#its been agatha all along

[yourmaximoff]

Hunger for Sweets

Summary: The search for sweets in the early hours of the morning ends with your stepsister, between your legs taking your virginity.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Innocent!Fem!Reader

Warnings: (+18) top!wanda, botton!reader, candy kiss, feeling of guilt, corruption, degradation, oral, fingering, loss of virginity.

Words: 5k

(English is not my first language, sorry for any translation errors)

𓆩♡𓆪

Sighing, you stopped in the middle of the kitchen with your eyes fixed on a large jar of sweets on top of the cupboard. Agatha, your stepmother, was very strict about everything since she arrived, always keeping any candy away from you and your new stepsister.

The lack of sweets bubbling in your veins made a rebellious thought pass through your mind.

'Is it just a little candy? What will it cost?'

You questioned yourself, your reputation as a good girl about to be destroyed by the hunger for sugar. You sighed, shaking your head at your own thoughts, that little voice in the back of your consciousness starting to curse you. You weren't one to break rules, you always stayed in line and did exactly what was asked without questioning. It's been two months since Agatha and her daughter moved into your house, and for exactly two months you've been without sugar clogging your veins.

Agatha wasn't so bad, at least not with you, but with her own daughter, Wanda, it was completely different. She always said that Wanda was a rebellious girl and that she needed to clip her wings, cut her freedom before it's too late.

That jar of sweets shining in the moonlight seemed to be calling you. It seemed to beg for you to eat just one of those colorful treats on the glittering glass jar. You looked around, it was late at night and everyone in the house was sleeping. Earlier that night, when you left your shared room, your stepsister was sleeping and your father and Agatha's room was locked. It was the perfect time for you to make your first mistake.

The voice of your conscience was screaming about how you would become a bad girl. Would everything your father had taught you about good manners be destroyed by your weak mind? Temptation was winning, the temptation to have control over things just once in your life. A wave of courage and adrenaline rushed through your body, and you pushed and shoved against that annoying voice telling you it was wrong.

As you put your knee on the countertop, you felt the cold touch of marble on your feverish skin. Supporting your knee and using your hands to hold onto the edge of the cabinet attached to the wall, you had the necessary support to stretch and finally reach the big glass jar.

Your eyes shone as you brought the jar down close to your face, all the cute and colorful treats making you salivate. Sitting on the kitchen counter, amazed at how easily you had managed to grab the jar, you began to turn the lid slowly to open it without making any noise.

You moaned deeply as the smell of crystallized sugar began to intoxicate your mind, bringing back memories of the last time you tasted it on your tongue. The memory was enough for you to abandon the good girl act.

Two of your fingers entered the jar, grabbing a colorful marshmallow like a claw that snatches stuffed animals at the mall. Squeezing between your fingers, you felt its softness and the tiny reliefs of sugar, along with the strong and intoxicating smell that made your mouth salivate even more.

Placing the candy on your mouth, it slid over your wet tongue and another deep moan escaped your lips. Closing your eyes, you slowly bit into it, and soon a sticky sensation stuck against your teeth, but a wonderful feeling began to pump through your veins. The sweet taste that you had forgotten began to completely impregnate your mouth and mind. Your feet unconsciously began to beat against the cabinet in the same rhythm as your sugary heart.

A low murmur startled you out of your small trance state, your eyes opening in desperation, and your heart began to beat frantically. A female figure emerged from the shadows of the dimly lit kitchen entrance, bursting into the moonlight and approaching where you were.

For a fraction of a second, all thoughts of being a bad girl dissolved from your mind. What would Agatha do to you if she saw you stealing candy in the middle of the night and still being awake at the late hour of the night? Fear settled in your stomach, the coils of your mind starting to spin frantically along with infinite possibilities of what Agatha would do to you.

When the figure of a smiling Wanda approached and was focused by your mind, you breathed a sigh of relief. There was still shame for being caught stealing candy, but the fear that it would be Agatha made you relax to the bones.

"The perfect little girl stealing candy?" The brunette said, shaking her head as she approached and crossed her arms over her chest.

Rebellious hair, dark with forest green tips, hung like curtains over her back. Her eyes, in a rare appearance without heavy makeup, were the same color as the colorful tips of her hair. The worn but stylish Deftones t-shirt was the only thing covering her body from explicit nudity, and her bare feet on the cold kitchen floor, just like yours.

Wanda definitely had a rebellious style, but extremely attractive to your eyes. You thought it was a brotherly attraction, since you were an only child before her. Not that you thought you would feel remorse for her, due to the 'privilege' of being an only child being cut. Not at all, it was quite the opposite, you lived in loneliness, not even knowing how to deal with your own doorbell. And now, this loneliness had been filled by your new stepsister. A very false reason to mask the real reason for your strange attraction to her.

Still with the marshmallow in your mouth preventing you from speaking, you put the candy jar on the counter next to you and move to explain yourself better to Wanda. But you are prevented by a quick movement and two pairs of hands resting on your thighs.

"Share with me and I won't tell Mama or Papa." Wanda says, unfortunately withdrawing her hands from your skin and crossing her arms over her chest.

The well-known authoritative air resting on the small bubble between the two of you. Even with little contact with Wanda, you could certainly identify Agatha's genes working in her nervous system.

You nod your head, chewing and swallowing the candy quickly. You put your hand back in the candy jar and pulled out another colorful marshmallow. Reaching out for Wanda to take, she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, silently asking you to put the lump of sugar in her mouth.

You stared for a moment at Wanda's open mouth, her prominent canine teeth and a layer of saliva shining on her tongue. For a brief moment you caught yourself wondering what her saliva tasted like, what it would be like to feel her tongue on yours... You shook your head, dispersing the thoughts before doing something reckless.

Slowly placing the candy on her tongue as carefully as possible, she closed her lips almost nibbling on your fingers together. Wanda began to chew with satisfied murmurs, while her hands released her chest and supported one hand on each side of your body on the counter.

You looked at her smiling, her lips were glossy from the candy as her head shook from side to side like a happy child. Wanda had a threatening tone about her figure, but the way she seemed soft and cute made your heart warm.

"This is as good as I remembered." Wanda says, taking a leap and sitting on top of the cabinet next to you, only the candy jar separating their bodies.

You smiled nodding your head, sliding your hand back into the jar and grabbing a jellybean this time. The taste was a little sweeter, and when you bit into the small acidity that ran down your tongue, it made you let out another deep moan of satisfaction.

Wanda watched you with dilated eyes and heavy breathing. She always looked at you with different eyes, she knew the limitations of being her stepsister, but she couldn't control the sinful thoughts that always came to her mind when she looked at you. You didn't even talk to each other properly, but she began to cultivate feelings for you, feelings that tormented her confused and hot mind. Not that Wanda hadn't liked girls before, but now it was different. The fact that it was 'forbidden' definitely made her anxious for the adrenaline that could cause.

Wanda started having erotic dreams that tormented her when she started sleeping in the same room as you. She always woke up with a racing heart and a hot body in the middle of the night, scared looking around afraid that you were no longer there. When she saw you sneak out tonight, she knew you were going to do something. So, she waited a few safe minutes and followed you curiously to find out where you were going. When she arrived in the shadows in the kitchen, she felt relieved to see you sneaking over the counter to get the jar of candy that Agatha had hidden.

She thought you were going to meet a potential boyfriend. You were beautiful and very kind, for sure you would have many suitors at your feet. The simple thought of someone touching you, and the few seconds it took her to follow you, brought an irritation and a feeling of jealousy burning in her stomach.

But when she saw the cute and innocent little girl just picking up a jar of candy, her body relaxed and a hot wave came over her. Dressed in the flowered nightgown that Agatha had given her, a bit of your back and your baby blue panties were showing, while you were busy trying to reach the jar.

Her daydreams slowly began to disappear, and impure thoughts began to invade her mind as she fixed her gaze on your mouth. You slid your tongue over your sugar-lustful lips, cleaning it.

Wanda took a gummy worm and stuck a small piece against her lips, clapped her hands on your thigh, calling your attention. You turned around and slightly widened your eyes, remembering the movie you watched earlier.

Thanks to Agatha, Lady and the Tramp were always on the living room television. It was a gift from your stepmother to you, showing that even though you came to live here because of your father with her daughter, she would treat you like her own daughter.

You remembered the blessed scene of spaghetti and smiled. Wanda certainly knew that you loved that movie and made this small romantic scene with second intentions that you were too innocent to realize.

Putting your hands on the counter and leaning your face towards her, your lips captured the other half of the gummy worm. The short distance between your lips decreased gradually as both of you chewed and sucked. You felt her hot breath against your nose, her green eyes numb with lust, as the last distance between your lips closed.

Feeling consumed by the sugar, you bit into the candy, breaking it and making it fall onto your mouth. The acidity playing on your tongue and the acidity of Wanda's disappointed murmur reverberated through the air. You didn't have time to process, when you were going to tilt your head back, she was already pushing her lips against yours.

You sighed deeply with the unexpected action, but soon you closed your eyes feeling Wanda's acidic smell in your nose, but her sweet mouth leaving the perfect bittersweet taste registered in your mind.

Her tongue swept the sugar from your lips, asking for passage inside, parting the lips to give way, you felt the warm breath of her breath in your mouth. One of her hands rested on your jaw, delicately stretching your face further to her. You sighed against the kiss, her fleeting and hungry tongue sliding all over you.

Sneaking her skillful tongue, she found the candy, long forgotten, lodged on your left cheek. Separating your faces with the lack of oxygen burning your lungs, she began to chew and feel the taste of gum filled with your saliva in every bone, while you only turned forward. She needed to better record your taste, she needed to keep the taste of your beautiful and fragrant lips and your sweet tongue deep in her memory forever.

Staring fixedly at the kitchen wall with wide eyes, cheeks burning and hand over your mouth. Your fingers touching the lips that were previously glued to Wanda's, the same lips that are now red and swollen. You were shocked at what had just happened.

"Are you okay?" She asks, looking at you with a smile, her hand resting on your forearm.

You swallowed hard at how attractive her voice was, how her touch completely affected your body. Your mind was so confused, but your heart was beating like never before.

"I don't know," you sigh, shaking your head while tears of frustration begin to fill your eyes.

Wanda's other hand went up to your face, resting on your cheek, sliding her thumb over your red skin. It was almost a request for you to look her in the eyes, you wanted to look into those beautiful and addictive eyes, but you hesitated, knowing that if you looked at her, you didn't know what might happen. Would you cry? Would you shout at her? Or would you kiss her again?

You gave in and turned your face to her, those dark green eyes with a loving smile on her lips. You felt tears streaming down your face, you didn't even know why. Were they tears of sadness, guilt or desire?

Her thumb slid over your tears, wiping them away gently, her other hand sliding over your neck until it reached the back of your head. Tangled her fingers in your hair, she began to make small, affectionate strokes.

"Don't think too much," she whispered to you with a sweet voice. "Let me make the difficult choices, let me think for you and take care of you as you deserve, beautiful girl."

Ready to be taken by Wanda, you smiled, biting your lip, shaking your head still with wet eyes and cheeks. You wanted to stop thinking about the consequences and just jump off a cliff in the faith that Wanda would catch you or jump with you.

She got off the counter and positioned herself between your legs, her hands following to your thighs, squeezing them gently. She smiled, stretching her neck up, her eyes asking you to lean down and press your lips against hers, giving the answer she wanted so much, and the answer you already knew.

Your mind was empty for anything other than Wanda, for anything other than having her with you for this moment and letting her take care of you. You lowered your face and kissed Wanda, a deeper and more loving kiss than the last, a kiss that you had total control and responsibility. Their lips fit perfectly, first you sucked her lower lip delicately. Then, tilting your head to opposite sides, you both pushed your tongues at the same time. Like a wet and warm dance, their tongues rubbed against each other, your hand resting on her shoulders and her hands on your waist.

Feeling the heat consuming your body and the grip she unleashed on your waist, you moaned against her mouth. She separated the kiss, pulling your lower lip between her teeth, and began to kiss your neck. Using your nails, you left a loving trail on her neck until you stopped at her beautiful dark hair. You gripped your fingers against her soft hair, and began to stroke it as she did with you before.

She sneaked her hands down your dress, you gasped and widened your eyes when you felt her fingers curl against the side of your underwear.

"Wanda..." You murmured, heat crossing your legs with her fingers pulling the elastic of your underwear.

"Hmm?" She murmured still against your neck, her tongue licking your pulse.

"I... I don't..." You whispered, closing your legs around her body with an unconscious fear of her leaving. "Never..." The shame and redness of your face making you stutter.

"Never?" she asks, leaving your neck and tracing a trail of wet and sweet kisses along your jawline until she sprinkles cute kisses on your lips.

"Never made love."

She abruptly stops the kisses, her hand remaining still on your panties and her face tilting back to look into your eyes. You swallowed hard, afraid of what she might do. Maybe she no longer likes you, maybe she wants someone much more experienced, maybe she wants to tell Agatha the horrible thing you did, maybe...

A line slowly forms on her lips, opening up to a toothy smile, her eyes reflecting a different shine on her dilated green orbs, her cheeks protruding from the smile making her oval face even more perfect.

"Do you want me to make love to you?" she asks, smiling.

You look at her with lustful eyes and an unfamiliar discomfort in the midst of your legs. Your body was hot, your breathing faltering, and your entrance beginning to ache. You had never felt this way before, you had never felt so hot for someone.

"Please," you murmured softly.

One of her hands grips your waist tightly, bringing you to the edge of the counter, while her other hand slowly began to slide your panties down your legs. She bent down and stretched your leg forward, sprinkling kisses on the skin of your heel. The panties slid over your foot and were carelessly thrown up, while her lips began to give small bites on your thighs.

She positioned herself between your legs, her hands sliding against your knees, pushing in the opposite direction for direct access to your pulsing core.

"You're a mess, sweetheart," she murmured happily, seeing your entrance completely soaked.

"Is that good?" you ask, releasing a hot and embarrassed sigh.

"That's more than good," Wanda crooned, running her fingers along your thighs, moving up until they reached your sensitive spot. "You're perfect."

Your stepsister between your legs wasn't exactly the scenario you imagined for tonight or any other occasion. So, you were certainly embarrassed by all of this, you had never shown your pussy to anyone before, and now your stepsister was the first person to see it.

Wanda's fingers slowly rubbed against your soft and wet edges, one of her hands reaching into your camisole, groping your breast. Her thumb and index finger taking your hardened nipple between her fingers, with painful but gentle squeezes, eliciting deep moans from you.

She smiled at how sensitive and wet you were, your legs trembling in anxiety and anticipation to stop being pure. Your stepsister would take your virginity, she would make you a woman, yet to her, you would never cease to be a good girl, a fragile, corruptible, and breakable girl. Her fingers pulling Wanda's red hair hard, pulling her out of the perverse thoughts she started to have about you.

She lightly rubbed your hot slit up and down a few times with four fingers, feeling your legs tremble with the slightest contact. Pushing your legs even more, opening your slit, you felt a cold wind from the open window directly affecting your sensitive core. You tried to close your legs, but Wanda held your knees apart with force.

Stretching her thumb up to your clitoris, she pushed it up and down nonchalantly, without any kind of rhythm. You swallowed hard, your sensitivity acting directly on your toes, while all the blood started to pump rapidly through your veins. A wave of heat embracing your body as the wind from the window broke the warm aura, but not your fervent excitement.

"Are you ready, sweetheart?" Wanda asks, leaving a kiss on your lips.

"I... I think so." You swallow your anxiety, your knees trembling and your chest pounding.

"I think that is not an answer." She slowly responds, starting to move her thumb away from your clitoris, taking with it the pleasant sensation that was building up inside your stomach.

"Oh my god. Yes, yes! I'm sure." You reply with a heavy sigh, feeling desperate for her to continue making you feel good. "Please Wanda, I... I need you."

"Oh sweet." She murmurs with a coy voice and a face of fake sadness. "Do you need me to eat you?"

"I do." You quickly respond, receiving the stimulation again.

Her thumb still tirelessly torturing your clitoris, controlling your excitement in the palm of her hand. She slowly began to trap you in her arms, in her love. She would never let you escape from the love she was more than willing to give you. Now she would consummate the desire that had been slowly growing for two months. Now that little seed that was planted in her chest when she met you would bloom like a beautiful rose. A rose with thorns that would surely hurt you, but what is the beauty of love without a little pain, right?

Wanda leaned her face towards your thighs, a path of loving kisses being arranged on your thighs until they reached your bundle of nerves. Her mouth began to salivate and her chest palpitated, she would finally harvest the rose she had planted, finally the rose would be hers.

Without thinking twice, she pushed her face against your legs, you moaned holding her hair and biting your lower lip, swallowing the loud moan that would sound throughout the house like a beautiful high-pitched music.

Wanda shoved her nose against your folds, deeply inhaling the scent of purity and innocence. Pushing her tongue up and down your slit, she began to lick you and all parts of your sensitive core.

You dug your nails into her nape needing to grip something, or else you would give in to the loud moans, and everyone in that house would discover that Wanda was eating you on top of the kitchen counter.

Her tongue was so soft and warm that you felt your entire body relax. Her rhythmic tongue deliciously licked all the juices that dripped from your hole. The gears in your blank mind working, a strange pressure began to push against your uterus, you felt as if something was growing there. Wanda felt the contractions of your tight hole every time her tongue roamed there. Her finger abandoned your clit, but soon her mouth took its place.

"Oh shit." You whispered, feeling Wanda's tongue circle your button, one of her hands squeezing your thighs and the other descending over your folds.

Wanda sucking your clit was too much for you, you couldn't handle it, a low but thin moan escaped your lips. Your body slowly combusting, the more warm saliva left Wanda's mouth and slid down to your sensitive core.

"Sweet." She whispered against your clit. "You need to stay quiet." She slowly puts her index finger on the edge of your hole, playing with the heat and contractions.

"Okay..." You reply with drops of sweat forming on your forehead. "I can try, but I need you." You swallow hard, feeling your whole body tremble with sensitivity. Wanda's face leaves your entrance and rises to look at your face. She needed to see you, she needed to remember you begging for her.

"I need you inside of me." You have never had anything inside of you before, not even your own fingers, and now an unconscious desire was pulsing in your chest.

"Do you need me to stretch you?" Wanda asks with a harsh voice, her eyes dark and her index finger slowly entering your hole.

You close your eyes, biting your lower lip, unconsciously spreading your legs even wider, tilting your head back and feeling the strong wind from the window hitting your body. Sliding her finger all the way in, and reaching the edge again, she sighed, feeling her finger completely soaked. "Do you think you can take more, sweetheart?"

"Yes, yes," you sigh, feeling the delicious sensation of Wanda's finger sliding in. Even though it was just one finger, this new sensation was pounding your heart strongly. Your body began to boil just with the thought of Wanda putting another finger and sliding even harder inside of you, and that's what she did.

A moan escaped your throat, your teeth pressing against the flesh of your lower lip. Two fingers slowly beginning to bury themselves in you, your walls stretching and your sensitive clit receiving a constant rhythm from Wanda's thumb.

"Is it hurting, my baby?" Wanda asks, looking at your face. Your furrowed eyebrows bringing features of pain, but your legs press her against your body, begging for more of her.

"I don't know..." Your voice trembling. "I think so, but it feels so good... I've never felt this before." You murmur turning your head to look at her. Her lips smiling and her dark eyes looking directly into yours, consumed by the mess you already were.

Your eyes widened when Wanda started to create a rhythm inside of you, twisting her fingers and pushing them as deep as she could. "Fuck." You moan, closing your eyes tightly, your hands gripping Wanda's shoulders tightly, digging your nails into her thin shirt.

"Don't moan too loudly, sweetheart, what if mom finds out about this dirty thing here?" Wanda whispers intentionally putting things in your head, intentionally making your body tense and conscience heavy. "She'll probably be very angry with you."

"Yeah... fuck." You choke on your own moan, trying your best to stay quiet, but Wanda's speed wasn't helping.

"I think it's better to stop, I don't want Agatha to punish you." Wanda responds with a dark gleam in her face, her fingers breaking the consistent rhythm.

"Please, please." You choke on your own excitement, cheeks burning like your entire body. "I need more." You beg without even knowing what you were asking for, but the lack of the pleasurable sensation leaves your mind in a whirlwind. "You can't stop now, Wanda."

"Ah baby, you need to keep quiet so they don't find out." Wanda whispers, approaching your face, her lips close enough for you to feel her warm breath. You abruptly push your lips against Wanda's, her fingers starting to push inside of you again, and this time she swallows all of your moans.

The lascivious noises began to sound throughout the kitchen, the open window bringing raindrops that hit against your arms. The cold and rough wind hit against your hot face, your hair flying back with the force of the wind and the storm that was forming outside.

"Cum for me, Sweetheart." Wanda murmurs against your mouth. "Tell everyone who you belong to."

Three more rough and deep thrusts and you feel the pressure in your stomach pulsate, your legs crossed around her waist, keeping her still inside of you. Your mind begins to spin and your breath catches in your lungs, you hold onto her shoulders tightly and let yourself be overwhelmed by an intense orgasm.

The sound of the rain that formed outside the window, and the sound of the drops hitting the gutter, were enough to leave their parents deaf to your moans and Wanda's name reverberating like a deep echo in the kitchen.

Your whole body pulsated, but your muscles relaxed instantly, your body went limp and Wanda held you, mirroring the smile that was plastered on your lips. She slowly lowered her face down your legs and cleaned you with her own tongue. The overstimulation brought painful moans from you, but Wanda was cleaning you with so much care and tenderness that you only allowed yourself to feel her tongue taking care of you one last time.

"Ready, Sweetheart." Wanda smiles at you. Your eyes were tired, but still shining as you looked at her. "How are you feeling?"

"Amazingly good... and tired." You laugh, shaking your head, the nerves in your legs still contracting.

Wanda leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your lips and climbed onto the counter to put the jar of candy back in its original place, not wanting to get in trouble if Agatha found out.

"Let's go." She says, turning her back to you, patting her own shoulders. You smile, shaking your head and jumping onto her back. Your legs closing around her waist and your arms around her shoulders like a lazy sloth.

𓆩♡𓆪

Agatha woke up in the middle of the night to a disturbing noise. Putting on fuzzy slippers and a nightgown, she slowly descended the stairs of the house. When Agatha set foot in the living room, her eyes fixed on a rather shocking scene.

You and Wanda were lying together on the couch with the TV on. You were lying with your head in Wanda's lap, while she was sitting on the couch with her hands buried in your hair. In the background, the upbeat music from the romantic dinner scene from Lady and the Tramp sounded throughout the room, bringing a cute and sweet aura to the scene on the couch.

Agatha never thought she would see her rebellious daughter getting along with you, a girl with a completely different personality from Wanda. But there you both were, sleeping while the movie Agatha had given you played on the TV. She assumed, from the intense rain outside, that you might be afraid of thunder and Wanda comforted you with the movie. Agatha smiled, letting it pass this time, but she would definitely talk to you both about watching movies when you should be sleeping.

Climbing the stairs, Agatha returned to the bedroom shared with your father. If fate wasn't on your side and Agatha had gone to the kitchen, she would certainly have noticed your baby blue panties soaked and thrown on top of the refrigerator.

#Wanda maximoff #Wanda smut #Wanda x reader #Wanda maximoff x reader #Wanda maximoff x y/n #Wanda maximoff x you #Wanda maximoff smut #Wanda maximoff fanfic #marvel imagines

[theteasetwrites]

Daddy's Home | Part 1

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 5 (Alexandria) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT (18+)—oral sex (male receiving), dominant-ish Daryl, doggystyle, so much dirty talk, like one tiny spank (just a little one), mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, oh yeah and DADDY KINK, language ❧ Word Count: 4.3k

❧ Summary: When Daryl comes back home from a week away, he doesn't want to sleep. He just wants you.

❧ A/N: Ok so yes I know the title is ridiculous, but like... what else was I gonna call this oneshot ok? Anyway, here's some major daddy kink. Like a lot of daddy kink. Daryl is just daddy. Sorry but he is. I can't explain it. Actually, yes I can. He's a protector, a provider, a big softie. He's a daddy, and I don't even have daddy issues but just let me have this. Goodbye I am never showing my face here again. <;3 Also I simply cannot get over how hot he is in this gif holy mother of god.

The quiet was nice, late nights in Alexandria, gentle summer breeze prickling at your skin. It was nice to leave your bedroom window open through the night. Daryl hated it, always going on about how someone could climb the trellis outside your window and sneak in while you slept, but when he was gone, you’d indulge yourself in that one simple luxury.

When he told you that he was Alexandria’s newest recruiter, you knew you’d be in for some lonely nights ahead. Still, you also knew Daryl was the best man for the job—you’d seen him bring dozens of people to the prison, providing them shelter while expecting nothing in return, and then going out the next morning to do it all over again. That was when he wasn’t going out on his hunts to find food for everyone, often bringing home the biggest deer you’d ever seen, until he’d do it again next week, and bring home an even bigger one.

Yes, there was no doubt about it—Daryl knew what he was doing out there, but it didn’t stop you from worrying about him. Missing him. So while the quiet was, indeed, nice, you still could not get used to being alone, in this perfect little suburban townhouse, waiting. 

Your waiting became so monotonous, sitting up in your bed and reading another old Agatha Christie novel, that you decided, at length, to migrate downstairs, the living room. When Daryl would come home, you thought, you’d greet him right away. That was how much you were anticipating his arrival. 

One week was nothing, really, but it was the longest you’d been apart since knowing each other, and with the world the way it was, a lot could happen in seven days. A lot of bad, bad things. 

So you flicked on the lamp, snuggled yourself into a knitted blanket, and curled up on the sofa, book in hand as you let out a quiet huff. “Daryl…” you said to yourself, scanning your book to relocate the exact sentence where you left off. “Where are you, you big meatball.”

Your nervous jitters only worsened with the passing hour, your legs shaking involuntarily, your finger tapping on the edge of the book, your toes wiggling nonstop. All you needed was the sound of that bike, that big, stupid bike. That would ease your fretful heart. Well, what would really make you happy was seeing that man of yours, no doubt in need of a shower, but still, your man nonetheless. 

Speak of the Devil, as they say, and he doth appear.

It started out as just a distant hum, perking your ears and making your spine straighten in anticipation. Still frozen, you listened intently. A rumble, now, mechanical and getting louder with each second your heart began to beat faster. At one fateful moment, the roar of the makeshift machine was at its highest volume, and before you could even stand, a bright beam of white light shone through the blinds of the front window. 

All at once, the light and the rumble ceased, punctuated by a low huff, followed by an exasperated grunt. Heavy footsteps plodded along in a familiar pattern—you even recognized the sound of his no doubt mud-caked boots scraping against the edge of the steps leading to the front porch. You could only hope that this time, he’d take the extra precaution of removing his boots before he stepped over the threshold. 

There was a spring in your step, you wrapping the terry cloth fabric of your robe over your chest as you flitted towards the front door. Finally, you stood just a few feet back, your eyes transfixed on the shiny bronze doorknob. Inevitably, a wide grin made your cheeks swell until they almost ached, but the wait was worth it. 

When he came through the door, his head was hanging low, until he felt your presence. Lifting his gaze, he met your great big smile with a smaller one, though the movement of his body betrayed him. The door shut with a strong thud, just before he stepped forward to let his crossbow fall from his shoulder. With a soft grunt under his breath, he buried his nose in the warmth of your shoulder, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. 

For a good while, he stayed like that, only taking in the sensory relief you provided him—your faint scent of rose, your softness, your tender chuckle as your hands rubbed in vertical motions up and down his aching back. Despite the rigidity of his tired muscles, he melted into you, letting himself bask in the comfort you provided him. To hold him like this was nothing short of a ritual between you two, whenever you were apart for long enough to begin missing each other to the point of near grief. 

A man like Daryl—who’d been through so much as he had, who’d seen so much and had still so much room in his heart to give of himself to others—deserved to be held the way you held him. Few people in this world had a heart as big as him, though he did not show it in ways most people would recognize. He showed it in acts of service, in providing for people who could not provide for themselves, in the ones he loved safe. It was what you always adored about him: how he gave of himself, and expected nothing in return. 

“Hey, there, tough guy.” Daryl buried his face deeper into you, now snug in the crook of your neck, where he caught the scent of your perfume, applied much earlier in the day, yet still lingering sweetly. Though you adored how much he clung to you, you longed so much to see his face. Your hands grabbed a hold of either side of his head to lift his gaze to yours. 

As usual, his disheveled hair hung low over his forehead, obscuring one of your favorite features of his—his eyes. Between strips of tattered brown curtains, you could make out the blue-grey hue of his irises. Pushing them back, you smiled again at those deep-set pools of silvery cobalt blue. You always found their mystery to be intriguing. 

“How are you?” you asked, though you knew from the state of him that he must’ve been exhausted. He hadn’t even muttered a word, and yet the more prominent than usual bags under his eyes spoke for him. “You must be tired, hon. Let’s get you in bed.”

But as you turned towards the staircase, a firm grip pulled you back by the wrist, until you were in his arms now, laughing at his sudden burst of energy. Despite your amusement, he did not smile, only looked at you with a heavy, dark gaze, and a lick of his lips.

In your surprise, you hadn’t even noticed that both of his hands were now wrapped around each wrist, so tight that you nearly feared he’d cut off your circulation. 

Something was wrong, had to have been. You’d never seen him so… intense. Of course, Daryl could often be intense, when he was angry especially, but this wasn’t that. Anger was something you could recognize in Daryl. He’d never directed it towards you, but you knew it, and this was something different. 

“Are… are you feeling okay, sweetie?”

Silence, just that gaze holding you hostage, and a heat rising from his body that you could’ve sworn caused a bead of sweat to form on your brow. 

Now he was scaring you. 

“Daryl?” 

Your voice tempted him further. If only you knew just how much he missed you, how much he needed you. A week was too long. A week without you, a week without your touch, a week without your sweet, dulcet voice. And oh, how that voice awoke in him a terrible burning, a conflagration of deadly proportions, a fire that could only be extinguished by the one he loved. 

Entranced by his stare, you hadn’t noticed that he had you pinned against the wall, his strong, heaving chest keeping you there. 

And when he pressed himself against you, you knew. It was obvious, the way he nearly thrusted into you. 

When you realized what he wanted, you felt a wave of relief wash over you: he needed you just as much as you had needed him the past week. From the night he left, you’d not stopped thinking of him, and when you’d turn in your bed to feel for him, and he wasn’t there, the ache for him only worsened. 

There was no way in Hell, though, you were going to initiate sex when he got home. You knew he’d be tired, and a good night’s rest was what he needed before you even thought of asking him to make love to you, but now, with that wild look in his eyes, that hungry snarl in his lip, that flare in his nostrils, that beating of his heart… 

“Oh,” you sighed, your teeth biting back your lower lip as your eyes trailed up and down his body. With your hands finally free, you ran them up his arms, letting them settle on the broad, firm shoulders you loved so much. 

For just a moment, he leaned forward, forehead and tip of his nose meeting yours. With his hardening cock beginning to dig between your thighs, and his vaguely tobacco tinged musk tickling your senses, you could only utter one word. 

A soft, nearly whimpering mewl: “Daddy.”

By the time he got you to the sofa, each of you were already panting, hands moving relentlessly as you both clawed for any part of each other’s body you could get your hands on. Your mouths worked tirelessly, tongues spinning sloppily around the other’s in your haste to finally have each other again. 

When you successfully removed his leather angel-winged vest, you worked on unbuttoning his black shirt, but his hands stopped you. 

“Need your mouth,” he said. 

Leaning back on the sofa with a low grunt, he began unbuckling his belt, while you slotted yourself between his legs, hands massaging his clothed thighs, thick and flexing against your palm. 

When his cock sprang out of its confines, you’d already stripped yourself of your underwear and your robe. In only a transparent silk nightgown, your hips swayed instinctively as you watched his hand begin to stroke himself, up and down the long, thick shaft you’d come to know and love so much. 

“Come ‘ere.” His hands reached out to grab either side of your head, bringing you down to his cock. Panting lips began to drool a bead of saliva down the side of his growing erection. Knowing what he wanted, of course, you took the reddened, swelling tip into your mouth, much to his immediate relief.

“Fuck.” As your mouth slid a little lower, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. His grip on your hair tightened as his head fell back on the arm of the sofa, a soft breath of your name on his lips. 

Returning to watch you, he lifted your hair into a makeshift ponytail, tilting his head to get a better look at you, your eyes fluttering up to meet his gaze.

“Pretty angel.” Even just the utterance of that affectionate pet name made you feel an overwhelming need to touch yourself. With your free hand, you lifted your nightgown to slot your fingers between warm, velvety folds of aching flesh. “Ya look so good like this… Suckin’ on Daddy’s cock.”

It was somewhat of a tradition now, using that phrase, though only in the context of sex, in your most private, intimate moments. It was silly, you knew it, and he knew it, too, but you both found it excruciatingly sexy all the same. It was sacred in that you’d probably die of embarrassment if anyone else besides Daryl knew of your little… kink.

But neither of you could quite help it, you adoring his strong, protective nature, and him just finding it so alluringly sinful. Guilty pleasure type of thing, with emphasis on pleasure.

And besides, his dirty talk was sex all on its own. 

As your mouth took him in progressively deeper, your fingers moved faster, increasing the friction against your sensitive spot, then slowly dipping down into the embrace of your entrance. 

Not only could he admire your mouth, and your sweet soft moans, but he could watch your fingers enter you, your hand shaking as you penetrated yourself to match the rhythm you knew he liked when he had his cock in you.

“Love when you fuck yourself like that.” He only wished he was the one doing it. “You thinkin’ of me?”

Well, it was hard not to think of him, with his cock in your mouth. 

Taking the opportunity to catch your breath, you answered him. “Yes, Daddy.”

His hands pulled you back down onto his cock, your lips forced open by his tip. “Just don’t make yourself come,” he said. “That’s for me.”

Yes, Daddy. 

Sliding over your tongue, his cock dug deeper, towards the back of your mouth. Going down on him was always a bit of a challenge, given just how big he was, but the weight of him inside you, wherever that may be, was far more rewarding. And when you got to feel that little twitch, his cock moving all on its own as it begged for release… It only made you suck harder, sliding your mouth up and down, taking him in deeper until you were nearly gagging. 

But he liked that, the sound of you struggling just a little to take all of him. Daryl was a sensitive man, yes, but he was still a man—proud of his big cock, even if he was insecure in most other areas. At least he was big, and at least he knew how to use it. 

With his hand on the back of your head, firm, but still gentle enough to let you up if you needed it, he pushed you down just a bit more, hearing your gag become more guttural, more strangled. It did not hurt, though. It only turned you on, your fingers curling inside you to tickle that special spot, and your other hand fondling his balls, tightly drawn to the underside of the base of his cock. 

For several moments, the only sounds coming from either of you were your strained groans, his slipping from between his agape lips, yours muffled by his length filling your entire mouth. Between those sounds of pleasure were the sloppy squelches of your lips soaking him with your saliva. You were always so messy when you went down on him, but how could you not be? His cock provided you no room to lick up your drool, stuffing you until your spit had nowhere else to go but down his veiny, hard length.

Of course, he’d have to tease you about it, how sloppy you were. “Messy girl,” he said, his hand gripping your hair to pull back your bangs. You fluttered your eyes open to meet his, and you were greeted by his crooked smile, with just a sliver of those shiny teeth showing. “Gettin’ Daddy all wet, huh? Nice and wet so I can fuck you good.”

Yes, Daddy.

Eyes rolling back slightly, he bucked his hips up with a jolt, your sucking beginning to tip him over the edge. Just in time, too, for your hand was getting tired of rubbing, and you needed him to finish you off.

“F-fuck, angel. Imma need ya to get that pussy ready for me.”

Whatever he wanted, you’d give him. After all, you were his good girl. Always his good girl. You couldn’t think of a time you’d ever been a bad girl for him. Daddy deserved his good girl.

Yes, you were a good girl, but you could still be… needy.

“Oh, Daddy.” Now straddling his waist, your fingers went straight for the first button on his shirt. “Want you.” He loved when you whined, just a little, and when you were so needy for him that you couldn’t quite make out a completely proper sentence. “Want your shirt off.”

He let you undo just a few buttons, exposing the hairs on his chest that drove you crazy, made you want to feel those wiry hairs between your pursed lips as you trailed your kisses all over his broad chest, made so strong and big by all the manual labor he did, and that heavy crossbow he always used. 

That very same strength pulled at your wrists, then raised you up only to lay you down, sprawled out on the other side of the couch. Now he hovered over you, the tip of his cock hanging down to be tickled by the fabric of your blush pink nightie. He always liked pink on you, matched the color of your cheeks when he talked so dirty to you, made you feel like a whore, but not in a disrespectful way. Never in a disrespectful way.

Besides, you knew you were more than that to him. You knew he loved you. Two years together, through some of the most abject pain and suffering imaginable, would do that. But in moments like this, it felt good to be just his personal whore, whom he happened to love very, very much.

Tenderness blossomed between your lips and his, where he kissed you so deeply, so sweetly. And yet, you still clawed at his shirt, your fingers begging for him to let you see his gorgeous body, after so long away from him.

“Shit,” he laughed into your mouth. Sitting up, he began to undo the rest of the buttons, then peeled off his shirt with his chest puffed up, clearly a bit cocky. When your hands shot up to grasp at his pecs, the faded ink of the tattoo above his left nipple having taunted you, he chuckled again.

“Daddy,” you laughed back, your voice a drawn out, dramaticized whine. “Come on.” 

Now you were testing him, and he held back the rest of his laughter to put on a stern, domineering face. “Hey, now. Be a good girl.”

He felt your thighs squeeze together underneath him, and your hips jolting upwards. He knew what you wanted, and he’d give it to you, but this position wasn’t quite right. 

With a breathy grunt, he grabbed you by your waist, flipping you over, then lifting your bottom until it was sticking out at just the right angle. Lifting your nightie, he licked his lips to watch you move your hips from side to side, as if to taunt him. 

“Cute little ass,” he practically cooed. Leaning over you, his chest pressed firmly to your back, he nuzzled his nose against your pillowy cheek. All the while, you felt his hand slide between your now nearly dripping wet folds. Eyes closed softly, you hummed a soft whimper at the feeling. His hands were always different from yours, so much bigger, stronger, rougher. You’d never felt a touch quite like his, and part of it was because he touched you with such tenderness, even if he tried to manhandle you a little. He was still always gentle, somehow.

In the most honeyed, silky, yet scratchy, voice, he rasped in a whisper, “Did ya miss me, angel?” 

“Yes… Daddy, I missed you so, so much.”

“Mm, I missed you, too. So much.”

Finally, you felt his tip just barely graze your hole. Not only was he torturing you, he was torturing himself, but he loved it. He needed it, otherwise he was sure his peak of pleasure would go away just as fast as it would come. With you, in this moment, he needed to prolong the desire as much as he could. He could feel it coming soon, though, that tensing in his muscles, that tingling in the pit of his stomach, that twitching that made his cock seem to bounce against your folds on its own accord. 

As he slid further into you, you felt his lips find the back of your neck, where he left little kisses the more he sank into you. It felt so good to feel him again, that fullness. It was a feeling only he could give you, his unique way of moving, his cock fitting so perfectly inside you. 

Underneath your nightgown, his hands found your breasts. Tense, strong fingers curled like claws at the soft tissue. Even in his dreams, of which he had many while he was away, he could not recreate that texture—that pillowy soft flesh swelling against his fingers. And the inside of you, the warmth and tightness that hugged his cock and accepted him with each pass, in and out. 

Soon, he leaned back to watch your body envelope his, the shiny, milky coating of your arousal making it easier to slip in and out of you, his hips thrusting in ever increasing speed.

“Daddy…” 

God, he loved being called that. Much more than he should’ve. But, then again, he’d probably find you sexy even if you were calling him “dickhead.” He really didn’t mind, as long as you were calling him something. 

“Mm, angel… Daddy’s here now, sweetheart.” He delivered a harder, stronger thrust, pulling a loud, strangled moan out from deep inside of you. “That feel good?”

“Fuck, yes!” 

As if to praise you, he delivered just a small, weak slap to your bum. That was about as hard as he was willing to spank you, given how much he hated the idea of hurting you, but he knew you liked it, and he liked it, too, the clench of your body from the slap making him jolt forward. 

“Takin’ it good… Real good.”

With one hand still squeezing your breast, the other now drawing tight circles over your clit, he made your lips tremble and your muscles tighten as you began to approach the height of pleasure. You could feel it, just on the brink of release. And he felt it, too, which was why he pulled himself out of you, flipping you over again like a ragdoll. 

You were startled when he pulled you down by your ankles, until you were closer to him. He gave his fingers a good, long lick, then let them sink into you, where his cock had left you stretched wide open and dripping wet. 

Three fingers. Three thick, strong fingers, curling up inside you, making you writhe and groan as your hands shot up to grasp at his shoulders. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched his neck bulge with the strain of trying to keep himself from coming, and it only aroused you more—those muscles flexing and throbbing and burning underneath hot, sweat-dripping skin, tanned by days on end out in the sun. 

What he needed so badly was his own release, after so long of working so hard out there, risking his life for the good of Alexandria. As his forearm and biceps flexed with every push of his fingers inside of you, his chest heaved harder and harder, while you reached between your legs to find his cock. With your hand pulling on his length, and your walls clenching around his fingers as your release reached a tipping point, you both would soon be giving each other much needed relief. 

“Daddy,” you sighed, tugging harder on his cock as frustration overtook you. The closer you got to orgasm, the more you couldn’t wait any longer. “Make me come… I wanna come.”

“Ah, angel… I’m gonna come, too.”

Just moments later, you tensed and gasped and writhed and moaned, rocking your hips upward as his fingers stayed inside you, squeezed by your contracting walls. “Oh, Daddy!”

He leaned forward to lay on top of you, his sturdy weight keeping you in place as you rode out your high, soaking his fingers with your arousal. The heat of your cheek seemed to burn his lips as he kissed you there, then rubbed his button nose in delicate circles to soothe you. “Yeah… Daddy’s got ya, sweetheart.”

With your hand still tugging on him, he gasped a heavy breath, spilling out over you right then and there, his hips thrusting into your hand in desperate, sloppy motions. The orgasm was so strong that he lost his composure for a moment, his head falling into your chest as he groaned your name, over and over and over again. 

And now he freed his hand, using it to rub up and down the sides of your torso, your skin like fine silk under his worn, calloused fingers. In his hair were your hands, massaging his scalp the way you knew he liked, until he lifted his head to offer you a gentle smile. 

“Mm, I’ll never get tired of that.”

You tilted your head with a wide grin. “I didn’t think you’d want to do it tonight. I thought you’d be exhausted.”

He breathed a low huff before rolling over onto his side. You did the same, letting him hold you with his chest pressed firmly to your back. There wasn’t much room on that tiny couch, but you made it work. After all, even if you were in bed upstairs, you’d probably still be this close to each other, clinging for dear life, never wanting to be separated again, though you knew someday you’d have to.

“I am,” he said. “Just… I dunno, needed you, s’all.” Observant as he was, he took notice of your shivering, and reached back to grab the knitted blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch. He covered the both of you, then tucked his chin into your shoulder, where it seemed to fit perfectly. “Missed ya so much, could hardly stand bein’ without you.”

Even now, after you thought you’d be used to his sweet words, he still had a way of sending those butterflies aflutter. “Well, now you’re back home.”

That sounded so good to him—back home.

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

Masterlist

Part 2 (coming soon)

#daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus x reader #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead smut #twd smut

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (5/?)

Chapter summary: The "calm" before the storm. Wanda’s tentative friendship with you is off to a good start

Chapter word count: 5.4k+

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader (heavy on this chapter)

Notes: don't need to squint for fluff in this one, also kind of a filler before we get to the much dreaded part 6

AO3 | Masterlist 

Next Chapter: Six

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta | @secretbackrooms | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez

-

Five

Wanda’s tentative friendship with you is off to a good start. There’s a silly smile on her face as she puts the harness on Sparky; and the energetic pupper struggles only slightly when Wanda coos at him.

“We’re going to see Y/N,” Wanda says, and Sparky wags his tail hard at the mention of your name. “Who’s an excited little boy?” 

She proceeds to hook the leash on the harness and then temporarily secure the hand loop around the doorknob. 

“Stay there while mommy puts on makeup.” Wanda commands and feeds him a treat from her hand. 

Wanda studies herself in front of the mirror. It’s a problem putting on the liquid foundation because she can’t stop smiling, the product caking along her laugh lines as a result.The last time she was drunk on happiness was when she got that job at the art gallery and you surprised her by taking her to a romantic dinner cruise around the island. While there, you both mapped out the plan for her to eventually be the senior art curator–a position that eventually went to Agatha Harkness. Wanda had been bold to give herself only two years to work her way to the top, and it wasn’t purely of her own accord. It was being with you that she felt she could dream anything. It was you that removed all her fears and doubts. 

If anything happens, let them happen, she thought to herself. As long as she had you, the rest was just confetti. 

It didn’t mean that Wanda’s ambition and everything else outside of you were just background noise; it only meant she knew it wouldn’t be the end of the world if she failed.

Wanda ends up just applying a bit of lip gloss on her lips, recalling how often you used to tell that you prefer her more natural look. 

Her phone buzzes with a notification. Wanda unlocks it to find a text from Pietro, who she asked to man the cafe until afternoon.

You owe me a free batch of those macadamia cookies for this. - P

I’ll bake all the cookies you want for a discount. - W

Thank you for doing this. - W

Agatha agreed to help in the morning. - P

You text with Agatha??? - W

:p - P

Please don’t flirt in front of my customers. - W

No promises. Enjoy your date with Y/N. - P

Wanda grins from ear-to-ear. 

It’s not a date. - W 

You wish it was. - P

Wanda chooses not to answer that and slips her phone back in her purse. Then she turns to Sparky who’s been fiercely watching her all this time. 

“Ready to go, bud?”

–

“You look nice.” 

It’s offhandedly delivered after you take the reins on Sparky, yet the speed at which she blushes from the compliment is almost embarrassing. Like always, she makes it a point to look good for you. 

You and Wanda chose to meet at the Conservatory Garden in Central park, taking advantage of the spring weather. Its main path is littered with trees and benches, and an overall perfect spot for people watching. Sparky was the first to spot you, and he started barking the second he picked up your scent and ran towards your direction, dragging Wanda along with his leash. Tears almost fell from her eyes when she watched your touching reunion. You fell to your knees to gather Sparky in your arms, while he made sure to lick every part of your face. 

“I missed you too, bud.” Wanda heard you whisper over the back of Sparky’s furry head. Sparky made a whining noise, and you knew he understood.

“I was surprised you’re available on a Wednesday,” you say. You and Wanda are strolling side by side, Sparky in tow, moving in circles around you and occasionally around Wanda too. 

“Pietro covered for me.”

“I didn’t know he could bake or make good coffee for that matter.” you say with a light chuckle.

“I baked everything in advance this morning, so all he has to do is take care of the register. Also, he’s caffeine dependent and very particular about his coffee, so he already knows how to make the ones on the menu.”

Though, what Wanda really wants you to know is that she woke up at 3AM just to be able to walk Sparky together.

You raise your eyebrows, half-impressed and half-skeptic. “I’m curious if he’d make them as good as yours. I mean, you make pretty darn good coffee.” 

Wanda bites her tongue to maintain her neutral expression. Another compliment. She wonders how many more she can squeeze out of you. The reality is she’s a nervous ball of energy. Worse than College Wanda was nervous when she first realized her feelings for you.

“Thanks, Y/N. It means a lot, coming from you.”

“Aren’t you worried I’m just being biased?” you quip with a devious smirk. Wanda feels a strong urge to wipe it away with her lips. “After all, you did train my tongue to like your cooking.”

“I did not!” Wanda passionately protests, blushing when her mind wanders to what else she trained your tongue to do in the past. 

You surprise her by letting loose a laugh; a real one, blissful and unrestrained; playfully challenging her with a, “Then explain why I love overcooked chicken.”

Wanda’s still thinking of a smart comeback, when your ringtone goes off in your pocket. 

“Excuse me, I should take this.” you say, handing back the leash to Wanda.

“Hey, stranger,” you happily receive the call, and Wanda curiously watches you from the corner of her eyes.

“This Friday? Yeah. Aside from dinner…? No, I don’t think I have anything else planned.” 

Plans this Friday? Wanda muses, trying to figure out if said plans are platonic or not. The thing is, she can’t tell with the tone of your voice alone. 

“I’m a Knicks fan, yes,” you confirm something Wanda already knows. “You cheer for Brooklyn? You’ve got to be shitting me.”

You only talk that way to your best friend. Were you talking to Natasha?

“A long time fan, huh? So you’re saying you’ve been rooting for New Jersey all this time,” you laugh. “Nope, you can’t take that back cause I’m recording this call.”

The cheeky way you’re addressing this person is not sitting well with Wanda. Sparky comes up to Wanda and jumps at her, poking her knee with his paw. 

“Not now, Sparks.” Wanda hisses at him the way someone would scold a child.

“Count me in. How much does the ticket cost? What? I can’t let you do that… Fine, popcorn’s on me then. Uh, huh. We’ll see about that. Simmons is not who he used to be. Alright, we’ll continue this in the game. Yes, you have me for the whole night, I promise,” you say, your mouth splitting into an amused grin. 

Wanda’s head cranes towards you, no longer bothering to pretend she’s not eavesdropping. You catch Wanda’s green orbs and lower your voice as you end the conversation with, “Anyway, I have to go. I’ll see you. Bye.”

“That was Yelena,” you say after tucking away your phone. “Natasha’s sister. I think Nat’s mentioned her to you.”

“Natasha doesn’t talk to me.” Wanda says, keeping her tone light.

You gawk at her. “That’s insane. Of course, she does. I mean not now, because of, you know, what happened.”

“No, she doesn’t. Whenever the three of us are together, we talk to you.”

You hum in confusion, your mind drifting through countless dinners the three of you shared in the past. You suppose Wanda’s claim had basis; Natasha’s seems more reserved in Wanda’s presence.

“Well, I–maybe you heard about her from me?”

“I just know that Natasha has a sister. I never knew her name, though.”

“Ah,” you say, face warming up and sweat gathering around your upper lip. The heat of the sun is at its peak, making you feel incredibly hot. “I thought I'd mentioned her before.”

“So, Yelena,” Wanda starts, wanting to know more about this person despite the pang of jealousy that has crept into her chest. “What’s her story?” 

What’s on Friday? Why does she have you for the whole night?

You stop and sit on one of the benches. Wanda follows and plops next to you, leaving just a few inches of space between your bodies. Sparky immediately stands on his hindlegs, trying to jump into your lap. With care, you scoop him up into your arms and cradle him like a baby. 

“She’s Natasha’s sister.” You dumbly repeat, not really knowing where you should start telling your ex-wife about the woman who just asked you out on a date. 

“You said that already.” Wanda says; though she manages a smile that’s convincing enough, her tone is clipped and rather distasteful. 

“What do you want to know?”.

Wanda looks pensive for a moment, before she says, “How come I’m only hearing about her now?”

“She flew to England right before freshman year and then we lost contact right away.” you say.

“And when did she get back?” 

Your eyes flit away from her for a moment. “Two years ago.”

“You’re saying you’ve been friends again for the last two years?”

You refuse to let it bother you that she’s obviously jealous even though she has no right to be. 

Sighing, you say, “Why does this feel like an interrogation?”

“I’m just curious.” Wanda shrugs, scratching Sparky in the area near his tail. He seemingly looks like he’s fallen asleep on you, but his tail still wags at Wanda’s attention. 

“Were you?” Wanda prods. “Were you in touch with her in the last two years?”

For a while you don’t say anything. The thing is, you could lie. You don’t owe Wanda anything anymore. But with Wanda’s line of questioning, it's like she’s almost trying to assert herself and redefine history; perhaps even make it seem like you weren’t so innocent in all of this after all. 

Except you were innocent. You never flirted with the idea of other people. Not even that time you ran into the other great love of your life. So with confidence, you tell Wanda the truth. 

“We ran into each other five or six months ago. But we recently just reconnected again.” you say. 

Wanda does the math in her head. 

Oh.

“You didn’t mention that when we–that was before we–”

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” you say coolly, your patience wearing thin. “It happened that day you asked me to retrieve a painting from Agatha.”

It’s Wanda’s turn to be speechless. Though you never talked about what really went on that Tuesday afternoon when you clobbered Vision with a vase, Wanda had an inkling that you had something to do with the missing paintings in his room: the one he was working on for his final project and the one she gave him. 

It’s still a sour topic; seeing the way your jaw hardens at the mention of the paintings. Wanda backpedals, reeling in the possessiveness she still feels towards you. 

“I see…” she trails off. 

Badly, she wants to know more about this Yelena, but she’s afraid that she might push you too hard for answers; answers that you don’t have to provide in the first place. Wanda feels somewhat ashamed of having taken advantage of your kindness (yet, again) to get what she wants. 

But where does she draw the line? 

Wanda wanted you still. She needed to know if there were other people in your life competing for the same thing. She couldn’t just stand meekly in the corner and watch you fall in love with someone new. 

“Sparky looks chunkier. Is he chunkier?” you say all of a sudden, rubbing his belly.

Wanda is more than grateful for the change in topic.

“He is. He gained five pounds last time I checked.” she says, smiling fondly at the scene before her.

“So he’s basically happy without me?” you ask, more relieved than downhearted by the fact.

Wanda shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Maybe he’s just eating his feelings, you know? Like I sometimes would.”

You cast a funny look at Wanda. “That sounds implausible.”

Wanda’s laugh fills the air with its melodic resonance. “Why don’t you find out? Take him from me for the weekend. See if he’ll miss me enough to gain a few more.”

It must be so blatant how she’s trying you get you to see her again so soon after today. Though it doesn’t seem like you noticed. 

“This weekend?” You pause to think about your schedule despite having all the time in the world to do absolutely nothing. Aside from cleaning up the apartment and doing laundry as part of your Saturday routine, you’ve been wanting to visit your mother in Montauk. 

It definitely wouldn’t be a problem if you take Sparky with you.

“Sure, why not?” you say. 

“Great,” Wanda beams at you. “I’ll drop him off at your apartment before I open the shop?” she inquires softly, hoping she could get your address.

“Sounds good. Did I already give you my address?”

Wanda does a little victory dance in her head. “You haven’t.” 

You text her the details right away. 

“Listen, do you want to have lunch before I go?” you ask, getting up and putting Spark back on his feet. “And thank you for this time with Sparky.”

“No problem.” 

You’re still ridiculously polite. Still kind. 

Still her Y/N.

-

“You’re late.” Pietro grumbles as soon as Wanda arrives at the cafe. 

He has an overly-complicated coffee order waiting, and two customers waiting for their food orders. Agatha has already left two hours ago.

Wanda shrugs her shoulders, placing the eco bags she’s carrying in both hands on the counter. “I went to the grocery store to buy some supplies.” 

Pietro mutely hands Wanda her apron and she quickly starts working the espresso machine. 

“How did your date go?”

Wanda doesn’t bother to correct him this time. 

“It was okay.” 

Pietro doesn’t look convinced at the very least. “That’s it?”

“We walked Sparky and had lunch.” comes Wanda’s nonchalant reply.

“Ah, lunch,” Pietro flashes a leering smile at his clearly smitten sister. “Were you the one to ask her?”

Wanda grins with a dazed look. “Nope.”

“Congrats, sis. You’re on your way to getting back with your ex-wife. Which, if I may add, was your plan all along even when you agreed to a divorce in the first place.”

On any other day, Pietro’s sarcastic humor would normally push her buttons in a snap, but right now Wanda couldn’t care less if she tries. The memory of her time with you and the scent of your perfume is still fresh. There’s nothing that could ruin her perfect day. 

The door chime sings to signify the arrival of a customer. Wanda quickly draws a simple latte art on a coffee order, and then proceeds to serve it to the customer by the window. Her eyes briefly brushes the customer who just came in, and is taken aback when she finds the woman staring at her expectantly.

Wanda carefully places the mug on the table for her other customer, before very quickly fixing her hair to greet the new arrival.

“Hi, welcome to Second Chances. Dine-in or take-out?”

“I’m here to get Pietro.” The woman says with a bored expression. 

Wanda grits her teeth. Her brother really knows how to choose them. “And you are?” 

“Shannon,” she drawls. “His fiancé.” 

“His what? I mean, that’s–” Wanda is stunned beyond belief, and looks over at Pietro who’s pointedly trying to avoid her gaze. “–amazing news. Congratulations.”

“He proposed months ago.” Shannon deadpans, like she’s used to Pietro’s people not knowing he has a fiancé or a girlfriend for that matter.

“He didn’t tell me.” Wanda says.

Shannon doesn’t acknowledge that information. Instead, she says, “Nice little cafe you have here.”

“Thanks.”

“Though the Spanish Latte needs more sugar. I had it earlier this morning.”

Wanda has to ball her fist to refrain from using them on this woman.

“Actually, we have a suggestion box.” Wanda says, gesturing to the aforementioned box by the counter, designed to look like a mini treasure chest. “If you could write it down, we’ll get to it as soon as we can.”

Shannon forces a smile that’s undeniably fake, possibly for lack of trying. 

Pietro approaches them slowly, his rounded eyes reminding Wanda of a wounded puppy. 

“Hey, babe,” Pietro mumbles and pecks Shannon on the lips. “I’m ready to go. Let me just change, okay?”

“Five minutes.” Shannon prompts in a stern voice. 

At this point, Wanda would rather see Pietro flirting with Agatha than have to watch him be pushed around by this woman with his tail between his legs. A barrage of questions run through her mind, starting with why her brother is marrying this bitch.

“You’re wondering why he’s marrying someone like me.” Shannon says wryly. 

“You read minds?” Wanda tries to joke. 

Shannon isn’t having it. “It’s a mystery. I, myself, am wondering why I’m still hell-bent on marrying him.”

Wanda tilts her head at her with a quizzical look. 

“Oh, you don’t know.” Shannon’s laugh is devoid of humor of any kind. 

“Know what?”

“I caught your brother in bed with different women… more times than I can count with one hand.” Shannon explains so casually like she could have just been talking about the weather.

“And I still won’t quit him.” she adds as an afterthought.

“If you’re telling me this because you think I can talk some sense into him–”

“I don’t expect you to do that.”

“Then why are you telling me this?” Wanda asks, no longer holding back her ire.

“Pietro told me what happened with you and your ex.”

“He had no business telling you that.” Wanda says through bared teeth.

Shannon looks unnerved by the evident irritation of her future sister-in-law, and says, “He’s your brother and we do run out of things to talk about.”

“Is there a point to this conversation?”

Shannon drops her gaze to the floor in thought, before they flit up back to Wanda’s eyes which have narrowed into slits. 

“Pietro cares about you. The reason he refuses to go back to LA is because he’s worried about you. I just want to give you something to think about that might help all of us.”

Wanda says nothing and merely waits with her hands on her hips. She already doesn’t trust whatever piece of advice she’s going to hear from this stranger. 

“Love is forgiveness. If your ex couldn’t forgive you for straying once, then you’re better off with someone else who will accept you for your mistakes. Because believe me, you’ll never run out of them.”

Wanda’s anger slowly ebbs away until all that’s left is bafflement at the insinuation that you’re not good enough for her. 

That you’re not worth it. That she’s stupid to chase a love that should overcome anything including infidelity. 

“And you’re that person for my brother?” Wanda says, smiling in contempt. 

Shannon lifts her chin. No, she wouldn’t go as far as verbally claim it, but the Alpha behavior more than proves that she thinks so highly of her capability to love. Wanda feels an overwhelming urge to throw this woman out. Instead, she turns her back on Shannon to stalk towards the staff room where Pietro is changing. 

“I don’t like her.” Wanda states as soon as the door swings open, expecting a half-naked Pietro. 

He’s cross-legged on the floor, watching YouTube videos on his phone.

“Which is why you’ve never met her. And before you say anything, I did try very hard to keep it that way. It’s not my fault that you came back so late.”

“What do you see in her, Piet? You haven’t eloped, right? You can still get out of this.”

Pietro shrugs his broad shoulders; shoulders that would have taken him to superstardom, if not for the series of injuries that plagued his short career. 

“Look at me,” Pietro says in a languid manner. “I’m a fuck up, Wands. I’ll always be a fuck up. It’s in my nature. And she loves me anyway. Maybe I just want someone who will always have my back no matter what.”

“That’s not love. That’s codependency, you idiot.”

“No offense, sis. But it’s not like you have the moral high ground to lecture me about relationships.”

Wanda’s lips press together into a hard line at the proverbial mirror in front of her. They were both fuck ups. The only difference is one of them has already embraced it with open arms. 

After a beat, Wanda asks, “Are you, at least, happy?”

Pietro considers it for a moment, before saying, “She’s not so bad once you get to know her.”

-

The Knicks versus Nets game is starting in thirty minutes, and the thick crowd is scrambling to get their pre-game ritual done; long lines in the restroom, the merchandise stores and the snack bars, fans taking group photos in-front of giant cutouts of NBA players. You stand in the middle of it all, a giant bag of popcorn in each of your arms, when Yelena shows up alone at the assigned gate for your seats. 

Her blonde hair is up in a tight bun, with just a few stray strands falling in front of her eyes. She’s wearing considerably less makeup than she wore in the club, which you think makes her even more beautiful.

Not that your preference has anything to do with how Yelena presents herself, and you certainly wouldn’t let her know that. 

“Where are your friends?” you ask, eyes darting everywhere behind her.. 

“They canceled at the last minute. Kate got called on an assignment.” Yelena says with a huff.

“What a waste.” 

“Kate sponsored the tickets and she doesn’t mind. It’s just her change.” 

“Kate, huh?” you teasingly look at Yelena.

“Really, Y/N?” Yelena mutters, feigning offense. “You’re breaking my heart, you know? I said I like you. Don’t pawn me off to someone else.”

Your cheeks warm at her directness. 

“Shit, sorry. You’re right. I was being a jerk.”

“You were.”

You offer her one of your priced popcorn. “Will this make it better?” you ask, lower lip jutting out into what you hope is an adorable pout. 

Yelena takes your peace offering and then candidly says, “Fine. But stop being so cute or you’re going to regret it.”

You flush even further and feel a jolt deep in the pit of your stomach. 

Somehow, the game is the last thing on your mind right now.

-

The Knicks are down ten at the half, and Yelena’s trash talk isn’t letting up anytime soon. You’re on your third bottle of beer, and the intimacy of how Yelena is half-leaning on your side, her weight solid against your own body, is keeping you tethered more than anything. 

You positively look like a couple, despite the fact that neither of you has acknowledged that this has turned into a date. 

“Wanna bet on how many bricks your team will make in the second half?” Yelena goads with a self-satisfied smirk.

“They’ll find their shooting, you’ll see.” you say with a toothy grin, unfazed. Truthfully, the games’ outcome is the farthest of your concerns now that Yelena’s fingers are inching towards your lap as she shares an anecdote about her workmates. She tells the story rather animatedly, and you can’t help but be mesmerized by the girl you practically grew up with. 

Towards the end of Yelena’s story, the crowd around you goes wild. You look up to see the kiss cam land on you and Yelena. 

You both shake your head in refusal, gazing up at yourselves on the huge monitor in the middle of the arena. People start booing at the two of you, and as a consolation, you put your arm around Yelena’s shoulders and kiss her on the forehead. It’s enough to pacify the crowd and the kiss cam moves on to another couple who gamely makes out in front of everyone.

When the moment passes, you suddenly realize what you’ve just done. The line has been dangerously toed, and you sheepishly retract your arm the same time Yelena straightens her posture.

“I’m s–”

“Don’t,” Yelena stops you before you could utter an apology. “I wanted to kiss you, but I was worried about overstepping any boundaries.” 

“Nat won’t be happy about this.” you murmur, still keeping a respectable distance. 

“For once, don’t think about what other people want. Think about what you want.”

The remaining two quarters is not enough to think just that. 

-

You see Yelena off to her apartment after the game. Sharing a ride is cheaper, since your own apartment is less than thirty minutes away by foot. 

“...and that’s how Kate and I met,” Yelena concludes after a minute-long summary of how she ended up crashing with her current bestfriend. “Why do I feel like I’ve been talking too much about myself for the last hour?”

“There’s more than a decade of stuff for us to catch up on,” you say, feeling a bit regretful about the time that has passed of not being in each other’s life. “There’s a lot I don’t know about this new you.”

“What “new” me? It doesn’t feel like I’ve changed too much.”

“You have,” you say. “But you’re different in a good way. I like both Yelenas.”

Yelena ducks her head. “You’ve changed as well. But judging from how much fun we had in each other’s company, I say the important bits of us remained the same.” she says.

Your eyes sweep over her. She’s right. She’s just Yelena, Natasha’s younger sister and your first love. Beneath the changes that had accumulated over the years, your soul still recognizes her soul.  

“I had a really great time.” you say before you both turn the corner to her place. 

Through the remainder of the distance to her apartment, your pace slows down to a crawl. It’s a familiar ritual: the walk to her doorstep, fishing out for keys, playing for a while with those keys, an exchange of awkward smiles, and then–

The pinnacle of a first date, where the magic happens.

Yelena shuffles her feet, fiddling with her keychain. “This is a date, right?”

You swallow dryly. “Yelena–”

“If you mention my sister’s name again, I might have to strangle you.” 

“It’s not just Nat,” Out of habit, you thoughtlessly reach for your left ring finger to play with the wedding band that is no longer there. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by Yelena. 

“Is it Wanda?” Yelena crosses her arms in a slightly defensive stance. “Are you still in love with her?”

The question has been plaguing you long before Yelena drew it out in the open. 

Shaking your head, you lean in and kiss her. 

-

The next morning, Wanda’s at your door at exactly six. She texted you thirty minutes ago to inform you that she’s on her way but received no reply. Now she’s worried that she might wake some of your neighbors with her forceful knocks. If not, then Sparky’s yelps certainly would.

It takes a few more seconds before she hears your familiar footsteps on the other side of the door. The door swings open and Wanda’s heart skips a beat at the sight of you; in your pajamas; hair messy from sleep; fabric marks on the left side of your face, indicating that you still sleep on your side in the direction of where Wanda used to be when she slept next to you. 

“Good morning, Y/N.” Wanda can’t help how quickly her smile reaches her eyes.

“Wanda? What are you doing here?” you mumble, rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes. 

Wanda frowns. Did you forget?

Sparky takes it upon himself to remind you with a small whine as he lifts his paw to scratch at your leg.  

You look down to find him with his tail a blur, wagging from side to side, and it automatically puts a lazy smile on your lips. “Hey, buddy!” 

“You agreed to take him for the weekend.” Wanda says slowly, gauging your reaction. “But if the plan has changed, then–”

Your eyes widen when, at last, the realization sinks in. “No. Sorry. I just lost track of time. I didn’t know it’s Saturday already. I still want to take him.” you say, flushing in embarrassment.

“Great,” Wanda breathes out, and then motioning inside your apartment, says, “Can I, uhm, use the toilet before I–” 

“Of course!” you exclaim, opening the door wider to let her in. “Sorry, I’m still out of sorts.”

“Rough night?”

“Hmm,” You hum pleasantly. “Something like that. The bathroom’s that way.” 

Wanda doesn’t miss your little indulgement in reminiscing last night’s affairs. Definitely not ‘something like that’. She heads to the bathroom with Sparky following behind her. He curls on the floor as he waits for Wanda to finish her business.

“Do you want some coffee? Or maybe not coffee. I have…” you yell out, searching the fridge. “Beer and soda.”

“Water is fine.” Wanda says as she approaches the kitchen. 

She picks a chair that’s nearest to the counter where you’re busy making coffee and pouring Wanda a glass of water. 

Wanda surveys your new home. The lack of decor and the monochromatic paint job screams Natasha; the best friend who’s attached to your hip, but is obviously not present at the moment.

“Where’s Natasha?” you hear Wanda ask.

You think whether or not you should disclose the news about Natasha. You figure it’s not necessary anymore for Wanda to keep tabs on your friends. “She’s visiting a family member upstate.”

“Oh, I didn’t know she had family,” Wanda states, feeling a little silly. Natasha’s an important person in your life, and this is the kind of information she’s supposed to know already. 

“It’s good she’s spending time with them.” she adds.

“Yeah.” you mumble, feeling remorseful about the little lie. “Made me think of mom. I’m actually heading to Montauk later. I’m taking Sparky there if that’s okay with you?”

Wanda gives an enthusiastic nod. “Just don’t forget to pack some water on the trip.”

“And some healthy treats too, I know. I’ve got it, Sparky’s Mom.” you say with a quiet chuckle as you bring over a tray of water and two large mugs of black coffee.

Wanda rolls her eyes at the nickname, secretly elated.

“It’s like we’re co-parenting him.” she blurts out without thinking. 

By the look on your face, the idea of it hits you in a different way. 

“Is…that what we’re doing here?” you say, only half-teasing. 

“I’m not insinuating anything. It’s just somewhat comparable if you think about it.”

You’re quiet for a moment, and it drives Wanda on the edge. 

“I know I’m the one who wanted kids, but I’m glad we didn’t have them when it happened.” you say, and it surprises Wanda beyond anything–the trivial way in which you said it.

“I don’t know, Y/N, ” Wanda whispers. “Maybe if we had kids, things would’ve been different.”

Your eyes are unreadable as you ask, “Different how?”

Wanda couldn’t think of anything to say except what’s really on her mind. 

“Maybe we could’ve avoided separating altogether.”

“Because you think having kids would have made me stay married to you?” you say, in a tone of voice that makes Wanda’s knees buckle and her heart squeeze in regret of her words. 

“Because maybe it would have stopped me,” Wanda says in a rush. It’s the wrong thing to say, but it might even be more wrong if she chooses to lie about it. “Maybe it would have given me a different purpose. Would have made me into someone who isn’t selfish and didn’t lose sight of what truly mattered–”

“You’re saying that our childlessness is what motivated you to cheat on me.” you say, and Wanda watches you flex your fingers; shaking away some numbness. 

“That’s not–” Wanda grapples for words. 

There’s none. 

“I didn’t think this through.” you whisper to yourself, eerily calm and collected. 

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks frantically. 

In the absence of words, you merely look at her with a pained expression.

“Y/n?” Wanda gapes at you and her soulful green eyes widen in panic. “Wait, please, I’m sorry. If we can just–”

“I’ll drop Sparky at your apartment on Monday.” 

Wanda pauses momentarily at the door; but you’re already walking back to your room, indifferent to what she chooses to do. 

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen

[anki-of-beleriand]

Bad Liar ch. 11

Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers

Warnings: Slow burn - slightly Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - idiots in love - homophobia - more tags as the story progress.

Author's note: It was Agatha all along, America confronts Wanda, and you and Wanda are walking on thin ice about ready to break.

As always, English is no my mother tongue, so please forgive the grammar, spelling and funny mistakes!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18

Chapter 11

Setting Expectations

The Winter Festival was one of the most important festivities celebrated in the school.

It had been the founders tradition, your grandmother had always inspired others, and was always ready to give them a chance to shine by showing on their leadership and creative thinking. The fact that you were paired up with Wanda Maximoff so many years after the tradition started was something you never imagine possible. Her ideas, as well as her willingness to always be kind made of that year one of the most impressive festivals ever.

The week had been divided into seasons, and each day held a different kind of decoration as well as different offers of cultures, food and entertainments that resembled Christmas in different parts of the world. The students had been lucky enough to share the colours of Spring, Summer and Autum so far while Winter was reserved to the last day of the week and when the Winter Yule Ball would be done.

Wanda had been so proud to see the school decorated and enjoying the different activities you two had planned. For her it was always a joy to see the fountains decorated with LED colours while the stands were filled with food and games, with movies and music representing the world and showing the students the diversity of the world. Natasha and the rest of the school board had been impressed, Tony was already trying to convince Wanda to be part of his engagement team and Thor and Sif had asked Wanda her skills to organize birthday parties.

The young woman found herself soon being praise by these people she had just gotten to meet a few months ago. A part of Wanda was amazed at what she had missed most of her life, the doubts would come into her mind from time to time, but she was always ready to quiet them down by looking at all the progressed she had made. Wanda’s mind drifted towards the divorce papers she had signed, along with the documents for the full custody of the twins. Her life had certainly changed, and now all she got to do was to live her life to its fullest; and in this very thought, she couldn’t help but see you there.

Wanda allowed a tiny smile to show on her face, America shifted on her chair glancing at the message that you had sent a few moments ago to let your sister know you had arrived at the school grounds. America had gotten used to you coming over, every day you had been there ready to supervise that everything was working as it was supposed to, Maria would send you some notifications to your mobile to keep you up to day to the office but most of the time you found yourself sharing your time with the woman and the children that had, little by little sneaked inside your heart and life in ways you or your sister never imagined.

The sound of laughter filled the classroom, America jerked around when a hand fell on her desk and she could see Loki giving her a knowing glance. The young woman sighed turning to her friends then to her teacher that was writing the assignment for the Winter break on the board.

“Are you going to do it?” Loki almost whispered, Yelena tilted her head shooting America a quick glance before returning her attention to her notebook.

“I think so, yes.” America cocked her head, she bit on her lower lip before turning to Kate.

Kate offered a sympathetic smile, she hesitated before placing her hand, “do you want us to stay over?”

America glanced at Kate’s hand then back into the girls eyes.

“Nah, I think this is something I need to do alone. You guys go on ahead and I’ll meet you in the park.”

Just as America was saying this Wanda turned around wearing a grin, her hands placing themselves on the desk while her eyes swept around the room. Everyone was already packing their stuff, many of them talking and laughing while watching their watches and the door. Wanda rolled her eyes with the same smile still in place.

“Well, guys, seeing as everyone is ready to just run out of the window,” Wanda snorted when there were some cheers from the back, she lifted her hands waving at them, “yes, I know everyone is excited for the dance and the festival, so I will give you these ten minutes and see you tomorrow.”

“Professor Maximoff!! You are the QUEEN!” Sam Wilson screamed from the back and soon he was leaving the room.

The group all glanced at one another before everyone grabbed their things, Wanda had busied herself with her phone wearing the all-familiar smile the teens had come to associate with the conversations she had with you. Kate stayed behind her hand firmly placed around America’s one.

“I’ll wait for you outside, good luck.” The young brunette hesitated before leaning in and kissing America on her cheek, the both of you shared a timid smile before Kate also left the classroom.

Soon the classroom was empty with only Wanda and America in it.

America sat with her back completely straight up, her dark eyes focused on the young woman sitting by the professor’s desk. She had played with these thoughts for more than a week, the decision to actually have a conversation with her sister and with Wanda taking form after America had find out about the past of her teacher. She had never had the need to intervene in her sister’s personal life, America understood her place but also the limits of her relationship with her sister and while the both of them listened to one another and advice one another, they had never dared to go this far.

This was the reason of her doubts.

To actually step closer and have a conversation with Wanda, even before anything had happened would risk everything Y/N had been working on to gain. America knew her sister was more than a little attracted to Wanda, she knew Y/N so well she was pretty certain the older woman was already far too in love with Wanda to back down now. America let out a heavy sigh, she grabbed her bag and stood up making her way to a now shocked Wanda.

“America, is everything alright? Do you need something?” There was something in the seriousness America was wearing that made Wanda nervous. She tried to look casual, following with her eyes as America sat down putting her back on the floor.

“America?” Wand asked tentatively.

America took a deep breath, “I’ve wanting to talk to you, professor.”

The request caught Wanda by surprised, she leaned over furrowing her brows and trying to hide her nervousness with a half-smile.

“Sure, is there something the matter? I mean, this is quite surprising.” The question this time around came insistent, her voice strained as she tried to gauge America’s intentions.

For more than a minute America remained silent looking everywhere but at Wanda. The other woman tapped on the table before leaning forward, her lips twitching slightly trying to hold back how strange this moment was for her.

“America, you are kind of making me anxious here.” Wanda finally stated leaning forward. “Did something happen with Billy and Tommy? With your sister? With you?”

“I’ve been planning this conversation over and over, and I think there is not a right way to start it,” America sighed leaning back while dropping her head back, smiling with her eyes now totally focused on Wanda, “my sister is everything to me, you know? And I know how much she has sacrificed for me and for herself. Right now, you and her…well, something is happening, isn’t it?”

There was a deep tense silence all around the classroom, Wanda was left speechless with her eyes slightly opened and the air leaving her lungs. America just waited for the shocked to leave Wanda, perhaps to hear her give the explanation she was looking for.

“America…” Wanda started but she could not say anything else, this was something she knew she would need to confront sooner or later. But she just didn’t expect for America to be the first one to bring the subject up.

Though, Wanda shouldn’t be surprised, America and Y/N had a sisterly relationship that had deepened after their parents death. Wanda had seen the overprotective nature of Y/N when talking and helping America, and she had seen the way America was always trying to protect her sister and make sure that happiness was something possible for her.

“Look, I know you and Y/N had not talked about anything at all, but I’m not fool, you know? I have seen you and I just…” America clamped her mouth shut before speaking again, “do you like my sister?”

The question was finally out there, and while Wanda had already been confronted by Hope and Natasha, she was now facing a different person that actually could be affected by Wanda’s answer. The woman took a deep breath not able to hold America’s eyes any longer and instead looking right outside the window.

“I know you do, you know? I mean, it’s pretty obvious, really.” America rolled her eyes when Wanda turned sharp, green eyes her way.

“Obvious?” Wanda almost stuttered and America merely smirked.

“You have spent most of your time with us ever since Tommy got sick, and I have seen the way you are around Y/N, I just want to make sure that you’re not going to hurt her.” America shrugged resting her elbows on the table while looking outside the window as well. “I want my sister to be happy, and you know? You have made her happy as of late, so…”

“Is it really that important for you to know?” Wanda dropped her face furrowing her brows, “if I answer your question things may change, you know? And I’m not sure…I don’t think…”

Wanda trailed off unable to finish her sentence, there was a long silence once more in which America had thought about the conversation. Not many things were aid, and yet she knew she got her question answered, Wanda did like Y/N she was still unsure on how to proceed. Which was not surprising, America had the feeling this was the first woman Wanda had been attracted to. With more courage that she really felt America decided to finish the conversation with what she had really come to say.

“I understand. You don’t have to say anything to me, Professor.” Wanda lifted her eyes, dread filling up her mind the moment she crossed eyes with America, there was something in the serious façade of the young woman that was making Wanda nervous.

“What else do you want to say to me, America?”

America leaned back and, after a moment of doubt she spoke, her voice deep and concern broke into Wanda’s mind like a bucket of cold water.

“I know you are still married, professor, and that the reason you are here is because your husband is a bad man.” America could see her words affecting Wanda, but once she started she couldn’t stop. “I know that you are hiding from him, and I will assure you, Professor, that your secret is safe with me, I would never put you or Billy and Tommy in danger.”

The air around Wanda was sucked into a void, the world around her eyes turned blurry and unsteady just as she opened her mouth to say something. She couldn’t say anything, though, she just sat there trying to comprehend what was happening.

“I know that your husband is a bad man, and that he hurt you and the twins so bad that right now he has a restraining order against him and a petition of divorce on your part, and full custody of your children.” America clamped her mouth shut, waiting silently as Wanda processed everything she just said.

The silence that followed America’s words was deafening.

Tension grew in between them, Wanda had her eyes fixated on an invisible spot hearing the blood bombed through her ears. She could feel her lungs filling up with air, only for it to leave as soon as it was in, the world started spinning around and she was just grateful of being on her seat. Her hands clenched tightly, with her brows knitting together.

“How?” Wanda was confused and extremely annoyed. Did Y/N know about this? Was she aware of Wanda’s situation the whole time? Did she send her sister to talk about this?

Questions like these ones ran through her mind, she was getting red in the face and being it by shame or anger she was not sure anymore. America could see the overwhelming range of emotions crossing on Wanda’s face waiting patiently for the final outburst.

“I---I suspect something was up with you, and my sister…” America trailed off tensing the muscles of her face. “Look, Professor, I love her so much, she is the only family I have left. She may not show it too much, but she really is like a marshmallow inside hot chocolate.”

Whatever anger or confusion Wanda felt at the moment was soon diminished by this comment; it had been the best description she could heard of you.

“She really is…she likes you, a lot,” America continued, “and you are this new person with two kids, you were a mystery in itself, I need to make sure you are good enough for my sister.”

“By violating my privacy, America?” The question came with a cold reproach.

America winced lifting her hand to scratch the back of her neck, much like her sister did whenever she was nervous.

“I…I just…look, everything pointed to something strange, and the twins, well they did help some by telling me things they shouldn’t. Probably.”

Another uncomfortable silence fell between them, Wanda leaned back holding back the tears that were threatening to leave her eyes. 

“Does she know?” She finally asked in a thin voice.

America opened her eyes wide, shaking her head.

“Y/N doesn’t know I couldn’t tell her!”

“But if you could tell her…” Wanda pressed but America scoffed, still denying this with gestures.

“No, I love my sister but this is not my story to tell, Professor.” America shrugged before continuing. “Look, all I know is that in the last couple of months you and my sister had become closer, and as time passes I can see the affection she holds for you and the twins, I don’t want her to get hurt because she has done so much, and she has also suffered so much I just want to make things as easier for her as she does for me.”

Wanda was not sure how to react to such a confession. On one hand, she felt her trust betrayed by her student, she had trusted America from the very first time Natasha recommended her and hearing this invasion to her privacy made her doubt the young woman in front of her. On the other hand, she understood why America had done it, it didn’t excuse her, but Wanda understood.

“I know what I did was wrong, and perhaps I should have asked you first.”

“You should have, yes.” Wanda replied cooly, America winced shrugging.

“I know, but I did it and I just…” America trailed off lowering her eyes. “I’m sorry you have to go through all of that, Professor. I’m kinda glad I know this mainly because now I understand Tommy and Billy better. And even you.”

Wanda shifted on the chair lowering her eyes, America continued knowing she didn’t have much time of this conversation.

“Now, Professor, my confession to my crime comes also with a demand.” America made sure to never back up from the glare Wanda was sending her way.

“Do you think you are in position of demanding something of me?” Wanda inquired with a hint of disbelief; America nodded curtly.

“My sister deserves to know everything, Professor.”

Wanda dropped her jaw at such demand, but America didn’t change her posture or the glint of determination in her eyes.

“Y/N really likes you; I don’t think this is a secret, and as such, I think she deserves to know everything about you and the situation you are in.” America gulped leaning closer. “I promise you won’t regret it, and I know Y/N would be able to help you, she won’t let anything bad happen to you and the twins. But before you and her cross that line you and I both know you will cross, I think she deserves to know everything.”

Wanda sat dumbfounded on the chair, her mind processing everything that America had just shared with her. The fact that America knew everything, all the gross details of her past with Vision, of her divorce, of the court orders; Wanda felt her life exposed in ways she never thought possible. Her past was something she tried to protect from shame and fear of it coming back to haunt her and repeating itself. She was afraid of falling into Vision’s hands again, but more so of his threat of ending the life of her children while taking her to places where she could never escape.

Wanda was no fool, she knew sooner or later this part of her life would come out into the light, it was part of the process of healing and facing her demons. But she wished it had come out on her terms, she lifted her face and could see America was getting nervous, the guilt hidden behind her overprotective nature. Wanda understood why America had done what she did, it was quite obvious America didn’t let pass the strange events at the very beginning of her career as a babysitter to the twins, or those scars she could have seen when helping them getting dress, or even Wanda’s erratic behaviour at the very beginning.

“Professor?”

“You betray my trust, America.” Wanda all but whispered, her voice breaking at the very end making America winced. “When I first came here I only trusted Natasha, and then you came in like an angel to help me with the twins, and now finding that you went out of the way to find about my past, it is disappointing.”

America’s face fell, “I know.”

“I understood why you did it.” Wanda continued frowning. “I just wish you have come to me first, I don’t know what to say or do now, I just…”

“Professor, there is nothing to do or say, I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have and that’s why I’m telling you this.” America hesitated chewing on her lower lip before continuing, “I really love Billy and Tommy, you know? And then, when you start spending more time with Y/N, I just knew that I need to know you were good enough for her, then after finding out everything I…I give it a thought and well, is not my story to tell, is yours, Professor, that’s why I want you to consider this and tell my sister everything.”

Wanda was taken aback; she shook her head, opening her mouth in disbelief.

“You want me to tell Y/N this? Why would…” Wanda started but America stopped her by standing up and approaching the older woman.

“Professor, my sister is everything to me,” America started without letting go of Wanda’s eyes, “and you have become everything to her, she needs to know and believe me when I tell you that you won’t regret it. You won’t lose her. If anything, I think this is the last piece of the puzzle to make whatever you two want to happen.”

“You are asking too much, America.” Wanda looked away scowling.

“Do you love my sister?” America pressed over; Wanda felt her cheeks burn but she refused to back down. “Are you in love with her?”

“I don’t think…” Wanda stood up as well, “I think you are overstepping…”

“Please, Professor,” America dropped her stance, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears, “I know what I did is wrong, don’t punish her, please…I…I’m risking everything by telling you this, and is not fair that once more she has to sacrifice her happiness because of me. I just…think about it, please? Believe me, you won’t regret it, she will still love you regardless of your past, just…I’m sorry, ma’am.”

America sat down again, Wanda could see the tears rolling down the young woman’s cheeks and the confused stare in her eyes. It was quite evident she had not planned this conversation in the way it had come out to be. 

“I did plan to tell her, America, just not yet.” Wanda passed a hand through her hair, not really knowing what else to do or say, “this is not easy for me.”

“I know.” America mused over her own reasons before speaking again. “You and her had become close in the last couple of weeks, she is always out there protecting me and making everything in her power to make me happy, Just this time, I want to make sure she is happy.”

Whatever anger Wanda felt at the sudden invasion of her privacy, and whatever fear she held for her past and what it meant to her dissipated under the soothing statement coming from America. The both of them sat quietly for a moment, both of them going over their thoughts and what they should do next. 

“Y/N is getting here soon,” America finally broke the silence, she lifted her stare but Wanda was looking at some invisible spot on the wall, “I guess I better get going, Professor.”

The young woman stood up grabbing her bag pack again, she turned around but stopped at the door when Wanda called to her. 

“This won't change our relationship, America.” Wanda measured every word, gaging the reactions from the young woman, “it may take some time to process this, but I do understand why you did it.”

“Do you promise you won't hurt her? Can you promise that?”

The request came with a heavy load, Wanda could see that behind those simple questions America was trying to make sure you wouldn't be left in the dark with something as important as Wanda, Billy and Tommy's past. It was not fair to you and even with them if, whatever was happening with you and Wanda was built on a lie. Or a half true. 

“I won't hurt her, America. I couldn't.” Wanda hesitated before closing the conversation with a last confession. “She has become part of my world now and I couldn't bear to see her suffer because of this.”

America opened her eyes, she opened her mouth before nodding curtly and leaving the classroom. 

Wanda was finally left alone, she rested her back against the chair. Her eyebrows knitted together trying to comprehend what just happened. If she were to be honest with herself, she was not angry, upset yes, but not angry. Closing her eyes, she tried to identify the emotion navigating through her system, it made her limbs lighter with a glimpse of tranquillity in her mind. 

Wanda was relieved.

However they had found out about everything, however America had decided to get that information, the secret was out and Wanda was relief. She had feared the reaction from others but all she got from America was understanding and acceptance, she didn't see blame or disgust, or worse yet, a card they could take advent age of. 

Wanda glanced out of the window, she knew she needed to have this conversation with Y/N, it was something she had come to realize after that Saturday afternoon. With a heavy heart, and a tingle of anticipation, Wanda grabbed her things and went outside ready to meet with you. 

She would tell you everything. Soon. 

________________________

The afternoon was cold, filled with newcomers that wanted to enjoy the Christmas Market that the school had opened for not only their local population but by those living around the city. You smiled proudly at the people coming in and out the place, everyone happy to shop and enjoy not only the different products but also the games and the entertainment you and Wanda had organized for that week. 

Natasha stood by your side, she turned a half smirk your way putting her mobile away. 

“You two really did a good job with this festival.” Natasha eyed you carefully, her arms resting at her sides. “And what you did in the auditorium, let me tell you they are going to love it.”

You chuckled putting a hand on your pocket, your head tilting slightly while your eyes travel around the sea of people coming in and out the school grounds and the street. 

“Well, we did try to make our best and Wanda was magnificent. She was the one who really came up with most of these ideas.”

Natasha arched her left eyebrow her lips twitching upwards. It had been a while since she heard that tone of voice in you, and even now it sounded different. There was not only affection by gentleness in there, but your whole features also softened while your eyes gleamed contentedly. It had been like that from some time now whenever you talk about Wanda or the other woman was close by. Natasha was happy to discover this newfound affection, she had seen it from afar and, while she had been a sceptic about Wanda wanting to go in a relationship with a woman, after having been with the both of them in meetings for the Winter Festival the older woman didn't have any doubts. 

They were standing on thin ice, waiting for the tension to be unbearable until the only option left would be to say what they need and they want from the other. 

There was one topic that bothered Natasha and that had been the Jarvis topic. She hated leaving you in the darkness about the man, but Maria had assured her everything was going according to plan, though as of late the man had been acting strange trying to get far closer to you. Asking questions about your whereabouts and where you live, about your family. Maria had been quite good at avoiding the direct confrontation, but this only showed both women that the man was not used to someone saying no to him. 

“Hey, earth to Tasha, are you here?” You waved a hand in front of her eyes, the woman blinked clearing her throat. 

“Sorry, I zoned out for a moment.” Natasha tried to ease your concerns by offering a wink. “Maria was asking me to be early today.”

“Ah, I see, hot sex with the wife.” You replied wiggling your eyebrows Natasha rolled her eyes slapping your shoulder playfully. 

“Jealous much?”

“Humph, please, why would I be jealous of her or you?” You winced noticing the smirk on the other woman's face. 

“Perhaps because I am getting some while you're still dancing around Wanda?”

“Shut up.” You tried to cover your blush, but it was too late. 

Natasha knew you well enough to know she was right. You dipped your head to the side, your eyes finally finding the woman you had been looking for. Natasha stood by your said leaning in she let her words sink in making sure the seed of longing was well-sow inside your heart. 

“There she is, smiling at you and her eyes lock on you. You should stop dancing around and go for it, Y/N, you two can be so happy if you just… Let go.”

Natasha stood to the side letting Wanda come right at you, just as you met the other woman half-way. Your heart leap inside your chest, with a horde of butterflies fluttering in your lower abdomen when Wanda sneaked her arms around you hugging you tightly. You fluttered your eyes closed enjoying the smell of her shampoo, the warmth of her body, and the overall affection she usually held in those green eyes for you. 

“Hey, you're here early.” Wanda whispered, stepping back before turning to Natasha. “Hey, what do you think. Natasha? Did it meet your expectations?”

“It exceeds them, Wanda, I told you that. I have always thought you were good at this.” Natasha couldn't hold back her smile watching as Wanda stepped closer to you, not leaving a lot of space between the both of you. 

“This is all thanks to Y/N,” Wanda turned to you smiling shyly at you when you grabbed her hand shaking your head while placing a single kiss on her knuckles. 

“She is being modest; this is all Wanda's idea.”

Natasha rolled her eyes lifting a hand to stop the reply from Wanda. 

“I knew you two were good for each other, I'm glad you guys are getting along just fine.”

Natasha kept the smirk on her face unfazed by your glare and Wanda's blush. 

“Now, if you excuse me, my wife is waiting for me and your children are coming this way.”

You kept your glare in watching as Natasha left leaving you with a blushing Wanda who was looking everywhere but at you. 

“Mommy!” Tommy came running until he was hugging Wanda tightly, Billy was also making his way to her but the other boy was slower with his eyes down. 

“Hey, sweetie, how was school today?” Wanda heard Tommy with her eyes falling on Billy who was now sniffing seeking with his hand that of America. 

“Hey, you didn't come by the classroom, where were you?” America asked you narrowing her eyes at you. 

“Making sure everything was working okay.” You nodded to Billy who was standing closer to your sister. “Is he okay?”

“I think he is coming down with the flu or something.” America turned to Wanda and both of the crossed stares before America turned to you. “You guys stayed until late yesterday, I think that didn't agree with the little guy over here.”

“Oh, Billy, how are you feeling?” This time around Wanda knelt to look at her child who was now pouting. 

“I'm fine.” But he sounded weak, with traces of a sour throat. 

Wanda frowned turning to you then to America, with Billy sick it would be almost impossible to stay there. Tommy stood by the side glancing at the scene with a concern frown. 

“Oh, baby I think we need to go home.” Wanda said standing up, she turned to you smiling apologetically. 

Ever since that almost confession on Saturday, the both of you had had a hard time to actually be alone or get a nice conversation. Wanda had chosen that day because of the storytelling event; it would be the perfect moment for you and her to just do something different. Just the two of you. 

“I think you're right.” You turned to America who could read you like a book, she rolled her eyes stretching her hand to you. 

“I'll take care of it.”

You grinned hugging her tightly while whispering in her ear. 

“Thank you, lil sister.”

“What…what are you..” Wanda started but you shrugged leaning closer to her, Wanda's breath caught in her throat when your hand sneaked inside her pocket and you grabbed the car keys in there. 

“Let me take you, Tommy and Billy home.” You spoke. “You can go in the back and I can drive you home and to the pharmacy if needed.”

“You don't have to do it.” Wanda replied in a weak tone, though her heart tugged painfully at her chest. 

“I know, I want to.” You turned to America. “Be careful and write me or call me. Don't be late.”

“Yes, yes, go on then, Billy really is not looking well.”

You knelt in front of the boy leaning in. 

“Billy, can I carry you?” 

Billy huffed grabbing America's hand, he glanced at you then at his mom, with a pout he nodded. You smiled thank him before picking him up in your arms, you turned to Wanda then fixing the boy in your arms letting your eyes go from Wanda to Tommy. 

“Okay, let's go home guys, and once there we can make dinner and make sure Billy feels better, you like that plan, Tommy?”

“Yeah.” Tommy replied shyly grabbing Wanda's hand. 

America watched as the four of you left the crowded field, she chewed on her lower lip think back on her conversation with Wanda for a moment she played with the idea of going with them but America decided against such an idea. She was being overprotective of her sister and the twins, she had come to love them and she would hate for them to be hurt in any way. The same went for you, America knew you were a fool sometimes, and even if you liked to make others think you were strong and untouchable in reality you were a romantic by heart, and a softy in general. America wished she could see the end of this growing relationship between Wanda and yourself for now she would need to be patient. With time the both of you would either stop dancing around one another or you would end up as good friends. America felt her phone vibrate and just as she was about to grab it she saw a woman with her phone out taking pictures of the road leading to the parking lot. 

America frowned but before she could see what the other woman was interested in her phone rang and she pick it up with a smile. 

“Hey Kate bear where are you at?”

__________________

The drive back home was filled with Tommy's babble about his day and what he and Billy had done with the rest of the class in the festival. You would glance to the trio sitting in the back of the car every once in a while, your questions directing Tommy to a new subject that would distract him from being overly concern for his brother. 

It didn’t take too long for the twins to be put to bed; Wanda would fuzz around with you trying to hold her back while helping out Billy to get into bed after taking his medicine. Christine had been kind enough to provide the instructions, and a quick diagnostic based on the symptoms, with a promise to be there by the next morning. Wand was not sure how she could thank you for the attention, or what she did to earn your help and your affection.

The young woman leaned against wall; she was watching as you continued telling the story that was supposed to be shown that day to the rest of the students. Billy was drifting on and off to sleep while Tommy was listening attentively holding his dino plushie tightly against his chest. Wanda observed attentively to your gestures, the attention you pay to her children and how amazing you were being with them at all times.

Wanda knew at some point she had fallen for you.

“He doesn’t have a fever anymore.” Wanda blinked confused, she didn’t even notice when Tommy had finally fallen asleep or when you had stoop right in front of her.

“What?” You cocked a brow smiling at Wanda.

“Billy doesn’t have a fever anymore, are you alright?” Your whole face softened; your hand lifted to cup Wanda’s face. “He is going to be okay; you know? Some rest, and medication and he will be as good as new tomorrow.”

Wanda crossed her arms offering a weak smile, her thoughts had drifted away focusing in her relationship with you.

“Thank you, for being here.” She whispered leaning into your embrace, her face resting on your shoulder with her eyes closed.

“Hey, I don’t mind at all. I really love them, you know?” You whispered back, your words carrying with them a meaningful secret that Wanda was not yet ready to face.

At least, not that night.

“I know.” She straightened up, her face filled with unshed tears. “What do you say if we go for a cup of tea and watch something on the TV?”

“I think that’s a fantastic idea!” You grinned widely, following Wanda out of the twins room and into the kitchen.

It had become a routine to just fall into easy conversations about your day or hers, getting to know one another while sharing opinions on an specific topic. You loved it whenever you were able to rail Wanda up just by sharing a controversial opinion about something she liked, it was amusing to seer her eyes flame up and the words pilling out on her mouth while discussing and maintaining her point of view. That night could be like any other, if it wasn’t for the fact that you and she were dangerously close to one another, that Wanda had not stopped her casual touches on you or let her eyes drifted away from you for far too long. If it wasn’t for the fact that you were dying to just break the distance and kiss her they way you meant to kiss her last Saturday. The memory of that night still haunting you.

“That’s so no true!” She exclaimed hitting you with a pillow, you kept laughing lifting a protective arm to evade the pillow hits.

“It is!”

“How can you say they were on a break?!” Wanda huffed pointing to the TV in which you had paused Friends while making a face.

You lifted your arms, putting a leg on the sofa to face Wanda better. The tea had long been forgotten on the table, and Wanda was really looking offended at you though it was easy to guess she was quite amused by the whole discussion. It had been the only time during the afternoon and the evening that you could make her forget about her concerns, Billy had woken up twice now and while he didn’t have a fever, his throat and head had been hurting a lot.

“Look all I’m saying is that it was not clear, okay? Ross shouldn’t have slept with anyone no less than twenty-four hours after the ‘break’,” in here you made a quotation sign with your fingers, your lips tugging upwards, “but still, it felt like a breakup so really Rachel shouldn’t be complaining.”

“Now you’re just saying that to placate my wrath,” Wanda narrowed her eyes, you lifted your hands in a peace gesture shaking your head.

“Never.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, her lips finally breaking into a smile she had been holding back. You rested your head on your hand, your elbow on the back of the sofa; Wanda kept her eyes on the TV then turned to you.

“Do you think…” Wanda stopped thinking about her question, you dipped your head waiting for her to continue.

“What?” you asked curious.

“Do you think they should have ended up together?” The question came with a whisper, your eyebrows shoot up while you leaned back trying to catch the real question.

Wanda was not looking at you, instead of that she was playing with the hem of her shirt while waiting on your answer. You contemplated the possibilities that came with your answer, and what exactly was Wanda looking for. Without knowing exactly what you were getting into you cleared your throat straightening up to grab your mug filled with lukewarm tea.

“I think sometimes we do not chose who we fall in love with,” you kept your attention on your tea, out of the corner of your eyes you could see Wanda looking intently at you, “they were not good for one another the first time, and they had to work a lot in their relationship, but I think in the end they realized that love was not enough, you actually have to work for what you want and make sure that you do everything in your power to make it work.”

“My, Y/N that was quite deep.” Wanda teased though when you locked eyes with her you could see something else there.

You offered a weak smile chuckling, “I guess that’s experience, right?”

“I’m not sure, my own experience was…different.” Wanda replied wincing, you furrowed your brows but Wanda didn’t elaborate.

“And you, Wanda, do you think they should have ended up together?” You asked back, Wanda hesitated for a moment before sitting closer to you.

Your body went completely rigid, her hand rested softly on your knee and you could swear she was moving closer to you. Your heart was thumping so fast and so hard, you could almost make the tapping sound inside your ears, and you were pretty sure Wanda could hear it too.

“I think they gave themselves the chance to love again, and they found out that they really do work together.” Wanda’s voice was almost a whisper, and she squeezed your knee tenderly calling your attention and your eyes back to her face. “I think they should…be together, perhaps…hat time around everything will work out in their favour.”

You nodded leaning closer, “so, love is enough?”

“No, I think both of them are enough…”

You chuckled nodding while leaning closer as well, you could almost make out the shade of green in her eyes. How soft her skin looked, as well as the soft pink colouring of her cheeks and the timid smile on her puffy lips. Being this close to her was everything you had dreamt off for quite some time, and you knew the moment you close the distance you wouldn’t be able to kiss other lips or to think anything else but to try and make this woman happy. Wanda dropped her eyes to your lips then back to your eyes, she parted her lips and waited for you.

“Wanda…” You started but before you could close the distance, your phone rang.

You jumped startled, and Wanda just jerked away from you with her face a deep shade of red. You sought your phone while cursing lowly to the responsible for the interruption; your hand found your phone and soon you were glaring at the name of the screen. You lifted your face offering an apologetic smile that Wanda tried to return weakly.

“Hey, Hope, how you doing?” Your voice sounded strained, but you tried to pay attention to what your best friend was saying.

Wanda offered a weak smile before standing up and leaving you alone in the living room. She let her hands rested on the counter of the kitchen, closing her eyes she tried to regulate her heartbeat while making the mental image of you and your lips, of what almost happened.

“God, what am I doing?” She whispered knowing full well that all she wanted to do was to kiss you, to lean in and let your lips touch yours and perhaps forget all about the past and start living in the present.

Wanda placed a hand on her face, the memory imprinted in her mind smiling softly until you appeared in the kitchen clearing up your throat. By the look in your eyes, Wanda could teel you were leaving.

“Sorry, Hope was trying to help me out with something, and now it seems I will need to go.” You lifted a hand to scratch the back of your head, your eyes wandering around until the fell on Wanda. “But if you need anything at all…”

“I…I will call you, don’t worry.” Wanda tried to hide her disappointment but she couldn’t, you approached her taking her face in your hands.

The young woman gasped with her eyes going big, she leaned forward into your touch with anticipation. You gulped wanting nothing more than to kiss her, to finally close the distance and offer a chance to her and to you. But you stopped yourself before you could do something that you both regret; you kissed Wanda at the corner of her lips, lingering just enough to enjoy the soft touch before stepping back.

“I think we need to talk before we give in.” You offered a weak smile, and Wanda nodded trying to return the smile.

“Yes, I think we should.” The conversation she held with America that day fresh in her mind.

“I will like for you to be my date tomorrow, Wanda.” You couldn’t stay any longer, but you needed to know that tomorrow would be the day.

Wanda blinked chewing on her lower lip, “but we are chaperones and…”

“And you can still be my date and give me one dance, right?” You asked pouting lightly, Wanda melted right away fully aware of what you were asking of her.

“Yes, I will be your date and we…we will talk, right?”

“Right, then…see you tomorrow, Princess.” You stepped back almost falling on your ass, you chuckled and Wanda just rolled her eyes. “Call me if Billy needs something, see you.”

Wanda put her hands on her face, the scene of moments ago still replaying in her mind knowing full well that it would haunt her all through the night the same way that her almost kiss with you on Saturday made her spent a sleepless night. Wanda opened her eyes looking at the lonely kitchen, her heart jumping in her chest at your words.

Tomorrow would be another day, and this time around neither you nor her would let the conversation and the tension to go unsolved. Whatever this was about, you and Wanda were done playing the game.

And this was something that scared and excited Wanda to no end.

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

Next Chapter: Wanda and Reader finally close the distance, America and Kate kiss, and someone had been watching the pairing closely forming a plan to bring everything to a fatal end.

#fanfic #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wandaxreader #female reader #imagine wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #reader

[ttrpgbrackets]

Propaganda under the cut

Whale Ate My Parents:

When you kill a whale, roll +WHALES KILLED. On a 12+, you find your parents, shaken but alive, inside the whale; replace this move with another.

On a 10+, you find one parent, shaken but alive, inside the whale; replace this move with another. On a 7-9, heal all harm. On a 6-, weep into the sea and take 1 to your next roll.

What makes it cool?

Patchwork World is full of these hyper specific moves, but none of them ask the player to do something as specific as "Roll +WHALES KILLED".

Reveal Machinations:

You reveal that you played a minor but recurring role in another humanoid’s life—or at least convince them that’s the case. Attempt a Deception check against the target’s Will DC. On a success, the revelation makes them frightened 2, and on a critical success they are frightened 3. In addition, you gain information about the subject as though you had attempted to Recall Knowledge about them using an appropriate skill and received the same result on your roll. You can’t use this ability against the same humanoid again until 1 day has passed and you’ve also successfully disguised yourself as a different person.

Special - At the GM’s discretion, this feat can be used against non-humanoids if they have regular contact with humanoids or you are able to disguise yourself as a member of the target’s ancestry or type of creature.

What makes it cool?

A capstone feat for your lying, scheming character allows you to reveal that your machinations lay undetected for years and it's been Agatha all along. Terrify your opponents by revealing that everything that has transpired has done so according to your design. Dress up as someone else and do it again tomorrow. Dress up as a slime and persuade the slime that you've been manipulating it for its whole slime life. After having this feat, any game that won't enable my deceptive PC to live her Lysanderoth fantasy is a let down.

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg community #ttrpg design #tumblr bracket #round 1

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 民国奇探/My Roommate is a Detective.

My Roommate is a Detective is a 2020 drama about the Jazz Age shenanigans of a terrible OT3: a useless noodle boy, a spoiled journalist girl, and a handsome thug-turned-cop, who together solve Agatha Christie mysteries in 1920s Shanghai.

I mean, seriously, have you ever wondered what Hercule Poirot would be like if he were a 6'2" Chinese rubber man? If he had a long-suffering sugar daddy from the wrong side of the tracks and a spunky sugar mommy who owned their shared apartment? The answer is, it would be a laugh-out-loud-funny series about a ridiculous and charming assortment of weirdos solving only slightly believable murder mysteries in charming period clothing.

This is another one of those shows where I'm kind of shocked at how not well-known it is, except I'm not, because I can see exactly the problems that keep fandom from descending on it like horny little vultures. Nonetheless, I think it's a good time that more people would enjoy if they gave it the chance. Here's five reasons why you should:

1. Equal parts smart as heck and dumb as butts

On the one hand, especially given its tone and tenor, this show has many surprisingly clever turns and thoughtful moments, carried along by some talented actors. On the other hand, [.gif of a guinea pig in a rollerskate being pushed merrily down a hallway]

This show is not a complicated intellectual exercise. It's an action comedy about a goofy sleuth, a rich-girl reporter, and the cop who should be the straight man in this trio, except he's as much of a goober as the other two are. If the promotional tableaus are giving you real "cover of a Clue box" vibes, you've understood the kind of pastiche it's pulling off.

The mysteries are preposterous. They're all the kind of thing that exemplify the Doyle line about how, when you've eliminated the impossible, whatever's left has got to be the answer, no matter how ding-dang improbable it may be. You know the type: tons of overly elaborate setups, unbelievably perfect timing, coincidental long-lost relatives, people hallucinating right and left. They're also very short -- most full cases take only 2-3 episodes to introduce, investigate, and resolve, even when interspersed with the larger goings-on in these weirdos' lives. The DramaWiki page for the show lists 23 separate arcs over 36 episodes, so you do the math.

And yet, it's way more thoughtful and clever than its doofy little setup would indicate. Its attention to detail surprised me on more than one occasion. Add to that a bunch of solid performances from an ensemble of real characters, and what you get is definitely more substantive than a junk-food waste of time. You can't turn your brain off while watching it, but you sure can turn it down, and that's great.

It also doesn't hurt that everyone is super attractive and wearing great outfits. The whole show's worth it for the wardrobes.

2. THE GIRL

Fuck the haters, fuck everyone, I am going to climb right up on my little soapbox and tell you all why Bai Youning is awesome.

She is insane. She's a troll. She's a clever little monster. Every other character's response to her is, oh my god, you are literally the worst. And she is! She has been spoiled beyond belief by her incredibly rich Crime Dad, and she has learned to leverage her uwu just a widdle girl status to get her whatever the hell she wants. She simply cannot hear it when someone says the word "no." She will look her future sister-in-law in the eye and point a loaded gun at her own head without blinking. Every ball she has is made of brass.

She's hardly perfect. During the course of the show, there are some times where her entitlement runs face-first into the brick wall of reality. She's not nearly as good at her chosen career path as she's been told (mostly by the people who get paid to tell her she's good). She's rarely prepared to deal with the consequences of her actions, especially when she can't just throw money at the problem.

So she learns, and grows, and changes. She's always going to be a stubborn bitch, but she can become a stubborn bitch with a more accurate conception of her relationship to the world around her.

She's actually a really good romantic foil for Lu Yao, who is equally stubborn and spoiled and obnoxious as hell. It is a pure brat4brat relationship, where each one thrives on comically enraging the other. What this means, though, is that when they actually start showing one another some vulnerability, it's really sweet.

Now: I'm pretty sure that you could not have made a female character in her position that everyone did not hate, no matter how cool you made her, because that is the fate of all girls who theoretically keep the two boys from kissing. (More on that next point.) If she were less outgoing and friendly, she would've been hated for being too cold. If she were less headstrong, she would've been hated for being a pushover. If she weren't as into the boy, she would've been hated for being frigid. I know the "god forbid a woman do anything" meme is a joke, but ... man, god forbid this girl do anything. She gets a level of hate entirely disproportionate to what she's actually like. As I said with Eom Dada, it's not always sexism, but sometimes, yeah, it's sexism.

(Real talk: Her character is also fighting both how she's definitely not written as well as the boys are and how the plot sometimes needs her to be artificially stupid and jealous for Straightness Drama Reasons, so that's a legit problem on a structural level. Also, she's dubbed by someone else and the boys aren't, which gives her voice an annoying not-quite-there quality that's hard to ignore. The deck is stacked against her real hard even before she steps onscreen.)

So here's my advice: Go into this show wanting to like her. Embrace her terribleness as a positive, intentional quality. Don't be mad at her for straightening up an endgame that was never going to be gay, even without her. Welcome her contributions to the chaos. Realize that she is exactly as entertainingly irritating as her boys are.

Truly, this is a story of three terrible people in love. They're all just awful, and you wouldn't want to be in a room with any of them for longer than you had to. Left to right up there, Bai Youning is spoiled and self-absorbed, Lu Yao is arrogant and lazy, and Qiao Chusheng is suuuuuch a fucking cop. If you're into the kind of dynamic that can only be described OT3: You All Deserve One Another, then this one's perfect for you.

3. Do you really miss '00s queerbaiting?

Like, really? Are you just super-nostalgic for being able to see the showrunners go, ha ha, girls, we know you're watching and we know you want these cute boys to kiss, which they never will -- but what if we pretended for just this one scene??? Do you just carnally ache for that with every fiber of your being?

Yep.

Now, why am I calling the occasional really gay moments between these two gentlemen "queerbaiting" and not "bromance"? Because these moments are a) obviously intentional, b) completely sporadic, and c) never spoken of again.

For example: There's a scene (which you can see a gifset of here) where the two of them are at a restaurant frequented by the cop, who brings a lot of ladies there on dates. When the waiter points this out, useless noodle boy says, I'm his date. The waiter looks mildly surprised by this, the cop says not to listen to his bullshit, and that's the end of it. The scene moves on. There is no further discussion of this comment. It does not affect their relationship.

That's the essence of queerbaiting: that little on-purpose nod to the homoerotic tension between the two, in a way that isn't a joke but also isn't not a joke, and either way is never going to happen. (In fact, the show is going to go out of its way to make sure that ship gets sunk, so, uh, get your fanfiction lifeboats ready for that.)

A true queerbaiting move is something that should make a difference in a relationship, but doesn't. It should make a difference that our cop is so comfortable in the noodle boy's personal space that he invades it at will. It doesn't. It should make a difference that noodle boy keeps getting real weird every time the cop has a date with a girl. It doesn't. Those are some real romantic moves the two of them keep pulling, and then nothing comes of them.

I had this show sold to me as being incredibly shippy, to the point of being even more so than its censored-BL contemporaries. And ... well, it is and it isn't. It has textually gayer individual moments, but it is much less pervasively gay. It's clear from the start that it's going to throw all its actual relationship points into its canon het romance. When it comes to these boys, the show is toying with you. It knows you want to see those boys smooch, just as much as it knows (and it knows you know) they're never gonna.

How you feel about this is entirely up to you -- and indeed, it may be a dealbreaker on the whole drama for you. If you are inclined to pitch a fit when your ship does not become canon, you'll be happier somewhere else. If, however, you see this as a delightful opportunity to do whatever the hell you want with the situation as it is presented, all the while enjoying little moments of startlingly blatant homoeroticism between two handsome dudes, well, here you are!

(I mean, if you want my take on it, what needs to happen is that the cop and the girl need to fuck while the useless noodle boy watches with asexual bisexual interest, and then they all need to snuggle with the noodle boy in the middle so they can both annoy him appropriately, but your mileage may vary.)

4. The multicultural extravaganza!

1920s Shanghai had a lot going on in terms of cultures and languages, and this show actually does a fair job of representing that.

By now, I've seen a number of shows set during this era, and they all at least acknowledge the international nature of the city -- usually by mentioning the French Concession and having a handful of evil Japanese characters. However, this is the first time I've seen a show go to such lengths to actually show so many non-Chinese characters onscreen, even to the point of making one a recurring character supporting the main squad.

Salim is the best. Whatever he is being paid, it's not enough. He's Qiao Chusheng's right-hand man, which means he is also the dude who most often has to put up the main trio's bullshit. (The actor himself is also a dude with a pretty cool backstory, which is another great layer.) He's sharp, he's loyal, he's patient, and he looks great with his shirt off. He's got it all!

Other non-Chinese characters include a white Jewish art collector (I'd issue a warning for period-typical antisemitism, except … honestly, it's mostly just confused), a sadistic priest who maybe is supposed to be Italian, a completely different priest who [last episode spoiler], and three whole sinister white dudes behind it all.

It's not just the world coming to China, though! A large number of the Chinese characters are said to have spent significant time outside of China, whether for business or for schooling. Near the end, when some characters are discussing moving away from Shanghai, they consider a number of foreign cities as potential destinations.

Here's a delightful detail: When Lu Yao and his sister speak English, they're dubbed by actors with posh British accents who sound like native (or near-native) English-speakers. This makes perfect sense, because both of the siblings did a lot of their schooling in the UK. When Bai Youning speaks English, she's dubbed by someone who speaks English very well but also has a noticeable Chinese accent, which makes perfect sense for her character's background. And Qiao Chusheng never speaks English at all, because he's a street tough who has no reason to know more than three words.

...This is also kind of weird to say about something literally made in China, but go with me on it: Everything's kind of got that Art Deco Orientalist vibe to it. It looks like China's idea of what Britain's idea of China during that period would have looked like. The result comes across less like what 1920s Shanghai would actually have looked like, and more what an ad for 1920s Shanghai would have looked like. It's a fascinating aesthetic, and more so for how it's mostly pretty subtle. The show isn't some visual extravaganza, but it's always very nice to look at, and I appreciate that in a show.

5. A wonderful horrible protagonist

A lot of mystery-themed prestige television involves an asshole genius detective who gets away with being a dick to everyone because he's sooooo smart, while all his long-suffering friends and colleagues spend a lot of time doing damage control for him because, sigh, he's an asshole but we need him, genius excuses all dickhead behavior, we'll always make exceptions for him because he's just ever so special. (Watch histrionic sage hbomberguy's video on Sherlock if you're unfamiliar with the trope.)

Lu Yao is an asshole genius detective, but one who winds up spending most of his time being an asshole to a) people who deserve it, or b) his horrible friends who will be assholes right back at him. When he is awful to the people who don't deserve it, the show smacks him pretty hard on the nose for it and makes him apologize.

This is a show where you'll figure out pretty quckly if you'll love it or hate it, because if you love Lu Yao, you'll love it, and vice versa. He carries most of the show himself, with his goofy charm and his incredibly bendy slenderman body and his ability to make the one competent person he knows both protect him and give him money.

Like so.

For my own part, I find him intensely charming, and I think a lot of this has to do with Hu Yitian's ability to play him as an affectionately bullyable weenie who needs to get shoved in a locker for his own good. He's the worst, and it's comically endearing instead of offputting because at the end of the day, he really does have a good heart. He's just also lazy as heck and disinclined to do anything that he does not want to be doing, and really, aren't we all?

As I alluded to in point 3, he comes across as real asexual. He's just not that interested in sex, and he is in fact pretty uncomfortable in situations where he finds himself the subject of someone else's sexual desires. He's perfectly capable of romantic feelings! I mean, not only does he get Bai Youning as a love interest, we actually meet one of his ex-girlfriends. He's just not partciularly horny about them -- which is even more noticeable as a sharp contrast to how extremely horny Qiao Chusheng is for just about everyone, but this exasperating little dork in particular.

(Like seriously, 90% of the time, Chusheng is about to explode with sexual frustration at Lu Yao's skinny oblivious ass.)

This isn't to say you couldn't get Lu Yao into bed, because you absolutely could, and he'd probably have a good time. You'd just have to remove all distractions from the room, lest his ADHD ass wind up running off to solve a crime mid-coitus.

Twiggy little nightmare man. Garbage-animal boy. Love him.

sidebar: A word about the ending

I'm going to be vague and talk about general vibes instead of specific events, but you should still skip this section if you want to remain completely unspoiled. Jump to the picture of Chusheng holding the sledgehammer.

Okay, so, a lot of people do not like the ending, and I'm including myself in that number. I honestly don't know if they got rushed and had to wrap everything pretty last-minute, or if they thought they might get a second season out of it and were leaving things open-ended accordingly. Either way, it's incredibly unsatisfying.

I think there's a clue that the show didn't actually want to end this way, and it's not actually in the text of the show itself. Every episode, between the last scene and the start of the credits, you get to see a couple still frames from the episode (usually some of the queerbaity ones). After the very final shot of the series, you get two images: the boys hugging goodbye, and Chusheng's upset face. That's not a resolution! That is at best a "to be continued..." ending!

But no, that's it. That's all, folks.

It's not quite an ending so bad it ruins the rest of the show, mostly because it doesn't feel finished, so it's less like you're watching a car being deliberately driven into a wall because someone thought that was the best route to take, and more like you're watching someone leave a car on the railroad tracks because they figured they'd have time to move it later.

As far as I know, there has been no noise made about a second season. These 36 episodes are the entirety of the narrative. It had the distinct misfortune to start airing in March 2020, which wasn't exactly prime time for planning sequels, and that seems to have been that. (There is a 2022 show called Checkmate that stars the two main guys in extremely similar roles, also adapting Agatha Christie stories, but it's apparently pretty meh? Somebody else who's actually seen it, go ahead and weigh in here.)

I'll say that if you turn off the episode right after Lu Yao gets out the handcuffs, you'll save yourself the worst of it the awkward and unsatisfying moments (though I'm impressed at your willpower to stop watching something five minutes from the end). That's not all of it, though. Structurally, there are several situations rushed to a resolution and loose threads left flapping untied in the breeze. I guess stopping before the last five minutes simply saves you the hope that it'll pull a good ending out of the fire, because it won't.

And let's be real: The more you hate Bai Youning and her romance with Lu Yao, the more you'll hate the ending. (Not that liking those elements will necessarily make you like the ending, of course, because I'm a fan of hers and I still think the ending is butts.) The ending is already like a pair of uncomfortable shoes; if the het romance especially makes you grind your teeth, the ending becomes a pair of uncomfortable shoes that also have a rock in them. A lot of the comments online indicate plenty of people dropped the show when they learned the het romance would be endgame. It's a pretty common dealbreaker.

Oh well. Bring on the fanfic, I say! Those of us who are used to taking a sledgehammer to canon are unafraid.

Smash it, baby.

Still want to see some of these mysteries?

Both iQiyi and Viki have the answer to your sleuthing!

It's not a perfect show -- as evidenced by my digression about the ending -- but it's a lot of fun. If you can handle the occasional foible and some eyebrow-raising moments, you're in for a good time with some attractive people that occasionally tastes very gay.

Every roommate crazy 'bout a sharp-dressed man

#my roommate is a detective #民国奇探 #rec post #i made this

[wandashousewife]

The Saving Grace (Chapter Four)

Pairing — Wanda x Reader

Synopsis — In the town of Westview, Scarlet Witch, Wanda Maximoff, navigates the challenges of her busy life—juggling work as a therapist, parenting her twin boys, and managing daily stress. Her kind neighbor, you, has consistently provided support, offering coffee, desserts, and a sympathetic ear. Today, after an emotionally draining session, Wanda seeks solace and decides to reach out to you for the first time, hoping to share her burdens.

Warnings — angst, depressed wanda, divorce Fluff??

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“Stay?”

“Yes. Please.” Her tone was soft, sympathetic even. You knew how much she needed this comfort, and what was the worst a couple more hours could do?

With a casual shrug, you responded, "Okay, just don't keep me up all night.” injecting a touch of humor into the moment. Settling back onto the couch, the cushions embraced you in their comfort.

“This is going to sound so forward and awkward, so this just put this into hypotheticals, okay?” Wanda asked, getting a bit nervous as she looked at you.

"Sure, hypotheticals it is," you replied, sensing a hint of nervousness in Wanda's demeanor as she broached the upcoming topic. The air filled with anticipation, awaiting the hypothetical scenario she was about to present.

“What if, hypothetically, I thought you were pretty.” She stated, her eyes never wavered from your position on the couch.

“I’d hypothetically be flattered.” You smiled, following along with the strange scenario.

“What if I thought you were the prettiest girl in the world?” She asked, her tone conveyed the most sincere question that could ever come out of a conversation about hypotheticals of all things.

“I’d say you’re wrong.” Her eyes widened and she cocked her head to the side. Wanda couldn't understand why someone as amazing as you couldn't see your beauty. "Excuse me, what did you say? You're one of the most attractive people I've ever met!" Her words were warm and genuine, and she didn't hesitate to touch her thumb to your cheek.

“What are you doing?” You asked, not sure why she did that.

Instead of responding, Wanda placed a finger on your lips to silence your words. She had no need for justification; her desire for you outweighed anything else.

Your words came out muffled but it sounded like a question that Wanda couldn’t really make out.

As she felt your lips, Wanda leaned in for a passionate embrace. She kissed you deeply, the warmth of her lips filling you with euphoria. As you kissed back, enjoying the sweet heat of her lips on yours, you felt your breath quicken.

When she released you of her love, it felt like you were thrown back and forth through time and space itself. The kiss left you lightheaded and breathlessly overwhelmed in its wake. It was a mind-blowing experience that had been etched on your mind forever. Wanda was the first to pull away, a faint smile across her face as if she were in a daze. She looked at you with a dreamy gaze. Her words sounded hoarse as she finally spoke. "God, you've got me all worked up.."

“Are you sure Agatha didn’t leave you any of her drinks?” You asked, unsure if what Wanda was doing was influenced by intoxication. You thought that she's been drunk, and therefore, all the steamy actions were mere hallucinations. But unfortunately for you, it was not the case. "I'm sure." She replied with a confident tone, letting her hands roam up and down your body. Her fingers moved to the bottom of your shirt, grazing gently against your skin.

“How old are you again?” You asked, unaware of her age to see if this was morally correct. Well, you were of drinking age, so how bad could it possibly be?

Wanda sighed in irritation. This was certainly not the ideal time to be asking such a question. It was quite clear that she wanted to get back to kissing. "I'm thirty-four years old, if it matters to you." As Wanda finished her sentence, she pulled you close to her once more. She pressed her body against yours to the point where you could feel the heat emanating from her skin. Her lips found their mark, and your mouths opened and moved in unison; the heat was palpable and it was certainly not a platonic kiss.

When you pulled away, a question popped into your mind. “What about the boys?” Your sudden question shocked Wanda. You were referring to her children, but there was a reason she wanted to ignore any mentions of them for the time being. “What about them?”

“What if they see us?”

The worry on your face seemed to bring Wanda out of her love trance. She sighed, finally accepting reality. She had completely forgotten about her kids for a handful of moments in time, and as she looked at you, that reality hit her like a ton of bricks. "That's true…we shouldn't get carried away."

“Didn’t you say that Vision was picking them up for the week tomorrow evening?” You asked c referring to how Wanda had previously told you before she left for the trip that the boys would be picked up by their father, Vision, tomorrow for his shared care.

The mention of her ex-husband brought Wanda up short and killed all trace of her giddy mood. "Yes, I know." she replied in an agitated tone. The fact that she'd have to share her children with Vision for entire weeks was something she hated, and she clearly wasn't thrilled to talk about it.

“Then I’ll see you then.” You smirked, the thought of it made you giddy.

The moment of excitement that crossed over your face seemed to lift Wanda's temper a level, too. She smirked as well and gave you a sly side-glance. "You promise?”

“I swear.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen #my fic #wanda maximoff #wanda maximov x reader

[pigeonwhumps]

Rules

Pets of the Silver Screen masterlist

Taglist: @maracujatangerine @clairelsonao3 @whumplr-reader @whumpinggrounds @bbu-on-the-side

Multiple times over the years, Agatha learns the rules.

2.1k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, kidnapping, collar, beating, stress positions, dehumanisation, non-con nudity (non sexual)

Agatha juts her chin out, poise perfect despite the tip-toe position she's been forced into.

"My name is Miss Agatha Stanbury, daughter of Lord Kenneth Stanbury. Let me go and you may get out of this alive."

Foster Montgomery smirks, pressing his knife into her neck, blood beading along its edge.

"I think I'd rather keep you. Nobody's going to find you, certainly not after I'm finished with you." He drags his knife down her front, slitting her clothes. They mostly stay on, but it must be a very sharp knife to manage that. "Take them off."

"No."

He holds up the knife, reminding her. "What did you say?"

Agatha swallows but keeps her poise. She's going to be an actress, she can pretend she has nothing to fear.

"I said no. You have given me nothing to wear afterwards and I will not follow your disgusting commands."

"I have more suitable clothing for you later, if you earn it. But if you won't obey willingly I'll have to do it for you."

Agatha's barely had a chance to process the statement when she's slammed to the ground. All her bones are jarred and her nose explodes with agony. A boot seems to grind her into the floor as Montgomery removes her clothing piece by piece.

She hates herself for thinking it, but at least he lets her keep her knickers.

He grunts in satisfaction, and hauls her to her knees. She shoves his hands away and stands, but is back on her knees in less than a second.

"Stay." He reaches behind him and picks up a leather collar complete with tag.

Agatha doesn't move when he reaches out and buckles the suffocating leather around her throat, but not out of obedience. She just doesn't think she can.

She reaches up to touch it, but Montgomery smacks away her hand before she can.

"Don't even think about it. I'll only ever remove it if you need a punishment that might interfere with the collar somehow, so if you do so yourself I'll assume that's what you're after. But you do still deserve a punishment. Bend over."

Agatha swallows hard, the soft leather and cold metal buckle pressing against her throat. She doesn't move. She only came down for the season, she's not going to obey a kidnapper who's apparently obsessed with turning her into a pet.

He couldn't find a volunteer? There's enough of them.

She pitches forward onto her hands and knees as he pushes her over, pulling her knickers down.

"Bare flesh is best for this. Pets obey. They don't say no. They don't talk back. You need to learn this."

Agatha has never had such a thrashing in her life as she receives then. No-one's ever drawn blood before. She's not passed out enough by the end to receive a reprieve though – he orders her to clean the house, and woe betide her if he finds a speck of dust or blood.

She experiences it all as if from miles away. As if from the gathering she's supposed to be at right now, with entirely different rules. She's not in her body, most of the time, and that's probably for the best.

That day and the next, she learns the rules of being Foster Montgomery's captive.

1) Don't say no.

2) Only speak when spoken to.

3) Don't talk back.

4) Address other people as sir or ma'am.

5) Always obey immediately.

6) Don't remove your collar.

7) Punishments are always deserved, always hard, and given at the slightest provocation.

She adds an extra one from herself, too, which she knows is true. Montgomery giving her a collar is not just him being a sick bastard, it's theatre, another part of the pretense. Because even if he were to parade her in front of those she loves, everyone knows that only pets wear collars.

8) No-one's coming to my rescue. I'm not getting out of here unless I do it myself.

Over the next few months, the rules don't change. The chores are hard, and the punishments harsh, and a lot more of her is scarred now. Very little of what Montgomery does has any logic to it.

But she still can't find an escape. She fears she's sinking into it.

_

When she's hired by Hayes Fletcher, more rules are added to the list.

9) Don't talk to the other pet.

10) If you disobey, it won't just be you who's punished.

Eloise won't receive whippings, of course, and no canings during the shoot, but she can be put in stress positions, or starved, or have a bucket of water dumped over her head before being left in the unheated studio overnight. And Agatha has absolutely no desire to subject her to anything other than a good hot meal and somewhere better to sleep.

_

Rule 7 is underlined dramatically by the inspector's visit. In the aftermath, Agatha's arm and back throbbing, blood pooling on the frozen stone floor that her toes are just able to touch, Eloise whimpering from her own position, Agatha makes sure to add another two rules to herself (though the second is altered after Eloise's angry objections).

11) Don't talk about the situation to outsiders. It will only make things worse.

12) Don't break the rules. Even Only if Eloise agrees to do so.

_

Agatha could possibly escape during the transatlantic crossing. She thinks about it. Even jumping overboard might be better. But she needs to see Eloise again. Be sure that she's alive and physically unhurt (from the sinking at least, Agatha has no doubt she'll have been hurt since). Tell her that she's brave, and a hero, because if it had been anyone but fellow pets she'd saved, if she was anyone but a pet herself, her actions would've been lauded, but instead it's Hayes Fletcher who's being praised for having such a good pet. Which isn't right, it isn't fair, and Agatha can't leave Eloise on her own.

That's when Agatha solidifies the last rule for herself, that's been brewing since she first met Eloise but she's never stopped to think about it before.

13) Her and Eloise only have each other, and will always have each other.

_

Then the Great War comes.

Foster Montgomery signs up to fight. He leaves Agatha in Hayes Fletcher's care, who lends her to the munitions factory, for good publicity and probably money (money for Fletcher? Money for Montgomery? She doesn't know. But neither man is big into philanthropy). Eloise isn't there. Agatha follows the rules Montgomery has already given her, hating the fact that they keep her alive.

Another few rules are added.

14) Don't become emotional.

15) Never make a sound.

16) Just because you're working alongside people, doesn't mean you are one.

That last is... profoundly obvious, at times. When the rest of the workers get to go home at the end of their shifts and she is kept working, or if there's no-one else at all, locked in the breakroom until morning. When she's fed less than the others, or when she's beaten, or–

It's so obvious, even more so than when she was hired by Hayes Fletcher. She hates it. And she's so alone here.

The war will be over by Christmas, right?

_

1915. Foster Montgomery is dead, and Agatha desperately wishes she could thank his killer, if anybody even knows. She gets a new tattoo, signifying her ownership by Hayes Fletcher (luckily, she knows his rules, there's no new ones to learn there). The Munitions Act comes into force, and the regular bombing raids start.

Monkey's paw. She's not alone anymore, but it means that Eloise, and several other pets, have joined her in the munitions factory.

She teaches Eloise what she's learned about staying out of trouble where possible. They have a dedicated bunkroom now, pets crammed in on old bedding on the floors of the worst-maintained rooms. They learn that only a few owners have paid for their pets to be taken to air raid shelters.

Hayes Fletcher hasn't.

Night after night they spend, trying to stay calm as bombs rain down around them. Occasionally they're still chained or tied up at night, for punishments, and when that happens Agatha worries the most.

She learns one more rule.

17) Sometimes all you can do is pray.

_

The war ends. By a miracle, her and Eloise are both still alive. Hayes Fletcher goes back to producing films, albeit with less success. Agatha watches as pet liberation campaigns grow, and the next decade approaches with force. The world seems a little more hopeful, things seem to be changing.

Except for her and Eloise. Stuck with the horrible, spiteful little man, punishments getting worse as he gets more frustrated and blames them for it (or maybe he simply has nowhere else to put his anger). The world's moving on, votes for women are coming, and she can't help but think of what her life might be like if she hadn't been kidnapped all those years ago.

She remembers rule 7. And the last time was dreadful, and another attempt could get them both killed, but she mentions her rule to Eloise one night and Eloise agrees. They have to try, don't they? Sometimes, it's the only thing you can do.

A week later, the film studio burns down in the middle of the night. Arson, probably. By the time the fire brigade arrive to the burnt out husk Agatha and Eloise are already sneaking onto a train to London.

_

"If the both of you want rules, I can give you some," says Ira, clearly reluctant, "as long as we can go through the ones you already have first. Is that all right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Ira nods. "Why don't you write me a list then? We can go through them while Eloise is busy."

Agatha takes the paper and pen she offers, wincing as she sits down, heart skipping a beat. She's still not used to it.

At the end of the session, her list reads:

1) Don't say no.

2) Only speak when spoken to.

3) Don't talk back.

4) Address people as sir or ma'am.

5) Always obey immediately.

6) Don't remove your collar.

7) Punishments are always deserved, always hard, and given at the slightest provocation.

8) No-one's coming to my rescue. I'm not getting out of here unless I do it myself.

9) Don't talk to the other pets.

10) If you disobey, it won't be just you who's punished.

11) Don't talk about the situation to outsiders. It will only make things worse.

12) Don't break the rules. Only if Eloise agrees to do so.

13) You and Eloise only have each other, and will always have each other. (Ira says she can get rid of this one partially too, but she's not so sure. Not yet)

14) Don't become emotional.

15) Never make a sound.

16) Just because you're working alongside people, doesn't mean you are one.

17) Sometimes all you can do is pray.

The new rules are easy, and straightforward, and Agatha doesn't entirely trust them. The list now reads:

1) You belong to yourself.

2) You will never be punished, no matter what you do.

3) You and Eloise only have each other, and will always have each other.

4) Sometimes all you can do is pray.

_

Agatha kneels on the floorboards, trembling. It's her turn today, Ira asked her to clean and she said yes, she's not sure why except she's so used to not being allowed to say no.

She hopes she's done well. She hopes she's done well. She hopes she won't be punished.

Ira doesn't do punishments. But all the same, she hopes she won't be punished.

There's footsteps, then they stop.

"Agatha?"

"I've finished cleaning, ma'am."

A hand on her shoulder. "Agatha, please look at me. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Come on, look up."

Agatha obeys hesitantly. And gasps. Ira's eyes are dark and warm and how could Agatha ever have thought otherwise? Ira gets down to her level as Agatha grasps her hands tightly, pulling her into a rare hug.

"Rules one and two, Agatha."

"I belong to myself," whispers Agatha, still clutching Ira tightly, "and I will not be punished."

Ira's two rules. The only two she'll ever make.

1) I belong to myself.

2) I will never be punished, no matter what I do.

And there's a third, that Agatha has added herself, that she thinks she probably can after so long. Rule number 5, now Ira has been proven correct and number 3 has been partially removed (Agatha does not only have Eloise now).

5) Ira keeps her promises.

#whump #whump writing #bbu community #bbu #box boy universe #box babe #multiple whumpees #pet whump #kidnapping #lady whump #whumpee and whumper #whumpee and caretaker #pets of the silver screen #agatha stanbury #foster montgomery #ira waterhouse #not happy with the list formatting but nvm #historical whump

[sea-owl]

I just wanted some modern besties Phillip and Penelope vibes being single parents and raising their kids together with occasional visits from crazy uncle Michael. Kinda like Full House style.

Phillip and Penelope met when her cousin Marina and his brother George started to go out with one another. Both being the quiet introvert types they got along well. When they both realized they were going to the same university they started to hang out more.

Sadly tragedy struck when George, who was a solider, was killed in action. This news made Marina, who was already suffering from postpartum, fall into a deep depression. So bad that she ended up taking her own life. The parents left behind a pair of twins Oliver and Amanda Crane.

Phillip ended up stepping up and adopting the twins. He didn't trust anyone else to take care of them despite the doubts he has for himself, and he felt like he owed George for taking care of him all those years ago.

Penelope herself also ended up having twins, Agatha and Thomas Featherington, after a drunken one night stand with "a random man in London."

"Penelope!" Michael laughed. "How scandalous! You don't who your baby daddy is?"

"Nope," Penelope said, rubbing her pregnant belly. "Black out drunk. My mother is not happy either."

The three friends were at Phillip's ancestral home visiting. Well, Penelope was actually hiding out after revealing to her mother her pregnancy, and Michael likes drama, so of course, he had to come hear the story.

"You know you could just stay here," Phillip offered later that night. "This house is too big its not like three more will make a difference and the twins love having their Aunt Penelope around."

Penelope happily accepted her friend's offer. The two friends happily live with one another doing their best to raise the kids. Michael came to visit every once in a while. Making sure to bring gifts and sweets for the children.

Things took an interesting turn, though, when the Crane twins were 8 and the Featherington twins were 6.

The cousins were playing in the park when Penelope heard another mother say. "Did I have another son?"

Penelope looked over. A pretty blonde, pregnant woman who could be Cinderella come to life was looking down at four boys. One of those boys being Penelope's son.

Penelope sighed. While both her children could be little troublemakers, just like their older cousins, Thomas has this charm about him that could get him almost anything he wanted.

Picking up Agatha Penelope made her way over to the other mother. "I'm sorry, I think our sons are playing a prank."

Penelope looked down at the four boys and whoa. They really did look a like. If Thomas eye's weren't emerald green, Penelope might not have been able to tell them apart, especially with the oldest boy.

"Oh, it's alright," the blonde woman laughed. "You think I would be used to this. My children's cousins all look alike to some degree and some could potentially switch places with one another." She held out a hand. "I'm Sophie Bridgerton."

#bridgerton #besties phillip and penelope #full house au #phillip crane #penelope featherington #hinted polin #tw sui implied #cw sui mention

[getlostsquidward]

dying in your lips is how i wanna go

pairing: demon!agatha harkness x reader

a/n: re-fucking-post because it isnt showing in the tags

summary: agatha has done well on keeping her desire to ravish you under control in fears that she might scare you away, until one day, she snaps.

warnings: 18+, agatha has a penis, smut, oral sex, vaginal sex, anal, praise and degradation, breeding kink, overstimulation, cumflation, cockwarming, porn with a sprinkle of fluff

kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

“The devil is in the details.”

“That's not the only place he is.”

Agatha has warned you from the beginning, but you kept brushing her off. Not that you don't believe her, you do, being a witch and all that. You often joked that Agatha meeting you was because of a spell you botched, accidentally summoning her, and now she has to live with you because you don't know how to send her back.

You'd keep on telling her that she is the most beautiful demon you've laid your eyes on, but you haven't seen her true form.

About her true self, and how she might lose the semblance of humanity that she'd acquired from centuries of blending in with mortals—lose control, go berserk, and heaven knows what.

It has been long since she's indulged in her diabolical desires, and with you under her, with that beautiful shade of lipstick smearing on your cheeks and her cock—she knows there's only a short amount of time until she unleashes her demons.

You were so occupied sucking her that you didn't notice the nails buried in your hair starting to grow and sharpen. Agatha herself was lost in the way your cheeks would hollow, the gagging sounds music to her ears as she fucks your throat—that she doesn't feel her tail coming forth, the appendage seemingly with its own mind, slithering towards your still lace-clothed cunt.

You moaned both from pleasure, and surprise—was that Agatha? 

Briefly, you let go of her cock, your eyes locked on to the pale purple color as it starts to bleed into her alabaster skin. Her fingers, you notice, are stained black up to the knuckles; her nails, always kept short, were long and sharp and claw-like.

When you made no move to escape, her tail began to creep towards your mouth, the pointy and tongue-like end prodding between your lips. As your tongue made contact with it, Agatha whined under her breath, telling you there's more than her fingers and cock that will have their turns inside you.

Agatha's pupils are blown, gradually spreading over her bright blue irises until her whole eyes become pitch black. It should be enough to have you run away in fear, but you stay glued to where you are, looking up at her with sparkling eyes and parted swollen lips. So small. So vulnerable. All for her to break.

Her soft spot for you has her starved, keeping herself from ravishing you wholly, only indulging in kissing and dry humping—afraid that if things went too far and she let herself feed on your lust, she'll scare you away and lose you.

But with you offering yourself on a silver platter, who is she to deny?

Curled horns start to sprout from her head, along with her pointy ears, and finally, her wings–huge and bat-like, spreading freely given the enormous space of the room.

You thought that that was the last of it until she grew taller, almost seven-foot in your quick estimate. Of course, along with the growth spurt is her cock.

Goodness gracious.

You stare at it, unconsciously licking your lips at the thought of it absolutely railing the living lights out of you.

The woman– demon in front of you could kill you with her bare hands, thighs, and wings, and you find yourself aroused beyond measure. 

Agatha caresses your cheeks with a finger, her tail slithering out of your lips. “Penny for your thoughts, Y/N.”

“Ruin me, Agatha,” mindlessly, you pleaded. Agatha smirks, the lust that radiates off of you sating some of her hunger—but she needs more. “Make me yours.”

“Mm, but you're already mine, aren't you? My pretty little human.”

Agatha leans down, pressing her lips to yours. 

Your hands fly around her neck to stabilize yourself, your knees going weak with the way she's practically devouring your mouth—her forked tongue demanding entrance and slides with yours.

She hooks her hands on your thighs as she lifts you up so easily like a rag doll. Your legs hook around her waist in turn, her cock hard and stiff against your stomach. Agatha pulled away with a whine, as she settles you down gently on the faux fur on the floor—the beds and the tables not sturdy enough for her.

Your breath catches in your throat as she towers over you once again in all her infernal glory—all that was left was her fucking you raw. You want– no, need to have that devilish cock in your cunt.

Prying your thighs apart, you watch her with bated breath as her mouth lavishes your core, her tongue licking stripes from your clit, swirling on your entrance, even reaching up to your ass. Agatha's mouth is so wet and hot and your pussy clenches around nothing as she eats you out like her last meal. Her hand crawls across your stomach, her nails grazing leaving trails in their wake. She reaches out to your breasts, her thumb and forefinger playing with your puckered buds.

Agatha rises between your legs, her smile showing her sharpened teeth and fangs—so sinister, yet so beautiful. She removes her hand from one of your nipples and replaces it with her tongue, licking and sucking and soaking your chest with drool, which quickly cools with the air.

One hand slips between your bodies, finding the warmth she so craves. Two of her fingers enter you immediately as her thumb plays with your clit. Agatha relishes the obscene squelching sound your cunt makes. She feels you clenching around her digits, and slows her thrusts. You whine when she removes her fingers, feeling so empty. “Uh-uh, sweets. I want to see you cum on my cock.”

She has no doubts that your pussy will swallow her huge dick greedily, but she licks you again, and again, for good measure. “I can't get enough of this fucking pussy. You taste heavenly, my pretty slut.”

Before you can say anything, if there's still anything/ left for you to say, her cock slides into you in one sharp thrust, not even letting you breathe for a second.

Oh well, you've been waiting for it.

Agatha lifts your legs up to her shoulders so she can reach into you deeply, your heels digging into her skin as she fucks you relentlessly. With watery eyes, you watch her wings flutter with every push.

Her cock stretches your cunt and you're sure she's reached your cervix. As she pounds into you mercilessly, you feel another appendage, her tail, creeping up on your ass hole. With the seemingly endless slick your pussy releases, it slides into your ass with no trouble. You throw your head back, eyes on the ceiling as your mouth falls open in silent screams and breathy moans.

“Look at you, so pretty all filled up…Do you want me to pump you even fuller with my cum? Gonna fuck my babies into you. I bet you'd want that, hm? My dirty whore?”

“Yes, fuck me! I want all your cum inside me, please, Agatha! Fuck– right there! I'm– please– gonna cum…” you babble out nonsense, mind heady with pleasure and desire to be bred by this painfully hot demon.

//

You've lost count of how many times Agatha made you cum—not that you were counting anyway. She carried your pliant body around as she maneuvers you in whatever position she thought of, her energy and stamina bottomless. 

Every part of your body feels sore and you think you need a whole week of sleep to regain your strength. You weren't complaining, though. Not every person can say they had such out-of-this-world sex.

Agatha's cum seemed bottomless too as she filled your womb up, your belly now bloated with all of her. She rests for a good few seconds before going again–and you wonder, why did the two of you have to resist each other?

And the way she empties herself into you wasn't a slow spurt of white hot cum, no– it was like a fucking high-pressure hose. Agatha just kept cumming, your name rolling off her tongue, with Your cunt feels so good, You're made for me–only for me along the lines.

Her words make you feel so fuzzy, and you're so ready to take all of it.

It didn't take too long before your belly rounded like a pregnant woman in her full term, ready to pop. Agatha tugged at your hair gently to whisper in your ear, “I love you, my pretty little human,” she pants in between words, and this time you feel that her endless cum finally had its end. Her cock is still buried in your pussy as she shrinks down to her human size. “Mine.”

—

tags: @midnight-lestrange @our-blood-is-our-ink @minszhuo @tr333sus @shayzulia @academiagaymess @thenazwife @p-nymph @wandakink @phattypoobutt @starrknessblog @gmtsu @inlovewithagathaharkness80

#gls kinktober 2022 #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #kathryn hahn x reader

[mariana-oconnor]

His Last Bow

Hey Tumblr,

I have 0 idea what happens in this story. Kind of hoping it's a bit like Curtain, the last Poirot story, because that's a bop. Well, it's very depressing, but I love the solution. Although I also really hope it isn't, because then Agatha Christie would have copied that and I really don't want that to be the case.

I also really want ACD to have done something insanely over the top and decisive to make it really clear that this time there would be no retconning. Like... idk, the world being invaded by aliens. Sherlock Holmes stealing the crown jewels and being executed for treason. Mycroft turning out to have been a double agent all along and destroying the entire British Empire.

I'm no longer feverish, although my lungs are still trying to propel themselves out of my body in a way that keeps leaving me a little asphyxiated, so that's fun. But no jellyfishifters this time I expect. Or sea turtles... Yeah, Idk either.

It was nine o'clock at night upon the second of August—the most terrible August in the history of the world.

Oh Watson, you sweet summer child. I bet I've seen worse Augusts. Even if Holmes does die in this one.

The sun had long set, but one blood-red gash like an open wound lay low in the distant west.

London... is now... a hellmouth?

Are we not in London? Is that the city from a distance. Where are we? Why is the sky split open? What is going on?

The two famous Germans stood beside the stone parapet of the garden walk...

The only two famous Germans. Ever. You know... those two.

Oh, so we're actually in the 'Sherlock is a spy' period. Weirdly I assumed that that was only going to be referenced. But no, we're actually going there.

So the red line is... the war front?

One of these was his present companion, Baron Von Herling, the chief secretary of the legation, whose huge 100-horse-power Benz car was blocking the country lane as it waited to waft its owner back to London.

Is the Baron compensating for something? Maybe.

But we're not in London and we're not near the war front, so... what is that red slash in the sky. Is it London?

This is probably not the mystery I am meant to be trying to solve. I should pay more attention to the espionage and less to the environs.

“They are not very hard to deceive,” he remarked. “A more docile, simple folk could not be imagined.”

Someone has not been down the pub when the home team is playing. Hoo boy. Docile is not a word I would use...

"One's first impression is that they are entirely soft. Then one comes suddenly upon something very hard, and you know that you have reached the limit and must adapt yourself to the fact."

That is, indeed, what she said.

“Meaning British prejudice in all its queer manifestations."

Oh boy. I don't think you mean what I'd mean by those words, but yet you have still brought upon me a great sense of national shame and wincing.

"I was invited to a week-end gathering at the country house of a cabinet minister. The conversation was amazingly indiscreet.”

Given the general level of OpSec shown by government workers, bankers, and just... everyone within these stories, I cannot say that this surprises me. I'm disappointed, but not surprised. The majority of government people we have met have been entire and total imbeciles in the matter of privacy, data protection and general best practices regarding secrecy.

“No, no, don't call it a pose. A pose is an artificial thing. This is quite natural. I am a born sportsman. I enjoy it.”

Ugh, I hate this guy.

“And all the time this quiet country house of yours is the centre of half the mischief in England, and the sporting squire the most astute secret-service man in Europe. Genius, my dear Von Bork—genius!”

I will say, they're commenting on other people not being discreet, and here they are just laying out everything without even a hint of subtlety. Using people's names. confirming their identities, confirming their true purposes. Unless this, in itself, is a subterfuge... They're not at a party, at least, I suppose.

“You flatter me, Baron. But certainly I may claim my four years in this country have not been unproductive. I've never shown you my little store. Would you mind stepping in for a moment?”

This all feels very Cask of Amontillado, don't you think?

Is Van Bork Sherlock?

He then closed the door behind the bulky form which followed him and carefully adjusted the heavy curtain over the latticed window. Only when all these precautions had been taken and tested did he turn his sunburned aquiline face to his guest.

Oh. My. God. Did someone just use basic security protocols to prevent someone from listening or looking in on them? Be still my beating heart. I might faint.

I am so confused about who is speaking right now. I need more dialogue tags. I have lost track. These two have merged into one very confused spy with multiple personalities. Or maybe just two heads. I don't know.

“Out of date and waste paper. The Admiralty in some way got the alarm and every code has been changed."

If that wasn't Sherlock or Mycroft, then I don't know who it was because every time the Admiralty has been in these stories they have been incompetent to the point of deliberate treason.

Will come without fail to-night and bring new sparking plugs. — —Altamont.

Is Altamont Holmes?

“You see he poses as a motor expert and I keep a full garage. In our code everything likely to come up is named after some spare part. If he talks of a radiator it is a battleship, of an oil pump a cruiser, and so on. Sparking plugs are naval signals.”

I take back that gif from earlier. Don't tell people the code words. Good grief, man! You've just compromised all of those phrases. I get that you're providing exposition for the audience, but still. STILL.

"I assure you that our most pan-Germanic Junker is a sucking dove in his feelings towards England as compared with a real bitter Irish-American.”

Fair.

...at a touch from the Baron's chauffeur the great car shivered and chuckled.

Is the car alive? I don't like this description.

“Those are the lights of Harwich, I suppose,” said the secretary, pulling on his dust coat.

THANK YOU!

It's Harwich... No hellmouth, just Harwich. Mystery solved.

"The heavens, too, may not be quite so peaceful if all that the good Zeppelin promises us comes true."

Oh, you mean the bustle in the hedgerow? No... don't be alarmed about that. It's just a spring clean for the May Queen. Or if you're talking about the piper, he's just leading us to reason. It's really nothing to be worried about.

...beside it, seated at a table, was a dear old ruddy-faced woman in a country cap. She was bending over her knitting and stopping occasionally to stroke a large black cat upon a stool beside her. “That is Martha, the only servant I have left.” The secretary chuckled. “She might almost personify Britannia,” said he, “with her complete self-absorption and general air of comfortable somnolence."

Is Martha Holmes?

Honestly, that makes a lot of sense.

Or Holmes could be the kitty cat.

It was a new experience to him, the silence and darkness of his widespread house, for his family and household had been a large one. It was a relief to him, however, to think that they were all in safety and that, but for that one old woman who had lingered in the kitchen, he had the whole place to himself.

DANCE PARTY TIME

“You can give me the glad hand to-night, mister,” he cried. “I'm bringing home the bacon at last.”“The signals?”“Same as I said in my cable. Every last one of them, semaphore, lamp code, Marconi—a copy, mind you, not the original."

No. No. No.

This is not how you do a treasonous handover of government secrets. I don't care how empty you think the goddamned house is. You don't say the actual thing. YOU USE THE CODEWORDS. THIS IS WHY YOU HAVE CODES. YOU UTTER NUMPTIES!

Fuck you both. You're morons. What even is this? This isn't espionage. This is slapstick.

Good lord.

I... I despair.

I guess if you're this good at it, then it's no wonder that even the bloody Admiralty managed to get a clue.

Mycroft's probably been feeding you information for years, you muppets.

It's the incompetence that gets to me, it really is. If you're going to be moustache twirling evil German spies then at least have the self-respect and decency to be good at it.

This is pathetic.

The Irish-American had entered the study and stretched his long limbs from the armchair. He was a tall, gaunt man of sixty, with clear-cut features and a small goatee beard which gave him a general resemblance to the caricatures of Uncle Sam. A half-smoked, sodden cigar hung from the corner of his mouth, and as he sat down he struck a match and relit it.

Oh yeah, this is Holmes, isn't it?

You couldn't even pretend to be good at being a traitor?

“So it's not quite as simple as you thought. It was four years ago that I had it made, and what do you think I chose for the word and figures?”

O

h

m

y

g

o

d

Tell me you're not about to do what I think you're about to do.

Please.

Tell me you have one braincell in your tiny head. PLEASE. You cannot be this dumb. YOU CANNOT BE!

“Well, I chose August for the word, and 1914 for the figures, and here we are.”

And you're being dumb by trying to show off how smart you are. That's the worst kind.

“How could they have got on to Steiner?” he muttered. “That's the worst blow yet.”

You literally just told a man your safe combination. I don't know what to tell you, my dude. Maybe you're just bad at this.

Then he sat dazing for a moment in silent amazement at a small blue book which lay before him. Across the cover was printed in golden letters Practical Handbook of Bee Culture. Only for one instant did the master spy glare at this strangely irrelevant inscription. The next he was gripped at the back of his neck by a grasp of iron, and a chloroformed sponge was held in front of his writhing face.

“Another glass, Watson!” said Mr. Sherlock Holmes as he extended the bottle of Imperial Tokay. The thickset chauffeur, who had seated himself by the table, pushed forward his glass with some eagerness.

Didn't call the chauffeur being Watson. Discounted him as Holmes for being too thickset. I guess since it's indicated Watson might have written this one I should have thought about Watson as well. Genuinely didn't think he'd be in this one, though.

"There is no one in the house except old Martha, who has played her part to admiration."

So Martha was working for Holmes this whole time. I think she wins the prize for being the best spy in the story.

"I shall no doubt reappear at Claridge's to-morrow as I was before this American stunt—I beg your pardon, Watson, my well of English seems to be permanently defiled—before this American job came my way.”

Oh no! Holmes used the word 'stunt' how scandalously unEnglish of him!

"The fact is, Watson, that this gentleman upon the sofa was a bit too good for our people."

Guess the Admiralty is worse than even I gave them credit for.

The last remark was addressed to Von Bork himself, who after much gasping and blinking had lain quietly listening to Holmes's statement. He broke out now into a furious stream of German invective, his face convulsed with passion.

No... no... Holmes. You're not monologuing in front of the enemy prisoner. Don't do that. I believed in you.

"And yet I live and keep bees upon the South Downs.”

...don't tell him where you live...

I give up.

“And most of that information came through you,” he cried. “What is it worth? What have I done? It is my ruin forever!” “It is certainly a little untrustworthy,” said Holmes. “It will require some checking and you have little time to check it. Your admiral may find the new guns rather larger than he expects, and the cruisers perhaps a trifle faster.”

god fucking dammit

Why are you telling him about the misinformation? The misinformation is meant to misinform. That's why it's called misinformation. You're undoing half of the work you did.

I... guys... guys, I just can't.

“My dear sir, if you did anything so foolish you would probably enlarge the two limited titles of our village inns by giving us ‘The Dangling Prussian’ as a signpost. The Englishman is a patient creature, but at present his temper is a little inflamed, and it would be as well not to try him too far."

Did he just threaten Van Bork with hanging. By referencing a possible pub name? A+ threat, but yikes.

The two friends chatted in intimate converse for a few minutes, recalling once again the days of the past, while their prisoner vainly wriggled to undo the bonds that held him.

They just... they just left him alone.

And went and had a chat.

I don't even know why I thought they'd drive him away immediately. Why would they?

"I have a check for five hundred pounds which should be cashed early, for the drawer is quite capable of stopping it if he can.”

Such a weird line to end this on. OK then Holmes. Go cash your cheque.

And that was the last of the short stories... It didn't quite have the same poignancy as Curtain. But it certainly gave me a lot to talk about.

This has been a really fun year and I've loved writing these up - and spending far too long finding gifs and sometimes making my own memes when I couldn't find the precise thing I needed to say.

If you've read all of these, I have no idea why, but Hi! 2023 was certainly a year, wasn't it? Thanks to all of you. It's been really fun reading comments and learning things when people added to the notes to answer questions I'd asked.

I hear we're doing the novels next year. I have definitely actually read all of those. But I do get them all mixed up, and I will have forgotten a lot of them. I think I also signed up for another substack, but right now I can't even remember which one. That'll be a fun surprise.

Hope you all had a good, or at least not terrible, 2023. And I hope we all have a better 2024.

Happy (almost) New Year!

#Letters from Watson #His Last Bow #Sherlock Holmes #long post

[whencloudwavesbreak-if]

When Cloud Waves Break Pinned Post

LINKS: DEMO [UPDATED 30/03/2024] | COG FORUM

SUMMARY

When Cloud Waves Break is a work-in-progress murder mystery/Lovecraftian horror interactive fiction story. After returning to your hometown of Golden Gulf, your older sister is brutally murdered. The method? Poison. The location? The Twin Suns restaurant, on its reopening night. It's up to you to find her killer. But it won't be easy. Between dealing with your hostile brother-in-law, the police force interfering every step of the way, and your own memories about why you left, you're in for a rough time. And that's not even taking into account the weird dreams you've been having…

FEATURES

Play as male, female, or non-binary; straight, gay, or bisexual.

Customize your sister: choose her name, her personality, and determine your relationship with her.

Choose between four possible occupations: actor, doctor, soldier, or dilettante.

Learn more about the history of Golden Gulf, how your family ties into it, and what it has to do with your sister's murder.

And maybe stop a cult. Or join them. It's up to you.

ROMANCE OPTIONS

Officer Casey Young (NB) "I'll keep you safe. I promise."

Description: The officer from Augusta, sent to find and arrest the leader of the Burning Waters crime gang, Nina Wu. They don't trust many people. Maybe you can be the exception?

Appearance: Faded tattoo of a monkey on their neck; wild hair; friendly, but cautious eyes.

Personality: They are kind, with a spine of steel, and will always do the right thing. Even if everyone turns against them and they risk losing everything. Make them care for you, though, and the choice will destroy them.

Evelyn Ross (F) "You and me? It just feels too good to be true."

Description: Your brother-in-law's administration assistant. Duty and logic drives her every action. To her, love is a silly afterthought. Maybe you can change her mind?

Appearance: Petite. Lustrous, thick hair. Bright eyes. Glasses. Conventionally attractive.

Personality: Her calculating mind is her greatest strength, but also her greatest weakness. She's aware of all the possibilities stretching out before her, but also of the consequences. And it paralyzes her. But reassure her, become an anchor for her, and she'll lift you up in turn.

Jeremiah/Jessamine Callahan (M/F) "I'd forgotten what this felt like. Thank you for reminding me."

Description: The sole survivor of the wealthy Callahan family. You grew up with their spouse, Riley. They've loved and they've lost. Maybe you can help them learn to love again?

Appearance: Hair braided in cornrows; ragged and tattered clothes; an air of sadness that hangs over them like a cloud.

Personality: They aren't afraid to say what they think and have a very strong moral compass. But it can sometimes lead them to jumping to conclusions. Get them on your side though, and they'll follow you to the very end. 'Til death do you part.

Oscar/Ophelia Lovelace (M/F) "You are everything that I imagined you to be."

Description: The interior designer contracted for the reconstruction. Love wasn't enough to keep you in Golden Gulf. But maybe they can?

Appearance: Very tall and graceful; eccentric sense of style; an ever-present smile.

Personality: They project a polite and mild mannered façade. But their true personality emerges through their design work, which they are obsessively dedicated to. Catch their attention, though, and they'll never let you go.

ADDITIONAL INFO

OTHER IMPORTANT CHARACTERS:

Your Older Sister: She was many things, to many people. How did you see her? Was she self-absorbed? Naive? Arrogant? Or charming? But none of that really matters now that she's dead... Does it?

Benjamin Mullen: Your sister's husband. He's a difficult man to get along with. He also has a problem with you specifically, and isn't afraid to tell you so.

INSPIRATIONS:

Agatha Christie mystery novels, Lovecraftian horror, The King in Yellow by Robert W Chambers, the TTRPGs Call of Cthulhu 7th Edition and Brindlewood Bay, and Slay the Princess by Black Tabby Games.

#interactive fiction #choicescript #dashingdon #choice of games #hosted games #when cloud waves break #when cloud waves break if #if: intro #if: wip #cyoa #if intro #if wip

[open-hearth-rpg]

Hearts of Wulin Now at Age of Ravens

Hearts of Wulin, a PbtA game of wuxia romance and melodrama is now at Age of Ravens Games. Written by Joyce Ch*ng and Lowell Francis (me). This game and its expansion, Hearts of Wulin Worlds, offers a range of playstyles by focusing on the powerful heroes trapped by a web of obligations and personal desires. 

It’s pretty awesome IMHO. It draws on the literature of writers like Jin Yong and Gu Long, in particular adaptations of those stories in dozens and dozens of TV series (Laughing in the Wind, The Proud Twins). It also works to include things like more recent web novels and their adaptations, with rules for xianxia and the fantastic. The core book includes ideas for various genres, narrating fight scenes, building entanglements, and handling historical/courtly games. 

Hearts of Wulin: Worlds includes several settings: 

Shadow of Joseon, set during the Korean Joseon Dynasty. (Yeonsoo Julian Kim)

1905: San Francisco, presents a Chinatown just emerging from the shadow of the Chinese Exclusion Act. (Banana Chan)

Cour de l'Eppee transports Hearts of Wulin to swashbuckling France. (Cat Evans)

Academy of the Blade offers a dueling academy inspired by Revolutionary Girl Utena. (Alison Tam)

Fight Me IRL is a unique take on cyberpunk. (James Mendez Hodes) 

Silk & Steam gives you a wondrous silkpunk setting. (Kienna Shaw)

It also includes two major rules add-ons:

The Villain, a new playbook. Not all wulin "Heroes" are heroes with a capital H. Some start in a darker place... 

Numberless Secrets, a new set of rules for telling mystery/investigation stories in Hearts of Wulin. 

These can be found on Drivethrurpg– both are part of the ongoing GMs Day sale happening right now. 

Personally I’m really excited about the future for Hearts of Wulin. Though I never learned the print run, I do know that the last of the physical copies recently sold out at Indie Press Revolution. I have a short list of things I’m hoping to accomplish. 

Get it up on itch.io. I know some folks prefer to get their ttrpg pdfs via that site. 

Figure out how to get Print-on-Demand versions up on Drivethru. I’ve been told this is a challenging process to get right, so I’m hoping to talk to some folks who have done it before. 

Publish the Names & Entanglements deck. This was a self-print add-on for Hearts of Wulin. It's a useful resource for character creation and I’m hoping to have physical copy available for sale. 

I’ve always said folks should feel free to hack and rework Hearts of Wulin as they wish. But I’d like to get a clear Creative Commons license out there for everyone and encourage folks to play around with the system.

Eventually I might do a 1.5 version bringing some of the HoW: Worlds material over into the main book, as well as a couple of rules updates.

I want to publish a collection of Numberless Secrets mysteries along with guidance for running detective wuxia games. I love the series Ancient Detective and this is the best way I get to play out those kinds of stories. 

Get an online keeper which has easy to use set ups for all of the expansion worlds. We have a solid one– newly automated thanks to Agatha– but it doesn’t have all the expansions. 

Some folks have done from amazing things with HoW so far (inspired by media like Scott Pilgrim, Cobra Kai, Star Wars and beyond). It would be great if I could assemble a collection of new hacks and settings, maybe with some additional play options.

Finalize the one translation agreement I’ve been offered. 

I want to thank everyone who has read and/or played Hearts of Wulin. It remains a game I love to run and it would be amazing to have more people try it out.

#ttrpg #rpg #age of ravens #hearts of wulin

[secretkeeper13]

Day 4: Love

Written for @hinnymicrofic

Words: 786

Note: I’ve been enjoying all of the delightful Hinny micro fics so much that I wanted to try to participate. But I haven’t written anything in months, and what I ended up with is a crack outsider Romione POV of Hinny. So yeah, I’ve completely failed the assignment. Content warning for swearing, reference to a sex act, and Ron’s unfiltered thoughts on Snape

Hermione had just settled into her favorite armchair with a book, Ron lounging on the sofa opposite her, his long legs stretched across the width of it, when the stag appeared.

Translucent and silver, it bounded through their front window, coming to rest in the middle of their sitting room rug directly in front of the hearth.

Harry, she thought. Panic flared within her for a moment until the stag opened its mouth and began to speak. Harry’s voice echoed through the room, the tone of elation immediately assuaging her worries.

Ron, Hermione— you’ve got another nephew! Albus Severus Potter, born at half past eight. Full head of dark hair. He surprised us all by coming a bit early, but he and Ginny are both doing brilliantly. He can’t wait to meet you and Rose tomorrow!

She could picture Harry saying the words clearly, wearing that same look of exhilaration and wonder and pride he’d had after James was born as he’d stared at his son cradled in Ginny’s arms.

She looked over at Ron, beaming, the tears already welling in her eyes, thrilled by the news. But rather than happy, Ron looked stunned.

“I wouldn’t worry,” she said soothingly, “She was 37 weeks, that’s nearly full term, and he says they're both doing well, so—“

Ron shook his head. “Albus Severus,” he muttered slowly, his tone incredulous.

“Oh, that,” Hermione said, now understanding.

“Yes, that,” Ron exhorted. “Albus Severus?!”

“Well… it is a rather Harry thing to do, isn’t it? You know how sensitive he’s been about Professor Snape since the war ended.”

Ron snorted. “It’s one thing to fight to put his portrait up in the Headmaster’s office, but it’s another thing entirely to name your kid after him, now isn’t it?”

Hermione paused. As much as she enjoyed debating with Ron, he had a point.

But unable to help herself (as always), she pressed on. “You know how Harry is. He feels he owes his life to Snape, and I’m sure he wanted to honor that, just like he’s done with Dumbledore.”

“Only Harry would feel he owed anything to the greasy bastard who set Voldemort after him in the first place. Fuck’s sake.” Ron rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

He grimaced, and his tone darkened. “You know what’s even worse— Harry’s gone and named his kid after a bloke who was gagging for his mum. For thirty bloody years.”

“They were best friends as children! Harry said he loved her— you know about the Patronus.”

Ron gave her a withering stare. “Yeah, we all know full well Snape was wanking to that ripped up photo of Harry’s mum right up ‘til the end.”

“Ugh, Ron,” she said, disgusted by the image.

“It’s true. Treated Harry like dirt because of it. And after all that, Harry goes and names his kid after him. It’s absolutely mental.”

“At least it’s only the middle name,” Hermione added, well aware that her arguments sounded increasingly feeble.

“Oh right,” said Ron sarcastically, “because his first name is after the person who spent years setting Harry up to go off himself. Not the least bit of a complicated legacy there.”

She couldn’t help it. Her lip twitched upwards as she suppressed a laugh.

Ron smirked, his blue eyes twinkling in the light from the hearth. “I knew it! You actually agree with me.”

Hermione bit her lip to keep from smiling wider. “I am surprised that Ginny went along with it, honestly.”

Ron snorted. “Because Ginny’s got such a great record when it comes to names. Arnold the purple pygmy puff. Pigwidgeon.”

Hermione grinned. “Don’t forget about Agatha Bathsheba,” she said, thinking of the cat Ginny got before their final year of Hogwarts.

“Poor kid never stood a chance for a normal name between the pair of them.” Ron paused and looked down, bracing his hands on his knees, as if he were speaking to a small child. “Since the good dead people’s names are all taken, you’ll get the dead people who made dubious moral choices, or else something completely insane. Sorry your parents have a misguided hero complex and a weird affection for the ridiculous.”

Hermione dissolved into laughter. “And you love them for it,” she managed between giggles.

“‘Course I do,” said Ron, his affection apparent. “And the baby too.”

“We’ll floo over with Rose first thing tomorrow. But you can’t tease Harry about this, Ron.”

“I won’t— bloody noble git,” he finished, muttering the last bit under his breath. “George’ll have a field day with it though.”

He stretched his long arms up, folding them behind his head and resting back onto the sofa.

“Oh— and I’m calling him Al.”

#hinny microfic #hinny outsider pov #Ron says what we’re all thinking about Albus Severus

[our-blood-is-our-ink]

Careful Creatures

Ship(s): Hela x Agatha, Agatha x Wanda, Wanda x Hela, Hela x Agatha x Wanda

Summary: Three powerful beings broken down back to the start somehow find themselves brought together as they relearn themselves and each other

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, descriptions of being burnt, mild gore, sexual assault/non-con/rape, abuse of alcohol/alcoholism/addiction, amnesia, domestic violence, implied use of roofing drugs

Disclaimer: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

A/N: Please READ THE WARNINGS before proceeding. If this were on AO3 it would be rate E for explicit material later on in the series, and M for mature material for the heavy content this story deals in

|| next

Chapter One

She falls in a blaze.

Green and gold and black, streaking through the heavens and flames, like some dying star in need of a desperate wish of its own.

Her skin burns and blisters and blackens, smoke filling her lungs, choking off the last vestiges of air they held.

In space, no one hears you scream.

In space, no one sees the last of a once beautiful and powerful empire crumple to nothing but debris and dust, exploding violently outwards as Ragnarok rages its final breath.

Her cheeks become adorn with the cleansing water of her own tears as she mourns, the prophecy she had been bound to at last releasing its shackles on her.

In space, no one sees her cry.

She tumbles through the darkness, with no force to counteract against her initial velocity, and she hurls through the celestial skies.

Eventually, even her godly body cannot handle the vast emptiness of space.

Her eyes slip shut, her breathing slows, and as she falls and falls and falls, she slumbers.

—»•«—

Agnes stumbles up the stairs, her feet tripping over one another as the world seems to spin.

“That you?” Her husband’s voice calls from their bedroom.

Agnes opens her mouth, the words yes, dear on the tip of her tongue, when she suddenly bolts for the bathroom.

As she's heaving her insides out, Ralph’s large hand painfully yanks her hair in a bunch away from her face.

“Get it all out now, I don't want you soiling the bed.” He snaps, impatient.

Agnes shivers as she retches. It was more than the ever-oppressing feeling that something wasn’t right that drove her to stay out drinking until the bars closed.

Eventually, she has nothing left in her stomach to vomit up, and she half collapses against the cool porcelain.

Her relief is short-lived, but she doesn't fight as Ralph manhandles her.

He is her husband. When she married him, she committed herself before the eyes of God that she would be a faithful wife.

Ralph doesn't like it when she's vocal, so she bites her tongue and lets herself get lost in the dizziness her mind is experiencing and doesn't make a noise of protest or pain as he shoves her to the floor and pulls down her pants.

This is her test to bear, for making her mistakes.

You don't deserve this.

—»•«—

Wanda awakens in a cave.

It's not the oddest place she's ever woken up, though how she's so sure of that, she can't really say.

It must be a gut feeling, she decides, as she tries to think.

She knows her name, that's good.

Her age–

She's… Twenty-six? Thirty-two? She can't recall.

That's… Not normal, right?

She places a hand on a rough wall, trying to steady herself as she walks on shaky legs.

Her name is Wanda… Wanda something. Something… Off? Romanoff? No, that's not right. Romanoff was…

Wanda grits her teeth.

She knows enough that her last name isn't Romanoff, but can't remember whose last name is.

That's extremely frustrating.

Wanda stumbles along the cave, trying to find the way out, and wishes Pietro were here.

Pietro. Her brother. Her twin brother. Her brother who–

A stream of bullets hits through her chest, and she collapses to her knees, screaming her pain.

Wanda violently shakes her head, clutching it.

“Get it together, Maximoff.” She reprimands herself, before realizing what she's said.

Maximoff.

Her name is Wanda Maximoff.

That's good. It means she isn't totally amnesic.

She goes over what she knows as she begins to feel a soft breeze against her face.

Her name is Wanda Maximoff. She had a twin brother, Pietro Maximoff, who died by being gunned down. She doesn't know exactly how old she is, but she's somewhere in her late twenties, early thirties. Her parents… She doesn't remember her parents. Possibly dead, almost certainly impossible to find or reach if they aren't. She knows– knew? Knew someone with the surname Romanoff. Someone who… She stole a jacket from? Why was she remembering this and not useful information, like how did she get here? And where is here? And are there people who will be looking for her?

Dread pools in her belly.

People looking for her feels like an ominous statement.

She misses… She misses someone. Someone special. A lover, perhaps? A spouse? A… Child? She’s old enough to have had at least one.

Wanda isn't sure.

Light begins to hurt her eyes.

She's made it to the exit of the cave!

She hobbles, running as best she can, eager, bursting out into open air and freedom and–

Oh.

Oh no.

—»•«—

She burns again, still streaking green and gold and black, but this time, through the atmosphere of a planet.

When she lands, she craters the forest floor and doesn't move.

—»•«—

“Day drinking, Agnes?” Dottie clicks her tongue from behind the brown-haired woman. “I keep telling you we have a decent AA here.”

Agnes does her best to laugh off the comment.

“Oh, you know dear, it's five o’clock somewhere!”

Dottie slides into the seat across from her.

“Look. Your neighbors, I don't know if you know them, the Johnsons, they well… Mrs. Johnson said that late one night when she was just finishing putting the baby back down after a late night bottle feed, that she saw your bedroom window was open–”

“I'm sure whatever she saw she mistaken, Dot.” Agnes smiles as charmingly as she can. “You know how those late nights are with a newborn!”

“She said that Ralph was choking you, Agnes.”

Agnes’s smile slides off her face.

“If my husband,” she stresses, “had been choking me, I would have bruises.”

Dottie’s eyes flick to Agnes’s neck, which is both bare of discoloration, and the tell-tale texture of makeup.

Agnes swings back some of the brunch mimosa in her hand, closing her eyes briefly to gain strength from it.

“Ralph is a wonderful husband. He would never hurt me.” Agnes lies through her teeth. “Is that all why you decided to pay me a social visit during some of my “me” time?”

Dottie shifts, clearly uncomfortable.

“Agnes…” She trails, trying to find the words. “If you ever did need help, Eastwood– I mean, Westview is here for you.”

Agnes turns her smile all the way up to its brightest wattage. “Will keep that in mind, toots! Thanks for stopping by brunch to talk with this ol’ gal!”

Dottie hesitates before she stands and leaves.

Agnes's wildly beating heart doesn't slow until her fifth post-Dottie mimosa has been downed.

The truth is, Ralph does have a habit of choking her… But the bruises always fade by the next afternoon, rapidly going through the stages of healing broken blood vessels startling fast.

Agnes can't recall ever having healed that way before.

No, healing meant fire and death, healing meant agony for days and weeks because she was only ever meant to hurt, not heal.

Agnes shakes her head as if trying to dislodge the sudden pressure she feels.

That's something she has noticed.

Thinking about her past causes her awful headaches and terrible migraines.

It's best to keep to the present.

Agnes smiles at the hostess as she leaves the venue, not worried about paying.

The people of Westview took care of one another.

She doesn't notice the woman with the dark hair and piercing blue eyes who stands up and leaves after her.

—»•«—

It's been two days since Wanda had started off down the rest of what looked like an intimidating mountain, headed towards what looks to be a promising sign of life in the vibrancy of green trees.

Hopefully, there will be water somewhere there.

Wanda knows she has only twenty-four more hours until her body gives out from lack of hydration.

Her heart skips a beat, and the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Hydration.

Hydra.

Hydra was… Bad.

Hydra is bad.

The word gives her a bad feeling.

She keeps on, not even pausing as the tremors grow stronger from the mountain.

The ruins that lay in pieces everywhere, even so far down from the top where it once resided, make Wanda feel awful enough that she had nearly vomited the first time stepping out into the world and seeing it.

She avoids touching any part of it as best she is able.

She can hear rocks sliding somewhere to her left.

Distant.

Her shoulders drop an inch.

She isn't in direct danger. Not yet.

—»•«—

Ralph’s at the bar.

Ralph’s at the bar and he has all his friends there and she didn't know that the bartender used to date him and–

Agnes is vocal as rough hands grasp at her, groping and tugging and searching as their owners laugh.

“Here, dear.” Ralph’s voice is cold. Mocking. “I know how much you like your alcohol. Drink up.”

She doesn't have a choice, surrounded, as he passes her a cup.

Within moments of finishing it, she knows.

There's more laughter.

“So kind of that Maximoff bitch to leave you a wife.” Someone comments.

“To Ralph, and his whore!” Someone else shouts, to resounding cheers.

Agnes wants to scream for help, but the room is spinning and her limbs won't obey her instructions and her mouth feels too heavy to move and then–

—»•«—

No.

—»•«—

The ground slopes slightly, and grass turns to dirt as Wanda follows the stream she found.

Deeper and deeper it slopes, until she's been walking for at least half an hour, and then she sees a mess of blood and green.

—»•«—

The door bursts open, crashing loudly, just as her hands find their way around the nearest man’s throat, a knee jerked violently up between his legs.

The room freezes. She smirks, throws her head back, and cackles.

#sky's fics #sky writes #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #wanda maximoff #agatha harkness #hela odinsdottir #harximoff #wagatha #wandagatha #c: agatha #c: wanda #c: hela #c: helga #c: harximoff #c: helanda #helandatha #c: helandatha #c: haw #wanda x agatha #agatha x wanda #wanda x hela #hela x wanda #agatha x hela #hela x agatha #hela x agatha x wanda

[lnkedmyheart]

Saw someone say they will drop bsd if stormbringer gets animated because they dont wanna see Dazai and Chuuya on their screen for the 10000000000th time.

First of all, yes, as much as I want people to know about sb to better understand Chuuya AND Dazai, I dont wanna see Bones screw the story up.

But like you dont wanna watch those two again? Like Dazai isnt on screen constantly??? He's been literally everywhere on the screen since day 1. You're watching the wrong damn show if you dont wanna see HIM of all people!

And Chuuya? Chuuya had 1 full scene across 2 episodes, and a split second shot in season 1. He had a total of about 30 minutes in season 2, he had 3 episodes about him in season 3 before being locked out of the story. He had a total of 10 minutes in the dead apple movie and had 1 scene in season 4. Ya'll act like he's been plastered all over the series instead of barely being seen for ages.

In real time people barely even get any Chuuya for long ass periods, you're just mad because people talk about him constantly. Its giving stupid.

Stormbringer is very important to the main story. It explains a bunch of shit that is important to the series. The concept of singularities finally gets explained properly, Dazai's motives get explained to an extent. One of the major future players Verlaine is introduced in the story, a player who along with 2 characters is connected to the Clocktower. Several of the characters from SB who are connected to Dazai are in London where Agatha is based and we know she will come into play soon. Dazai's whole dynamic with Chuuya is expounded upon which completely changes the way chapter 101 and how he functions is perceived.

The running joke that sb is an skk fanfic is just that, a joke. People are running around being silly and having fun with it. People dont just wanna see sb animated cause we'll get to see Chuuya but because its an important part of the series. And tbh even if people only wanna see sb on screen because it has Chuuya or because it has skk content so what? Why does someone else getting something they like bother you so much?

#soukoku #this isnt a ship thing either #for all my jokes about sb being a skk fanfic