the glass Dottie was shattered, and there was another thunderclap in your head as the world around briefly flared into color. Color, not shades of gray, but then the gray was back as quickly as it had left. You didn’t know whether Dottie or the bizarre radio’s frequencies had crushed the glass or whether it had just been dropped, but you were walking over with a cloth in hand before you’d even gotten your senses back in order. 

    “Dottie,” Wanda gasped, her eyes flitting about.

    Dottie caught a glimpse of the overly saturated blood spreading out from the gash in her palm—and seemed only mildly annoyed.

    Wanda kept making sounds like she was trying to speak but didn’t quite know how to. She spun around to grab something to press to the wound and almost ran into you. She stared at you, cloth in hand, with wide eyes filled with equal amounts of fear and surprise, like your existence had been completely forgotten until that moment. Then Wanda grabbed the cloth, and your hand in the process; she gave you a silent thank you, your hand a squeeze so tight you felt her fingernails dig into the skin, then turned back to Dottie and pressed the cloth to her bloody palm.

    Dottie grabbed her hand and said, somehow completely aware of the situation and also seeming totally spaced out, “Pop quiz, Wanda: How does a housewife get a bloodstain out of white linen? By doing it herself.”

    Then she smiled and walked into her house. 

    You and Wanda stood in silence and it was then that you realized you felt the same way you figured Dottie did, similar to how you felt earlier today when you saw the toy helicopter in Wanda’s yard. You felt light and spacey and almost dizzy but without the world spinning, almost like you were a mind outside of your body, or a consciousness inside of a body that wasn’t yours. Time didn’t slow but rather sped up; you didn’t know when you’d started walking to Wanda’s aid and you didn’t remember the feeling of ever grabbing the cloth that you’d given her, and the whole event seemed to have fixed itself as soon as it started with the end result being your mind painfully aware of something being wrong but your body refusing to act like anything was. 

All you’d really felt was your head throbbing, not with pain but with pressure, and the desperate urge to help Wanda. Then you did and everything was over.

Wanda.

You repeated her name in the form of a question; it felt different this time. She didn’t respond or really even move aside from reaching back towards you. You rushed over and grasped her arm and she let out a choked gasp.

“[Y/N].” She said it as if trying it out for the first time. It took her a bit longer to pry her eyes away from the spot where Dottie had been, then she held a hand to her mouth and looked at you. “What just happened?”

“I’m… I’m not sure myself.”

It took a bit longer again for her to speak, her eyes darting from you to the door Dottie had disappeared to and back. “Would you walk me home? Please?”

“Of course, Wanda.”

The walk home was quiet. The two of you had your arms linked as you did on the walk over but now Wanda gripped your arm with her other hand too. Like at Dottie’s pool, it was almost eerily silent except for your and Wanda’s footsteps. Tou could have chalked it up to being because everyone was already in town setting up for the talent show, something about it had you glancing around ever so often, as though you could catch someone peering at you through the bushes or through the crack of a partially opened manhole at any moment.

When you got to Wanda’s door, you had a quick chat about the talent show—as if none of the day’s earlier events had happened; she was very excited to hear you sing—and then she headed up the steps to her door. You gave her a wave and turned to walk home.

“[Y/N]?”

You stopped and turned back around, eyebrows raised slightly.

Wanda walked the three steps back down from her door and gave you a hug. “Thank you for being around today.”

“‘Scuse me, coming through!”

Of course, you’d be late. Of course, you’d get home, start practicing for your performance, pass out on your couch, and wake up five minutes before the show started with a suit and dress combo to still pull on and a few instruments to properly secure in their trunk.

You weaved your way between folks who were either going to the talent show or trying to ignore it and stumbled your way upstairs to the backstage.

Wanda was standing there in a magician’s assistant costume that almost had you on your knees and begging for mercy before you remembered you had a show to do that you were also very late for. She and the Black woman she’d been talking to at Dottie’s meeting—Geraldine, Wanda had informed you later—spun on you with an expectant gasp, only to slump in disappointment when they saw it was you.

“Golly, thanks for the warm welcome,” you muttered, setting your trunk down and popping it open. “Suppose I deserve it for missing most of the show, though.”

“I’m so sorry, [Y/N],” Wanda said as she paced over, “You look fab and I’m sure your performance will be a blast—”

“If I’m still performing?” you asked, directing the question at Geraldine with a hopeful smile.

“If you’re ready before the husband gets here, you can take their place,” Geraldine offered, “If not, you can finish the show off.”

Finishing the talent show, not nerve-wracking at all.

“Vision’s not here?” You gave Wanda a questioning look as you walked past her to look

at yourself in a full-body mirror on the other side of the stage to make sure your look was still in order. The top half of your outfit was a full, simple, black and white tuxedo with a matching black fedora that slightly offset on top of your hair; one of Dottie’s white roses, which you acquired after stuffing her and her husband’s food taster tickets in her mailbox on your way into town, poked out from the hat’s band. The bottom half was a simple skirt—actually, the skirt and undershirt of your outfit was a dress that your mother had pieced together and sent you for your “big night”—that was fashionable for the time but in a sleek shade of black that matched the rest of your tuxedo and with a white band around the hem, paired with a sheer stocking of a plaid pattern and low-heeled shoes that you would return to the shop tomorrow. Finally, for a little touch of color and a little for pop, a golden bejeweled broach was pinned to a crimson pocket square poked out of the chest pocket of your tuxedo jacket, golden geometric earrings hung from your lobes, and a couple of bejeweled bracelets and rings in the same colors adorned your hands. You wore bright, unglossed lipstick and nail polish to match, despite that not being in fashion. Luckily everything still seemed in order.

Wanda gave an exaggerated shrug as you walked back over to your instrument trunk. “Nowhere to be found, like he vanished!”

As if summoned, Vision came wobbling around the corner and up the steps. Well, he almost did; it took him two tries to get up the steps without falling back down.

“Oh, is that him?” Geraldine asked, her face twisting into a look of concern. “Looks like he’s gots a little hitch in his giddyup. Whoa!”

You twisted around, ukulele in hand to check if it was tuned, just as Vision was making it upstairs the second time. You smiled, quirking an eyebrow, only to stumble as the British man threw his arm around you to steady himself. 

“Wanda, my little cabbage, you look smashing!” Vision exclaimed, his words slurring together just slightly. He began swaying and decided to lean almost his full weight on you; when you grunted and moved the instrument you were holding out of the danger zone of getting smacked is when Vision appeared to notice that he was balancing against a person instead of the railing by the stairs. He leaned his face closer and squinted at you—now that you weren’t concerned about going onstage immediately, it was significantly easier to get flustered by Vision and his, yes, absolutely smashing wife—then grinned and said, “Why it’s [Y/N] too, and looking equally as ravishing!”

You tried to keep yourself in check. “Heya cool head, not your wife. That being said, I’d say you look smashing yourself but you just seem positively smashed.”

“Oh, I know,” Vision replied, “I already told her that she looked nice. You heard me right, honey?” He went from so close to your face that his bangs were getting in your eye to only a hand gripping your shoulder as he flung his limbs wide, which was apparently a necessary move to look at his wife’s face.

You gave Wanda a look that was equal parts worried and amused. The look she returned was just worried. 

Wanda walked over to you and helped maneuver you out of Vision’s grip so you could continue tuning your ukulele—actually, it was Vision’s that you were borrowing—then tugged her husband so you were at least a couple feet out of reach. “Vis, where have you been?”

“Oh, uh… me and the boys were playing a rather thrilling game of horses and shoes,” Vision responded, talking in a way that sounded like he was trying to talk under his breath while still speaking at full volume. “No, wait, that’s not it. Shoe horses! Oh, hrn… Ah! Horse’s shoes!” He put two thumbs up and smiled lopsidedly, clearly pleased with himself.

“Horseshoes,” you offered from your corner by the railing. You were done playing with the ukulele and checked to make sure your tambourine was safe and sound.

“Oh, yes!” Vision was his thumbs up towards you, both arms stretched out as far as they could reach. “Brilliant, you’re absolutely brilliant, [Y/N]! Aren’t they brilliant, Wanda, very brilliant and very nice-looking?” 

“Well, uh, yes, I suppose,” Wanda agreed awkwardly, glancing over at you before pulling Vision back to face her; you swore you even saw her cheeks turn a shade darker. “Listen, something strange happened with Dottie.”

You were too busy biting back a smile to hear the rest of the conversation. You rearranged your hat and jacket back into place from Vision knocking them askew, then brushed any wrinkles out of your skirt. You glanced over at Geraldine, who was peeking through the curtains at the main part of the stage.

“I was just playing with his shoes!” Vision suddenly hollered, as the members of the previous act, including someone dressed in a horse costume, made their way around the stage.

“What is going on?” Wanda cried.

Geraldine responded in kind, “You are!”

You considered taking their places so Wanda had time to knock some sense into her husband but you knew if you went out now, you would sound like fingers on a chalkboard, and going out on stage at all was bad enough. Instead, you walked over and gave the couple an encouraging pat on the shoulder and a “Good luck!” before making your way down the steps and around to the viewing area to find a place to sit.

Dottie was onstage. Her hand seemed fine now. “I want to thank you all for coming out to support Westview Elementary, for the children.”

“For the children,” the crowd echoed, mostly deadpan.

“I have yet to see a child,” you stated at the same time, sitting back in an extra chair off to the side of the stage as to not annoy audience members with the vocal warmups you were about to start doing.

Dottie continued, “And for our final act—”

Geraldine scurried out from behind the curtains at muttered something in Dottie’s ear before rushing away again.

Dottie quickly picked you on the sidelines and gave a strained smile, although the daggers she was glaring made you sink down in your chair. “Sorry, everyone. For our next to final act, I give you Wanda and Vision.”

Wanda sauntered out from behind the curtains and down to the front of the stage, then planted herself slightly off to the side and threw one hand up as an entrance cue to Vision. At first, he didn’t appear and Wanda’s bravado faltered slightly as she looked out into the crowd.

You caught her eye and gave her an assuring nod.

Then Vision flying out of curtains and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Hello Westview! Good afternoon!” Still introducing, he stumbled down to the main part of the stage, bumping into a railing at some point and apologizing to it. He sort of settled and continued, “I am Glamour and this is my delightful assistant Illusion.”

“I am Glamour,” Wanda chimed in, talking and moving with even more animation than she normally would, “and he’s Illusion.”

“Yeah, what she said,” Vision said simply, then rambled on, “Tonight, we will lie to you, and yet you will believe our little deceptions because human beings are easily fooled due to their limited understanding of the inner workings of the universe.” He ended this definitely off-script statement with a matter-of-fact shrug and nod. 

You regretted not going on first.

“Flourish!” Vision suddenly hollered, waving his hands in such a way. 

This was going to be chaos, you decided, and it was.

Wanda and Vision’s act was a mess but at least it was an entertaining one. While the act did go on, Vision spent most of his time prattling on and yelling “Flourish!” while Wanda tried to keep things in check. Some of the tricks were good and even impressive at times before the “inner workings of the universe” became clear moments later. Vision’s first trick was to float up into the air, only for a pulley system to be revealed as Wanda moved a sign offstage. For the second, he picked up a piano with one hand only for the jarringly realistic instrument only for Wanda to slip up while carrying the one-dimensional prop away and show its bare wooden back with a large handle to grasp. 

At one point, though, Vision trotted offstage and tried to perform a card trick for a friend while Wanda was helpless to stop him, but the end result was him going through an entire deck of cards trying to find the correct one. Then he went to pull Señor Scratchy out of his hat, only to find his hat laying on stage and Agnes’s rabbit hopping across it until Wanda managed to catch him and take him backstage. 

Regardless of which tricks hit and which went wonky, the crowd, you included, seemed to love the Maximoff duo and hung onto the entire act. There were gasps and awes and you were personally still dumbfounded by the one where Vision pulled a hat through his body; the backstage curtains happened to fall at the perfect time to reveal a multitude of mirrors, only one of which that you knew had been back there previously, but a dull throb in the back of your head warned you to just let the mystery slide. After all, it wasn’t as fun if you spent the entire show pondering.

For Vision and Wanda’s final trick, Wanda brought out a large box called the Cabinet of Mysteries. At first, Vision stated that he was going to make his wife disappear but then he started locking up the Cabinet without her inside.

You caught Wanda’s act begin to slip again as her smile faltered and she began scanning the crowd. No else did, though, because Agnes suddenly hollered an offer of audience participation in the form of her husband, which caused everyone including Vision to laugh.

Then Vision was back to his trick, slapping the Cabinet’s side with a plastic wand and yelling, “Abrakadabra!” 

“Uh, sweetheart,” Wanda murmured without breaking her pose.

Vision responded loudly, “Yeah?”

“Hi.”

“Oh.”

There was an awkward pause and you chewed your lip as you glanced around. People were waiting for the finale and Vision had just messed it up big time.

A chant of “What’s in the box?” started up.

Then you happened to look back to the stage just in time to make eye contact with Wanda as she looked around.

She grinned.

And then you were somewhere else, surrounded by darkness and wood panels.

You were only there for a moment but your eyes still needed a moment to adjust as Wanda and Vision open the Cabinet of Mysteries’ doors and you were greeted with a gasping and then applauding crowd. You blinked and, disoriented but not wanting to ruin Wanda and Vision’s successful grand finale, you put on your best smile and hopped out of the wooden box to strike a flourished pose.

“Ah-ha,” Vision voiced, seeming just as surprised as the crowd before grinning walking stepping up to your side.

Wanda stepped up to your other side and when you raised an eyebrow at her, she gave you a cheeky grin and mouthed, “Magic.” The wink she gave you afterward could have sent you to the moon but you still had your own performance to do. She made sure you were reminded of that by holding up a microphone.

Wanda and Vision each slipped an arm around your waist and you did the same to them despite their touch feeling very warm underneath the jacket of your uniform, and with one last “Flourish!” from Vision, the three of you bowed.     The three of you bowed two more times before standing fully again. Wanda and Vision began to move away from you but you slid your arms to grab their own, keeping them there.

Wanda leaned in slightly, talking through her smile. “What are you doing?”

“Grab the tambourine in my trunk and go sit by Agnes. Ask her to inform you and wait for the cue.” When Wanda looked at you with a raised brow, you mimicked her cheeky grin and wink, mouthing, “Music.”

Vision leaned in now, although way too close. “What are we doing?”

“Tambourine, apparently,” Wanda responded, stepping away from you. You figured they were going to go and do as you asked but instead, Wanda continued, “Vis, take the cabinet and grab the tambourine; I have an introduction to do.”

Vision stood around for a moment before doing what Wanda told him to and Wanda slipped her arm around your waist once more and brought you a few steps farther to the front of the stage.

Now sitting at the edge of it was Vision’s ukulele and the mic stand, probably courtesy of Geraldine.

With you close at her side and you unsure where to put your hands, Wanda attached the microphone she held to the stand and turned it on. “As Dottie has said several times tonight, thank you once more for coming to support Westview Elementary, for the children.”

“For the children,” the audience echoed, still mostly deadpan.

“I still haven’t seen a single one,” you muttered. This earned you a pinch to the hip from the hand around your waist and you suddenly felt like your body was the same temperature as the surface of the sun.

“Now,” Wanda continued without missing a beat, “allow me to introduce helper of Illusion and Glamour’s grand finale and the final final act of tonight’s talent show, [Y/N]!”

The audience clapped and Wanda did with it as she detached from your side and slipped backstage after giving you an electric smile. Suddenly, you were much more aware of being on a stage in front of your entire town, save for the two people you actually wanted to see in it.

“Um, yes, hello,” you said into the mic, standing a little too close. You didn’t know it was possible to feel the amount of heat burning behind your cheeks and ears, and you wished to could shed your jacket but figured that would ruin the ensemble. You shook your head to clear it as you bent down to pick up your ukulele—

—and when you stood back up, you spotted Wanda and Vision—who seemed to have sobered up somehow—sitting at Agnes’s table with a tambourine on the table between them.

You bit back a smile as your gaze flitted between them; they each gave you a smile in turn before you continued, “Um, so, as you heard, I am the final act. My name is [Y/N] and I will be performing a song, “Can’t Take My Eyes off You” by Frankie Valli, acoustic on ukulele.”

You strummed the ukulele once, just to make sure it was still in tune, then you began to play. You leaned back from the mic to clear your throat and after a couple of bars, you came in:

“You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At long last, love has arrived

And I thank God I'm alive

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

Pardon the way that I stare

There's nothin' else to compare

The sight of you leaves me weak

There are no words left to speak

But if you feel like I feel

Please let me know that it's real

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you”

    You were a bit pitchy in the beginning but it didn’t take you too long to find where you needed to be, then it was smooth sailing from there; you even put a bit of a beat into it with a tap of your foot, which with a hard heel on a wooden floor in front of a silent crowd wasn’t too difficult to hear. At first, you kept your gaze pointed directly ahead and slightly above the crowd but as you began to relax and get into it, you couldn’t help but catch glances of a tapping foot here or a finger tapping on a glass cup there. Finally, your eyes drifted to where they wanted to be and you couldn’t look away from the pair seated next to Agnes even if you’d wanted to.

Vision was bopping along as he would when he was teaching you the chords and notes you were looking for, both feet and all ten fingers tapping, though his smile was particularly bright. Wanda was looking at you some type of sweet way, with that soft expression she’d had when you’d caught her in a dip earlier just today. 

“I love you, baby

And if it's quite alright

I need you, baby

To warm the lonely night

I love you, baby

Trust in me when I say

Oh, pretty baby

Don't bring me down, I pray

Oh, pretty baby

Now that I've found you, stay

And let me love you, baby

Let me love you”

        You wanted the first part of the song to be softer but as you hit the second part of the chorus you smoothly added in a little action. You put a little flourish in your strumming—and almost missed a word because the idea of calling it a flourish made you almost laugh—added a little more power to your voice, and cued Agnes in, who began clapping along to the proper beat. It didn’t take too long for your audience, especially those who’d you caught tapping along earlier, to join in until the entire crowd was doing it, and happened you catch Vision’s eye while he clapping along a little more animated than everyone else. He grinned, a little bashful by the look of it. 

    Once she’d gotten everyone in, Agnes stopped clapping herself and instead pulled a tambourine of her own out of her handbag. You watched her nudge Wanda, who stopped her clapping and picked up the other tambourine, then followed Agnes’s lead until she got a hang of it. You’d think two tambourines would be a little hard to hear over a sea of clapping but it was Agnes and Wanda and as usual, they figured out a way. 

    You knew you’d chosen a popular song and you knew that some people would know it in full but despite Agnes trying to convince you that she’d have everyone joining in, you definitely didn’t expect the entire crowd to be able to stay in sync and follow the ebbs and flows of the entire song. It really was a bit of a magical moment and you found with that thought, you found your eyes settling on Wanda, who was jamming away on her tambourine and dancing in her seat, without missing a beat.

    She must have noticed because she raised her head and looked back at you.

    The song ended not long after and you couldn’t help clapping for the crowd as they did for you. You took your second set of bows on stage that day, hollered a “Thank you” to the crowd, and took off to the section of backstage that was still hidden by curtains with a wave as Dottie took your place to do the talent show’s conclusion. With layers of dark fabric now between you and the rest of the talent show, you could only hear muffled voices, which was perfectly fine with you as you were too busy tossing your tux jacket and hat aside and shaking out the tautness in your limbs caused by the nerves of performing on your own in front of a decently sized crowd. Although, technically, you and the crowd were performing by the end of it.

    You tried to tune in to Dottie’s voice as you bounced over to look yourself over in one of the mirrors left over from Vision and Wanda’s performance. Your outfit was intact, albeit a little bit ruffled from the dancing around you just finished doing, with your hair looking a bit flat from being stuck under a hat. Your face was flushed with a warmth that you felt from your toes to your hairline but what little makeup you wore looked just as it did earlier minus your lipstick having faded somewhat. The best and worst part of your current state, you thought, came from that part; the smile you were wearing was radiant but it was lasting so long that your cheeks were starting to hurt, and even if you purposely tried to frown it away, it popped back up a few seconds later.

    Especially when you thought about how much Wanda and Vision were enjoying themselves, because of you.

    “Um, excuse me.”

    Your gaze turned its attention to look at the reflection of Geraldine, who was standing behind you, in the mirror. “Oh, hey.”

    She smiled, pleased that you didn’t seem disrupted. “Your singing was really twitchin’, you had the whole crowd into it!”

    “I think that was more Agnes’s glaring than anything, but thanks.” You sent a less starstruck smile at her in the mirror, then picked up your hat to fan yourself as you turned around to face her.

    “Agnes is way out herself,” Geraldine agreed, though you saw her smile falter and caught her fingers tapping nervously on the clipboard she held. “She could probably out-power Dottie if she really wanted to.”

    “She doesn’t,” you affirmed, “she likes to use Dottie as a reason to sneak drinks into social gatherings too much.”

    Geraldine smiled again but she wouldn’t fully look at you and when she did, her eyes looked like they were searching for something.

    “You okay?” When Geraldine looked at you, surprised, you nodded to her hands that couldn’t seem to keep still. “Seem a little unglued and you keep looking at me funny.”

    “Oh, uh, well,” Geraldine stammered a bit, then stopped. She took a deep breath, then tried again, “I know we saw each other at Dottie’s earlier and before you went onstage but… Do you know me?”

    Your eyebrows rose high up on your forehead. 

    “It’s just,” she continued, sounding like she was forcing herself to talk slower, “you look familiar to me and I’m wondering if you think the same thing.”

    “I… I suppose I did when I first saw you,” you said, setting your hat aside. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, you couldn’t help glancing around; specifically, you looked towards the curtains separating you and Geraldine from the outside world and wished that wasn’t the case. “I figured we’d met in passing, tooling or something.”

    When you looked back at Geraldine, it was as if your personalities had changed. You were the meek one, shifting around unsettled, while she stood watching you with a thoughtfulness that was far from the nervousness you saw in her earlier. “I don’t know where I’m from or why I’m here. Do you?”

    You couldn’t be sure whether she was asking you about yourself or her but your head was suddenly too foggy to care. Foggy and throbbing with a pain that made darkness tinge the corners of your vision. You went to step to the side and steady yourself on a nearby chair but found yourself reeling backwards. You smashed into the mirror behind you, which smashed into the wall behind it and shattered; you managed to stumble away from it before you got too badly hurt but you still felt shocks of pain up your right arm and a particularly bad one in your hand as you caught glass.

Before you could run into something else or completely lose balance and fall to the ground, you slowly maneuvered to the floor and braced yourself on one knee and your unharmed hand and you were vaguely aware that Geraldine had disappeared. You squinted through blurriness at your other arm and watched as spots of blood bloomed across the white fabric of your sleeve, weeped from the gash across your palm.

No, wait.

Not only blood but color spread out your bleeding wounds. Flesh tone bled from your palm and color wetted the jewels on your bracelets and rings, color seeped from a tattered tear in your shirt and faded into the wooden floor in your line of vision, as if everything was on one piece of paper and watercolor paint was bleeding across the lines of a sketch.

“[Y/N?]” Vision’s voice called, “Are you back here?”

You tried to hide your hurt arm behind your back and jerked your head in the direction of voices getting closer. You immediately regretted the sudden movement and tried to blink away pain—

When you opened your eyes, you were standing, completely fine, in front of the mirror, completely unbroken, and fanning yourself with your hat with your other arm, completely unharmed, at your side. When your eyes flitted around, looking for Geraldine in the mirror’s reflection, she was nowhere backstage.

Instead, your eyes settled on Vision and Wanda walking through the curtains, smiling and animatedly chatting and holding a small trophy between them.

Once they were through the fabric they looked around, Vision’s bright eyes settling on you just a moment before Wanda’s did.

You could have melted. Whatever concern or worries you had just a moment earlier certainly did. 

“[Y/N],” Wanda beamed, “look at what we won!” She pointed and Vision raised the trophy for you to properly see; you managed to read “Inaugural Comedy Performance of the Year” etched into its base before the pair walked over.

You turned to meet them, placing your hat back on your head and snagging your tuxedo jacket to slip back into. “A trophy, congrats!”

“We tried to get you to come up on stage with us,” Vision said, “but we couldn’t find you!”

He certainly seemed to have sobered up since you last stood face to face with him.

You apologized, “Sorry, I had to come backstage. I was overheated and far too overwhelmed by the crowd, I don’t think I could have it up there again either way!”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Her expression shifted from proud to worried in a moment and she went to press a hand to your forehead before she seemed to decide against it. “Are you feeling any better?”

You felt the need to take a quick glance around backstage, though you couldn’t explain why. Then you nodded. “I am, much. Actually, since I wasn’t able to join you on stage and congratulate you there, how about we all get changed into clothes a little less eye-catching and we have dinner at my place, hm? I’ll cook and everything.”

“They can cook?” Vision teased to Wanda without lowering his voice at all.

“They can,” you responded, giving his side a quick jab, then smiled and slid around them. Stopping at the edge of the stage, you offered out your arms to them both. “At least a little bit. Shall we?” 

Wanda faked a thinking pose and when Vision caught on he did the same.

“We-ell,” Wanda sang, tilting her head from side to side, “Oh, alright, we shall.” She walked over, tugging Vision along with her, and they each linked arms with you.

    The three of you headed offstage. 

    “I disagree about changing, though,” Vision claimed suddenly; both you and Wanda gave him a look. “I think we all look—”

    “Smashing?” offered Wanda.

    “Ravishing?” you suggested.

    “—absolutely neato,” Vision finished, nodding. “And I think we should show off to the town!”

    You shook your head but you were smiling. “I already showed off to the town enough today.”

    “And I’m still showing off too much,” Wanda agreed. She kicked one stocking-covered leg out for good measure.

    “Oh, fine.” Vision scoffed. 

    He certainly did not admit defeat, though, and spent the rest of the walk home trying to convince the two of you.

    Wanda and Vision, without his human disguise, danced into their home after a lovely dinner at [Y/N]’s—they could cook a bit!—and as they walked through the door, Wanda spun herself into Vision’s arm.

    Vision slightly dipped her and said in a voice that was an octave or two lower, “You were tremendous Glamour.”

    “As were you, Illusion,” Wanda responded with a pearly smile. She stood up straight and walked over to put their new trophy on the coffee table as Vision shut the front door. “Oh, I don’t know what I was so worried about. It wasn’t so hard to fit in after all!”

    Wanda sat and got comfortable on the couch and Vision soon followed. “And all we had to do was be ourselves.”

    “Well, with a few modifications,” Wanda said as she curled in closer under her husband’s arm.

    “And it was all for the children,” Vision said. Halfway through the phrase, Wanda joined in, then they chuckled and gently bumped their foreheads together.

    Then Wanda leaned back into the couch and Vision’s side, quiet. She glanced around the room, absentmindedly playing with Vision’s fingers.

    “Wanda, darling, is something wrong?”

    Vision’s voice brought her attention back to him. She smiled, leaned in, and gave him a peck on the lips, then looked at their joined hands. Her smile faltered; she felt like something was missing.

    “[Y/N] made this funny point at the talent show, about the ‘for the children’ thing; ‘I haven’t seen one yet’ or something like it,” she said out of the blue. “They were an angel with me today.”

    “Oh?” Vision responded softly. He seemed to cue into her befuddled emotions and leaned back, looking at her intently. 

    “At Dottie’s,” she clarified, then added, “They also walked me home because I was a little shaken up. Very sweet.”

    “That’s right,” Vision said, “You said something strange happened at Dottie’s today?”

    “More like a few weird things,” Wanda confirmed, then recounted the details. Most of them anyway; she kept out the part about the radio talking to her for the sake of her and Vision’s sanity. It sounded legitimately insane and was probably the result of her fear at the time making her imagine things.

    Then again, Dottie had heard it as well… She couldn’t confirm that [Y/N] had.

    “My, that is indeed bizarre,” Vision said. His hairless brow furrowed. “Is Dottie alright?”

    “Well, she must be,” Wanda replied, “She was perfectly fine at the show today and didn’t say a word about it, so…”

    Vision gave a thoughtful nod, then shrugged. “Must be.”

    They both faded into cozy, albeit wondering, silence. Wanda began playing with Vision’s fingers again and she happened to look towards the front door.

    “Hey Vis?”

    “Hm?”

    “Do you think [Y/N]’s attractive?”

    Vision took in an unneeded breath so fast that he almost choked on his tongue. He spluttered, “Pardon?”

    “You know,” Wanda continued, turning back in his direction but not looking at him, “A fox. A hunk. Ravishing.”

    If Vision could blush he probably would have. He removed his arm from around Wanda’s shoulders and scratched the side of his face. “I was feeling weird when I said that. You know, the gum. I didn’t mean—well that’s not to say they’re not attractive either! Because they are. I mean, they look fine, I certainly wouldn’t say unattractive by any means, and I quite like their company. But love, I didn’t mean anything serious by it, I didn’t mean to offend—”

    “I think they’re attractive,” Wanda stated simply, bringing Vision’s rambling to a quick halt. Her gaze drifted back towards the front door and she briefly used her magic to view the home across the street. Some of the lights were still on; she imagined their dinner companion was in the kitchen, washing up the dishes from their meal.

    She wouldn’t mind cooking with [Y/N] or washing dishes with them after meals. Or having both Vision and them coming home in the evenings. 

    “Oh. Um, well… Oh?”

    “Quite like their company too,” Wanda went on, agreeing with one of Vision’s earlier statements. Her eyes moved to the plant [Y/N] had brought them not long after they’d first moved in; the plant had outgrown its old pot at this point but had its original ribbon still intact on the current one. “And they’ve always got manners and compliments and they’re always getting so nervous that they're going to come off the wrong way.”

    “Yes,” Vision said slowly, “They treat me the same way. Sometimes, if I’m not working, I’ll come to work the next day and have files on my desk with little notes clipped to them. And they’ll sometimes even bring me a snack or a water cup after coming back from their break or lunch, even though I’ve never even pretended to drink or eat in front of them.”

    “Well, to be fair,” Wanda said, “regular humans do just randomly eat and drink things, and they do think you’re a regular human.” 

    “I often wish they didn’t, though,” Vision mumbled, rubbing his jaw, “because I’m not a big fan of lying to them and pretending as I do. I keep their snacks in my drawer until I’m heading home and then throw it out on the way because I don’t want them to see and feel bad.”

    Wanda nodded, understanding. “I’m not exactly jazzed about lying to them either.” 

    They simultaneously sighed and slumped together.

    What odd feelings, Wanda thought, for a married couple to have about their neighbor across the street.

    “Wanda?”

    “Yes, dear?”

    “Do you feel the same way about them as you do me?”

    Wanda tilted her head from side to side and tapped her chin as she thought. “Not how I feel about you now, no. But how I felt about when I first met you? Maybe. Or, at least, something like it.”

    Vision hummed. “They feel a bit familiar, don’t they?”

    “And we have such a good time together, the three of us,” Wanda added.

    A small spell of silence again.

    Then Wanda said, “I think we should ask them on a date.”

    Vision almost choked on his tongue again. “You think we should— I mean— You and me? As you and me together or you and me separately?”

    “Why not both?”

    Wanda’s husband’s eyes bugged out of his head. If they weren’t in the middle of a serious conversation, she may have laughed.

    “Can we… Can we even do that?” Vision asked.

    “I mean, I don’t see why not,” Wanda answered, shrugging. “It’s not illegal to date another person. Just marry them, I think. Actually, I’m not even sure if it’s illegal to do that.”

    “But isn’t that… An affair? Of sorts?” Vision squinted, quickly glancing between his wife and the window, whose curtains shielded his view from the person in question’s home. It almost felt disrespectful talking about [Y/N] without them present, which was odd in itself. 

    “No, not if we’re both dating the person in question, I don’t think,” Wanda said. Her brows knitted together a bit but then she perked up and placed her hands on Vision’s thigh. “I know when we can do it!”

    “When?”

    “We forgot to get your ukulele back,” She responded with a big smile. “We can go get it and ask them on a date.”

    “What would we even do on a… three-way date?” Vision cringed at himself. He would never call them a three-way again.

    “Picnic,” Wanda offered, then listed off, “Dinner out. A walk. Trip to a passion pit for a movie. Dancing but that would require one of us to know how to dance. Maybe [Y/N] knows how to dance!”

    “I know how to dance,” Vision said with a scowl.

    “No, hon, you don’t, but you’re wonderful all the same,” Wanda said and kissed him on the nose. “Besides, the three of us have almost been attached at the hip since we’ve gotten to know each other; it wouldn’t exactly be odd for us to go out and do things together. Hell, we did the talent show together today and it went very well!”

    “The gum?”

    “It went decently well!”

    Wanda could see Vision warming up to the idea just as much as she was. She could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to come up with dates fit for three people.

    After a moment, Vision gave her a solid nod. “Alright then! When we see them to get my ukulele, we’ll ask them on a date.”

    “Yay!” Wanda clapped. “A date!” She hopped up from her seat and, drifting back to their previous conversation, she said, “Well, I think the children need some popcorn!” Vision said her name and she spun back to look at him. “Hm, what?”

    Vision slowly stood and looked pointedly down at her stomach. She did too, then gasped and touched her ballooned out stomach. She looked as if she were a few months pregnant and after holding her stomach for a bit longer, she knew she was. Wanda looked up at her husband with a mixture of fear and wonder in her eyes; the look on his face mimicked her own.

    “Vision,” she said softly, “is this really happening?”

    Vision searched her face as he gently grasped her hands. His mouth quirked up just slightly as he answered, “Yes, my love, it’s really happening.”

    They leaned for a kiss.

    They were interrupted by a crash outside. 

    Both Wanda and Vision jumped as they looked towards the door. Then Vision scowled and released Wanda’s hands to walk over to the door.

    “If it’s that damn tree again,” he loudly grumbled, “I am going to… rip it out by the roots!”

    He walked outside and Wanda quickly followed.

    You jumped back from your sink, almost dropping a dish in shock from the crash that had just come out front. You couple a couple breaths to calm yourself, then put your dish and drying rag down and headed to the living room.

    “I swear,” you warned, loud enough so the trees outside could hear you, “I’ll come out there with a chainsaw! I don’t have one but I’ll find one and I’ll do it!”

    You walked to the front door. You peeled back the curtain hanging from its window to see Wanda and Vision—who looked strange, though it was too dark outside to tell why—walking outside their own home and out to the sidewalk. You watched them, debating on whether to walk outside as well and help investigate or not.

    “I don’t see anything!” you heard Wanda holler. Almost immediately, her and her husband’s gaze were drawn to a manhole cover in the middle of the street.

    You followed their gaze and your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as the three of you watched the manhole slowly move out of place. From the corner of your eye, you saw Vision closer to Wanda, and you wished you could too, but you were stuck watching as someone climbed out of the now gaping hole in the road.

    A… beekeeper?

    A beekeeper and swarm of bees climbed out of the manhole.

    You felt that now-familiar feeling again, foggy-headed but not in pain and fiercely protective of, this time, both her and her husband and her children.

    Children?

    You scrambled to get your front door open as the strange beekeeper of the sewer turned to look at the Maximoffs. You looked down to mess with the doorknob—

    When you looked up again, you were standing on the front porch of the Maximoff house.

    How weird. 

You spun and looked around wildly, your eyes settling on the manhole cover closed tightly shut it in the street for just a few seconds longer than the rest of the environment, but everything seemed in order. Slowly relaxing, you turned back to your task of returning Vision’s ukulele. 

You raised your right hand to knock, then stopped.

Color began blooming across your arm, beginning from the same spots you vaguely remembered cutting yourself on a broken mirror recently. This time, though, there were no cuts or blood, just gray tones coming to life in bright, vivid color. Gray turned to the color of skin and the green of your blouse—you’d thought it’d been green before but now you could properly see it—and when you spun around to observe the rest of the neighborhood, it was suddenly in color too. When you slowly, awestruck, turned back to Wanda and Vision’s house, it was wonderfully colored too, as was the ukulele in your lovely, now-in-color hand.

You grinned and excitedly knocked on the door, only for it to be opened moments later by Vision, wearing a very nice yellow and blue sweater or a white-colored shirt.

“Oh, [Y/N]!” He said it in a way that was a little too loud and he nervously glanced over his shoulder at Wanda, who stood a few feet back in a beautiful outfit of bright red with her hands on her expecting stomach.

You really did like her shirt.

You just liked her.

You just liked her and her husband quite a lot.

“Sorry, bad time?” You held out Vision’s ukulele to him. “I finished cleaning up and was about to go to bed when I noticed this still sitting on my coffee table.”

“Oh, that’s perfect!” Vision chirped, still just a little too loud than necessary.

“Oh, goodness, Vis, come inside.” Wanda walked over and nudged Vision out of the way, then smiled at you and took the ukulele out of your hand.

“Remember when we first met and you said he wasn’t always like that?” you quipped with a crooked smile, which broke into a cheek-hurting grin when Wanda giggled in response.

“Suppose I hadn’t realized it yet,” Wanda teased back. She offered the ukulele to Vision, who was still standing nearby and who was now pouting, then she moved to do the side. “Would you like to come in for a drink? We were just talking about you.”

Now you were the awkward one. “Um, yeah, sure.” You stepped inside and, glancing again at Wanda’s belly, added, “I can’t believe I forgot a baby gift. Congratulations, if I haven’t said it already.”

Wanda blinked, then shut the door behind you. “Oh nonsense. There’s plenty of time left for that.”

“I feel like it came out of nowhere; they might be here sooner than you think!”

#marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #marvel headcanons #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu headcanons #wandavision #wandavision x reader #wandavision headcanons #wandavision imagines #poly!wandavision #poly wandavision #gender neutral reader #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagines #scarlet witch headcanons #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff headcanons #marvel vision #vision x reader #vision imagines #vision headcanons #marvel vision x reader #marvel vision imagines #marvel vision headcanons

[hotdamnhunnam]

Teller What She Wants to Hear

A/N: So the idea behind this shameless piece of smut is that Jax Teller is a sex god who can straight up get you off with just the power of his dirty talk... because if anybody can, we know it’s THIS god of a man.

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, dom!Jax, teasing you in front of other men (but no actual sex in front of them), light choking, Jax getting you off at work (because hell yes office sex)

Word Count: ~1.9k

First time Jax Teller called you ‘bitch’ in bed, you practically exploded.

And he noticed. Noticed right away that being called his bitch had made your pussy twitch. That even just the slightest hint of dominance and degradation, coming from him, seemed to scratch your every itch.

“Well, damn...” his tongue flicked in a devilish dance across his luscious lips as he watched your eyes flutter in bliss, body trembling to death beneath his. “You really fucking like that, huh? You like being my dirty little slut?”

Holy shit. Too turned on to speak, needy and weak, you just spastically nodded. This man made you so goddamn desperate. So wet. You just tried not to drown in the flood. In that instant you knew you were born to be nothing but his fucking slut.

You came harder that night than you ever had, moaning like mad, while Jax kept up a mind-blowing stream of obscene dirty talk, as he ravaged your holes with his raging hard cock. Take it, whore. This what you want? This what you fucking live for? Taking this big dick so good in that tight little cunt? Fuck yeah, just like this. Scream for me, bitch. You want more? Want me to cum deep inside this sweet pussy or fill up that hot fucking mouth of yours? With each vigorous thrust of his hips Jax would press his lips closer against your ear, just to make sure you could hear, over your uncontrollable screams. Words straight out of your wildest dreams.

And the dream hasn’t ended, since then. Turns out your badass biker boyfriend is a literal god among men. Now he knows what his dirty words do, the sheer power that one filthy whisper can have over you, he gets off on exerting that power again and again and again.

Sometimes the cocky son of a bitch even dares to talk dirty to you in public, right in front of his club and his friends—working his wicked magic, teasing you about just how desperate you are for his big fucking dick, while the whole damn room watches and listens. You’d acted as if you were pissed off about it, the first time it happened. You weren’t. Loved it more than you liked to admit, but Jax knew it, and there was no need to pretend.

It went without saying that all the Sons respected you a ton, given your status as SAMCRO’s reigning First Lady, basically. But respect didn’t mean that they couldn’t indulge in a bit of fun, seeing you fall to pieces at the hands of the President. Sighing and shivering just from the force of the smutty words he murmured into your ear.

“Aye, Jackie Boy!” Chibs would cheer, spurring Jax on as you’d come undone just from the sound of your man’s painfully sexy voice. “Go on and give it to ‘er good, son. Tell ‘er what she wants to hear.”

It’s gotten to the point where Jax’s dirty talk can fuck you up more deeply and completely than his cock. Which is saying a lot, ‘cause that cock never fails to hit all of your spots.

But the pure fucking porn that pours out of that damn sinful mouth he’s got... God, you might fall apart just at the thought. 

Which would be inconvenient, because you're at work right this moment. Stuck in the office late after a long exhausting day. Jax usually swings by at lunch for a much-needed lay, but some serious club business kept him away, and your pussy is aching and empty and super not fucking okay.

All you have are your thoughts of him sending you into a trance.

So you decide to walk the hallways for a minute just to stretch your legs, to try and take your mind off sex; can���t help but wonder if your boss or your friends in the office would notice if you slipped a hand in your pants...

That’s when you feel his telltale presence: the real boss of your ass, coming up from behind you now all of a sudden and casually taking that ass in his dominant grasp. 

“Whatcha doin’ there, darlin’?” he asks, and already the sound of his low raspy voice in your ear has your toes curling. Only Jax Teller can make darlin’ sound like a foul thing dripping with sin.

“Jax...!” you gasp, swiftly turning to face him, so desperate to feel him and taste him, smiling while he traces your lips with his thumb. “I was just—um...”

He goes ahead and finishes the sentence for you as his deep blue eyes explore you. “Looks like you were thinking how badly you needed to cum.”

Fucking hell. Of course he could tell; Teller knows you so well. “You’re not wrong...”

“Never am,” he gloats—all too true—dropping one hand to caress your throat, knowing how badly you long to be choked, while his other hand slides toward the crotch of your pants. “But damn, Y/N, that’d be a very naughty thing to do. Even for a bad little bitch like you.”

You’re so horny right now that you don’t even care who might turn down the hallway and witness you two in plain view. Getting fired would be fucking worth it, to give in to this burning thirst. Need him so bad it hurts. “Naughty?” you innocently bite your bottom lip as you repeat the word. “What, getting off at work? You know it wouldn’t be the first...”

“Not that,” Jax cuts you off, voice gravelly and gruff. “Getting off without me. Without fucking permission. But you knew that already, hun—betcha just wanted to piss me off. Didn’t you. Damn disobedient slut.”

Ohhh God...

“Tell you what,” he grunts, using one of his fists to pin your hands against the wall above your head, the other reaching down to grope your cunt, throbbing and dripping wet. “I’ll give you one minute. That’s all your gonna get. You’re gonna rub that pussy up against my fist, pretending it’s my dick, and see if you can get yourself off just like this. 'Cause you’re a desperate little bitch who wants to get it in the middle of the fucking office. Better make it quick.”

Hoooly... fucking...

“Mmm, that’s it,” Jax goads you on, smirking in savage satisfaction as you grind your soaking heat against the blunt heel of his palm. “Look at you, fucking loving this. You kinky piece of shit.”

And then the cruel sadistic bastard shifts his hand off of your crotch, as if it wasn’t hard enough as is, to finish in a minute. Spends a few seconds groping at your tits—which definitely helps—but then the rest you’re gonna have to do yourself. Just from the sheer sound of him growling in your ear, the tightness of his grip upon your wrists, the way he finally clamps his other hand around your neck and chokes you with his ruthless fist, surrounds and drowns you in that dizzying distinctive smell of cigarettes and leather and of Jackson Fucking Teller. He knows his power feeds your pleasure. You are his, now and forever.

“You gonna cum?” he teases, pressing harder in your pulse point with his thumb. “You gonna cum for me, you dirty whore? Squirt all over the office floor?”

Yes sir. Yes sir. Can’t even breathe to tell the answer.

“Ten more seconds,” he mercilessly taunts. “Go on, you filthy fucking cunt. You know you live to give me what I want.”

Jesus Christ. There are no words left to describe what’s happening between your thighs. What little remains of your sanity, dignity, splutters and dies.

“That’s right. Cum for me. Cum for me...” Jax leans in even closer to your ear, huffing out the one word that you need to hear. Right fucking here. The word that started all of this, the word that never fails to ruin you completely: “... bitch.”

And you cum on the fucking instant, honestly harder than anyone should be able to cum. Let alone from without being touched. How is it even physically possible that you just had an orgasm? How dare this motherfucker just exist and effortlessly own your ass like this? But holy fucking fuck, you love it so damn much...

You have no sense of what exactly happens in the next few seconds; your whole body and soul have gone numb. Apparently Jax carried you quickly into the nearest bathroom, to clean you right up. You come back to your senses to find that he’s kissing you softly and sweetly, denying your pleas to get down on your knees ‘cause you’re dying to give him a blowjob. You can see clearly through his dark jeans that he’s hard as a rock, and you’re desperate to suck him clean, drain every drop of cum from his big beautiful cock...

“Maybe after we get home,” he says, as he finishes mopping up the mess of your explosive pussy juices. He strips off his leather kutte—no doubt he plans to take his flannel off next so that you can wear it as a makeshift dress, since your own pants are drenched and totally fucked over. He’s such a cruel master yet such a caring lover. “Babe, you need some more time to recover from how hard I just made you cum.”

“How hard you just made me...?!” you exclaim in protest, playfully punching him in the chest. “Pretty sure you had me doing all the work. Don’t be a fucking jerk.”

Jax flashes you a cheeky smirk, broad shoulders lifting in a shrug, and throws his hands up. “Okay. Whatever you say, bitch.”

And there it goes—that word still hits you hard from head to toe, though nowhere more so than your cunt. There’s only one way that your poor pussy knows to respond. Twitch.

At that, you hear him fucking chuckle as your knees buckle. You scowl at him; that twitch was almost more than you could take after your orgasm. Almost. The kinky slut inside you likes it, though. “Well, shit...”

Still laughing just a bit, Jax strokes your shoulder tenderly, blessing your forehead with a pure innocent kiss. “Yeah, I guess the B-word is off-limits. At least for a few minutes.”

“Or...” you cut in, lustfully licking your lips, “...well, I mean, now that you started this—we could just... maybe go at it again?”

He pauses for a second, smiling as he reaches to cradle your face in his hands. For some reason the silliest, filthiest moments are most often when his heart opens. You love when that happens. 

“God, I fucking love you, Y/N,” he murmurs and means it, more than you’ll ever understand. Jax Teller fucks you like he owns you, knows it’s true—and yet deep down, in all the ways that count, you own him too. Both know his heart is yours.

“I love you more,” you answer, though your love is not the only reason why your heart has started beating faster. Now is not the time for sweet talk to distract; you’ll have to whip out some of your own dirty talk to get this sexy bastard back on track... “Now call me bitch again and shove me up against the bathroom door. Need you to fill me with that cock and fucking fuck me like I’m nothing but your filthy little whore.”

***************

Thank you for reading!! ❤️ First few days on tumblr and I’m already a total whore for reblogs/comments/likes... knowing folks enjoy the filthy fantasies I write is really nice ☺️

UPDATE: In case there’s any interest – I’ve now posted more fics and started a Masterlist and a Tag List – Join Here!*

*If you’re unable to use that link to join the tag list, just let me know and I’ll manually add you to it!

#jax teller #soa #sons of anarchy #charlie hunnam #smut #dirty talk #jax teller smut #soa smut #sons of anarchy smut #charlie hunnam smut #jax teller fanfiction #soa fanfiction #charlie hunnam fanfiction #jax teller imagine #soa imagine #charlie hunnam imagine #jax teller x reader #charlie hunnam x reader #jax teller x you #charlie hunnam x you

[myhauntedsalem]

13 True Horror Stories from the Psychiatric Ward that Will Give You the Creeps

Death, illness and tragedy have long been part of the history of insane asylums, and for as long as they have existed, so too have the scary stories associated with them. From haunted hospitals to sadistic doctors and nurses, psychiatric wards have been the inspiration for many of our favorite horror movies and books. Yet, the true stories told by the psych ward workers below far surpass any horrors that we might have seen at the cinema or read in a book.

Without further ado, here are thirteen of some of the creepiest psych ward stories on the internet that have been shared by health care professionals.

1. Holding her own Eyes

My mom told me this story from her time at a neuropsychiatric ward while she was in grad school. She was making her routine room checks and happened upon the most horrific scene I’ve ever heard.

This was during the night shift, and generally, all the patients’ bedroom doors should be closed. So my mom turned a corner and noticed an open door. She saw a staff member’s legs on the floor, halfway out the doorway.

When she looked into the room, she saw the patient, a woman with a severe postpartum psychiatric disorder, who had just gouged both of her own eyes out with her bare hands. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding her eyes in her hands.

The first staff member to witness the scene, who was now lying face down on the floor, had a heart attack when he first witnessed the woman while he was making his rounds.

My mom screamed for help and frantically tried to perform CPR on the staff member. All the while, the woman just sat rather calmly, holding her own eyes.

2. The Saw

I work as a psychotherapist in a hospital system. My definition of creepy is probably quite a bit different from other medical professionals.

The one that got to me the most was a patient who came to us after attempting suicide by sawing both his arms off at the forearm with a table saw. His arms were reattached, fairly successfully too, with only limited impairments in mobility. All I could think was how bad it would have to be to live in his head that sawing his arms off seemed better than that.

He has since completed suicide.

3. Jane?

We had a young lady in our custody with quite a few issues. We’ll call her Jane. Jane’s first night at our facility staff doing a bed check found Jane in a puddle of blood. Turns out Jane had been slicing the skin around her shin with her finger nails and was pulling her skin up her leg, essentially de-gloving her calf.

Jane also had a ritual she performed every night before bed. While in her room she would run between walls in her room touching them in a crucifix pattern. After doing this for a few hours she would sit on her bed and go to sleep. This particular night Jane was frantic in her pace, practically running between walls. Our night staff observed the entire interaction and reported Jane screaming late into the night. When the staff went to check on Jane she reported Jane standing in the doorway smiling. The staff asked what was wrong and Jane replied, “what makes you think you are speaking to Jane?”

4. The Vampire

My mom worked in mental institutions in her younger years (and actually worked at a large, well-known asylum before it was shut down.)

There was one woman there that thought she was a vampire of sorts. She was only allowed out one hour a day, and they had to use safety precautions. She had already attacked and killed at least one hospital worker before these were enacted.

When my Mom asked about her, it was revealed that she had killed at least two of her children, wounded another as well as her husband because she had some sort of physical condition called Porphyria, which apparently made her crave blood.

By the time that they discovered there was something physically wrong with her, she already had lost her mind from guilt and grief.

5. The Spitter

I’m not a psychologist but my friend is. She told me about a patient of hers who was HIV positive and a paranoid schizophrenic. He thought that the nurses who worked at the hospital he was in were trying to kill him, so he would frequently bite his tongue, and spit HIV positive blood into their faces/mouths. When they had to come into contact with him, they were required to wear full masks and gloves.

6. The Only One

I once knew a woman who had spent part of her residency at a psychiatric hospital for people with severe mental conditions. Apparently, the grounds had a lovely, enclosed greenhouse. One day, one of their schizophrenic patients was sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette, as a heron frantically flew around. It had found its way in and, not being able to escape, it was smashing into the large panes of glass. The man just sat there watching.

Finally, my counselor asked him if the bird was bothering him and he kind of sighed and said, “Thank god, I thought I was the only one seeing that.”

7. Family Photographs

My sister is the director of a psychiatric hospital. There was recently a lady there who would cut her arms, legs and torso open and place photographs of her family under her skin.

8. Under the Bed

Once, a fellow female patient told me she found writings under her bed. They were just old, small wooden bed frames with hard mattresses that would make all kinds of noises when you rolled over, but I still wondered what exactly she was doing lying under her bed to find these writings.

When she first told me, I thought it was a joke. But sure enough, one day during group we managed to sneak away, and she showed me. Indeed, there were stories written under her bed. After that, we had everyone check under their own beds, and there was more writing under every single bed.

They were stories of patients who had stayed here before, or ways they were planning on killing themselves, or who the good and bad nurses were. It creeped me out.

9. Time of Death

Well, my mother was a nurse that specialized in geriatrics, and she worked for several hospice hospitals for many years. She often described situations at her work with several of the patients. She would say that each person tends to have a very similar “checklist” that they follow right before death. This checklist often ended in a very similar way.

They would get caught talking to someone that wasn’t there. When asked who they (otherwise lucid people) were talking to, they would describe an individual who was already dead. When asked what they were talking about, they would say that their relative wanted to know if they were ready to move on. A pretty common response would be, “Yeah, he/she said that she will take me tomorrow at 3:00.” Well, it would often happen that they would die at the exact time their relatives quoted.

10. The Test Subject

I had an hour-long conversion with a delusional guy who was confined to a mental health facility, and who was probably smarter than I am. Lots of these folks believe that somebody – often the CIA – is either beaming thoughts into their heads, or has implanted a microchip in their brains for this purpose. This guy was offering a very thoughtful argument as to why such claims should not be so quickly dismissed.

“It’s precisely because such delusions are so common that mental patients make the best test subjects,” he said. There he was, confined and protected, constantly observed, his health and behavior documented, and there is zero chance that anyone would ever take his concerns seriously. How else would you test and improve such technology? Does the government not have a strong motivation and a plausible ability to create such a device?

“You can see I’m not irrational,” the man said. “I’m just straight-up telling you that they are doing this to me. I know just how unbelievable it sounds, and yet, here I am.”

11. The Boy who Loved Knives

As a tech in psych years ago, there was a 7-year-old kid sent to the floor because the mom didn’t know what to do with him. Sadly, common thing to happen, even if the kids don’t have psych issues. Anyway, the mom was shaking and crying, and they had to take the kid into another room. She was genuinely afraid of her own son. She had suspected something was wrong when she kept finding mutilated animals in the backyard, but never heard or saw coyotes or anything around. The neighbors smaller pets started disappearing. The boy had an obsession with knives, hiding them around the house. Denying anything when the mom confronted him. Then when the two started getting into arguments, he would get really violent and hit her, push her down and kick her, threaten to kill her. On multiple occasions she woke up in the middle of the night with him standing beside her bed, staring her in the face. She put extra locks on her bedroom door to feel safe while she slept. The last straw was when she lifted up his mattress and found 50+ knives of all shapes and sizes under there. So she brought him to us.

I remember talking to him, treating him like he was just any other kid that came through. He seemed remarkably normal, until you spoke directly to him. He had this way of looking right through you, or maybe like he didn’t see you at all while you were speaking.

He would respond like a robot, like he was just saying words because that’s what we wanted to hear. And he would always put on this creepy, dead-looking smile. Like all mouth and no eye involvement in the smile. Especially when he would get away with something, like taking another kid’s markers and they couldn’t figure it out. Still gives me chills laying here thinking about him.

I believe I met a 7-year-old psychopath.

12. The New Mom

I was a pharmacy technician at a hospital with a psych ward for some time. We would have to go around with a cart and dispense the patients’ medications, and being a 5’2″ girl, a security guard or male nurse would accompany me, just as a precaution. I never had any real issues other than the occasional death grip onto my arm or manic outbursts, but there was one boy who was entirely different.

His chart said he was nine and he had pale skin, dark hair, and huge bright, green eyes. He always greeted me in the most polite way, asked how I was doing, and always found something different to compliment me on every time. He was extremely well-spoken and mature for his age, so I began looking forward to seeing him, as normal small talk is definitely cherished in that setting. If he saw me outside of his room in the halls, he made sure to say hello and always called me “Miss Jones” or “ma’am.”

One day, a couple of our female nurses saw me pause to chat with him in the hallway, and waved me over to ask if I was out of my mind. Apparently, when he was in kindergarten, he grew an intense attachment to his young female teacher.

This escalated to the point of him calling her “Mom” and leaving notes for her about how he wished he were her son. He had a normal home-life with both parents, and the teacher tried to explain to him that she couldn’t be his mom because that would hurt his real mother’s feelings, and that she already had that job covered.

So, he went home and, killed his own mother in her sleep by cutting her throat, so his teacher could be his mom. The female staff had a general rule of not interacting with him excessively to prevent any kind of attachment from forming.

13. Bugs

Nothing I can say can possibly describe the year I worked in Psychiatric Intensive Care. Creepy isn’t the thing that comes to mind when I think back on it…more heartbreaking and horrifying. But creepiness was a part of it. Especially evening and night shifts, naturally.

There is always something disturbing about watching someone while they hallucinate. You can tell it is 100% real to them, and something about that makes you believe it, on some level. A lot of stories end with, “and of course, I had to look over my shoulder to make sure”. You see the emotions it brings out.

There was a woman that came in and sat down across the table from me for her admission interview. She had bandages all over her arms and scotch tape over her mouth and ears. She looked very uncomfortable and wouldn’t really sit still. When the nurse would ask her a question, she would peel the corner of the tape back and answer, then stick the tape back on really fast.

We eventually found out that she saw and felt bugs crawling all over her, and they were trying to get inside her body. The tape was to keep the bugs out. The bandages were because some bugs got in and she had to dig them out. She couldn’t sit still because she felt the bugs all over her even while we sat and talked. The worst part was, she had some idea that it was her mind playing tricks on her. Can you imagine going through your life, feeling like someone is continuously dumping buckets of cockroaches on your head, feeling like they’re all over you and getting inside of you to the point that you’re digging chunks out of your flesh in a panic, all while knowing intellectually that none of it is real?

#13 True Horror Stories from the Psychiatric Ward that Will Give You the Creeps #shared stories #paranormal #ghost and spirits #ghost and hauntings #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem

[purpleswans1]

The Sun Hashira

I published this on AO3 a while ago, but just now am getting around to adding it here. Oh well. A while back, this concept drilled its way into my head and didn't stop until I wrote it down, so here we are.

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

He only thought about his old battle-brother again after nearly a decade due to Kyojuro. The boy had gotten it into his head to succeed his father as the Flame Hashira, despite his own lack of talent and Shinjuro’s despair. Kyojuro stole the flame breathing books of his ancestors and was still training in secret. This led to a loud argument that only ended when Senjuro - timid, quiet little Senjuro who usually hid in a corner - jumped on Shinjuro’s back to try and pull him away from his brother.

Once Shinjuro had settled down and made it to the bottom of a sake bottle, he realized that it wasn't his son’s fault that he was so impertinent. Tanjuro had retired when Kyojuro was still a baby, so he couldn’t remember what true greatness was. Most of the Demon slayers from that time were dead now. Of those who had fought beside the Sun Hashira, only Urokodaki, Old man Kuwajima, and Shinjuro himself remained in the land of the living. Even the late Ubuyashiki head had finally succumbed to his curse and left matters in the hands of young Kagaya.

It had been so long. Over a decade at this point; they were in the Taisho Era now. It was past time for Shinjuro to visit his battle-brother and possibly forgive him for leaving.

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

“Excuse me, but do you know Tanjuro Kamado?”

“Hm?” The shopkeeper in the small village town tilted her head. “Oh, why yes! Kamado-san makes the best charcoal in the prefecture. And his family is so kind! I wish my little Kanime would take after Tanjiro, you rarely see such a well-behaved boy these days.”

So, he does have a family. “I’m an old acquaintance of his and haven’t visited in a while,” Shinjuro carefully explained. “Would you mind giving me directions to his house?”

“Of course!” The lady clapped her hands together. “Just follow the mountain pass over there, past Saburo-san’s house, for about half a day. Actually, Tanjiro-kun just left here, so if you run you may catch up to him.

Unlikely, especially if he’s from that man’s bloodline.

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

“You look well, Rengoku.”

Shinjuro couldn’t bring himself to reply with the same greeting. When he’d last seen Tanjuro, the only sign of his debilitating illness had been a frequent cough. Now, the man’s face was hollow, all his muscle tone was gone, and those eyes that once burned with the sun had all but lost their light. According to Kie, her husband couldn’t even walk more than a few steps outside without assistance.

An angry part of Shinjuro wished that he hadn’t come, so he could only remember his battle-brother in his prime.

“...It’s been too long.” Shinjuro finally said, sitting down on the porch next to Tanjuro.

“How is your family? Are Ruka and Kyojuro doing well?”

“...Ruka passed away several years ago. She did give me another son, Senjuro.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Still, I have no doubt that your sons’ are a credit to her memory.”

“Everything that’s good about them came from her.”

Tanjuro sighed. “You’ve always been so hard on yourself, old friend. You may be the eldest son, but you shouldn’t try to carry the world on your shoulders. We are all only human.”

“Some of us are,” Shinjuro muttered.

“Please, not this old argument again.” No matter how many times Tanjuro tried to assure him that there was nothing inherently superior about the breath of the Sun users, Shinjuro refused to hear it.

A young, miniature Tanjuro ran up to the two men. “Father, will you be okay with Hanko and your friend while I help Nezuko and Takeo with the wood?”

Tanjuro smiled at his son. “We will Tanjiro. But before you go, would you mind showing me your Hinokami Kagura? I want to make sure you’re practicing.”

Shinjuro gasped and turned to his friend.

Tanjiro, for his part, looked unsure and cast a glance in Shinjuro’s direction.

“It’s fine,” Tanjuro assured his boy. “Shinjuro is an old friend, he’s seen me do that dance many times.”

This was apparently enough for the boy, who nodded, ran off to the edge of the clearing, and picked up a stick to serve as a substitute for the blade.

“So, at least the legacy of Sun breathing will continue on.” Shinjuro muttered.

Tanjuro only grunted.

Tanjiro moved through the set styles hesitantly, with shaking arms and unsteady feet. Still, Shinjuro could already tell that the boy would master it eventually. He may not be at the level of his father, but that boy would surpass anything Kyojuro could accomplish in no time.He was surely blessed by the Kami.

“That boy will be a great demon slayer someday.”

“No.”

The response was so sudden and unusually fierce that Shinjuro originally didn’t realize that it was Tanjuro speaking. “What do you mean?”

“Tanjiro won’t be a demon slayer. I want him to live a peaceful life, unconcerned with those tragedies. I want all my children to live long, simple lives.”

“You can’t be that naive!” Shinjuro shouted. “That boy has the mark!”

“You’re wrong. That scar on Tanjiro’s forehead is from when he saved his younger brother. Besides, I doubt that even I have the mark you are looking for. If what the records say is true, those around me should have achieved the mark as well, and none of you did. I for one, am glad for that. You’ve passed the age of 25 already, and I’d hate for you to not see your sons grow up.” At the end of his speech, Tanjuro’s voice broke into coughs.

Tanjiro noticed his father’s state and ran up to them. “Father! Don’t exert yourself!”

Shinjuro stood up. He looked down at his old friend, his battle-brother, the man he admired most, and was disgusted. The Sun Hashira was reduced to an invalid, and his chosen successor had the temperament of a nursemaid instead of a warrior. It was pathetic.

“Coming here was a mistake.” Shinjuro said. “I’ll take my leave now.”

He would eventually regret that those were the last words he said to his old friend

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

Unknown to Shinjuro, his visit did have an effect on Tanjuro Kamado. That night, he pulled his eldest son aside and showed him a Nichirin blade.

Tanjiro’s eyes sparkled in wonder at the blade. “Father, are we from a family of Samurai?”

Tanjuro chuckled. “No, nothing like that. You may see this as a family heirloom, but it was only forged in my generation. We are a family of charcoal-sellers, after all.”

Tanjiro nodded. He looked a little disappointed, but he was a child of the new Era and didn’t need to worry about legacies from the Edo period.

“Tanjiro, as you are the oldest son you will probably inherit this house once your mother and I have passed on. You will have a new family to care for, and will continue our traditions. However, if the day should ever come when you or your descendants need to leave this place and face great danger, I ask that you please take this sword with you. It is strong and sharp, and you can protect yourself and others with it.”

Tanjiro would remember these words before he left for Mt. Sagiri with his sister, and would carry it to Urokodaki’s house though it never occurred to him to unsheath the blade.

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

Several years later, Kyojuro came home and announced that he was the new Flame Hashira. Like that was any great accomplishment. Shijuro became frustrated with his sons, downed another bottle of sake, and decided to do the stupid thing and visit Tanjuro again.

This time, he remembered the way and didn’t need to stop by the village. If he had, he might have noticed how sad they were at the mention of Kamado and might have learned the truth earlier.

Instead, he made it all the way to that little house on the mountain before he saw the graves.

All he could do was pay his respects. Someone had already cleaned the house, but based on the broken door and family history Shinjuro could easily guess how they’d died.

The whole time he stood there, one question ran through his mind: What could I have done to prevent this?

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

“Kyojuro said you wanted to speak with me?”

Shinjuro turned to look at the young man in his presence. The current Water Hashira, Giyu Tomioka, was not an intimidating man. His skills were certainly a testament to Urokodaki’s tutelage, and he may have somewhat surpassed his old master, but he was like water. Calm and unemotional, but ready to flow through the path of least resistance.

He certainly did not have the skills to combat someone even a Sun breath user couldn’t defeat.

“I have an old friend who lives in your domain…” Shinjuro described the path of the Kamado household, or at least what was left of it. “...I recently went to visit him, but I found only an empty house and buried graves. I suspect they were killed by a demon. Did you ever run into any demons in that area?”

Tomioka stood there silently for about a minute. Shinjuro got frustrated and started to get up and leave. If the man didn’t know who he was talking about, then there was no point in talking to Tomioka any more.

“...Kamado. That is your friend’s name, isn’t it?”

Shinjuro froze in a half-kneeling position. “Yes.”

“I remember them. It was a little over a year ago now. I received a notice that there was a strong demon in the area, but by the time I got there everyone in the house was already dead. I’m sorry. If I had made it there half a day earlier, I might have been able to save them.”

Shinjuro leaned back again. He couldn’t bear to think that the legacy of Sun breathing was truely dead. He certainly couldn’t bear to think of Tanjuro’s children being brutally massacred. Still, he couldn’t blame the Water Hashira for this.

Tanjuro’s words rang in his head. We're all only human.

“You’re only human. It can’t be helped.”

“...You should know that one of them escaped unharmed. The oldest son was staying in another house that night and wasn’t attacked.”

Shinjuro sat up at that. “The eldest is alive? Tanjiro, right?”

Tomioka nodded. “He had a strong will and showed great battle instincts, so I sent him to my old master Urokodaki to be trained. I suspect my master wouldn’t send him to Final Selection this early, so he’s likely still there if you want to learn more about what happened to your friend.

“... I guess I’ll have to visit Mt. Sagiri.” Somehow, he doubted Urokodaki would know who he was working with, even if he’d been acquaintances with Tanjuro.

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

The hike to Mt. Sagiri was hell on Shinjuro’s gout-ridden joints. He was getting too old for all this traveling. Still, he owed it to Tanjuro to check on his son’s progress, and he wouldn’t be able to rest until he was sure Sun breathing was being used again.

When he finally reached that little house at the base of the mountain, the only one waiting for him was Urokodaki.

“Giyu sent a letter after you spoke with him, Rengoku. I suspected you’d come eventually.”

Shinjuro snorted at that and sat down on the floor. “Have you got anything to drink?”

“No, unless you’re referring to tea. Why are you concerned with Tanjiro Kamado?”

“You may be an idiot, but your not that blind or dumb. His name is Kamado.” Shinjuro sighed. “He’s the son of our Tanjuro.”

“And what does the identity of that boy’s father have to do with anything?”

Shinjuro balked. There were no words for how stupid Urokodaki was acting, so he just glared.

Urokodaki sighed. “You know, when I finally realized where I’d seen those hanafuda earrings before I was tempted to send for you. You were Tanjuro’s best friend and should have been the one to guide his son. Now, I’m glad I didn’t. Kuwajima at least took a moment to mourn our old friend before asking if I thought Tanjiro would survive final selection.”

This infuriated Shinjuro. “Who do you think -- “

“Urokodaki-san!” a young voice called out from beyond the doorway. “It’s getting dark. Is dinner…” He froze when he caught sight of Shinjuro.

“Tanjiro-kun, this is an old friend of mine, Shinjuro Rengoku.” Urokodaki said. “Please forgive his intrusion.”

“You… I remember you.” Tanjiro said. “You came to visit father years ago. How do you… how do you know both my father and Urokodaki-san?”

“Hm.” Shinjuro grunted. “I heard about what happened to your family. You have my sympathies.”

“Ah, thank you.” Tanjiro finally entered the hut and sat down.

Shinjuro scrutinized the boy critically. He had grown a great deal in the last few years, and had finally developed some muscle tone. It seems Urokodaki’s training was good for something at least. Tanjiro had also lost his child-like innocence. There was steel in his soul, and he had the eyes of a warrior. Just like Tanjuro used to.

“Tell me boy, do you remember your father’s Sun Breathing?”

Urokodaki sighed in exasperation.

“Sun… breathing?” Tanjiro looked at the other two men in confusion.

“Come on, I saw you do it when I last visited your father.” Shinjuro waved his hand. “He said his usual nonsense about it being a prayer to the gods again…”

“Are you talking about the Hinokami Kagura?” Tanjiro asked. “Are you saying… that it’s actually a sword style?”

Both Urokodaki and Shinjuro stared at the boy in shock.

Shinjuro recovered first. “Yes exactly.”

“But… father never mentioned…”

“Tanjuro retired from the demon slayer corps before you or your siblings were born.” Urokodaki said. “I imagine he didn’t want to pressure you to follow a path he knew was fraught with danger and would lead to an early grave.”

Shinjuro rolled his eyes. “Fat lot of good that did him.”

“Don’t talk about my father like that!”

Even Urokodaki was surprised by Tanjiro’s outburst.

“All my life, Father had a frail body. By the end, he couldn’t walk on his own and could barely get out of bed. Still, he took care of us the best he could. And every new year without fail he’d dance from sunset to sunrise nonstop! So don’t disrespect him!”

Shinjuro was shocked to notice that Tanjiro was starting to cry.

“Father… father had passed away several months before the attack. I wasn’t there, I was peacefully sleeping in another house while my family was being brutally murdered. Still, despite my own regrets, I know that the only person responsible for their death is Muzan Kibutsuji! That’s why I decided byself to become a demon slayer! For their sake!”

Tanjiro was standing up by the end, breathing heavily.

All three occupants stared at one another for a long while, before Urokodaki finally broke the tension. “Rengoku, it’s dark out so I’ll let you stay the night, but you should leave tomorrow morning.”

Shinjuro scowled. “Yeah. I can see that I’m not wanted.”

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

That night, while Shinjuro slept in a spare room and didn’t wonder about the closed door nearby, Tanjiro spoke to Urokodaki about his father. For the first time in his life, he learned about how great of a swordsman Tanjuro Kamado had been. How he had risen to the rank of Hashira and killed hundreds of demons in his short tenure with the corps. How he was the man both Urokodaki and Shinjuro admired most.

When Tanjiro finally remembered his father’s sword, he asked for permission to train with it. Urokodaki granted it without a second thought, though he knew the requirements for breath of water sword was slightly different from breath of sun.

“Urokodaki-san, did my father ever battle Muzan directly?”

“No. None of the demon slayers have even seen him in centuries. But, if there was anyone who had a chance, it would have been your father. He slayed 4 different lower moons over the course of his career, and even battled against Upper Moon 3 and survived until they fled with the sunrise.”

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

Right after that night, Tanjiro started training to use the Hinokami Kagura beside his breath of water. It was difficult, especially since the spirits of dead children could only help with the breath of water, but he was able to split the largest boulder within a month, half a year earlier than he needed to qualify for the next Final selection.

Tanjiro would feel guilty about getting a new Nichirin blade after final selection when his father’s was perfectly adequate, but when Haganezuka-san was so excited to see how the blade would change color Tanjiro decided to use it for a while. At least, until it broke at Mt. Natagumo and he felt better just asking one of the swordsmiths to sharpen the older blade.

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

“Come Father! Come meet my three new tsugukos!”

Kyojuro was as loud as ever. Subtlety was never the boy’s strong suite, and bursting his eardrums years ago hadn’t helped matters. At this point, talking with his son was exhausting for Shinjuro.

“What makes you think you have anything to teach these tsugukos? I heard about your last mission. You’re now blind in one eye!” Shinjuro grumbled.

Two new voices rang through the Fire estate.

“WHAAA---”

“Oi! What are you saying about Rengacho? I’ll fight you!”

The most striking interruption though was a streak of red that rammed into the back of his head.

“Don’t belittle Rengoku-san!”

Shinjuro rolled off the porch and into the garden, finally landing on his back. The blinding high-noon sun didn’t help his hangover and budding concussion. It was almost a relief when a figure blocked the light, until he realized who that red hair and dangling earrings belonged to.

“Flame Hashira Kyojuro Rengoku is a magnificent swordsman! He protected five train cars by himself when we were fighting the Lower Moon One! When that was done, he immediately fought with Upper Moon Three and survived! Sure he lost one eye in the battle, but that hasn’t diminished his fighting spirit!” shouted Tanjiro Kamado.

Shinjuro couldn’t do much more than blink. “... Kamado? Is that you?”

Tanjiro turned away and bowed towards Kyojuro. “Kyojuro-san, please forgive me for being so disrespectful to your father. However, I couldn’t stand by and let this man who claims to admire my father speak so ill of you.”

“Ha! That is no problem, it’s about time someone gave him a good head-but.” Kyojuro laughed. “I only hope your head isn’t hurt too bad as a result.”

“Nope! I have a very thick skull!”

“Ha ha! Oh, you mentioned your father, Tanjiro-kun. Is that who you learned Sun-breathing from?”

Tanjiro nodded. “Yes. I always knew it as the Hinokami Kagura, but after I started training with Urokodaki-san this man came by and mentioned that my father used sun breathing, and I started to incorporate it into my sword style as well.”

“I see. My father frequently mentioned his old friend who practiced sun breathing, but I never had the pleasure to meet him. Still, this is wonderful! Perhaps your ancestry is responsible for your sister’s unique condition.”

“That’s what Urokodaki said as well!”

As Tanjiro and Kyojuro laughed and talked, Shinjuro couldn’t do much more than sit up and look at them. Ignoring the blonde and boar-head in the background, the sight before him was like a blast from the past. Kyojuro and Tanjiro, they were just like Shinjuro and Tanjuro, only better and more at ease.

Kamado, old friend, it seems our sons have surpassed us both.

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

Taisho Secret: Giyu took so long to respond to Shinjuro when they were talking about the Kamado family because he wasn’t sure if he should mention Nezuko. In the end, he decided to keep quiet and leave it to Tanjiro to decide. Between this and Rengoku stubbornness, Shinjuro didn’t find out about her until after that last scene.

Note: I‘m not quite sure what butterfly effect would have led to Kyojuro surviving in this AU. Either Tanjiro handled the upper moon one easier and was still in shape to help with the fight or Akaza took one look at Tanjiro, had flashbacks to fighting his father, and ran the hell out of there as fast as he could. It was probably a combination of both.

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #rengoku shinjuro #rengoku kyoujurou #kamado tanjuro #kamado tanjirou #kamado tanjirō #myfanfic #my fic #demon slayer fanfic

[peakywitch]

Little Hands - Michael Gray

PART TWO

MASTERLIST

word count: 2k

warnings: none (i think this one has angst?)

gif: @oberelias

It had been a year since Henry had told Y/N that he loved her.

It had been a year since they had kissed for the first time.

But a week had passed since his disappearance.

"He left." said Rosemary, her mother “And I don't know if he will come back, Y/N. I'm sorry, but I only know he's in Birmingham…” she sobbed “In a town called Small Heath.”

Y/N knew Henry would be back.

So every night during the rainy month of November she waited for him. In the afternoons she was with Rosemary, trying to calm the sadness of his mother and his little brother. At night she would stay up late, looking out the window of her room with cup of tea in her hand, waiting to see her boyfriend return from another town. To which, he had left without giving explanations. He disappeared in the middle of the night, leaving a simple note:

“I went to Small Heath. -Henry"

No goodbye, no explanation.

In the morning, Y/N woke up before the rooster from the neighboring farm. And by the time the rooster crowed, the tea was already poured into two cups. One for her, one for him.

 Meanwhile, Y/N did not lose hope. Henry wasn't like that, he was coming back. She was sure.

When the thirty days of her departure were marked on the calendar, Y/N had her birthday. She turned 17 on a beautiful sunny afternoon, it was the only day in November without rain or clouds. Her family, the Johnsons, and some of her friends filled her with happiness when they gave her a new dress. They had all collaborated. Y/N was the soul of the town, always giving smiles and taking care of flowers. So her relatives wanted to give her back a bit of that happiness.

The day was beautiful, laughter, cake, some flowers and the dress.

But when the day was done and her parents fell asleep, Y/N waited by the fire, with a slice of the cake for Henry. She had saved the center, the sweetest piece. Wrapped in a blanket, the fire burned in her eyes, as tears fell and she realized the truth: Henry would not return again. He was not there for her birthday, he would not return again.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that the fire was dying; giving her to understand that she had to go to bed. With rage in her soul, she threw the slice of cake into the fire.

“Burn in fucking hell, Henry Johnson. Burn for breaking my heart.”

When the calendar marked ‪January 16‬, Y/N opened her eyes, feeling worse than ever.

After a sleepless night from throwing up, her body was taking its toll.

"Honey?" her dad asked, knocking on her door "It's late, are you okay?" He was still behind the door.

"No." His daughter whispered, it hurted her to breathe.

"Eve!" the alarmed cry of her father was heard, calling for her mother "You have to come, Y/N is feeling bad!"

There was agitated little chatter, and then her mom peeked through the slot left by the open door.

"Sun? Are you okay, love?" Her mom asked curious and concerned.

"No..." Y/N cried.

Her parents entered the room, after asking permission. Her mother sat next to her, touching her forehead, and her father stood in the doorway, nervous.

“You don't have a fever, darling. What do you feel? What’s hurting? "

Y/N recounted the horrible night she had just had, her pains and asked if she was dying, worried.

"Will, would you leave us alone, please?" asked her mother.

He left the room, leaving his daughter and his wife together.

"Y/N, did you sleep with Henry?" her mother asked, concerned.

"No!" she blurted out nervously.

Yes. But she was afraid of punishment.

“Y/N, you don't have to be afraid. It is something natural and normal, as long as you wanted and he did not forced you, your father and I will be fine. "

Y/N sighed.

"Yes."

"When was the first time?" her mother was a teacher, but sometimes, if she tried hard, she could guess things just by looking at a person. She was trying now.

"I don't know..." she thought "A year or so ago."

"And when was the last time?" she asked.

“A few months ago, Mom. Before…” she couldn't finish the sentence. First it was out of sadness, but she realized it was out of fear.

His mother closed her eyes and exhaled.

Shit.

It was ‪January the 18‬, and it was ten in the morning.

Y/N was standing in front of the Small Heath Police Station.

She was showing off her new dress, as she hadn't had a chance to leave her small town.

She took a deep breath and coughed a little as she exhaled. The smoke was disgustingly heavy. She entered the station and found only one man, asleep. Well, apparently it was a quiet city if a policeman was sleeping.

What I do? Do I wake him up? Do I let him sleep?

Among so many doubts, a robust man with a gray mustache appeared.

"Are you lost, miss?" the lord spoke, presenting a strong Irish accent.

"Oh, excuse me, I..." Y/N whispered, doubtful and nervous.

"Let me introduce myself, I'm Inspector Campbell…and you are?" smiled the man.

"My name is Y/N, Inspector." She smiled.

"Well, Miss Y/N, what is a young lady like you doing at the police station in such a dark area?"

"Do you know Henry Johnson?" she blurted out, no introduction.

"Henry Johnson..."

"Yeah… um… He has dark blue eyes, a freckled nose, brown hair…" she tried to describe Henry.

"Does he have a mole on his forehead?" asked the inspector.

"Yes!" Y/N smiled excitedly. Then sadness washed over her: she had slowly forgotten how to describe Henry.

The inspector laughed.

"Don't you mean Michael Gray?" he asked.

"Pardon?" she asked, oblivious to the name.

"Watery Lane, house number 65." He said, while he wrote the address on a small piece of paper.

After a thank you and a goodbye, she heard the man scream:

"Stay away from the Shelbys, princess!"

 Y/N walked aimlessly for a few minutes, passing houses, horses, and drunken men in the street. Watery Lane seemed never to appear. And she was getting tired.

It was official, after wandering for ten minutes, she was lost. Her feet ached and she felt like she would never find Henry. Y/N looked around, she was in the middle of the street trying to get help. At the end of the street, there was a bar: "The Garrison" read the sign. Being eleven in the morning, how many people would be inside? Sure was closed. But she would loose nothing if she tried. Determined, she walked over to that dark bar and knocked on the door. She waited a few moments, since she did not want to annoy by entering as if it were her home. A tall man opened the door for her.

“Did you knock on the bar door, love?" asked the man, with curiosity and amusement in his voice. Y/N looked him quickly up and down, it was the bartender.

"Yes, I didn't mean to disturb, sir..." Y/N smiled, making the bartender laugh.

"Do not worry, love. Need help? I'm sure you're lost "

"Am I so obvious?" she asked embarrassed, the bartender laughed “Actually, I do need help. Where is...” she looked at the paper the Inspector gave her "Watery Lane? "

“You're on Watery Lane, miss. What number do you have written there? "

"Sixty..." she looked at the paper to corroborate "sixty five"

"Oh." The man became uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. His voice cleared "It's at the end of the block, on the right side, has the number on the door."

"Thank you, Sir." She smiled.

“Harry, miss. Harry." Smiled.

They said goodbye, and Y/N went to Henry's house. In a minute, she reached the black door, which featured two clean numbers. The knot in Y/N's stomach intensified, she was afraid. Because she knew the two results of this visit: either Henry stayed with her, or he left her alone. Again.

Determined but scared, she knocked on the door. Stepped back and waited a few seconds.

“Well, well, well..." smiled a boy "Did all my wishes come true?" the stranger's flirtation made her uncomfortable.

"Excuse me, is Henry Johnson here?" she asked, exasperated and almost hopeless.

"Oi, Michael, a damsel in distress is waiting for you." the boy yelled, without taking his eyes off the girl.

There was that name again. Michael. Y/N had too many questions.

"John, fuck off. I don't have any..."Henry appeared, pulling “John” out of his place at the door "Y/N...”

Henry paled, and Y/N looked closely at what he was wearing.

He had a perfectly pressed white shirt, a blue tie and a vest that matched his pants.

Henry closed the door behind him, leaving the house.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

Was it disdain and disgust, what Y/N perceived in that question? No, impossible. It was Henry.

"Why did you left?" she answered with a question.

"I asked you first."

"Has your question been in your head for months?" Y/N asked angrily.

"No but..."

“You left us. All of us." Y/N spat with pain "Your mother cried every day, your brother...Henry, your brother...!"

"My name is not Henry, Y/N!" he yelled out of the blue.

“My name is not Henry, she is not my mother and he is not my brother. My name is Michael Gray, my mother's name is Polly and I have a sister who died in Australia. I...”he tried to continue to expand angrily, but Y/N cut him off.

“You, fucking idiot, you had a girlfriend. A girlfriend who waited for you every night with your favorite tea, waited for you every morning with fresh toasts and all afternoon hugging your crying mother. I waited for you until my birthday. I had saved you cake, your favorite part. I went to bed at three in the morning and got up at five everyday, so I could be attentive in case you arrived. But you never came, Henry."

"I am Michael!" he screamed, his voice raised with every letter he said.

"I'm talking to who my boyfriend was!" Y/N yelled in response “I don't know who the fuck is Michael Gray. But I know that Henry Johnson left me alone, and that he got pregnant. So I'm talking to Henry Johnson, not Michael Gray."

Michael clenched his jaw, and Y/N wiped away his tears with his shaking hand.

"What?" Michael asked.

"Four months. I thought you should know, Henry...Michael...whoever the fuck you are."

Adrenaline rushed through Michael's body, everything was shaking. Y/N saw in her boyfriend's eyes how he didn't know what to say or what to do.

"Get rid of him." he said.

"What?" Y/N asked, flustered.

“I won't be with you, get rid of him. It would be easier."

Nausea invaded the girl's body, making her dizzy.

“Everything is so easy for you. If you don't want something, you run away, right?" she laughed sourly, through tears of hatred.

They were both silent.

"Why did you left without saying goodbye? Or a letter...Michael.” the name escaped the girl's lips nervously.

"I didn't want to hurt you..."

Y/N laughed. While Michael was being honest, she couldn't help but get even angrier.

“So you decided to disappear. Disappear from the life of a seven-year-old who sleeps in one of your sweaters so he can stop crying to you. Disappear from the lives of your adoptive parents, regardless of all the effort they put into raising you. Disappear from my life, the person who loves you. Like nothing in the world."

"Y/N..." Michael began.

"No, you don't get to say anything. Because there is nothing to say anymore. Except I'm sorry, but you're not sorry. Everything is perfect now for you. Look at you." She smiled wistfully “You have the perfect outfit that you always wanted, so I imagine you have a job. And a good one, as you always dreamed of. "

"But you..." he began.

“But I” Y/N interrupted again “But I'm going to have a child of yours. As we always dream." Y/N laughed “I dreamed, actually. Because you had other dreams."

And just like that, she began to walk away.

"No, Y/N, wait..." Michael yelled, starting to run towards her.

“I already waited too long for you. I won’t wait for you anymore, never again.” she sentenced, without looking at him as she continued walking.

Michael's chest sagged as he watched her walk away. He entered his house again, with a heavy heart.

"Michael" said Tommy, Michael looked at him heavily "A word?"

Both men locked themselves in the major's office, Tommy stood still and Michael sat in one of the chairs.

“Arthur had a girlfriend, before he went to war. The day before...” said Tommy, lighting a cigarette" The day before our departure, they fought. Shit, it was hell for him. They were so, so angry about something that I can no longer remember, that he went to France without saying goodbye. You know how much of an arsehole he can be." Tommy was going through a drawer, took out a sepia photo.

"She died within two weeks of smallpox, he never forgave himself." Tommy handed him the photo as he sat down in his chair across from Michael.

“We kill men, bad men. Hell, we even torture some. But we never break women's hearts, Michael. Because it is dying in life. So bloody go, and fix all the shit you've done." Tommy said, with an angry tone in his voice, but still not yelling.

"She won't even want to think of me, she'll kill me with her little hands..." Michael smiled sadly, remembering how Y/N's hands looked like baby hands compared to his.

“If she kills you, she will bring you back. Or have you not heard how she waited for you? Go, bloody idiot. Go and don't come back until you come back with her smiling and on your arm.”

PART TWO

#alfie solomons #shelby sister #the peaky blinders #michael gray #luca changretta #birmingham #polly gray #peaky blinders #finn shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #michael gray fanfiction #arthur shelby #thomas shelby #finn shelby #arthur shelby imagine #peaky fucking blinders #finn shelby imagine #john shelby #thomas shelby fic #john shelby imagine #finn cole

[jadoue1999]

Wanda and the life she deserved (she’ll make sure of it) Chapter 3

Summary: Pietro wasn’t Pietro, who was he?

Previous parts: chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, chapter 11, epilogue

Chapter 3: Bonding

Wanda tensed up when she heard him talk. Oleg never wore any helmets, a hat, sure but she had never seen him wear a helmet.

“Who are you?” She asked, sharply, pinning him tighter to the tree when he tried to leave.

“Name’s Peter,” he looked around seemingly looking for something. “You wouldn’t happen to know where we are, do you?”

Peter, not Pietro. It wasn’t him.

Of course, it wasn’t, she mentally smacked herself, it was too good to be true. She had ignored the signs, the differences, but there was no denying when it came directly from him. This man wasn’t her brother. Still, it wasn’t fair. All she wanted was to be happy, to have a family, but the universe seemed keen in making sure she’d never get a happy ending. She wanted to feel angry, to lash out, but she just felt... empty. She turned to the man, still immobilized, he was still waiting for an answer.

“Westview,” Wanda replied, “New Jersey.”

Peter nodded, obviously not understanding where the town was, but not having much choice but accept his predicament.

Wanda raised a hand, and let the illusion changing his clothes break. His runner costume gone, the man was wearing leather pants, a silver jacket with a band T-shirt. A Walkman was at his side, the headphones at his neck.

‘Weird, where did he even get a Walkman?’

She smirked at the goggles on his head, if he really had superspeed, he certainly had the right idea. Pietro had complained a lot about dirt and debris getting into his eyes, she had suggested a shield from her magic, but he said he’d find a solution eventually. She noticed with a sigh that his hair was back to silver, no more pretending now.

“How did you even get here?” The question came out harsher than she would have wanted. The man didn’t seem phased by it, he might have been used to someone in his entourage losing their temper. He simply shrugged and answered.

“I’m not really sure, I was in my room, deciding what to do about my father when a portal opened and suddenly, I’m in some freaky dungeon. There’s a lady talking about you getting desperate, next thing I know, I’m at your doorstep.”

It didn’t make sense, no one in Westview had a dungeon and sure, maybe she had wanted her brother back, but bringing in a stranger? He didn’t even look like Pietro, why did her magic took him, out of everyone else? She looked at the necklace in her hand, the magic wasn’t his, that was for certain. He had been under a spell, but why?

He should have had his role attributed to him when he came in the town, no need for any fancy jewelry. Speaking of, how could he stay himself right now? Why was he unaffected?

She waved her magic away, letting him go. He took a step forward and looked at her, probably wondering why she had just let him loose.

“Tell me about you, where are you from?” Wondered Wanda. He might not have been her brother, but she could still feel the connection. Apparently, so did he, because he sat down and cleared his throat.

“Well, I’m Peter, I grew up in America, with my mom and my,” he paused, “my younger sister, Lorna.” Wanda frowned, why had he hesitated just now? Peter continued his ramble, “when I was seventeen, three guys and I helped a known terrorist to break out of the pentagon, you know him as Magneto, but I figured out later that he was my father. I found him again 10 years later, but he had joined ranks with the god wanna be. He called himself Apocalypse. Took my dad in because he could control metal. Tried to tell him we were related, but I was too much of a loser so instead I tried taking on Apocalypse by myself, got my leg broken and I’ve been wondering how to tell him ever since. Oh, and I joined the X-Men.”

Wanda frowned once again; she hadn’t heard of any events that Peter described. Could it have happened while she was being experimented on? She had never encountered anyone named Magneto, or Apocalypse. And who were those X Men? Perhaps he meant Avengers? But those names wouldn’t easily get mixed up. The same unnerving feeling was creeping up on Wanda. The feeling he didn’t belong here, not just him not being her brother, there was something more. His life didn’t add up, nothing of it made sense. A few questions came to her mind, but she settled with the more urgent one.

“Who was the lady in the dungeon? If someone is trying to sabotage my life, I deserve to know who it is.”

Peter seemed lost in thoughts for a moment, before looking at her. “I’m sorry, I guess she used a trick on me because I know she’s a lady, but I can’t remember specifics details.”

Wanda sighed and pressed her face into her hands, why couldn’t she just live her life without someone ruining it. Chaos was the usual in her life, the moment she tried to settle down, a threat would rise and rip her loved ones away. She thought she would be safe in her own little town, but then the drone came, and now that lady who seemed determined to destroy her world.

“What happened to your brother?” The question took her by surprise. It was to be expected from him, he was, after all, brought in to replace Pietro. He had to be wondering why her actual brother couldn’t play the part. Peter cleared his throat, understanding of rude he sounded and opted for a not-a-care-in-the-world mannerisms. “I mean, I think I know, but I don’t want to assume and be rude. Hell, I have his memories, but I have no idea if what I’ve been shown is real. The lady that messed with my mind could have slipped stuff in, so I hurt you without wanting it.”

Wanda smiled, he might not have been her brother, but he did act a little like him. Pietro was very protective of her too, must have been an older brother thing. She too was protective, but her grief had kept her from really connecting with anyone.

‘Except with Vision and look where you ended up’ she shook away the thought. Those intrusive comments kept haunting her, why couldn’t she shake them away? She looked at her not brother, choosing to focus on him.

“He was a hero.” A dead hero. “We survived a bombing when we were ten and ended up on the wrong side. We saw the truth and saved the world.” Yet he lost his life. “He only had his powers for a few months, same as me. He wasn’t in total control of them. He saved a friend of mine and a child from being shot down, but he wasn’t quick enough.”

Peter looked at her with sympathy in his eyes, he slowly put a comforting hand on her shoulder, trying to help her. “I uh, I know it’s not the same thing, but I’ve been struggling with telling my true lineage to my father. I thought it was only my truth but it’s apparently true for all speedsters. I’ve noticed that for people as fast as us, we always seem to be too late.” They both chuckled, sadly. He removed his hand from her shoulder and gripped her hand instead.

“You know, I didn’t even get to attend his funeral,” Wanda said, grief dripping from her words. “I’m part of a superhero group, the Avengers. There was always something happening, I never took the time to grieve him properly.”

“I- I’m a twin as well,” confessed Peter. Wanda looked at him in shook, was that why he hesitated when he described his family life? He squeezed her hand, clearly this was a painful memory. “She died. She wasn’t shot or anything, it happened when we were 15. She uh, she had probability powers,” Wanda frowned at that power, she had never heard of it. “She could sway the odds in her favor, if that makes it any clearer.” Peter chuckled, “she would use it to make sure we never missed the bus, or that she’d pass a test she wasn’t sure she had studied enough. We’re not sure what happened, no one was there with her. I was running, when I just felt it, you know? Like a bond just breaking and next thing I know I’m passed out and my mom keeps calling my name.”

“What’s your name? Your full name?” Urged Wanda. They were too similar, there had to be a reason for it. She had felt the same way when Pietro died, like a piece of herself was ripped away, leaving a bloody mess in its wake.

 “Peter Maximoff”

Notes: Sorry it ended like this, the chapter was originally 2500 words so I split it in two where it fitted best, I hope you like this!

Don’t for get to like and comment if you enjoyed it!

#wanda maximoff #wandavision #wanda and pietro #wandavision spoilers #wandavision fanfic #wandavision fix it #pietro maximoff #pietro is peter #peter maximoff #Vision #Elizabeth Olsen #Evan Peters #billy maximoff #tommy maximoff #paul bettany #x men #x men quicksilver #x men universe #marvel #marvel fanfiction

[peralta-guaranteed]

hc or ficlet of teddy proposing you amy again but this time jake decides enough is enough

(Read it on AO3)

“You’re probably wondering why I called you here.” Charles says in a deep, low voice.

“Are we not just having drinks?” Jake asks as he hands Rosa her beer and Charles his fruity rosé-tinted cocktail with a berry garnish.

“No! There are far more pressing matters at hand!”

Jake and Rosa clink their bottles together before the first sip, waiting for Charles to continue on his dramatic tangent, as he needs to do sometimes.

“Amy is going to a seminar in Staten Island next week.” He gives them both a deep stare.

“You might be surprised, bud, but I do know that.”

“Teddy is also going to that seminar.”

Jake stops mid-drink.

“I did not know that.”

“Neither does Amy.” Rosa cuts in. “Or she definitely woulda mentioned it.”

“He’s actually attended this seminar twice before, so I deduced that he’s not going for the learning material this time.” Charles leans back almost triumphantly.

“Yeah, it really doesn’t take a detective to figure that out.” Jake is trying to keep busy peeling the label off of his bottle, but Rosa can tell he’s clearly failing. There’s a furrow in his brow she’s rarely ever seen before.

“We have to stop him! He’s going to propose again, or do something romantic, or make a call-back to the seminar where they met, and Amy’s gonna get all confused-”

“My wife of four years and mother of my son is going to get confused by an unstable ex?” Jake’s voice is - bitter, Rosa thinks, is the best way to describe it, and she doesn’t think she’s ever heard that tone from him. Neither has Charles, it seems, because he backpedals immediately.

“Well, no, but- I mean- Amy is going to be upset- she’s been looking forward to that seminar and Teddy is going to ruin it!” He sputters, and Rosa can’t help but nod.

“And what do you suggest we do about that? We can’t keep Teddy from attending a work-thing, and I’m not going to stop Amy from going.”

“We can- we could kidnap Teddy just for the week, and then-”

“Kidnap a police officer.” Rosa interrupts again. “Because that’s gonna go over so well with the authorities.”

“Well then Jake can go to the seminar as well, and punch him out if he tries anything-”

“Yeah, because Holt’s totally not gonna be suspicious when Jake asks to go to a seminar that doesn’t involve some action training.” Rosa quips.

“I’m also not that big a fan of the idea of punching a man for, like, talking to my wife.” Jake grumbles, the label of his beer now completely gone, and only half-sounds convincing.

“It would be for love!” “It would be fucking creepy, is what it would be. Like I’m laying claim to some property or something in the most machismo-asshole way possible.”

“Yeah.” Rosa nods. “Amy’s a grown woman, she can tell him to fuck off herself, and she’s done it before. She doesn’t need us to bring chaos to her ‘fun’ little seminar.” She does sarcastic finger quotes around ‘fun’, but she also does know how much Amy is looking forward to this boring thing again - it’s her first time away from Mac on her own, and she’s planned her own trip just as meticulously as she’s planned for Jake’s stay with the kid, as if he has never taken care of his own child before, and kept her up to date on all of it in case she needs to jump in and help in any situation (which she won’t, but she might go over for a playdate anyway, just to see her godson).

Charles grumbles a bit more, something about ‘true love’ and ‘knights in shining armour’, but he drops the subject before their first round is finished and they can actually spend a nice evening together.

-*-

Rosa hands Jake a beer in return, once Charles has called it quits for the night because he has to go say goodnight to Nikolaj (Jake facetimed Amy and Mac instead and promised he’d be home soon, to which Amy rolled her eyes and said ‘Sure, babe. Tell Rosa to keep you out longer for some fun, please.’ the same way he had when Rosa had picked her up for a girls night two weeks ago).

“You okay?” She asks as she watches him peel the edge of the label almost immediately.

“Charles has really gotten into my head. I hate it when that happens.” He sighs as he lets go of the paper and drinks instead.

“Again: Amy’s a grown woman.”

“I know.” He’s fiddling with the label again after just one sip. “It’s just that all this Teddy-shit really does upset her. I mean, not in the ‘confused’ way like Charles said, which is bullshit.” The furrow is back for a second, Rosa notes. “But like… she just mulls it over in her head so much and it makes her feel like shit even if she won’t say it. I think the stunts he pulled at our wedding bothered her more than the whole thing actually being cancelled.”

Rosa nods as she takes her own first sip. She remembers Amy’s face when she realised Teddy was also at that stroller-contest thing she dragged her to. She remembers her face when they finally drove back to the precinct together too. She knows her friend, and if there’s anyone who knows her even better, it’s obviously Jake.

“So we gotta prevent that somehow.” She tries to continue the conversation without delving into Charles-level shenanigan-planning.

“”I just don’t want Amy’s first time off from Mac to suck because of some inconsiderate asshole. But I can’t exactly go along with her like Charles suggested, I have a kid to take care of, and also that idea is kinda insane.”

“Guess I gotta make sure it doesn’t suck, then.” Rosa finishes her beer and tries to ignore Jake’s gobsmacked stare at her. She doesn’t know when it happened, but at some point, apparently, she’s become willing to attend a boring seminar for Santiago.

-*-

Howzit goin

learn to write like an adult Peralta

also your wife will not stop talking about your kid

you love him

I do

but I don’t need updates on his bathing habits

no Teddy sightings yet but we’re also way too early because Amy. Keep you posted

Jake smiles at the text chain on his phone and makes a mental note to send her a picture of Mac in the tub later tonight, just to annoy her a bit more. Amy had handed the baby over to him at the precinct like she was going on a year-long world-cruise instead of just a five day overnight stay in another part of their own city, and Rosa had been standing behind her with her travel bag, rolling her eyes.

It had taken surprisingly little to convince both Amy and Holt that Rosa was actually interested enough in the seminar to join it at the last minute, and Amy had immediately included her in her itinerary, as well as offered to drive with her so she didn’t have to carry all her luggage on her motorcycle. Jake was going to owe her so, so many favours after all this.

The Mac-inna-tub picture only gets a grumbling emoji response, but she texts him again at around 9, when Mac is already fast asleep and he’s finally turned on Die Hard at the lowest possible volume to not wake him up again.

Teddy showed up

tried to say Hi (or worse) to Amy but I stared him away

going out for first day drinks with the group. I’ll keep him away. Maybe slip something into his drink.

why do I not question you having something to slip into drinks?

I can do more than just knives

don’t stay up all night watching all Die Hards. You gotta take Mac to daycare early tomorrow

Amy told me to tell you that

sure

and it’s only Die Hard 1 tonight

gonna spread them out over all the evenings

got one night left if you skip 4

The Holiday is on Netflix

you’re a good one Peralta

There’s no more updates until 11am the next morning, long after Mac has gone to daycare right on time, as he’s informed Amy via text to calm her down, and he was at the precinct only 15 minutes late this time.

Teddy pulled out the big guns

he had an actual ring this time. Looked expensive

There’s a sinking feeling in his chest, and he wonders what he should answer before his phone pings again.

I broke the ring

and the box

also his hand (‘accident’ - have to say that for liability)

anyway he’s out of the seminar now I guess because he can’t write anymore

so no need to worry

Jake tries to suppress his grin by biting his lip as he texts her back, Charles already getting a bit suspicious over him smiling at his phone constantly two desks over. He can probably explain it away by claiming he’s been messaging Amy, instead.

You’re my goddamn queen, Diaz

no

Amy is

but I definitely own your ass now too since I have to spend 4 more days in this shit place for you

There’s very few updates the rest of the week (apart from several pics of Amy either working, drinking, or lying hungover in bed in their shared hotel room - Rosa has resolved to make the whole boring thing a whole lot less boring, it seems) even as he keeps texting both ladies with Mac-updates and Mac-pictures.

Amy is all smiles and definitely not upset when they get back to the precinct and he’s already there to pick her up and hand the baby to his excited mama, and even Rosa spares a smile for the two Peralta-boys after the week she’s had.

He sidles up to her as Amy coos over her little boy giving her a hug and hello kisses.

“I really do owe you one, Rosa. Thanks.” “Dude, you owe me several.” She growls. “At least I won’t have to do that ever again. I’d say Teddy’s out of the picture now.”

“Because of one broken hand?”

“Yeah, I visited him in the hospital when he was getting his cast on. To ‘apologise’ for the injury.” Rosa grins, and even her sarcastic finger quotes seem intimidating. “Not even he’s that stupid to try and come back.”

Jake raises his fist, and Rosa reluctantly bumps it before both turn their attention back to Amy, who’s already chatting about weekend plans and offering Rosa a ride home. She takes the offer, if only to play peek-a-bo with Mac in the backseat.

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #peraltiago #jake peralta #amy santiago #rosa diaz #ficlet #my writing #academy dholes