#Bishop manipulates her

[yyadream]

Bishop: Good morning, daughter. It’s time for your exams.

Chr’ell: I don’t like the exams, it hurts, father.

Bishop gave Chr’ell a cold and terrifying look: What did you call me? Father? I’m no father to a monstrous freak like you! And you dare disobey me.

Chr’ell: I..I’m sorry Agent Bishop, it slipped.

Bishop: Don’t ever let that happen, your sole purpose in life is to be a tool. You don’t want to end up like your brethren’s?

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Better, Hidden Half

Requested Here!

Part 2 Here >

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader (takes place in The Rookie 1x20-2x1)

Summary: Tim doesn't tell just anyone that he's married. When he's quarantined and his life is threatened by a fatal virus, he asks Lucy to call you, and ends up showing everyone what you mean to him.

Warnings: angst, fluffy comfort at the end, spoilers for episodes 1x20 and 2x1 (this is basically a rewrite, but still includes a brief reference to the suicide line from Tim). reader stress cleans?

A/N: The anxiety/stress cleaning bit is completely self-indulgent; sorry. I tried to manipulate Tim's conversations with Lucy to make them sound more platonic (I don't know if it worked though). I absolutely love this idea and had a ton of fun writing it!🤍

Word Count: 3.9k+ words

Tim Bradford is a man of few words, and he keeps his life separated into two distinct areas: work life and personal life. He tried to bring the two together once, but hated the constant worry that someone from his work life would threaten to hurt people in his personal life or worse, act on their threats. For that reason, for his family’s safety, Tim keeps his life separated, and only a choice few have been chosen to be trusted with a glimpse of both sides of Tim. Angela, Wade, and on occasion, Bishop, see a side of Tim that doesn't exist when he's at work.

✯✯✯✯✯

“How is she?” Angela asks, sitting beside Tim for roll call.

Tim rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “I trained her, I’m sure she did fine. Better than your golden boy boot, anyway.”

Angela smiles and leans in to whisper, “Didn’t mean Chen.” She turns her attention to Jackson, calling, “80 might be the passing grade, boot, but if you don’t get at least a 90, you should turn in your badge on general principle.”

Tim leans forward to add, “Officer Chen, I will take it as a personal insult if you get anything less than a 93.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy answers. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do with all your new free time? Might I suggest a book club?”

Angela elbows Tim under the table, and he glances at her quickly, giving her a displeased stare which only makes her work harder to hide her smile.

“What are you talking about?” Tim asks.

“You know, after I pass, there won’t be any more daily evaluations to write.”

“Whether I evaluate you daily or weekly, I will continue to judge you every minute. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

As Grey enters, Lucy turns to Nolan, who whispers, “I can’t believe he’s single.”

“Tell me about it,” Lucy replies, rolling her eyes. “Evaluating a wife daily would cut into his ‘man of honor’ time.”

They silence as Wade directs the TOs to only take easy calls while the rookies finish their last shift before their exams. When Tim assures that he follows direct orders, he keeps his eyes straight ahead, knowing that Angela and Bishop are ready to tease him the moment he looks in their direction.

✯✯✯✯✯

7-Adam-19, silent hold-up alarm activated at Madame Megan’s psychic shop. 2417 Vine. Code 3.

Tim and Lucy enter the back room, taking control of the situation quickly, and he dials in once again to being a cop. Not a family man or anything of the sort. Just a police officer.

As Lucy walks out, and the (fake) psychic hits on Tim, he can only think of one thing. Excusing himself from the room, with a lack of grace that is unlike him, Tim lets his mind wander for just a moment. He thinks of a promise he made, a vow he took, and then his focus is back on his new case, a missing person discovered by a phony Hollywood psychic.

✯✯✯✯✯

Miles away, you are trying to focus on work, though you find it much harder than Tim to simply push your family and your personal life from your mind at a moment’s notice. Fiddling with your necklace, you refrain from grabbing your phone, wanting to text the only person on your mind. Oblivious to the dangers Tim is learning about from the CDC and Homeland Security, you sigh and clench your hands into fists before attempting to focus again.

Before you make any progress on starting the project awaiting your attention, your phone rings. Tim’s name appears on your screen, and you rush to answer, dread filling you. He never calls while he’s working, and you immediately expect the worst. Surely if it were something terrible, Angela or Wade would call you. If Tim is calling, that means he is okay, he is alive.

“Hello?” you ask, releasing a sigh when Tim says your name.

“Are you alone?” he adds, his voice strained.

“Yes. What’s going on?”

“I need you to stay where you are or go straight home. There’s a terror cell with a biological weapon; we’re doing everything we can to find them, but I need to know you’re safe.”

“Tim- yeah, of course. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I- I really can’t say anything else. Not about what we’re doing. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?”

“I will. Be careful, Tim. I love you.”

“I love you.”

Your phone beeps as the call ends, and your hand finds your necklace again, one finger slipping into Tim’s wedding ring. He leaves it with you each morning, taking it back with gentle touches and loving kisses when he returns each night. Today, all you can do is trust that he is good at his job and that he will protect you and the rest of LA, and then come back to you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim and Lucy approach one of the possible addresses in the search for newly discovered members of the terror cell.

“Man. And here I thought that test was gonna be the hardest part of my day,” Lucy muses.

“Best case scenario, it’s tomorrow’s problem,” Tim points out. His thoughts, however, are stuck on you, especially when Lucy asks what the worst case is.

“Took you long enough,” the man, Peter Langston, says as he opens the door. “Bag’s in here.”

“Sir, we’re here about the bus you took from Phoenix,” Tim explains.

“No kidding. I called you about the bag.”

“And what bag is that?”

“I thought it was mine on the bus. I picked it up by accident.” Tim follows Langston into a bedroom as he continues, “Noticed as soon as I got home. Called right away. Still took you guys like six hours to get here.”

“Uh, sir, we’re not here about a bag.”

“So, you don’t have mine? My computer’s in there… I went through this one for an address, and all I found was some weird science equipment.”

Tim glances back at Lucy, who calls for the task force at the mention of ‘weird science equipment.’

“Sir, did you touch anything in there?” Tim asks, pulling gloves on.

“Yeah, I cut my finger going through it looking for an address. Some kind of broken vial.”

Tim’s eyes widen and his breath catches as the man raises his bloodied finger, adding that it hasn’t stopped bleeding since it was cut. Hemorrhaging, Tim knows.

“Everything okay in there?” Lucy calls.

“Yeah. Just stay out there,” Tim demands.

The man coughs, and Tim flinches as blood lands on his neck and up onto his jaw. Looking down at the blood on the man’s shirt, Tim’s mind forgets the divide between work and personal life. He takes the initiative to lock Lucy out, slamming the door on her to keep her safe, but his true concern is you. If something happens to him, who will look out for you? Who will be your shoulder to cry on? In a moment, as the reality of the situation dawns on him, Tim thinks like a husband, and he begins to regret keeping you, his wife, hidden for so long.

“Tim, no!” Lucy yells, but she steps forward too late.

Tim is on the other side of the door, a new division created as others are dissolved.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim finds baby wipes on a nearby changing table, wiping the blood from his skin as he lies to Langston, telling him it will be okay and distracting him with meaningless treatments to combat the “bad case of the flu the police were warned about this morning at roll call.”

Langston disappears into the bathroom in search of cold medicine, and Tim walks to the door to ask Lucy, “Everything all right out there, Chen?”

“Uh, yeah. The CDC’s on their way,” she responds. “Hey, you need to come out of there.”

“That’s not gonna happen. Got to keep this contained.”

“Tim-“

“It’s gonna be alright, boot.”

Tim knows that Lucy is concerned about him, and he is similarly concerned for her. He feels responsible for her safety as his rookie, but his thoughts toward her are completely and totally different from his fears concerning you, driven by love rather than mutual respect and duty.

“You keep your head in the game, okay?” Tim encourages Lucy. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

As Tim looks at the blood-covered wipe in his hand, he thinks of you, and how you’ll respond to the potential notification that he didn’t make it, taken from you by the very thing he tried to protect you from. He turns his attention back to the sick man feet away from him before his thoughts spiral. Tim needs you, so he needs to focus and survive.

✯✯✯✯✯

While the CDC is arriving at the house and quarantining Tim and the infected man, you are pacing in your shared bedroom. Memories of you and Tim exist in every inch of this house, and every moment that goes by without an update increases your worry. Walking into the closet, you find one of Tim’s recently worn shirts, changing into it before picking up the remote to distract yourself. With Tim’s pillow clutched to your chest, you try to laugh at the ridiculous sitcom on the screen, but it doesn’t work as well as you hoped.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Officer Chen, you want to tell me what happened?” Dr. Morgan asks, dressed in full hazmat gear as she enters.

“Yeah, uh, the bus passenger mistakenly grabbed the wrong bag, and the virus must have been in it because he coughed up blood on Tim,” Lucy explains.

“Did you get any blood on you?”

“Uh, no. I was out here. Tim immediately closed the door.”

“Smart man.”

Tim hears Dr. Morgan’s comment and clenches his jaw, knowing you would disagree entirely. At least in this case.

“Hey, doc,” Tim greets, standing against the door.

“How you doing?” Dr. Morgan inquires.

“Fine. But Mr. Langston’s struggling a little.”

“Can you describe his condition?”

“Yeah. He, uh, started coughing blood about 20 minutes ago. Now he’s got a pretty wicked nosebleed.”

“Why aren’t they coming in? Where’s my ambulance?” Langston asks.

“It’ll be here any minute. Just… stay put. Save your energy.”

Lucy interrupts to ask, “Where’s the vaccine?”

“Still in the air,” Dr. Morgan says. “Should land in the next hour or so.”

Scoffing, Lucy argues, “You can’t make Tim wait in there. He might not be infected.”

“Sorry. Quarantine rules exist for a reason.” Dr. Morgan turns to the door and asks Tim, “Officer Bradford, do you mind if I put you to work while you wait?”

“You want to know what’s in the bag?” Tim knows digging through the contents is dangerous, but waiting without doing anything won’t increase his chances of getting home to you.

“Yes, I do.”

“Copy that. Chen, I’m gonna turn on my body cam. You can monitor it from out there.”

“Okay. Please be careful,” she responds.

Tim hears your voice in his mind, telling him the same thing. He trusts himself to listen to you more than his rookie.

“All right. Here we go,” Tim says, using his baton to open the bag.

“Wait. Wait. What is that bottle?” Dr. Morgan wonders.

“Looks like the delivery device,” Tim guesses, raising it carefully from the bag. “It’s a misting fan.”

Dr. Morgan calls Homeland Security with the new information on how the terrorists are planning to spread the virus. As Tim continues searching the bag, failing to find identification or target information, Lucy sees Langston raising a chair in the mirror and yells for Tim just before he is knocked unconscious.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your house is as clean as it has ever been. Using your nervous energy and anxiety-fueled need to move, you clean each room in an attempt to keep your mind from worrying about Tim. You could call someone and ask for an update, but they probably can’t tell you anything. The only comfort you have is knowing that Angela and Wade would call you if you needed to know something. The silence is deafening, but it’s also a good sign.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim? Tim!” Lucy continues, growing concerned at the lack of reply.

Tim opens his eyes, moving backward quickly when he sees a puddle of blood running toward his face. He sees Langston standing across the room, mumbling about needing to get out as he tries to break the window. Tim tases him as he stands, and Lucy’s concerned yells continue. Covering his face with his shirt, Tim handcuffs Langston to the bed, shuffling backward as Lucy demands his answer.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” he replies, breathing heavily. “Well, that was fun.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tim chuckles. “Kind of depends on your definition of the word.”

While Lucy tells Dr. Morgan to get the vaccine, and the LAPD sends patrol units out to find the other terrorist, Tim keeps his eyes on Langston, but his mind is on you. He should ask someone to tell you and find a way to let you know what is going on, but part of him knows that you are separate from this for a reason. You’re likely worried enough without knowing that Tim’s chance of being infected rises with each moment.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim watches Langston die, unable to do anything as he begs for help and convulses. Imagining himself in Langston’s place, Tim decides that he has to do something. He can’t go out like that, he won’t, but more importantly, he can’t leave you wondering. If Tim dies today, he is not dying without talking to you one last time, showing everyone around him that you are the best part of him.

He leans against the door in silence until Lucy says, “Hey, I, uh- I just checked with Dr. Morgan. The vaccine’s minutes away.”

“You know, you’re good at a lot of things – lying isn’t one of them,” Tim replies.

“You think I’m good at things? Can I get that in writing? … How are you doing? Are there any symptoms yet?"

"I’m sweating like a pig. But it’s probably because it’s 100 degrees in this room.”

Tim sighs just before Lucy assures, “It’s gonna be okay. I really believe that.”

“I’m sure you do. But if it isn’t-“

“Don’t think like that. It’s-“

“If it isn’t,” Tim repeats. “I’m not going out the way my man Pete here just did.”

“What are you saying?”

Tim sighs again, realizing what he said. He would never leave you like that; he’s a fighter. “I need you to do something for me, Chen.”

“Anything.”

“My- my wife is probably worrying herself sick right now. If this doesn’t end like you think it will, can you tell her that I fought to get home to her? Just- just keep an eye on her if anything happens. Wade and Angela, too.”

“Wife?” Lucy asks softly.

Tim smiles, glad to talk about something other than himself or the virus released in the room with him.

“Yeah. We eloped a while back; Grey, Lopez, and Bishop were there.”

“You’ve never mentioned her.”

“I keep her separated. She - everything in my personal life – would be at risk if there wasn’t a divide there.”

“I get that. What’s she like?”

Tim says your name, closing his eyes and picturing you as he tells Lucy how beautiful, kind, and loving you are. “She’s my better half. I don’t- can’t imagine not going home to her.”

“I promise, Tim. I’m confident you will go home to her, but… I promise.”

“Thank you,” Tim says quietly.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Please tell me that’s the vaccine,” Lucy says when Dr. Morgan returns.

“It is,” she answers quickly, walking toward the door quarantining Tim. “Stand back, Officer Chen. You’re not wearing protective gear.”

“Yeah.” Lucy steps back, hoping Tim is okay, and that he gets to go home to you.

“Officer Bradford, it’s time to let me in,” Dr. Morgan calls.

Tim opens the door, greeting Dr. Morgan before answering that he’s not feeling too bad. She tells him that she’s going to administer the vaccine. “It’s experimental, right?” Tim asks.

“That’s correct. So, we’re just going to have to wait and see what happens. Maybe nothing. Maybe you grow horns. But for now, I’d say you might’ve dodged a bullet.”

Tim looks at Lucy to ask, “Can you get Lopez? Ask her to call for me?”

Lucy nods, pulling her radio out to contact Angela. She knows that Tim will need you, no matter how the vaccine works… or doesn’t.

“Lopez,” she says, sighing before saying, “Tim wants to know if you can call his wife.”

“Of course,” Angela answers. “She’ll be at his side, even if I have to go get her in the shop.”

Lucy smiles at Tim, and he sighs as Dr. Morgan administers the vaccine. There’s more hope surrounding Tim now, but the fight may not be over yet.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you see Angela’s name on your phone, you consider not answering. Biting your bottom lip to hold your tears in, you answer.

“He’s okay,” Angela begins.

You sigh in relief, a few tears breaking free anyway. “Thank you, Angela.”

“The vaccine is experimental, so they’re taking him to the CDC for observation; you can visit with the proper protective gear. Do you want me to come pick you up?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“See you in a few. And, just so you know, he didn’t call me.”

“Who did?”

“His rookie.”

Angela reminds you that she’s happy to pick you up if you want before ending the call. Tim mentioned me, you think. Then you wonder whether or not that’s a good thing.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, I heard you guys saved the day,” Lucy says, exiting Langston’s house to meet Nolan, Jackson, Lopez, and Bishop.

“It was a group effort,” Jackson corrects.

“Glad you’re okay,” Nolan expresses.

“Me too,” Lucy sighs. “I- I mean that you’re okay, too.”

“How’s Tim?” Angela asks.

“I think he’s gonna be all right. Now, 24-hour observation at the CDC.”

“I’ll bet my pension he just told doctors Tim Bradford does not ride in a wheelchair,” Angela jokes as Tim walks out.

“Only way I’m leavin’ out of here is on my own two feet,” Bishop imitates.

“Don’t you guys have paperwork to finish?” Tim retorts.

Tim looks at Lucy, nodding his thanks before continuing to walk toward the car waiting to transport him to the CDC. He stops suddenly in the yard, growing dizzy before he falls backward onto the grass.

“Officer Bradford!” Dr. Morgan yells.

Lucy, Angela, Bishop, and Jackson run toward him before the CDC holds them back. Someone calls for an ambulance, and Angela backs away to make a call.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What happened?” you ask, answering Angela’s second call.

“Meet us at Shaw instead of the CDC,” she says.

You can hear yelling in the background, and repeat, “What happened?”

Angela says your name, unyielding as she says, “Shaw. I’ll meet you there.”

You inhale deeply, turning toward Shaw. Knowing that you have no chance of beating an ambulance escorted by police cars, you grip the steering wheel, hoping that Los Angeles traffic has grace on you, and you make it to Tim’s side quickly.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim better make it,” Jackson says.

“He will.” Angela knows that he’s a fighter, but she also knows that losing him will destroy you. He has to make it for himself, for the police department, and most importantly, for you.

In the ambulance ahead, Tim goes into anaphylactic shock. Lucy helps the paramedics and glances at Tim’s left hand. The line where his wedding ring sits is barely visible, but she whispers for him to keep his promise, to keep fighting.

Once the ambulance and the police cars enter into the hospital parking lot, Nolan notices a woman with a gun, alerting the officers surrounding the ambulance before the firefight starts.

Lucy covers Tim in the ambulance as the paramedics assist him as well as the injured medics. Nolan shoots the woman in the shoulder, but his gun jams as he moves closer to her.

Tim opens the ambulance door, downing the armed woman on a surge of adrenaline. Stepping onto the ambulance driveway, he asks Nolan if he’s okay.

“I should have reloaded on the move,” Nolan mutters. “You?”

“I should’ve taken yesterday off,” Tim answers.

“Alright, Officer Bradford, let’s go,” a nurse says, pushing a wheelchair to his side.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Angela!” you call, jogging to her side.

“Don’t freak out,” she begins, but your eyes widen when you see the bullet holes covering, well, everything.

“Where is he?”

She nods, leading you around her shop. Tim is standing beside Nolan, arguing with a nurse.

“I can walk. Clearly, I’m fine,” Tim argues.

You don’t think about how many people are watching as you walk to Tim’s side. He turns toward you, his eyes softening when he sees you.

“Get in the wheelchair,” you demand.

Tim sighs but does as you say. Nolan and Jackson look at each other in shock, and Lucy smiles as she says, “His wife.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you walk into Tim’s hospital room, he looks like he’s been waiting for you.

“I’m sorry,” he begins.

“For what? Not listening to the nurse?”

Tim chuckles as he raises his left hand, pulling you to his side. “No. I’m sorry for not showing you off more, for never telling people about us. I worried you; I know I did, and you don’t deserve any of it.”

You lean forward, running your fingers across Tim’s jawline as you smile. “You don’t have to show me off. I know why you do it, Tim. Being a secret, being separated and safe, I get it. What I don’t like is not knowing if you’re okay.”

“I don’t want the separation anymore. You are my entire life, and- I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I’m not risking this again. The idea of not making it home, leaving you alone, with no one knowing you or how much you mean to me… that was terrible, and I’m sorry.”

Pursing your lips, you lean toward Tim and look into his eyes before scanning your eyes over his face.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Trying to figure out where the Tim I know went.”

Tim smiles, moving over in the bed and tugging you against his side. He taps your necklace before raising your hair away from your neck. You unclasp your necklace, sliding Tim’s wedding ring off the chain. Tim lays his left hand in your lap, and you put his ring on slowly before kissing his hand.

“I love you,” Tim says.

“I love you. And I accept your apology, even though I didn’t need it.”

“Ready to meet the rest of my-“

“Friends?” you fill in, smiling.

“Colleagues,” Tim finishes, shaking his head as his arm tightens around your waist.

“Thank you for making sure Angela called me.”

“How clean is the house?”

You laugh, pressing your face against Tim’s shoulder. He knows you well, and though you didn't know what was truly at stake over the last few hours, you did miss him.

“Hey, Mrs. Bradford,” Wade greets, smiling as he leads a small crowd of officers into the room. “I have some rookies here who don’t believe someone would marry Tim.”

“I changed my mind,” Tim replies. “Get out.”

You elbow him gently, smiling as you stand. “It's much easier when he doesn’t tell people. No association to him.”

Tim laughs behind you, and after shaking hands and introducing yourself, you return to Tim’s side: where nothing can hurt you, everything is safe, and you’re the most important thing in the world.

[scarletcomalies]

soul bounds entwined

Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

Part I, Part III

Word count: 5,248

Warnings: 18+ content, brief masturbation, confrontation, groping, emotional manipulation, brief degrading, edging, angst. Also, Reader kinda uses Billy.

A/N: Oh, my! This was supposed to be second and last part but I'm sorry, I'm leaving the best part in suspense. Thank you 3000 for the support you've given to this little series so far ❤️ See you in part III!

The more you get involved into Wanda Maximoff's life, the more you find yourself increasingly drawn to the woman. Through a series of interactions during family activities, intense romantic and sexual tension develops, culminating in a dramatic confrontation where hidden feelings are exposed.

You met Kate Bishop at High School, a few yesterdays ago. She opened the door for you to photograph galas, events, or photoshoots that her mother, Eleanor Bishop, occasionally participated in. Eleanor only agreed to please her stubborn daughter, who would have hired you regardless.

Despite your young age at the time, you were able to demonstrate to Eleanor -and several others- your almost innate ability to capture the precise peak of every instant. It was as if you had a sixth sense that told you exactly when to pick up your camera and press the button.

You were never more grateful for that gift than when you spotted the figure of Wanda Maximoff hitting the neon green sphere with her racket, so steadily, yet with such elegance that it could easily pass for a dance sequence. That was her, a being who radiated beauty even without trying.

You were barely at the middle landing of the stairs that would lead you to that woman you so longed for, her green eyes had not yet settled on you, for her attention was directed to her opponent. Oh, but she had your full and undivided attention, every action on her part being meticulously scrutinized.

When the redhead was defeated by her son, she let out a sigh of defeat, and moved to pick up the tennis ball that hit the wire and rolled a few meters away from her. It was at the moment when she threw it up, ready to take the first hit, that you pressed the capture button of your old Polaroid camera, which would be your accomplice in freezing that moment inside the piece of zink paper.

You shook the cartridge impatiently, the minutes feeling like hours for the image to be developed. And hell, was it worth the wait, for your eyes were delighted in return.

In your hands was a photograph that only you would have at your mercy, and you couldn't help but consider it a form of unparalleled intimacy that condemned you to an addiction.

Wanda Maximoff with the ball hovering in the air, looking up at said object with her full lips half-open, her racket at shoulder height. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, some of it beginning to stick to her forehead from the sweat that was beginning to be present. She wore a white pleated skirt like yours, and a light blue polo shirt with three buttons open, revealing just a little bit of her collarbone.

You stared at the photograph for who knows how long, the hours feeling like minutes this time.

"(Y/N)! You made it!" The distant voice of your now muse snapped you out of your trance, and you quickly shoved the photograph in your bag. With quick steps, you descended the remaining stairs and walked to where the awaiting family stood.

"I made it," you replied with a smile.

"And you look..." Wanda began the sentence, looking you up and down, repeating the action twice. However, she concluded it with a sigh.

"You look beautiful," Billy completed it. Despite the fact that he vocalized a complete word, a prolonged intake of breath followed by an exhale, held more meaning for you because it came from the woman before you.

"Completely," Wanda confirmed, grinning at you from ear to ear. "That skirt really suits you. You should show off those legs more often."

"Oh, thank you..." your breath hitched, and you felt as if all the blood in your body lost the ability to distribute itself, landing in your cheeks alone, the impact of her words taking on a peculiar dark pink hue.

"Billy, you pull," Wanda said, and that's when you realized he hadn't taken his eyes off you. His perennial stare was undetectable for you as long as his mother was present. "And (Y/N), go sit next to Tommy, feel free to order food or drinks. I'll teach you how to play as soon as we finish this round."

You found yourself nodding quickly, like a submissive and obedient puppy who didn't let out a word and complied to whatever she said.

Tommy greeted you with a tight-lipped smile. Between the two brothers, you found it easier to relax around Tommy. While you preferred Billy, you always had to be on guard against his suggestive remarks, which hindered your ability to fully enjoy his company. On the other hand, Tommy's voice held no hidden intentions, only friendliness at its best despite his reserved countenance.

"Did you play yet?" You asked him, noticing that his hair was still perfectly combed, with no sign of movement or activity.

"No, when my mom teaches you, I'll be your opponent," he replied.

"Then it'll be an easy win," you chuckled, making him laugh back.

"Don't worry, I won't be hard on you..."

"I meant easy win for me," you corrected, eliciting a surprised gasp from him, making you laugh even harder.

"Ah! Is this how things are gonna be between us? Okay, okay," he joked, feigning offense.

"Okay, Billy, rest," you heard Wanda say, once he lost to her.

With quiet gasps, he walked over to the table where you were seated next to Tommy. He reached for the cold water bottle that was resting across from you. He appeared to be upset, and you assumed it was because he lost, not because he witnessed your interaction with his brother.

"Mom, I want to be the one on the other side when you teach (Y/N)," he spoke, after placing the water bottle on the table.

"What?" Tommy exclaimed. "No way, dude. You played the hell out of it, it's my turn."

Before Billy could counter, Wanda interfered, "You wanted to play first, now it's your brother's turn."

Billy snorted, and sat on the chair, pulling his phone out of his bag.

Wanda signaled for you to follow her, and again, you walked behind her obediently, stopping where she indicated. Tommy positioned himself on the opposite side, stretching out his arms.

"All right, ready?" Wanda asked, handing you her racket. When you took it, you were surprised to see that it was heavier than she made it seem. The way she was handling it earlier made you think it would be featherlight.

"Yeah, ready," you could only hope that you would at least look your best while failing at trying to play the sport.

You let out a small gasp as she suddenly positioned herself behind you, her front pressed against your back. A stream of torturous cold sweat invaded every corner of your body as you forced yourself to keep your sanity.

"We're here to have fun, not the international tennis league," she said, guiding your arm with the racket at the appropiate height. "That said, don't worry if you don't get it perfect on the first try, okay?"

"Sure," you nodded, taking a deep breath. Maybe she noticed your nervousness, and thought it was due to the circumstances, when really, that became irrelevant to you when her body was pressed behind you.

"Take it firmly, with two arms or with one, whichever you feel better," she continued, and you opted for the second option, this being the one that would give you the most freedom if you needed momentum and fluidity.

Noting your choice, she added, "Good. I advice you to use your whole forearm. You're a beginner, this thing is heavy, and we don't want your wrist to dislocate."

"Oh, I was thinking of doing that anyway," you laughed. Using your wrist alone with such a heavy artefact would affect you considerably. She was right.

Wanda laughed softly, her breath colliding against your ear as she did so.

"Now, legs, they need to be apart and parallel," she continued, grabbing the inside of your right leg, a little above your knee, and positioned it in front of hers, so that you mimicked the distance she had. "Like this, good girl."

You swallowed dryly.

You weren't sure if she was simply too trusting or if, in your wildest dreams, she really wanted to bewilder you and have you under her spell.

"Finally, don't be too rigid. Let your body follow its course every time you stroke," she withdrew from behind you, and you felt the emptiness of her closeness linger on you. "Let the movements flow. But keep your posture as straight as you can."

"Noted, I got it."

At first, every time Tommy threw the ball at you, it seemed to take on a life of its own when you hit back. It bounced off the net, or to the side, out of your reach. Frustrated, you looked to Wanda, for help.

"Don't be discouraged, (Y/N). You just need to adjust your position and the angle of your racket a little,” Wanda said, approaching you.

She stood behind you once again, and gently guided your arm, showing you how to hit the ball. “Try to keep your eyes on it and bend your knees a bit for stability.”

Tommy threw again, and this time the ball came closer to you. With Wanda's help, you managed to hit it well, sending it straight towards where Tommy was standing.

“Well done!” Tommy exclaimed, surprised.

Wanda smiled, “Now you try it on your own, (Y/N)."

You took a deep breath and prepared for Tommy's next pitch. This time, you concentrated on following the trajectory of the ball and positioned your racket at the right angle.

You did it! The ball landed right where Tommy was expecting it.

“Excellent, you're catching it fast!” Said Tommy, excited. “I think you'll soon be an ace.”

Little by little, Wanda let you manage the game on your own, intervening only occasionally with advice. Your strokes became more and more precise and powerful, and Tommy had to work harder to keep up.

Wanda no longer considered it necessary to offer you her help, so she sat at the table next to Billy, with dark sunglasses covering her gaze, and although you had decided not to turn around to avoid distractions, her penetrating gaze was able to pierce through every fiber of your being.

You could feel her intense and overwhelming presence, as if a magnetic force pulled you towards her. Your heart was beating with desperation, wishing to turn your head and gaze at her beauty, but you knew you had to maintain focus and not be too obvious.

In the ninth round, Tommy failed to reach the ball and hit the shot needed to keep the streak going, so you decided to suggest to take a break instead of continuing to play. He agreed, and the two of you headed over to the table where Wanda and Billy were.

“I ordered some cold water and snacks,’ Wanda announced, pointing to the tray that contained them.

“Oh, thank you very much,” you replied with a smile. After all the physical activity, the thought of having some cold water was like heaven.

When you sat down, Billy looked away from his phone and smiled at you before placing it face down on the table.

He was about to say something when his brother joined you at the table. "You're a natural, (Y/N)! I must admit, I let you win at first to cheer you on, but then I had a hard time catching up,” he praised you as he picked up a bottle of water and drank almost half of it. In a way, you were grateful for that interruption, as it saved you from having to deal with Billy's corny flirtations.

“Yeah, you were awesome,” Billy added, bummed that maybe Tommy took the words right out of his mouth.

“Thanks, guys,” you replied with a smile. “I had the best teacher, giving me the push I needed,” you turned to Wanda, pining for the older woman's attention again.

And you did, when she leaned a little closer to you and said softly, “Oh, honey, and I had the best student,” she winked at you from under her shades, which you could see through the sunlight.

Billy sat next to you, trying to look gallant. “Well, you know, I could give you a ‘push’ too if you wanted one. What do you say, gorgeous?” He said with a crooked grin.

You couldn't help but laugh at Billy's awkward flirtation.

Wanda shot Billy a stern look. "All right, lover boy, you've got your energy back.

Time for you and me to play a little,” she interferred, taking his hand and pulling him away from you.

Tommy, who watched the interaction, rolled his eyes playfully and sat next to you.

"Forgive my brother," he apologized. "You're the first girl he's ever liked, and he has zero experience in how to behave with one."

You brushed it off with a little wave of your hand.

If he wasn't so charismatic, you probably would have cut ties with him... or maybe that's what you forced yourself to believe, because by being around him, you had opportunities like this, to share with his mother beyond work issues.

"What about you, any person who caught your eye?" you questioned.

"There is a guy, David, yes..." he confirmed, causing you to reposition your chair to turn towards him, showing interest. He laughed softly at your action. "I won't elaborate."

"Tommy, Tommy, Tommy," you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, shaking your head. "I'm a gossip enthusiast, and you can't tell me about a guy without blurting out more details," you replied, but realized that perhaps, it was best to respect his decision. "But it's okay. I understand if you decide not to share. I won't force you."

He sighed, "It's just... everything that shapes me as a person; my hobbies, my passions, my career, my internship, I share with my brother," he shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I adore him madly. But at least, this is very much my own thing," he sighed a second time, louder this time, watching his brother, who was occasionally observing the interaction, but redirecting his focus to the game.

“I totally understand," you nodded. It was often the case that with a pair of twins, it was more usual to share common grounds and live together almost as if they were one person in two bodies. Sooner or later, there came that desire for individualism, which Tommy found in keeping aspects of his life to himself. "I'm so glad that you are in that process of detaching from your brother and forming your own path, as your own person."

"Sure as hell I am," he giggled. "I have my own friends, I had a girlfriend named Lisa for a while," he continued. "About both, Billy constantly commented on, whining about why I managed to fit in at college and he didn't, what I had that he didn't. And it was always my duty to comfort him," his expression took on a lingering hint of annoyance.

“Must've been so hard to always be the one comforting him, especially when you were just trying to enjoy your own life and relationships,” you nodded with sympathy.

Now you understood why Billy seemed to want to hog your attention, and was so annoyed when Tommy, with his extroverted nature struck up a conversation with you. Billy felt like he was constantly in Tommy's shadow, always comparing himself and feeling inadequate. He craved validation and reassurance, seeking comfort in your friendship whenever he felt overshadowed. You were the only person he was starting to form bonds with besides his brother and mother.

"It may sound selfish, not to have included my brother to my group of friends when many do that."

"No," you replied firmly. "As you said earlier, it's your own thing."

"Thank you... that's what my mother tells me," he confessed, and you were glad to know that the redhead was comprehensive in that regard. "She's a twin too, so she understands the dynamics of having a close sibling relationship while still needing your own space and identity. She ended up being way different than her brother, but both were happy for each other.”

You knew about her brother, Pietro Maximoff, that he died when the Avengers fought Ultron in Sokovia. You saw it in one video of ‘50 things you didn't know about Wanda Maximoff’, at 3AM when you couldn't mitigate the intrigue she left.

And from all that you learned, not only was she talented and charismatic, she also carried a profound strength in her heart, from which she emerged stronger. She was now enjoying the empire she built with the stones life threw at her… quite literally, the mind stone.

"If Billy isn't happy for you, his emotions are not his responsibility," you stated. "In fact, nothing regarding him is your responsibility. You enjoy what you were able to attract into your life."

"Thank you, I'm glad someone is reassuring me that I'm on the right track," he replied, pulling a bag of chips that was resting on the tray. He gestured you to grab one as well, so you did. "A few months after my first breakup, I developed this crush on a girl named Kate, and he never knew. It was refreshing, keeping it to myself, without Billy turning it back on him and how much he hated not even having a girl he liked."

"And what happened between you and this girl, Kate?"

"Oh, well, it was pathetically movie-like," he chuckled. "After crushing from afar, I saw her outside campus. I was very determined, walking towards her to say hi, when a blonde girl came on a bike, got off and went to kiss her. So I stepped back.”

"Wait... isn't that Kate Bishop by any chance?" You asked, the first name, college and blonde girlfriend being enough characteristics that fit your best friend.

"Yes! Kate Bishop!" He confirmed, surprised. "No way... do you know her?"

You let out a laugh at the coincidence, shaking your head softly in disbelief.

"She's my best friend since high school," you nodded.

"Oh, shut up!" He exclaimed loudly. "There is no way!"

Wanda Maximoff's son, studying at the same university as your best friend, Kate, who he used to have a crush on.

Kate, whose girlfriend, Yelena Belova, was the younger sister of Natasha Romanoff, one of the Avengers, of which Wanda Maximoff was a member until the Sokovia Accords marked a new beginning in her career.

All this time, you were closer to Wanda than you thought.

Billy noticed the friendly and amusing exchange between you and Tommy, so he proceeded to purposely miss on the present round, with the excuse to approach the table again where the two of you were.

"What's so funny?" He asked, so innocently, you thought, because you were so oblivious to the look on his face at every single thing you were doing.

Wanda followed him.

Evidently, she wasn't born yesterday, and she knew she had to be on the lookout to intervene in any recklessness, a product of that jealousy you were already aware of, that he was experiencing towards his twin brother. It was funny, nevertheless, that he thought he had to compete against his brother for your attention, when truly, it was her mother the one and only threat.

"Oh, (Y/N) has a best friend, Kate Bishop, who studies at our university. I've seen her a couple of times," Tommy explained. "We were just laughing about how small New York is."

Billy nodded slowly, arching his eyebrows.

"That's so funny!" Wanda spoke, a smile plastered on her face, instantly melting you. Whenever she did so, her nose scrunched a little in the process, and some dimples on her cheeks made themselves present.

Oh, how you longed for her to be so close to you, sharing gestures and glances that seemed to connect you both in a unique way. Yes, they may have been mere human interactions, but you treasured each of those little things, those details that, to the eyes of others, might go unnoticed.

"Actually, her girlfriend, I'm sure you know her," you replied to the older woman. "She's Natasha's younger sister, Yelena."

"Noooooo!" It was her turn to be surprised and laugh, just like you and Tommy were a few minutes ago.

"I know! Unbelievable!" You responded, her laughter contaging you like a deadly virus.

"Yelena, I've met her a couple of times,” she recalled. “When we have one of those friendly get-togethers at the compound, I've had the chance to see her twice or thrice," Wanda commented to you, and seemed to think for a moment. "Hey, next time, you and Kate should join us. Since you and I aren't strangers anymore, and Kate seems to be familiar with the rest of the team."

You laughed instantly, remembering the anecdote of Kate meeting her idol, Clint Barton, for the first time.

"I'm serious, darling," Wanda stated, probably believing that your little giggle was due to disbelief and not the memory that popped into your mind.

"Oh, no, it's just… I remembered how pale Kate looked when Yelena took her to meet Natasha, unbeknownst to her that Clint would be there too," you clarified.

Yelena had invited Kate to a restaurant a little way out of town, in order to introduce her to her sister, Natasha. Things between them had already become serious like that.

Your best friend was a nervous wreck before Yelena picked her up, repeatedly stating that she was not mentally prepared to meet Natasha Romanoff, whom she also admired. She was in for a big surprise, when not only was Black Widow waiting for them, but Hawkeye as well.

You expected to receive a text, or at most a phone call with all the details. However, hours later, the couple arrived at your flat. Yelena walking hand in hand with a completely mesmerized and shocked Kate, with a lost gaze and unable to spill a single word.

"Wow, I can only imagine..." Wanda mused, empathizing with your best friend's feelings at such an experience. As she sat down across from you with a clear determination to continue the conversation, you couldn't help but feel a surge of triumph. It was then that you regained awareness of your surroundings and realized that the twins had left you alone who knows how long ago, opting to play a round together instead. “But seriously, I would love it if you came.”

Wanda Maximoff: (Pauses).

Tommy Maximoff: That’s… (sighs) that’s when the incident happened.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N): Did Tommy say that? (laughs) No, the incident was always that Billy started to get the wrong ideas. Of course, I didn't have the heart to reject him, but I gave very clear signals. At the compound, that’s where it ended.

Tommy Maximoff: There is no worse blind than the one who does not want to see.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N): I always carry my Polaroid camera with me, no matter where I go. I am fascinated by being able to capture the important moments of my life with that particular photographic style and store them in a special album of memories. Maybe it sounds old-fashioned, but over the years, you realize the almost magical power that photographs have to transport you back to those frozen moments in time. Pressing the shutter button at that country club became a sort of curse, as I couldn't help but yearn to be teleported back over and over to those unforgettable moments with her.

When you finished working with Wanda, you already had a large number of photographs of her. A collection, you could call it at this point.

You didn't pass up the opportunity to take pictures in every corner of the tennis court, every time she and Billy played together, and you'd even have more if you'd taken pictures when she played against Tommy as well, but you didn't want to expose him to a jealous feud with Billy.

Likewise, you were more than content with the other occasions; like your personal favorites, the family dinners at which you were frequently included. After the food was served, you proceeded to ask the three of them to pose before eating, just so you could have the privilege of watching that gorgeous face for as many seconds as you wanted later at night.

It always amused you to see him smiling in all the photos, so flattered thinking that he was the one you wanted to immortalize in the memories.

The end justified the means, right?

You let out a small gasp, arching your back in pleasure when, as you stilled your needy entrance, you grabbed another photograph, the bonfire photograph...

"Oh, Wanda!" you moaned, feeling your climax about to burst, clenching around your own fingers.

"Why is it that you only take pictures of Billy when I'm around?" Wanda confronted you, once the twins went to sleep. A great day at their University awaited the next day, unlike Wanda and you, who could stay awake as long as you wanted.

Wanda occasionally held bonfires in the garden of her house. She cordially invited you to join them, and after a few minutes, you were all dressed up and on your way to her house, when you were already comfortable in your pajamas, ready to get into your bed.

And once you were alone, she placed her chair in front of yours, and asked you that question that caught you off guard. You had just taken a picture of her with the twins before they left.

"What?" You exclaimed, pretending to be clueless to buy yourself more time to come up with an excuse.

"Or better yet, why don’t you ever accept seeing Billy exclusively? Only when I'm present," she repeated, leaning towards you.

The air thickened around you, each breath torturous as if you were inhaling the very essence of your dread. Your heart pounded, a relentless drum echoing in the cavern of your chest, each beat reverberating through your bones and threatening to shatter your composure.

"I want Billy as a friend, I don't want me accepting outings or taking pictures of him alone to get him more excited than he probably is," you replied, almost all in one breath.

Wanda's eyes narrowed, her gaze piercing through your weak defenses, "Are you sure that's the only reason, (Y/N)? Or is there something else you're not telling me?"

You felt exposed, as if she could see right through your clumsy excuses.

"I... I don't want to give him false hope," you hesitated, trying to maintain your composure.

"False hope?" Wanda scoffed, her tone full of skepticism. "Then, why taking those pictures in the first place? Who do you wanna see, hm?"

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing by the second. "It's… memories," you protested, but the conviction in your voice was waning.

Wanda tilted her head, scrutinizing you with a mix of frustration and something else you couldn't quite place.

"Bullshit!” She exclaimed. “Why do you always make sure I'm around? Is it because you need a buffer? Or is it because you're more interested in someone else?”

Her words were heavy and loaded with implication. Your mind struggled to form a coherent response, but the truth was clawing its way to the surface, threatening to break free.

“I...-"

She didn't let you finish, "Is it me?" She insisted. "Are you using Billy to get closer to me?"

"Wanda, please, it's not like that," you pleaded, but her words had struck a nerve. She could sense it, therefore, she leaned in even closer, her lips almost brushing your ear. You felt your skin reacting through goosebumps immediately.

"Stop lying. You think I can't see through you, like my son? You're pathetic, hiding behind your excuses. If you have something to say, say it now," she hissed, her breath hot against your skin.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat almost choking you.

"No, nothing..." you stammered, but the words wouldn't come.

Wanda's grip on your knee tightened further, her nails digging into your skin.

"You're infuriating. If you can't even be honest with yourself, how do you expect to be honest with anyone else?" She said, her voice a low growl.

“I… I better go,” was all you managed to respond. You never realized how weak you were until the Wanda Maximoff was so close to you, forcing you to face the consequences of your impulsive and not-so-wise acts.

Her eyes glinted with a dangerous determination. She wasn't going to let you off the hook so easily. Her hand slid from your knee up to your thigh, keeping you in place.

"You think you can keep hiding? From me?" Her voice was a seductive murmur that sent shivers down your spine.

You tried to pull away, but her grip tightened. "Wanda, please," you whispered, your voice trembling. You refused to do this at all costs, even though it was what you deserved.

"No more lies. I want the truth, and I'm going to get it," her other hand moved to your waist, pulling you even closer to her.

Your heart pounded wildly, your body not knowing whether to tremble of fear and desire.

"I... I don't know what you want me to say," you stammered, trying to keep your composure.

Wanda's hand moved higher up your thigh, her nails lightly grazing your skin through the fabric. "Oh, but you do," she countered. "You're scared, aren't you? Scared of what you feel. Scared of what I might do if you admit it. So scared that my poor, poor son has to suffer from your cowardice."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat almost choking you.

"No, it’s..." you began.

And once again, she didn't give you a chance to finish. Her hand moved to your chin, tilting your face up so you were forced to meet her gaze.

"Look at me, darling. I want to see your eyes when you tell me the truth," she demanded, her voice a low growl.

Your eyes met hers, and the intensity of her green orbes was almost too much to bear.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision.

"I... I can't," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Wanda's grip on your chin tightened, her nails digging into your skin. "Yes, you can. And you will," she insisted, her voice brooking no argument. Her other hand moved between your legs, pressing your core with a tight squeeze, making you yelp and let the first few tears spill out of your eyes. You felt so helpless, regretting every life decision that led you to this very instant.

"Do you want me?" She questioned, with a voice so firm it sounded more like a statement.

"Yes," you finally admitted.

Wanda's eyes shone with satisfaction, "Oh, my good girl. That's all I needed to hear," she murmured, her lips brushing against yours.

Her hand moved from your chin to the back of your neck, pulling you into a searing kiss that left you breathless. You could only describe it intense and fervorous, her tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, without even asking for permission. Just taking you as if she had always owned you, and maybe, she did.

Just as you were about to lose yourself in her lips, Wanda abruptly pulled away, leaving you gasping for air.

"This is your punishment for toying with my son's feelings," she established. "You don't get to have me, not after what you've done. Now go."

[ficandkaboodle]

Analyses of Most Ghost Characters be like…

Terzo was a tragic and extremely deep figure who, based off observations provided by his ghouls and Bishop Necropolitis, was a brilliant mind whose ideas were bastardized and squandered, which resulted in a disappointed and bitter husk of a man who still made an effort to display kindness. However, we will likely never truly know the full story of who he was because he lied so damn often.

Most of how we perceive Secondo is arguably the result of Sister badmouthing him as well as ghouls being brutally candid about how he acted in interviews. However, there’s reason to believe Secondo might’ve been just as multifaceted as Terzo, in that he wasn’t being his complete self to the audience. There’s evidence that could suggest Secondo did not enjoy being Papa in its entirety so much as the perks, which were ironically also hindered by him being Papa at the end of the day. It’s not hard to interpret him as someone who might not have enjoyed being a part of the bloodline at the end of the day because of what it meant he had to sacrifice.

Copia is a manchild, likely as a result of how he grew up: Orphaned, likely a social outcast, very likely undiagnosed. As a result, he might’ve become convinced that the only way to rise above it was to become someone worthy of adoration: Papa. But even after he ascended, his troubles didn’t stop: He had to learn his parentage, didn’t address the fact that his brothers were now dead, and spent the last few months he had with the woman he now knew was his mother dissociating because he developed a fear of death. This fear, mind you, that easily ties back into the theorized likelihood that he placed his self-worth into his success. And this is before getting into his willingness to be a puppet —

Papa Nihil’s complexities come in the form of his tendencies to escape reality and the consequences these brought. He was very likely an absent father, which would have had effects on his sons (say, attention-seeking tendencies; a distrust in authority; abandonment issues). In fact, the only things he seems to seek from his youth is his extremely short-lived music career and his unstable relationship with a woman who ultimately kept quiet about their son(s) they conceived together and ultimately played his lust and delusions against him to play nepotism. And by leaning into this, he got his own children killed. He only “became a father” after he died, and it’s sad that he actually seems his most lucid then. What’s all the more mind-boggling and makes you wonder about his tenure is his ability to be in the moment and try and convince Cardi to learn to do the same. It makes you curious: Was Nihil actually a good Papa when he wasn’t distracted?

Sister Imperator is willfully emotionally constipated and will justify it as being “for the good of the church”. She has definitely been affected by her decisions and what she’s done, from her relationship with Nihil to her giving up her babies and watching them at a distance, only interacting from a work standpoint. She lies, keeps secrets, has people killed off, all to tie her spawn into the position as Papa, which is curious considering her position means she’s already above the station of Papa. She does care about Cardi, but she doesn’t care for him the way he needs to be and, as a result, arguably only exacerbates his anxious tendencies. She’s an extremely interesting character but it’s so easy to water her down to just being manipulative and evil.

………………

Analyses of Primo —

Primo is fucking crazy man I don’t — Like, he might be a serial killer; he would punch a panda for profit; we aren’t even entirely certain he’s human like I would legit headcanon that Primo is a changeling and the fandom would run with it because what choice do we have, he honestly actually could be!!!

[the-artist-grimm]

Crimson Angel AU - The Three Remaining Crown Bearers

(Text updated as of Nov 8th, 2024)

More Crimson Angel Lore! This time thinking about some of the previous/current vessels.

(credit to @/waokevale for the inspo! Its from their posts head-cannoning Forneus as a former crown bearer where I got the idea to have her in the lineup!)

Over the course of 1000 years Narinder had in total 13 vessels who bore the red crown, and each were chosen upon their deaths for displaying potential upon arrival into the Gateway. Though the prophecy stated that a lamb would be the final bearer, Narinder did not want to sit idle, and had hoped that others could clear a quicker path for the chosen liberator while he waited. 

Currently named bearers (featuring my SYMBOLISM obsession, deaths/numbers are somewhat related to the character as closely as I manage) 

Forneus - #7 (Lady Luck)

The 7th bearer of the Red Crown, and bared it approximately 300 years ago. Captured by heretics after drawing their attention away from a family in trouble whilst on the road, Forneus caught Narinder’s attention for both her fighting prowess and fierce sense of justice, and proved to be one of his more efficient vessels. Quick-witted and clever, she was a seemingly kind leader to her cult, but a ruthless warrior to all others, with her mission being to decimate the Bishops’ higher-ranking witnesses as opposed to taking them on personally. She also appeared to possess a remarkable amount of luck, hardly ever dying whilst on crusades. Yet despite that her term as vessel only lasted approximately 80 years, whereupon finding herself pregnant via one of her lovers, she willingly relinquished the crown so that she could raise her children in peace, not wanting to put them at risk.

Narinder, though somewhat irked, accepted her choice, as she’d managed to kill enough witnesses to set the Bishops internal hierarchies back by several decades of experience. Unbeknownst to him, however, the very children Forneus relinquished the crown for would join him not long after, with the cat herself being bestowed a golden skull and an open promise of reunion with her children in the distant future by the God of Wisdom and War. 

Forneus died of her heart-in saving those sheep, her heart was cut out during her sacrifice 

7 is considered a lucky number

The Chariot is the 7th Tarot Card, representing triumph through determination, self-control, and overcoming obstacles.

Became vessel at approximately age 20, is now over 400 years old

Ratau- #12 (The Shepherd)

The 12th bearer of the Red Crown, and bared it approximately over 40 years ago. Killed by heretics after refusing to acknowledge the threat they posed to all within the Lands of the Old Faith. Hailing from a village that willfully ignored the lambs and their warnings of slaughter, it was not until heretics arrived to razed the place to the ground that Ratau realized their threat, yet by then it was too late to act as he was slain. Upon his arrival in the gateway Narinder initially had no plans to make him a vessel, yet the rat’s anger towards both himself and the Bishops appeared to make him an easily manipulated enough target to try. And with the dwindling lamb’s population heralding the final liberator’s rise, the death god was desperate to have a vessel prepared to take on the role of mentor. 

Though a remarkably fast learner, Ratau proved inadequate in regards to his ruthlessness, unwilling to push his followers or himself to their limits. And upon being forced to sacrifice a follower following an incident with a mysterious fox, the resulting guilt led to Ratau relinquishing the crown within only a decade, much to Narinder’s frustration. He left the grounds with his disciples and isolated himself to a self-imposed solitude within the woods, only ever visiting his friends from time to time and trying to put his previous cult-life behind him. 

Yet as fate would have it, twenty years later Ratau would chance across a young, newly orphaned lamb within the woods, and though aware of the prophesied fate ahead of them, decided to take the little one in. Fourteen years later, that little lamb would rise as the final vessel.

Ratau died for turning a blind eye to the world around him, and thus, lost his left eye in turn. It was a slash and a stab through which killed him 

12 is considered a number of stability and order, fitting for a mentor

The Hanged Man is the 12th Tarot Card, representing ultimate surrender, sacrifice, and patience.

Became a vessel at age 25, is currently in his mid 60s.

Anthea- #13 (The Lamb/Unlucky Thirteen)

The 13th and final bearer of the Red Crown. Anthea was killed by heretics upon sacrificing herself to save the life of her guardian, Ratau, and had been a willing sacrifice due to a belief that she already lived on borrowed time. Of all prior vessels Anthea was the only one to have worshiped The One Who Waits prior to resurrection and vesselship, and proved to not only be highly devoted, but also far more empathetic and aware of his situation beyond those who came before them. When it came to their interactions with the god, Anthea often expressed a kindness to not just him but his typically overlooked disciples as well, bring them gifts and befriending the three to try and ease their imprisonments. Though coming from a genuine place of care, it was also born from Anthea’s own lack of self, with the lamb preferring to put everyone but themself first. 

It was through aiding The One Who Waits that Anthea’s perspective of self began to change, as Narinder slowly began to challenge their self-sacrificial tendencies the more he got to know them, with the two growing closer and eventually falling in love. Yet it was right before Anthea planned to confess her feelings that The One Who Waits seemingly betrayed them, ordering them to sacrifice themself just as they finally started wanting to live. 

Anthea died for being unable to express their own will beyond giving themself up for others, sticking their neck out so long as it mean someone else benefited from it. Their death was via beheading. 

13 is considered a number of bad luck, yet also of the ending of one cycle and the beginning of another, a transformation 

Death is the 13th Tarot Card, and represents the ending of one phase of a life and the start of another, change, and new beginnings.

Became vessel at age 26, and finished slaying all the bishops in 3 years, making them 29

Trying to go through and whip the game’s admittedly open-ended-ish/slightly vague lore into something more fleshed-out is really fun lol. Might make more vessels but thus far the only three who remain are 7, 12, and 13-which Narinder doesn't even realize that Forneus is till kicking about.

Also Weapons notes!

Forneus gets a hammer because it in a way represents justice (see a court gavel) and though it hits slow it hits HARD. In an RPG its the tank who usually gets it within the party.

Ratau I gave a staff since he's implied to be somewhat cowardly, or at least appears to not like killing to an extent with how he gave up the crown after sacrificing a follower, and since he gives us the curses in-game (yeah they're on Nari's orders but Ratau's the one handing them out), essentially making him a mage seemed fitting-plus in fantasy the mage is usually a mentor. He also has a staff in-game so it maintains that silhouette, albeit I made this one look more like a shepherd's hook considering it's meant to be his weapon as a cult leader.

Anthea, the Lamb, I gave a sword since it's the weapon of a knight in shinning armor, since their personality is that of someone always saving others after all.

And lastly a little doodle of everyone's death scars!

(Also if anyone wants to send asks about the AU or to the characters go ahead hehehe, this AU is taking over my life :3 )

Boarders are by @lambouillet

[prickly-paprikash]

The Bishop in the first Castlevania season is pure evil who believes himself good. He's nearly every crime and hypocrisy of the Catholic Church distilled into one neat, wrinkly, putrid man. He is easy to hate. He is supposed to be despised and we are expected to cheer and rejoice when Blue Fangs chewed on half this man's face.

He uses god to control and manipulate the powers and people that be. While his belief in god may be true, the church and the faith are more tools for him to retain control. It is glaringly obvious that this man is power-hungry.

There is nothing, and I mean nothing at all redeemable about that asshole.

The Abbott is every conservative relative who genuinely loves you, but is a blind idiot holding on to institutions simply because they are "right".

While the Bishop's character is real, most of us won't encounter him. We see him on the news. I'm not even American (been there once for two weeks) but even I've seen his like on news and media. He's a televangelist who consolidates wealth, clout and power through the fanaticism of his followers. He is drunk on the authority he possesses. His belief in god isn't the point; whether or not he holds faith, the man cares solely about power.

The Abbott is someone in our lives we know well. Your conservative mother who refuses to even show a modicum of tolerance towards queer people. Your father who is buying into the religious side of Youtube and Tiktok. Your brother who has grown up to carry terrifying, fascistic beliefs. Your sister who feels lost and found some semblance of acceptance in a church who still believes women are lesser. Your aunt who despises vaccines. Your uncle who tells you that you should've become a priest or a soldier.

The Abbott, deep down, has some redeeming features. But it's not enough to forgive him for his idiocy.

Ask any child who had to grow up with a religious parent, especially a Catholic or an Evangelical. They fucking love the story of Abraham sacrificing his child to God, and finding a ram in its place.

Evangelicals are bent on this tale. They will always preach that god comes before children. That children and their suffering and their needs must always take a backseat to the word of god.

A trans child asking their parents to understand—their words will fall on deaf ears because god and the holy man told them that 'transgenderism' is a vile philosophy that seeks to groom and twist kids. A college freshman debating with their parents about free healthcare and immigration will be stonewalled because the charismatic preacher said that god will provide. god will heal. god did not invite these foreigners into this land.

It is Maria, begging her father to listen and having her pleas fall on deaf ears.

The Abbott is someone I hate more than the Bishop.

Men like the Bishop exist, but they are few and far in-between.

But the Abbott? The Abbott is someone I share a table with at dinner. He's someone I see during family reunions. He's someone who shares misinformation online, and I see it on my timeline because we're social media friends.

I fucking hate him so much and I hope he gets what's his.

He never deserved Tera. He never once deserved Maria.

[ane-doodles]

Okay so, let's start with the goat, shall we? (Sorry, this is a long post!)

• In this dimension there is no prophecy to fulfill, there is no chosen one or a mission. On the other hand, there is an overpopulation of goats, which has led them to kill or hunt them without much remorse, considering them undesirable (for this reason, families usually separate in order to have a better chance of survival). While there is nothing illegal/wrong about interacting with goats, it is usually avoided most of the time.

• The goat's original name is Jonah, he used to be a kind of thief to earn a living since he was a child, since he was separated from his family at a young age. He ends up joining a ship as part of the crew for some time, but when he is caught stealing from the captain he ends up being thrown into the sea tied with weights to die.

• In this dimension it is assumed that after dying you are guided to the other world, to be added to the queue to reincarnate with a new life at least a century later. But Jonah is instead taken out of this line by Yuridia (the equivalent of Narinder in this world).

• Jonah is offered the opportunity to return to a new life, on the condition of "freeing the goddess who was unjustly imprisoned by her siblings", but he refuses, simply not interested. Yuridia ends up convincing him by striking a chord with him, acting affectionately and manipulating him with the idea that after she is freed he is going to marry the goddess (I want to highlight the fact that she did not say that they would both be married , but only him with her). And this is how the poor goat, already hungry for affection, ends up involved in the mess of the bishops and the goddess.

• Yuridia usually acts all loving and kind, presenting herself as someone sweet but with a strong character who constantly makes empty promises and flirts. She treats the goat - which she has renamed Kairos - as her knight who will come to save her. This ends up generating a kind of obsession/dependency in him to do what she tells him, in exchange for the goddess treating him well.

• Kairos' mission ends up being fulfilled in ten years in which several things happen:

+ The cultists hate the idea that the beloved ancient goddess Yuridia has chosen a goat as a vessel (which we already know was a not very beloved species), so they are not very respectful or kind to it. Furthermore, the fact that Yuridia possesses the goat during sermons and usually spouts aggressive doctrines has generated a rumor that probably part of the sermons are inventions of the leader.

+ During this period Kairos also learns that Yuridia's confinement was orchestrated by herself, and that in reality she only wanted to destroy the bishops so that she would be the only one with power over the lands of the old faith. Despite this he decides to continue.

+ Even though the order is to kill the Kairos bishops, he ends up just stealing their crowns and giving them to Yuridia, who disables them so that no one else can use them. The bishops are thrown out and returned to their lands as mortals.

+ Kairos also meets Yuridia's sons/guardians, who warn him that he should abandon the mission of helping the goddess for his own good and that of the world in which they live.

+ The goat also begins to know Yuridia's true intentions and behaviors as she witnesses the mistreatment of her children and various discussions about doctrines that usually end in discipline, but ends up downplaying it, blinded by the goddess's pampering and manipulations.

• After completing his mission, Kairos voluntarily gives his life, his heart being torn out by the goddess as a sacrifice. Yuridia takes back the crown as the sole goddess of the lands of the old faith and the goat is revived.

• The wedding takes place as a kind of private ceremony between the two, but ends up being somewhat one-sided since only Kairos marries Yuridia and not vice versa. This leads to him constantly asking her (maybe begging hehe) for the two to actually get married, but she just ends up postponing it or saying she'll think about it.

• Little by little Yuridia's affections turn into simple dominance, and the manipulation becomes more evident for Kairos who also little by little begins to distrust her. The goddess treats him as a kind of pretty trophy that she takes care of, although she doesn't really give him any more attention than necessary. [I think we could summarize their relationship as those people who have little purse dogs, all cute but who really take little care of them]

• After Yuridia's rise the former bishops try to steal their old crowns with the intention of making them work again, but the goat's job is to keep them away.

• As such Kairos is displaced, since he is no longer the leader of the cult and Yuridia does not need him by her side, so he dedicates himself to exploring. It is thanks to this that he stumbles upon a way to travel to the dimension of the lamb.

• Thanks to the latter, he runs into Yuridia's third son, who has ended up reincarnating in the wrong dimension. He decides to help him reunite with his brothers by bringing them to the dimension of the lamb where they will no longer suffer the mistreatment of their mother.

• Years go by and more things happen:

+ Kairos ends up falling out of love and begins to fear Yuridia's temperament, so being by her side at this point feels like being imprisoned.

+ He spends more time in the dimension of the lamb, things that the goddess does not like.

+ Kairos accidentally revives the lamb's sister (story for another post) and somehow ends up liking her, considering leaving his dimension.

+ The Lamb ends up giving him the final motivation to leave his dimension and finally get away from Yuridia.

• The day arrives and Kairos intends to leave Yuridia's cult, but she decides to prevent him by almost torturing him in order to stay since he belongs to her. However, by trying to kill her, the weight of the promises she made during her false imprisonment ends up killing her from within, allowing the goat to escape, thus condemning her old dimension to a world without gods (or so we believe).

• After recovering Kairos settles into the cult of the lamb where he can finally be at peace.

Aughhh here is the first loredump! It's a bit long, sorry!! I would have liked to add some doodles to make the reading easier, but I really have no ideas at the moment QwQ

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Guileless

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, dejection, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The reader attempts to move past her ruination, but is reminded of her tarnish conscience at every turn. (Regency AU, tall!reader)

Masterlist

Character: Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson

Note: thanks to those who waited on this one!.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love coffee and that’s a lot and probably unhealthy. Take care. 💖

It should be the happiest time in your life. You should be elated, and yet, as ever it is, every victory precedes a treacherous defeat. A proposal one day, and despair the next. That nipping of doom in your gut, that ever present doubt, is made certain by the passage of time. It has been much too long. 

You sit in the pews, throat tight as you keep your chin locked. You breathe slowly, as if too sudden an intake might unleash the tempest brewing inside of you. It is more than nerves, you know it, that sicken you so. You should be happy for your pending nuptials but you are only horrified at the thought. 

The bishop reads out the banns before the rows; the first for yourself, the third for your sister. She will be permitted to wed and your mother has presided over much of planning already. You dip your head as your name rings out beside Lord Odinson’s and you swallow back a swell of bile. You’ve been gulping down your own stomach for much of the morning, ever since you caught a whiff of pickled shallots in passing the kitchens. 

You push your head up and your hand down to your lap, knowing you will be observed. You must at least look certain of your fate. You must sit proud for the engagement all would put into question. For the time until it shall all dissolve, you must play your part. 

You can barely keep from wilting where you are. A prudent woman might bite her tongue. She may commit to the theatre of it all. She might lie and get away with the folly. You glance over at Lord Odinson, just across the aisle, and you know you cannot. It isn’t one lie, it’s a lifetimes’ worth of betrayal. 

Yet how should you tell it? It isn’t only him who must know. Your father would need good reason why you’d rather the convent to a proper marriage. You will be ruined but you could not put that stain upon the only person who was ever kind to you. Lord Odinson deserves an honest wife and a child of his own. 

Your insides sour and you nearly spasm as you fight the tide of nausea, brought upon by more than your forsaken condition. Your eyes trail away from your betrothed to another man bound in promise. Lord Rogers sits with your sister, as ever, and she leans on him shamelessly, even beneath the Lord’s rafters. 

She would deny it. She would laugh in your face should you ever reveal the absolute truth. No, you must confess the sin as your own and that alone. You will not name the culprit for they would they never believe you and he would never admit it himself. 

Yet, you know that the Duke Rogers will ever be triumphant in knowing that he has brought the monstrous giant to her knees. You are his Goliath, the vile retched creature he has slain in his valour. He will be hero and you be the villain. 

💟

You hand the letter to the carrier just before noon. You don’t expect an audience to be granted until the next morning at earliest. Lord Odinson is a busy man; an ambassador in much demand between the house and society. Even his betrothed must request his presence. 

The cart rattles through the gates and you watch it fade off into the grim horizon. The winter bites in the air, adding to the chill in your bones. That coldness that freeze over your heart. You must be strong now, as strong as the valkyrie he misnamed you as. 

When you go to Lord Odinson, you will bring the crown to him. You will hand it back and admit your tainted stature to him. You will show him how truly small you are.  

At least, that is what you intend. You may prove yourself weak as ever. However it should unfold, this engagement cannot persist. 

“A day! A day and I shall call you husband,” Cora’s shrill tone greets you as you come through the front doors. She is in the sitting room with Lord Rogers. Your mother continues to fawn over the last-minute details for their wedding. “Isn’t it very exciting, my lord?” 

“And I shall call you wife.” 

“And Duchess,” she preens with a trilling laugh, “oh, how elaborate I shall be.” 

“My Athena,” Rogers drones back, “my goddess, my beloved.” 

“Oh, how darling,” your mother preens over them, “it shall be resplendent. I’ve made certain the cake will be exactly as you like it, dearie. The cook has even procured some citrus for the lemonade.” 

The mention of lemonade makes you shrivel. You recall the sunny day when Lord Rogers spoke to you over a weeping beverage. As you fell for that virulent charm. And all that came after. 

You peer at the grim windows and frown. How everything does change so quickly. Happiness is fleeting and yet disappointment comes as a chronic plight. You will never know a day without shame. 

You flit off without notice. Your heart rents at the thought that you will not have the same fervour. You will not sit and plan your own wedding with Lord Odinson. All your fanciful dreams have evaporated. It is one thing to put a mask on, to pretend as virgin, but you could never foist a bastard upon the kind man who has shown you a taste happiness. You will be certain to thank him for all he’s done but you will not spit in his face. 

As you get to the bedroom doors, your stomach churns violently and you burst through, not stopping as you rush to the pot and fall to your knees. You wretch into it as your body contracts painfully. You empty your stomach until you are panting and hollow. 

“Sister,” Alina startles you as she rolls to the edge of the bed, a novel in hand, “is it a winter ague?” 

“I...” you shakily wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, “I believe so.” 

That lie alone singes your tongue like a brand. Your eyes well with tears and you flick them away with your lashes. You sit back on your heels and heave out a pungent breath. 

“Oh, how awful, and just before the wedding,” she sits up and shuts the novel. “Let us pray it passes quickly. You needn’t delay your own nuptials.” 

“Mm, no, that wouldn’t be...” you let the sentence tail off and you stand, taking the pot with you, “I’ll dump it before it can stink.” 

“If you are unwell, call for the maid.” 

“No, it is fine,” you insist, “I didn’t mean to disturb your reading.” 

“You didn’t,” she insists. “What’s the matter, sissie? You hardly seem a lady about to marry.” 

“I...” you croak, “it is the ague, that’s all.” 

“Mm, perhaps Lord Odinson might offer some comfort should it get any worse. He does seem the character,” she offers. 

“Or perhaps he is better to stay away. You as well, should it pass onto anyone else,” you hold the pot to your stomach and turn, carrying it out without another word. Albina huffs and falls back onto the bed, the flutter of pages following shortly after. 

You descend and keep along the wall, passing through the kitchens and beyond the servants’ quarters to the rear of the manse. You come out into the crisp air and overturn the pot well away from the house. A wave of dizziness washes over you, silver spots dotting your vision. Perhaps it is an ague. Oh how you wish it were. 

You set the pot down as you grasp at some stability. You stand and wipe your clammy forehead. Your hand drifts down to your bodice and you let it venture further. You try to feel your stomach through the layers. It is tauter than it once was but no rounder. Not as yet. 

You sit on a low stump, the seat the stabler uses to shoe the horses. You let the frigid air seep through your dress and stare at the grey clouds that blot out the sun. You hold your chin, elbows on your legs, hunched over as you let the stagnancy of that moment swallow you. 

For a moment, you believe that you can make time stand still. That you might stretch on this fantasy a little longer. That a single second might be spent into an eternity. You shake your head and close your eyes as your cheeks tingle with the cold. 

You try to picture the convent. You imagine dark halls and darker mornings. Prayers and repentance filling the days and keeping wakeless the nights. Would the nuns even accept a ruined soul like yours? 

“Miss,” Mary, the broom girl, stands along the path back to the house, “you have a caller.” 

You sit up and blink, a caller? How long have you been there? You shiver and rise, towering over the young servant like the mottled forest creature of wives tales. You nod and stride past her, rubbing your arms to warm yourself as you return to the house. 

It cannot be him. Not already. You’re not prepared. It has been all you can think of and yet you are wholly unready for it. 

You carry on inside and come into the main hall. Lord Odinson waits, your mother chittering at his elbow as Lord Rogers and Cora stand in the archway to the west wing. 

“You will be at the wedding tomorrow? We did not receive your response sir,” your mother pleads as she tugs his sleeve. 

“Ah, yes, did I not give it?” Odinson says coolly, “certainly I will come with some Asgardian ale to christen the blissful newlyweds.” 

“And we thank you for such generosity,” Cora coos. 

“I’m certain refreshments will be plenty,” Lord Rogers deflects. 

“Ah,” Lord Odinson’s attention is drawn by your emergence from behind the staircase, “my valkyrie, you called for me and I am here.” 

“I... you have come so... swiftly,” you remark, your voice teetering. 

“Of course,” he assures as he crosses the polished floor, “as ever I will for my beloved.” He approaches and takes your hands in his, kissing your knuckles, “you are like ice,” he feels your hands and covers them with his gloved ones, “are you ill?” 

“No, uh, yes, no,” you stammer, “sir, I only meant... I only thought to speak with you.” 

“I do cherish the tenor of your sweet voice, lady, I would ride so fast as I might to hear it,” he assures. 

“You rode... all this way, my lord?” 

“I do prefer to be in a saddle,” he affirms, “so, shall we converse? Perhaps we might have some tea to warm you, my valkyrie.” 

“Please,” you cringe, wishing he would quit his honeyed words, “I do not require it. Perhaps somewhere private...” 

“With chaperone of course,” your mother insists. You blanch but do your best not to show your unease. “Pollo! Pollo!” She claps, “forgive me I will not be able to do so myself as I have much to attend to for the morrow, but we have a groom here... Pollo!” 

She cries out and the dark-haired man appears. The old groom has a round belly and wine-reddened cheeks. He doesn’t speak more than Italian but he is steadfast in his service. Your mother bids him, pointing at you, then shoos him with a flick of her fingers. 

He shrugs and bows his head, nearing you and the duke. You peer over at your sister and Lord Rogers as they watch. The former stares at your betrothed as he clings still to your hands and the latter narrows his eyes in your direction. Just the sight of him makes you even more sick than before. Of any, he cannot know though you expect should Cora find out, it will not be a secret. 

“The sun room, perhaps,” Odinson suggests. 

“As you wish,” you agree. 

He offers his arms and you accept it. He guides you along, well-acquainted to the halls already, and takes you around to the sun room. The curtains are closed and the space is dim with the shadow of winter. The groom claims the armchair in the corner, making it groan with his weight, as another servant follows to light a lamp and put flint to the fireplace. 

When all is lit, you detach from Odinson and retreat from him. You mash your hands together and sway, spinning back to face him as he watches you intently. He seems unbothered by the spontaneity of it all. 

“You missed me? I have longed to see you again,” he beams. 

“Please,” you show your palms, “please, I... we must speak.” 

“Of? Name anything and it shall be yours. As my wife, you will never want for anything, valkyrie.” 

You wince as if struck. You drop your arms and your head. You stalk over to the bench that looks toward the window and sit, slumped forward as you shake your head. He approaches as he lets out a long exhale. He sits beside you. 

“Something is amiss. Forgive me for making light, I came upon mistaken sentiment,” his voice is grave, “you have something to say and I must listen. As ever, I am the storm but these winds have calmed.” 

You rock and another hot tinge settles behind your eyes. You roll them up and sit straight. You crane to see over your shoulder. Rollo’s eyes are closed as he’s halfway to sleeping. It is propriety alone that has him sat in that chair. 

You look ahead once more, “I cannot marry you.” 

He sucks in air and snorts, “what?” 

“I cannot—it cannot—I'm sorry, Lord Odinson.” 

“Why ever should you change your mind? The banns are read and will be again,” he touches your arm and you shy away. 

“You deserve... better.” 

“I deserve you,” he insists. 

“Please, sir, let me find the words,” you beg touch your temples as you try to rein in your wits. You close your eyes and shudder. 

“You are cold still, perhaps you might move closer to the fire--” 

“It hardly matters,” you lower your hands and clutch them tight.  

You make yourself look at him. You must. He warrants at least the truth told to his face and not the floor. His blue eyes twinkle as his usually bright face is stern. 

“I am...” you take a breath and struggle to let it back out as the words burn the tip of your tongue, “I... am with... child.” 

You choke out the last word and nearly faint. You stare at him, waiting for him to explode. You mightn’t even have a say in who knows should he speak too loudly. His eyes search yours and he blinks. He turns his face down and looks at his lap, gripping his thighs as he nods and hums. 

“That’s wonderful,” he says. 

“Pardon?” 

“Yes, it’s wonderful. We’ll have a child.” 

“Sir, I—we haven’t... it is another man’s,” you feel as if you shouldn’t have to explain this. 

“Why certainly he put it there, yes, but I would claim it,” he faces you again. 

Your eyes round, “why should you do that? That isn’t... proper. I am not proper, sir. I am telling you that I have been... corrupted. I should never have said yes.” 

“But you did.” 

“You needn’t-- it isn’t fair.” 

“Perhaps it isn’t fair that you should have to carry the cad’s seed,” he agrees, “for any many who would lay with a lady and not seek her hand, well, he can be nothing else.” 

You’re quiet as disbelief clouds around you. He can’t possibly mean it. He must be in shock. Certainly, he wouldn’t just accept another’s child. 

“Sir, you shouldn’t-- you shouldn’t do this. I am releasing you.” 

“I don’t want to be released,” he says sullenly. 

“Why? Why would you do this?” You ask. 

“I meant all I said to you, from the first breath, my valkyrie,” he proclaims. “And I mean it still.” 

“But, sir, you cannot—I cannot live with myself--” 

“You are honourable. Honest. You have told me this when you did not need to. When you could’ve claimed an early birth, when you could have kept quiet, yet you did not. That says more than a fleeting tryst. For that’s what it was, yes? Or do you lay with this man still?” 

You shake your head and look down at your fingers as you twists them until they hurt, “just once. Only once. It was... unplanned. It wasn’t...” your voice cracks. 

His chest inflates with a sonorous breath, “did you want it?” 

“Pardon?” You murmur. 

“Unplanned... did you... was it... your tryst, was it willing?” 

You put your fist to your mouth and sob. You can’t say it. You won’t. You replay it in your head every night and you think of how you told him to stop and yet you did not stop him. You should have fought more. You should have screamed. 

“I didn’t make him stop,” you eke around your hand. 

“Make him? Did you ask him to begin?” 

“Please, sir, I cannot—please just end this and I will ask my father for the convent once more. I cannot bring this shame on you.” 

“Shame? Shame is the man, if I should call him that, who has done this,” he snarls and reaches for you, taking your hand. “I swore you would be my wife and I will hold to that. As you swore to be my wife. We will see the altar together. As one.” 

“You do not have to--” 

“I want to,” he growls and you look up at his angry face. You’ve never seen such fury in him. “I have never done anything but by my own whim and will not change that now.” 

“You are too nice, sir. Too nice, I cannot ask it--” 

“Who?” He sneers. 

“Sir?” 

“Who has done this to you?” 

“I cannot--” 

“I should know.” 

“No, please, I wouldn’t-- it would be my ruin--” 

“No, it would be his and you protect him still, so tell me.” 

“No, no I will not. That I cannot tell you, sir. To say it would defeat me completely.” 

He sighs into a snarls and lowers his chin. He sounds like a simmering bull, readying for the charge. You tug on your hand but he will not release you. You relent and let him cling to you. 

Silence, suffocating and still.  

“My brother was an orphan. We took him in when he was young. He is a duke, same as me, now,” he declares as he squares his posture. “You wouldn’t know the difference. And I won’t. Not between this child and our next.” 

“Sir, surely--” 

“We are to have a child,” he says, “that is happy news and I thank you for bringing me here to hear it.” He pets your hand and leans his arm against yours. He brings your fingers up to your mouth and kisses them, “one day, I will know who the culprit is and on that, I will surely split his skull. Not for his bastard, for that child has no sin, but for your honour, lady. For my wife’s honour.” 

💟

Cora’s wedding to Lord Rogers culminates in a grand luncheon. The bride is a beautiful mist of tears as she accepts the well wishes of her guests. She basks in the attention as you gladly languish in the shadows. 

Despite Lord Odinson’s unexpected and reassuring reaction, you’re still uncertain. You don’t know if he’s keeping a good face on until he knows how to act, perhaps renegs his grace, or if you might come to pay for your discretion later in your union. You’re prepared to meet your atonement, however it comes. 

As you sit for the meal, the chair beside you is claimed almost at once. Your betrothed has appeared throughout the event but you’ve hardly been at his side. Each time you see him, his eyes skim the crowd as if he can see right through every one of them. Yet, when he looks at you, you feel only warmth. You don’t understand how he can look at you as such. 

“How do you fare, today, my valkyrie?” He asks as he straightens his cravat, “you look well.” 

“Good, I think.” 

“Glad to hear it,” he raises his glass for a servant to fill it with sherry. You opt for lemon water, as much as your tumultuous stomach can handle. 

“I thought we might have our own reception at Nine Pillars,” he suggests. 

“I would like that,” you agree, your eyes drifting beyond him, to your father’s gardens, where... “whatever you may offer, I will be grateful for.” 

“Mighty valkyrie, full of grace,” he praises and reaches for a platter, “ooh, they have some sweet ham here with pineapple.” 

He takes a helping and puts it on your plate. You smell the tangy fruit and the underline savoury waft of the meat. You lurch and grasp the edge of the table. You give a panicked look to Odinson as he peers down at the food. He switches your plates out swiftly. 

“Tell me, what are you in the mind for then?” He leans in so his arm touches yours as you sip from the lemon water to quell your stomach. “Valkyrie, give me your command and I will obey.” 

You give him a coy grin, “you can be so silly.” 

“Silly. Mad. All for love,” he assures you.  

“Is their anything dry?” You ask, “bread, perhaps.” 

“Sourdough,” he reaches to take the basket as others help themselves to the spread. 

“I’ll have some of that.” 

“With marmalade?” He offers.  

“No,” your face pinches at the thought, “no, bread will do.” 

You blink and shake of another tide of sickness. As you do, your eyes meet another pair further down the table, amid the rabble of voices. Lord Rogers tilts his head as Cora tugs on his sleeve and giggles up at the couple behind them. He hardly seems to notice as he stares you down. 

You go rigid and quickly look away. You touch Odinson’s arm to keep from panicking. He looks at you, then down the table. He doesn’t say anything, merely carves off a chunk of bread for you. 

You pick away at the hard crust and the dry spongey inside. You take small bites, cautious of upsetting your volatile stomach. The afternoon wears on, course after course, and you avoid those dishes which threaten to overthrow your restraint. 

At last, the cake is serves, a tiered sponge with cream and fruit and candied sugar spun in a facsimile fountain atop it. It’s splended and beautiful. The couple are served first as they smiles in delight. The doling out of servings takes some time as guests wait patiently for their turn and the cake is pushed on a cart from chair to chair. 

When it comes your turn, your name rises over the crowd. You sit up and glance over, relieved at least not to watch the layers of custard and cake hit your plate. Lord Rogers has his hand on the back of his wife’s chair. 

“And how do you like the dessert? I believe you’ve been saving space for it all day, eh?” He chirps. 

You angle your head in confusion. You look down then at Odinson who sits a little taller as he leans forward. 

“You’ve hardly indulged, so I hope you might show your support and delight in this delectable dessert,” Rogers taunts. “A wedding is no place for a sour face.” 

Your lips part. You’re stunned. How could he be so bold as to call you out? Among all his guests and he must torment you. Was one night not enough. Your whole life as his violation thrives within your womb. Lord Odinson subtly touches your elbows. 

“I am most happy for you and my sister,” you rebuff, “and you are correct, I’ve been in much anticipation for dessert.” 

You take your fork and scoop up a heaping mouthful. You smile at it even as your insides rage. You make yourself taste it. It’s so sweet and smooth and wonderful, but your stomach mulches as if it is rubbish. Your cheeks tremble and you swallow, nearly gagging. 

“To you, sir, and my sister, Cora, I wish a happy marriage,” you force out as you hide your mouth behind a handkerchief. 

“To the happy couple,” Lord Odinson raises his glass and the table erupts, at once, the attention shifted back to them. 

You brace his arm and squeeze. You fight but you cannot withhold the uproar within. You stand and rush away, frantically searching for somewhere to hide and spew your guts. 

💟

The days overcome your doubts. The weeks come with more affectations; your sickness ebbs and flows and the temperature feels at times hotter then colder, swaying back forth, while some moments you spend with a throbbing head and pulsing feet. The most obvious symptom of your condition is the tightness of your stay. Soon, you will be showing more than you like, but for now, loosened laces can ease your discomfort. 

Your wedding day fast approaches. Time does seem to defy any human whim. You wish it would slow so you could catch your breath. Much like your husband-to-be who has yet to falter in his affections. 

You sit before the mirror with the grown of silver petals in your lap. There is one still bent from Cora’s envy but you will keep it to the back of your head. You will wear it as proudly as that night Lord Odinson gifted it to you. You hope for the day you might both forget all else. 

If it is to be. If he is at the altar waiting still. 

Albina and Hannah take the crown from you and secure it among your styled locks. Albina smiles at your reflection as Hannah jabs you with a pin. You nervously wring your hands as you admire the lavender shade of your gown. You wish you’d had more of it, that you hadn’t needed to trim it in ivory to make up for your height. Still, it is beautiful and the nicest dress you’ve ever worn. 

“Are you nervous?” Albina asks. 

“Suppose,” you admit and lift your chin, “very, truly.” Though not for the reason she might think. 

“Lord Odinson is kind. He should be gentle,” Hannah says. 

Your cheeks tinge at her suggestion, “sister.” 

“Well, it is what we are all thinking, isn’t it?” She shrugs. 

“I hope I do not find a husband so soon,” Albina adds, “I would like to enjoy my books a little longer.” 

“You might take on the spinster’s mantel then,” Hannah snipes. 

“It shouldn’t be so bad,” you murmur. “Every woman must do it. Eventually. It cannot be so horrible.” 

You lower your head again, trying to hide the emotion battling in your chest. It was bad, that first time. Lord Rogers hadn’t been kind at all. Would Lord Odinson be any different? For Rogers seemed kind at first glance only to be cruel upon touch. 

What if you husband did not want to meet his duty? What if he could not knowing you had lain with another? You would not blame him and without consummation, he might still turn you away. 

“Cora said it was more painful than anything she’s ever felt,” Hannah undercuts your dread. “Though she still loves her husband well.” 

“You shouldn’t speak of that,” you gird. 

“Why not? Won’t you tell us how it is so we may be ready?” She challenges. 

“I... I... It’s rather strange to speak of it.” 

“You are strange,” Hannah retorts with a huff. 

“But pretty,” Albina chimes, “look at you, sissie. You truly look like a queen in that crown.” 

You meet the gaze of your reflection. You do look better than you ever have before. You wonder if they notice the new fullness in your cheeks. If they do, they don’t mention it. You take a deep breath. 

“I shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer,” you stand.  

If you wait any longer, you might lose your nerve. 

The bishop waits in the grand hall of Nine Pillars as you emerge from the rooms allotted for your preparations. The crowd stands among the columns and hushes as you appear at the end of the hall. You face the clergy man and for an instant, your heart dangles precariously, ready to plummet.  

Where is Lord Odinson? 

His golden head pops up beside the bishop and he fixes the flower tucked into his lapel. His long blond hair is draw back as a scarlet bow holds it back, its ears peeking out behind his nape. He is smiling as he pauses and his eyes meet yours across the space. 

You can see even from there how his features slacken and for a moment, you are breathless. He looks as stricken. You put one foot down and let your long legs carry you. 

All your doubts float away. The faces around you haze together and the world crumbles to dust. It's only you and that man.  

💟

The ceremony gives way to a soiree, bodies clustered together, partners dancing, and you among them. Your husband, a husband, has your hand in his as he leads you in the steps. This man, this wonderful forgiving man you vowed yourself too nearly sweeps you off your feet, a sensation you've never known before. 

Your cheer blooms from you as his cheeks flush in his excess. He barely pauses to receive kind words from his guest. His elation is contagious. It gives no way to your fears. 

"Do you know what I thought upon the altar, beautiful valkyrie," he purrs, "I nearly fell upon my knees even." 

"What?" You smile, glowing up at him. 

"That the gods did bless me. That you must be sent from them, a gift to me, mere mortal." 

You can't help but pat his chest, "you flatter." 

"You are too modest," he guides you along, "you are a statue come too life, art in the flesh." 

"My husband... you words are too sweet." 

"I know, I know, the wedding night is still ahead of us, I do run too fast," he chuckles, "but how can I help the anticipation? 

Your lashes flick and giggle, "husband." 

"That word has never sounded sweeter," he grins, "but a sweeter noise might be my own name. Say it for me, valkyrie." 

Your cheeks burn hot, "Thor?" 

"Delicious," he growls nearly baring his teeth, "and I shall savour every sound you make. Every moan and mewl. Every breath and laugh. Just as every part of you." 

It's too good to be true. You deign to let yourself feel it all but you must. If even only for tonight. If only for the next moment. You will have a morsel of happiness if it's all you have to chew on for the rest of your life. 

💟

The night wears on and so do you. Your feet ache, as does most of you, and your voice is raw from laughing and talking. It is the first that you ever spent an event not along the wall or hiding in some shadow. It is a night all your own, or so your husband has made it feel. 

Yet, he does not tire. Not as quickly. As he booms and bawls to the amusement of all, you cling to his arm and repress a yawn. You will not spoil his fun, you will persist. 

Still, you cannot ignore all urges of your humanity. You press a hand to his sleeve and excuse yourself, promising to return. Your husband pauses to bid you not be long and you're further abashed at his attention. 

You flit off to find the privy. You've been several times over the day. Your bladder swells no matter how little you drink. As you progress, you find your body is contradictory to your mind. 

You venture down the corridor and sweep into the room. Once relieved, you emerge feeling lighter but no less tired. The silent desolation of the corridor rather makes your exhaustion all the more potent. 

You turn towards the statue of a warrior, you recognise it, it is the means by which you've found your way. Before you can pass it, a figure appears from behind it and you falter in your slippers. 

You gasp and ball your hands, the man before you sending a ripple of horror through you as he smirks at your surprise. Lord Rogers' cheek dimples as he quorks his head like a cynical crow. 

"You are ever a creature of urges," he muses, "fluttering back and forth as a skittish bird." 

"My lord, I... what is the meaning--" 

"I'm afraid we've not had much of a chance to speak, have we? The blushing bride is much a titter," he chortles, "she has the gull to giggle like a maiden, even." 

"Lord Rogers," you utter, appalled. 

"But the sway of her hips do betray her true nature. That which is within her," he sneers, "as does the curdling of her face over any dish that tickles her nose." 

"Sir, I know not what you mean--" 

"I should laugh truly, to know that another will raise my bastard," he taunts, "that it is him, does entertain me more." He takes a step forward and you back, "so you will be certain to lay with him this night so he may believe he has vigour." He grabs your arms before you can elude him, "you will think of me, won't you, Athena, my fallen goddess? Of how I desecrated your--" 

Suddenly, you are staggered. Lord Rogers is swung backward and flung into the statue. There's a roar, tha same noise you would expect of a charging bear, and the flash of scarlet. You watch paralysed as Thor grabs Lord Rogers by his jacket and spins him, throwing him into the other wall. 

The smaller of the men, though they are both built well, slides to one knee, his hand on the plaster. The other is quick, wasting not a second before aims a foot into Rogers' stomach. The duke falls backward and is at once straddled beneath the larger. 

Thor lays blows upon the other man, hailing down on him like the tempest he claims himself. Your fear overflows and you push through the thick waves. You come forward numbly and pull your husband by the back of his collar.  

"Please sir, unhand him." 

"You would defend this animal!" He wails down another fist and growls. 

"No, no, I would not spare him but I would... I would have my husband not take me to my wedding night with bloodied knuckles. Thor," you pet the back of his head, "let this be a happy day. Please." 

He sits back on his heels and puffs out. He looks back at you as you step away. You put your hand to your middle.  

"Husband?" 

He snarls and spits on Lord Rogers, standing with a huff. You reach for his hand and he takes it. He squeezes as he sends one last kick of his toe to the man on the floor. 

"Let me save my strength for you, wife. I certainly would need it." 

[five-bi-five-mind]

Can i request toxic ex!wanda trying to get reader back no matter what it takes after doing her wrong and not knowing her worth? And reader just being extremely mad and done with wanda. I'd love to be manipulated by her 🥰🤝

Me & the Devil

Fandom: Marvel

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Genre: Dark fic (seriously dark!!) + Smut & Angst

Words: 11.5k+

Summary: It took everything ounce of strength you had to leave Wanda behind. When you did you tried your best to rebuild a life for yourself without her. You had a new career in a city far away and you were trying to restart your love life too. Only it was going horribly for you so far. Until Kate Bishop happened. Was she going to be the person to finally get you over Wanda? You thought so, until Wanda showed up at your door. And when she did, nothing prepared you for the measures she took to get you to let your guard down...

Warnings: toxic!Wanda; strap-on use (r receiving); face-fucking/riding (Wanda receiving); unhealthy relationships; oral (Wanda receiving); fingering (r receiving); choking; dub-con; kidnapping; non-con voyeurism kinda; alcohol mention; stalking; top!Wanda; bottom!r; dom/sub dynamics; tiniest bit of mommy kink...

A/N: lol this is the darkest thing I have ever written... you said toxic ex!Wanda and I really gave you toxic. Maybe it's not quite the request you asked for but... oops. But seriously folks take the warnings serious!! And tell me if I need to add more.

It happens almost every single time. You were starting to think there might be something seriously wrong with you to be ghosted so often. This was a pattern at this point: You’d connect with someone and meet up for a date. The date, in your mind, would go amazingly. Both of you would laugh and chat and they’d usually be the one to say something like “let’s do this again” and you’d happily agree. But then after you both part ways and a few days pass there’s no text, no call, no signs of following up on that hopeful promise to meet again. You’d text them once, maybe twice if you really felt strongly about meeting, but still you’d be met with nothing. You got ghosted. In the past six months, this has happened way more times than you’d like to admit. The first two times, you could convince yourself that they just weren’t that into you. It wasn’t you, it was probably them. But then it kept happening and happening and happening. How long could you say it wasn’t you? What were you doing to repel so many people? 

After the last date you went on and then were subsequently ghosted, you were really considering giving up hope. But then somehow you got convinced to try again. This time it was a little different though. It wasn’t someone you met on a random dating app or a girl who happened to randomly pass her number to you at a coffee shop or a bar. No, this time it was someone you actually kind of already knew. It was someone you worked with, someone you already had a sort of established friendship with. 

Usually, you’d be hesitant to agree to dating someone who had a professional relationship with you. Not to mention, she was kind of above you in the chain of command at your work. But when Kate Bishop waltzed right up to you and asked you out she was so charming and kind. She reassured you she would understand if you said no and that nothing would be weird if it didn’t work out. She smiled at you in the most endearing way and never failed to make you laugh even from your very first day working with her. Why wouldn’t you say yes? Honestly, you were just shocked she saw you as anything more than a work friend. So yeah, you decided to agree to a date. After all, it would be incredibly hard to ghost someone you have to see regularly at work. If things didn’t work out, she promised you’d still be friends and it wouldn’t affect the workplace. And while, yeah, a lot of people probably say that, you really believed that she meant it.

Prepping for the date had you honestly giddy this time. You asked some friends to accompany you to the mall so you could buy a nice outfit. When you asked what the date would be, Kate gave you the name of an entirely too expensive restaurant. She promised it would all be on her dime, no matter how much you protested. Her exact words were that she wanted to “sweep you off your feet” and you couldn’t help the blush that reached your cheeks when she said that. So, if you weren’t paying then the least you could do was invest in something nice to match the place she was taking you to.

Honestly, you were actually really excited about all of this. You had never thought of Kate as more than just a coworker, but you were really ready to see where this night could go. It felt like a turning point for you after all you had been through. Six months of getting ghosted was one thing, but all of that really added salt to the wound that was your horrible breakup that happened prior to all of those failed dates. This would be different though, at least you hoped. While you didn’t get to know all the other people who ghosted you well enough to know their character, you did know Kate. She was almost the exact opposite of your ex. She was kind and patient. She wasn’t so damn serious all the time either. Wanda was… well, you didn’t even know where to start. She was cold, she was controlling, and more than anything she had a darkness in her that put you on edge. She didn’t seem to listen to you and only wanted to pay attention to what you had to say when you said that you were leaving her. It was like all you were was a toy to her and it made you miserable. The fights you two had towards the end still shook you. When you and Wanda got together it all happened so fast. One day she saw you and then suddenly she was everywhere. In a blink you found yourself in a relationship with her and you didn’t even know how it all happened. 

Not that you didn’t want to be with her. You had loved Wanda. You had loved her so profoundly, so deeply, so painfully that it was all you knew when you were with her. But then she grew different. More controlling, less caring. After a while you realized it wasn’t the healthiest situation to be in and you begged her for a change. Maybe you would’ve stayed and even dealt with her temperamental nature if she at least opened up to you, but it just didn’t feel like an equal relationship. She expected too much from you with nothing in return. It didn’t feel like love anymore, it felt like ownership. That change you pleaded for never came, so finally you pried yourself away from her.

The thing is, you knew once you left Wanda, you really had to leave. It wasn’t just that you packed your stuff and found an apartment. It was that you picked up your whole life and moved it to another town across the country. You found yourself an apartment and a job before you even left to make sure you had stability and wouldn’t chicken out. That was ten months ago. It took you four to feel like even trying to get back out there. Even though it went rather horribly up until now, with Kate, you thought maybe you could be ready for something real again. 

Except, when the night you’d found yourself eagerly waiting for came and went with no sign of Kate, all those thoughts of restarting your romantic life plummeted. You had gotten to the restaurant, donning the beautiful dress you had bought for this very night. Bragging wasn’t really your thing, but as you got ready and gave yourself a once over in your apartment, you thought to yourself that you had this in the bag. If she was going to sweep you off your feet with a nice night out, you were gonna make her jaw drop with the way you’d make your entrance. 

Admittedly, you were early to the restaurant than Kate requested you meet her at. She had a reservation for the both of you so when you walked in you immediately asked to be seated. You couldn’t help the way you fiddled with the silverware in front of you as you anxiously waited for her to slide into the chair across from you. Only when the agreed upon time came and went, you felt that pit in your stomach that said your hopes were about to be shattered. At first you told yourself it was Kate, she was often a little bit late to just about anything. But then ten minutes passed and then twenty and suddenly you were feeling embarrassed and sick to your stomach and furious all at the same time. You paid for the glass of wine you had ordered and nervously sipped on before walking out of that gorgeous restaurant that promised a fabulous meal with nothing but an empty stomach. 

You weren’t sure if it was the wine that you had mixed with a lack of food or the fact that your eyes were already tearing up in anger just the tiniest bit when you told the waiter you wouldn’t be eating, but you weren’t pleased. As you stormed your way out of that restaurant and waited for an uber to take you home, you didn’t hesitate to shoot Kate what was probably the tenth text in a row. Each one was a little more angry than the last. Of course, it didn’t start out angry. Your first few were concerned but a little joke-y, but then when it became apparent she wasn’t anywhere to be seen, well, then you didn’t hold back too much. 

What was work going to be like when you finally saw her on Monday? You had this naive little idea in your head that you and Kate would hit it off so well that she’d want to spend the whole weekend with you. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but you really thought you could predict that you and Kate would fall into this crazy, cliche romantic relationship after what was supposed to be a dazzling first date. Honestly, you had kind of expected to not be going home alone, or maybe not going home at all. Kate even joked as much when talking about what to expect for this date. You had rolled your eyes at her bluntness, but if you were being honest with yourself it had given you a little thrill. 

All of that is gone now. The uber picked you up and dropped you off and all the while you somehow managed to keep it together. The tears that threatened to slip through back at the restaurant had been restrained as you sat alone in the back of the car and blankly stared at the thread of messages you had sent to Kate. They all sent, but the last message to be read by her was the one you sent saying you were on your way. Fucking typical, she chickened out at the last second and couldn’t even tell you to turn around.

The more you thought about it as you climbed the stairs of your apartment complex, the angrier you got until you could tell the emotions you were holding back were starting to overflow. Damn, you had been actually excited for this night. Yeah, when you matched with people and agreed to a coffee date with the others you had a little excitement for them too, but not like this. Not like Kate. She felt like this beacon in the darkness that was the last ten months. She felt like she was the one to pick up the pieces from what your last relationship did to you. How could you have been so wrong? 

Now, instead of having a crazy romantic night like you had hoped, you were going to change out of your gorgeous outfit and fall apart alone in your bed in your coziest pair of pajamas. It was a pathetic way to spend the evening, you thought to yourself as you got closer to your unit. How could it possibly get any worse?

“(Y/N),” A familiar voice said from right behind you as you approached your door. You hadn’t realized anyone was even behind you as you made your way to your apartment, so the presence of anyone was going to make you jump out of your skin. But when you heard your name being called your blood ran cold and alarm bells went off. Surely it couldn’t be who you think it is…

You whipped around so fast it made you lose your balance on your heels. A hand shot out quickly though, wrapping slender fingers around your elbow and steadying you. “Hey,” the voice said and you swallowed hard. 

Now that you were face to face, the source of the voice was exactly who you thought it was. Wanda stood there entirely too close to you, with her hand still wrapped around your arm. All you did was gawk at her, in utter disbelief of the turn the night just took. If there was anyone you were expecting to show up, it was certainly not her. You had hoped, as you made your way back home in disappointment, that Kate would be waiting right outside for you. Of course, knowing your luck these past few months, it was the last person you’d ever want to see showing up after such an awful night. 

The circumstances alone made you want to double over in fits of laughter. It was all so just on point with how your life has gone since you left her. Of course Wanda would show up after yet another failed attempt to move on from her. It only feels even more like a cruel joke from the universe that she shows up before you can get home and wipe your face of the frustration tears that you shed as you stomped up the stairs to your apartment. 

It took you a moment to realize that Wanda still had her hand on you and you ripped yourself away from her as if her touch suddenly burned. She didn’t seem phased by your actions, but instead was wearing a surprisingly soft expression. It seemed to add to your embarrassment and frustration. 

There was a moment where you thought maybe you should say something. Right now, the only one to speak was Wanda and all she had to offer after showing up out of nowhere was a measly “hey” so there was a lot that needed to be said right now. For starters, maybe you should ask how the fuck she found you. It wasn’t like when you two broke up you readily gave her your address. In fact, you didn’t tell her much of anything when you left. You knew she had a business trip scheduled for the same time every quarter. So, you took her absence as a means to pack your stuff in a flash and leave. It was that trip that allowed you to prepare, you had given yourself a deadline to find a job and an apartment and leave and that’s exactly what you did. The only thing Wanda knew when she left for that trip was that you were incredibly unhappy with her, to which she just rolled her eyes as she walked out the door. That was the last time you saw her. 

As you settled into your new place the same day Wanda was returning for her trip, you had left her a note and that was it. When that first night alone without Wanda came, you knew she saw the letter. There was one call from her that lit up your phone that night. You ignored it and that was that. She didn’t leave a message and to your surprise, she didn’t try again. 

You thought the book was closed on that relationship after that. Apparently, tonight as she stood right in front of you for the first time in almost a year, you were very wrong about that fact.

“What do you want, Wanda?” You cleared your throat as you spoke. It was rough, you were trying to sound strong and demanding. But after fighting back the urge to sob the whole car ride home, your voice wasn’t coming out the way you wanted. 

“It’s been awhile,” She gave you a small smile, but you didn’t miss the way she absolutely dodged that question.

“Why are you here?” You pressed again. Although, you honestly weren’t sure if you wanted to hear the answer. There were two reasons for that. The first being, you were in a vulnerable state and just wanted to crawl into your bed and lick your wounds. The second being, again, you were in a vulnerable state and if she said the right things she could take advantage of that. She always knew to say the right things. Being near her right now was dangerous. Not only because you were so unprepared to see her again, but because you were feeling so utterly hopeless and your pride was, at this point, completely shattered. 

“I wanted to see you.” Wanda still had that hesitant smile on her face. She looked down at you as if she was actually nervous. Like she was trying to approach you with the utmost caution in fear that you would flee at any second. She wasn’t entirely wrong to think that either, because you were ready to run. Except, she was standing right at your doorstep, so where exactly would you run? You could close the door in her face and lock her out, but you knew Wanda. She was nothing if not persistent. 

There was no response to that statement that would make you feel any stronger or even saner. You wanted to keep your dignity, even if you already looked pretty distraught. So instead you just exhaled, long and slow, before turning to your door.

What was your game plan right now? You couldn’t really tell. It was going to be a horrible decision if you let Wanda take one step inside your apartment, but you had a feeling that was her ultimate goal. Right now, you were running through different things to say. All you could really land on was pleading with her to meet you another day, when you’re less upset and tired. Maybe if you promised her you’d meet with her she would agree. Of course, knowing Wanda, if you said you’d grab coffee and catch up (which is a much friendlier way of putting what would inevitably be a very awkward conversation) she would hold you to that. But anything would be better than letting her slink right on in through your front door.

“Let me help you with that.” Wanda was directly behind you now, her hand reaching out to touch yours. You didn’t realize your hands were shaking so hard until you were trying and failing to get your house key into the lock. The way her hand wrapped around yours as she steadied it and guided the key in, surprisingly helped ground you. It was the familiar touch, even if it was brief and innocent, of her hand on yours that suddenly felt like you were able to catch your breath. 

It was like a shock to your system and now all your nerve endings were finally waking up from a long sleep. It was a weird rush, no matter how brief, to feel with the warmth of her palm pressed to the top of your hand. Accompanied with that was the buzz that you always felt when she was in your personal space as she leaned closer to you from behind. And just like that, once the door was open, her hand slipped from yours and it was all gone.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a minute and took a deep breath. The rush of feelings with just that small of a touch from Wanda was not a good sign for you and definitely not a good sign for your will power either. 

Wanda waited patiently behind you as you began to take the first step into your own apartment. To your surprise, when you turned back around to face her, she hadn’t crossed the threshold. Knowing Wanda, you had expected her to push her way in, to already have one foot in the door as she convinced you to let her stay. But no. Not this time. Instead, Wanda stood there patiently, her eyes boring into yours as she studied your face.

She still had the posture and facial expression of someone who was trying to be incredibly delicate. It was as if she was totally aware that she was walking on eggshells and, for the first time since you’ve known Wanda, she actually cared not to misstep. You were surprised to see her at your doorstep tonight of all nights, but even more so you were in complete disbelief at how patient she was being. If you were to have bet your money on anything, it would have been that the next time you saw Wanda she’d tear you a new one. Maybe she’s changed. Maybe this is why she didn’t contact you after that first night when you left. Was there hope that she could’ve taken a step back and looked at the way she treated you? Why did your brain automatically go to this idea that she actually took the last ten months to work on herself and now she was back to apologize and show you she’d grown? 

Your last thought shot anxiety straight through your veins. That was a slippery slope your thoughts were going down. A slope that might lead into you crashing painfully into the emotionally unavailable wall that was Wanda Maximoff. Except, she was still waiting there, with bright shining eyes that told you she was just relieved to finally see you again. And you, well, you were just standing there in the gorgeous dress you spent way too much money on for a girl you’d known for ten months who didn’t even have the decency to text a rejection to you after promising you the night of your dreams. So why not let the woman who did actually show up and was trying to be kind to you in for the evening? And what’s one more glass of wine? At least this time you’d have company so you wouldn’t just be drowning in your pain and humiliation. 

“Do you…” You paused for a moment watching Wanda’s face for any signs of insincerity or some kind of nefarious plan. She looked back at you with nothing but a soft smile and hope in her eyes. “Do you maybe want to come in for a bit? We can- I dunno… talk?”

“I’d love that.” And just like that you watched as she entered your apartment. When you got this place you had made one promise to yourself and that was to never let Wanda in if she ever found you. You had thought that the minute you’d let her back in she’d consume your life all over again. But here she was, at your doorstep, acting like a completely different person and suddenly that promise to yourself went out the window. You were so taken aback by her patience and gentleness with you in the brief time you’ve been reunited that you didn’t think to ask one important question. How the fuck did she find out you lived here?

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, she just never showed?!” Wanda leaned back in shock as you nodded vehemently. You two were currently sitting on either side of your couch, with half a bottle of wine already gone through. It had started out as small talk once she entered your apartment. Yes, it was awkward at first, but at least the wine had loosened up some of your nerves. Wanda seemed more relaxed than you had ever seen her. You never thought you’d be describing her this way, but she almost seemed bubbly. It was like a whole new Wanda was sitting right next to you and you were loving everything you were seeing.

The conversation stayed on you the whole time, which also was a bit surprising. Wanda wanted to know how you were doing and even praised you for how independent you had become. It was shocking, but with every proud smile she gave you, you felt your heart swell with pride for yourself as well. 

Somehow, eventually, Wanda asked you why you were so dressed up. That’s when you were surprised by the wave of guilt that hit you in the gut. You shouldn’t feel guilty. It’s been almost a year, so there was nothing to feel remotely bad about. Except, when she asked you that question, you looked down at your lap and fiddled with an invisible string while you mulled over possible ways to respond in a way that made you feel less ashamed.

To your utter surprise, Wanda didn’t even flinch when you decided to tell the truth and confess that you had a date with your coworker who didn’t show. Instead, the part that made her so emotional was the fact that Kate stood you up in the first place, not that you would have a potential new romantic partner that wasn’t Wanda. Where was all the possessiveness she usually showed? You haven’t had the chance to ask Wanda what she had done in these past ten months apart, but you had a feeling you were in for a long, inspiring story about how she’s ready to be a better woman. Even if you didn’t know the full story, you could see in the way she was upset for your pain and only your pain that she had really grown. It was this change that had you so mesmerized by her. It was this display of compassion for your bad night that had you scooting closer to her until your knees were touching. And when Wanda’s hand, after waving in shock as you admitted that you still haven’t gotten a single text from Kate, had innocently landed on your bare knee just below where your dress ended, you didn’t move it. 

“Well, she’s made a huge mistake,” Wanda shook her head. “I mean look at you…” The hand that wasn’t on your knee motioned to your whole body. 

“I know! I paid a lot for this dress, you know.” You giggled, shocked that the sting of tonight’s rejection wasn’t quite as strong as it was a few hours ago. 

“And it was worth every penny.” Wanda’s eyes darkened slightly as they raked up your body. “You look… fucking incredible.” Her voice was slightly lower as she said those last two words and suddenly you felt something shift. It was like something heavy filled the air, an electricity that was almost too much to bear.

Wanda looked back up and locked eyes with you. That gentleness that you had seen all evening was replaced with something else and suddenly you realized you were currently standing on a metaphorical cliff, one more step and you were about to fall right back into Wanda. 

But then she leaned forward and you found yourself leaning too. She was right there next to you, with barely any space separating you two. The smell of her familiar perfume suddenly felt stronger and had your head swimming. The warmth that radiated from her presence was blanketing your entire body, and all you wanted to do was close the gap. Why not jump off that cliff? Obviously, nothing else you’ve been doing has worked so far. This was a sign, the girl you were excited for didn’t even have the respect for you to show up, but who did show up? Wanda. And the whole time she’s been sitting and listening and not pushing anything. She’s changed, that’s what you wanted. You had told her as much when you had all those arguments up until the end. Sometimes it takes a major leap for someone to right their wrongs finally and that seems like what was going on here. That’s what you hoped was happening. So why not indulge? You closed the gap.

The way Wanda let you come to her was surprising. Old Wanda was usually too guarded to let you take the lead, but she was letting you now. Your lips met hers in a hesitant kiss at first, but soon it grew into more. It was familiar and new all at the same time. You surged forward and tangled your hands in her hair and all the while Wanda let you. When you leaned back, pulling her with you, your lips still connected, she happily followed until she was hovering over you. Not once did either of you break the kiss. It was soft, but still had a hint of desperation on your part. Wanda let you take the lead, with your tongue tentatively running against hers when her lips parted for you.

While Wanda’s willingness to let you take the lead shocked you, she still showed that she was enjoying the kiss just as much as you were. When your head met the arm of the couch and Wanda’s body came with you as you leaned back, you felt the way she rolled her body into yours. It was a subtle movement, but you could tell it was her way to get as much contact between the two of you as possible. Meanwhile, the more Wanda pressed her body down against yours, the more your dress rode up. You were so lost in the way Wanda’s lips felt on yours that you jumped when you felt her knee press between your legs. That act felt like someone pouring ice cold water straight on your body.

“Wait!” Your voice was muffled by the way Wanda was still trying to kiss you, but when you pulled back she stopped. Your hands moved down to push at your dress, trying to cover more of you as Wanda shifted her weight so she could still hover over you but get some distance from your face.

For a moment, as you looked up at her, both of you breathing hard from the intensitive of it all, you thought you saw a flash of anger appear in her face. It was brief. A blink and you’ll miss it kind of moment, but you swore you saw it. It was like a crack in the perfect Wanda that sat with you all night. You had stopped the kiss because you thought it was going too far for one night, but when you did you were hesitant if it was the right call. Now, even though admittedly you could be wrong, you were glad you stopped. 

If there was one thing you recognized on Wanda, it was the look she’d get when things didn’t go exactly the way she wanted them to. When you pulled back, it was such a brief moment, but you could’ve sworn you saw that familiar look. But then she was looking back down at you again with that gentleness you had seen all night, except this time things felt different. It was like all the warning bells were going off in your brain now. Something inside your mind told you that you had fallen into a trap and now you were too far into it to get yourself out.

But then another part of your brain wanted so desperately to shake that off. She had been so gentle with you, so kind and caring. It was a whole new side of Wanda and it was one that you had dreamt of for so long, especially in the early months after your break up. It wasn’t even like she was the one who started the kiss. You kissed her. Not only that, but you were the one to pull her on top of you. It wasn’t like it wasn’t enjoyable. It was everything you missed. It was fucking fantastic. Still, something told you to watch your back. 

You were trying so hard to shake that paranoia off. It was probably just a new form of trust issues you’ve developed after being rejected constantly for the last six months. Yeah, that’s what it had to be. Right? 

A moment passed and neither of you had moved after you had tried to push Wanda back. She remained hovering over you and suddenly you felt so small lying there beneath her. Finally, you pressed a hand to her chest, trying to indicate to her to move off you. She didn’t budge.

Instead, she stayed there, staring down at you. The look of anger never came back, but that gentleness wasn’t there either. It was all replaced with an emotion you couldn’t quite place as she cocked her head and flicked her eyes to where your hand pressed against her before looking back at your face. 

It seemed like she was calculating something. Like Wanda was trying her hardest to plan her next move with you and was weighing her options. It was in that very moment that you realized the gentleness, the patience, the lack of anger when you told her you had tried to start dating again, all of that was an act. She really was a wolf in sheep’s clothing and she had you pinned right now. 

A shiver ran down your spine as that realization sunk and it did not go unnoticed by Wanda. It was like a spark that lit a fire in her, when she saw you react like that. You were helpless underneath her and that was all it took for her innocent facade to melt completely away. She leaned back down, attacking your lips with her own in an instant. 

Your hands braced against her chest as she leaned back down, putting more of her weight onto you as she kissed you. Every alarm was going off in your mind as she kissed you with an intensity that had you spinning. Your mind told you to push back, to make her stop, but then it was always this shift in Wanda that got to you. She was kissing you with that same passion that had you weak at the knees. You always hated how possessive she was with you in public, but in private it always had you reacting in a way that you really should’ve felt more shame for. And she was kissing you with that same, desperate, possessive energy you wished you didn’t miss. 

The hands that were bracing Wanda’s chest were now grabbing at the fabric of her shirt as her tongue licked into your mouth. Her knee went right back to where it was, pressing in between your legs. You groaned against her mouth when she pressed it a little harder and you could practically feel how smug she was when she felt your hips roll onto her leg to gain more contact. 

Wanda pulled back on her own this time. You were breathing hard and you could tell your face was flushed from how worked up you were just from a little bit of contact and her kiss. “This is going better than I thought it would,” Wanda let out a low chuckle as she knelt above you. You gave her a skeptical look as you tried to catch your breath. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight, but I guess I didn’t need to try too hard to remind you.”

“Wh- What are you talking about? Remind me?” You stammered, your head swimming.

“That you’re still mine,” she hissed.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit you. None of tonight with her had been real. She hadn’t changed, you had just felt sorry for yourself and were vulnerable so you let yourself dream and pretend. Now, you were facing the consequences of your actions. You had fallen back into Wanda and backpedaled on every little bit of healing you had done after leaving her. The worst part was, as she looked down on you with such self-satisfied triumph, you weren’t sure if you could claw your way back out again.

You sat up then, trying to squirm your way out from under Wanda. She didn’t move, but she did let you. When you tried to stand from the couch, it felt like your legs were going to give out from under you. She had you so disoriented from her whole act that you could barely stand on your own two feet. 

“I think…” You kept your eyes glued to the floor as you spoke. “Wanda, I think you should leave.”

“Oh?” Wanda cocked her head to the side as she stood up too. You had taken a few steps away from the couch, but Wanda was quick to rid you both of the distance you had so desperately tried to create. “I don’t think that’s what you really want.”

“Yes, it is.” You weren’t convincing. Anyone would be able to tell you were two seconds away from buckling again and begging for forgiveness. This whole scenario felt disturbingly familiar. 

“I don’t think so,” Wanda taunted. She took another step towards you and you stood there frozen. “I think you’re dying to beg me to stay.” The once exciting charge in the air changed even more until all you felt was the painful buzzing in your ears as your body shook with an excitement you were trying so desperately not to acknowledge. It was impossible to ignore though, especially when Wanda was stepping up into your space again, brushing her whole body against you as she slipped behind you.

“No…” you whimpered your response to Wanda, but even you knew you sounded pathetic.

“Shhh,” Wanda cooed. Her hands moved to brush hair from your neck before you felt the tips of her fingers dance on the exposed skin. You still stood there, locked in place, trying to hold back a shiver as Wanda’s lips pressed to your neck from behind. Your eyes screwed shut when you felt her brush them up to your ear. Her breath against the shell of your ear made you shiver and your hands balled into fists. “Do you really want to be alone tonight?”

She was turning your vulnerability against you. Of course you didn’t want to be alone tonight. But did you really want to spend the night with your apparently still toxic ex-girlfriend? As much as you wanted to say fuck no, you did. God you wanted her. Maybe you had never really even stopped wanting her.

You didn’t have to answer for Wanda to know exactly what you were thinking. She had her hooks into you and you were hers again. Or maybe you were always hers and even when you were free from her you never really were. With how easily you fell back into her after almost a year, you were starting to think you were really overestimating how much progress you made.

Wanda’s lips brushed your ear before you felt her hands on you now. They were making their way up your body, starting at your waist and moving to your chest in a way that almost made you feel manhandled. “You’re going to have to convince me,” Wanda’s voice was sickeningly sweet in comparison to the way she groped and squeezed at your breasts through your dress. 

“Get on your fucking knees,” Wanda growled, the false sweetness leaving her voice and being replaced with a demand that had you jump. To your surprise it was like your body was compelled to do exactly as she said. You dropped to your knees and she stopped in front of you. The grin that spread across her face was menacing enough to make you gulp. She had a glint in her eye that told you any sort of soft, caring charade she had when she appeared at your door was long gone. No, that was all an act to get you to invite her in and invite her in you did. Now you were at her mercy and the thrill of that was clearly getting to the both of you.

As ashamed as you should be to have fallen back into Wanda Maximoff like you said you never would, you couldn’t help but feel anything but nervous anticipation. She licked her lips as she looked down at you. You squirmed under her gaze as you knelt there. Wanda took another step up until she was towering directly above you. Her hand shot out and immediately tangled in your hair, yanking your neck not-so-gently to look directly up at her. She smiled at you, all her teeth showing as she smirked. “Good girl.” She purred. 

Wanda’s hand moved from your hair to stroke down your cheek until she reached your lips. You stared up at her, utterly frozen, as she traced your lips with her fingers before uttering one word. “Open,” she demanded and you did exactly that without hesitation. Two fingers slid into your mouth, the whole time she never broke eye contact. Your body was trembling slightly from where you knelt in front of her and as her fingers pressed down on your tongue you instinctively began to suck. 

A sadistic chuckle left Wanda’s lips as she looked down at you. “Looks like you haven’t forgotten your place.” Her voice was low, threatening almost. Your face flushed, but it was like your brain wasn't in control of your body anymore. Suddenly, you were on some kind of autopilot, fulfilling the role Wanda always wanted you to take. The worst part was, you were okay with it. You didn’t realize you even missed it, but then again you caved so easily to her. Of course you missed it. No, actually you craved it. Your whole being ached for it. 

Wanda’s fingers pushed into your mouth a little deeper and you continued to let her. Not once did you break eye contact, even as Wanda’s twisted smile grew. Finally, after a moment, Wanda pulled her fingers from your mouth, only to grab your chin and keep your head tilted upward in a painful position. “It’s too fucking easy,” Wanda sneered.  She let go of your chin then and you took a moment to look down and give your neck a break. 

You didn’t notice then that Wanda was backing up from you for just a second. When you ran your eyes up Wanda’s legs to meet where her hands were you realized she was tugging at the buckle to her jeans. You watched with wide eyes as she undressed in front of you before stepping right back up to you. All the while, your mind was screaming at you to put a stop to this. All you had to do was kick her out, right? So why did you just stay on your knees and stare? 

“Wanda, maybe we should-” You were cut off by the hand that shot out and tangled in your hair again, giving it a hard tug.

“Shhh, baby,” Wanda cooed. “Let me use your mouth for something else.”

You flushed and those alarm bells in your mind sounded louder, but still you reluctantly nodded. There was something deeper inside you that said you needed this. You needed to please Wanda. It felt so horribly wrong to give into this feeling that you thought you had buried deeper inside yourself. But then Wanda was tugging you closer until suddenly you were between her legs, being practically smothered by her already wet pussy and all of those alarm bells silenced all at once. That feeling you thought you had buried got stronger with the way Wanda was rolling her hips against your face and your hands went out to brace yourself on her thighs. As she began to ride your face the moans she was letting out were just spurring that feeling on until nothing felt wrong anymore and everything about tonight felt just so fucking right. 

You were surrounded by Wanda. Her hands held your head still as she fucked herself on your mouth and all you could do was take in every moment of Wanda as she used you. And it was fucking glorious. You didn’t think you could miss something so much and be totally unaware of it. Or, it wasn’t that you were unaware… It was that you got so good at ignoring it that when you finally acknowledged your need to indulge in your Wanda problem it woke back up with a roar. 

Wanda’s hands were tugging hard at your hair as she kept riding your face. She was moaning your name as she moved and you did your best to encourage more of the sounds she was making above you. Your tongue lapped hungrily at her clit as best as you could with each time she would grind down onto you. You didn’t even care that you were being slightly suffocated by her. Wanda was overloading all your senses right now and all you could do was greedily accept it. It was like a fucked up rush of twisted joy was coursing through your veins as she practically fucked your face. She was using you like an object, no ounce of gentleness left in her as she got herself off, and meanwhile you were just happy to be useful. 

The part of your brain that should feel shame for all of this was finally, utterly switched off as Wanda repeated how good you were being for her and how much she missed your mouth when she came all over your lips. Her hips stopped after a moment and she released your hair. You took in large gulps of air you didn’t realize you needed until you felt the burning in your lungs. Wanda also seemed a little frazzled, like the intensity of her own orgasm had taken even her by surprise. But after a moment of catching her own breath, she slipped back into the collected, controlled Wanda you knew. 

“Get up,” Wanda ordered and you did what she said. Your legs felt a bit weak as you struggled to stand, but Wanda was on you in a second, steadying you by the elbow so that you didn’t topple over on yourself. It was the smallest action that didn’t even really mean kindness, but you were so far gone into Wanda again that even that made your heart swell. 

“Take your clothes off and meet me in your bedroom.” Wanda’s hands were back on you, already tugging at your dress and pulling it off for herself without waiting for you to fulfill her request. You did the rest before looking back up at Wanda. She looked at you with an excitement that had you curious. Seeing the curiosity in your eyes she answered before you could even ask. “I have a surprise for you.”

Your eyes scanned the room you two were in. How did she have a surprise when she came here empty handed? 

Wanda’s grin grew wider until you started to feel the drunkenness that came with being with her start to get replaced with something else. “It’s waiting for you in your bedroom,” She winked.

“Waiting in my…” You were trying to connect some dots. 

“Bedroom,” Wanda finished. “Now, come on.” You felt like your whole body had stalled as you tried to think through things. How was there a surprise there left by Wanda? She hadn’t left your sight since she showed up at your door. 

Wanda tugged on your hand and you realized she was pulling you in the exact direction toward your bedroom. Your apartment had multiple rooms: one your office, one your bathroom, and one your bedroom. So how could she possibly know to go to the right one? Your stomach dropped as she tugged you closer. 

You started to drag your feet and Wanda paused for a second, looking back at you with thinly veiled frustration.

“How do you know where my bedroom is?”

“Lucky guess,” She shrugged and you could hear the irritation in her voice.

“Wanda, what’s waiting for me in there?” Your blood ran cold as you asked that question, realizing you were suddenly terrified of the answer. 

“A surprise.” Wanda’s voice was devoid of excitement as she said it this time. You realized she was getting angry and this was your warning to stop pressing. But there were two things wrong with this moment right now: What was behind your bedroom door and how had Wanda been in there without you noticing?

“Wanda, have you…” You didn’t want to ask it, but you had to. “Have you been here before?”

Wanda snorted at that and gave a hard tug on your hand, pulling you with surprising force right up into her personal space. Her hands then moved to grab hard at your hips so that she could press her own bare body into yours without you being able to escape. “Stop acting stupid,” Wanda leaned forward to whisper into your ear, her voice eerily sweet. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

“W-What?” It felt like the air was knocked out of you. Wanda’s nails dug into your sides as she held you there. 

“Did you think I would just let you leave?” Wanda chuckled. “I’ve been here, waiting the whole time. I know you could feel me… Especially at night.” Wanda’s nails dragged up your bare skin. “When you were alone. I know it was me you were thinking of.”

A flush grew on your cheeks and you wondered, with horror, how much of what Wanda was saying was a guess and how much of it was her watching you when you never even knew. 

“Why now then? Why reveal this to me now?” That’s what was really bothering you. Somehow, the rest of this wasn’t surprising. It was on brand with how she was before you left her. Controlling and secretive. She hadn’t changed a bit. Right now, you were shocked and furious, but still you couldn’t silence the fucked up voice deep inside you that said you wer relieved she was back. Wanda was a piece of you that you desperately wished you didn’t need, but as much as you tried to tell yourself you didn’t belong to her, tonight proved that you might always feel that way. 

“Because,” Wanda seemed to be blatantly annoyed with you now. “That girl was getting too close this time.”

Kate. You had honestly forgotten all about Kate. Letting Wanda touch and use you had wiped any thoughts of any other woman out of your mind. In fact, until this moment,  you forgot that you should feel angry and embarrassed for being rejected and stood up. You had just been so lost in Wanda’s return that everything else melted away. But now… Now you weren’t feeling anger towards Kate. No, with the way Wanda spat out the word “girl” as she spoke, you realized she was probably well aware of who Kate was. You were concerned. 

“What?” You ripped yourself from Wanda’s grasp and took a few steps back. “Wanda, what did you do?”

“Only what I had to.” She followed each of your steps with a long stride of her own. “She wanted what’s not hers. I couldn’t have that, now could I?” The way she was looking at you as she cocked her head to the side sent a chill down your spine. Maybe this wasn’t actually the Wanda you knew. Maybe she had changed. When you were together you had seen a lot of sides of her, but not this one. This one made your palms sweat and your stomach turn. You’d never seen Wanda hurt another person, but just because you didn’t see it didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of it. What did she do to Kate?

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Wanda scoffed. “She’s not dead.”

Thank fucking god, you thought. Maybe Wanda was just exaggerating. Hopefully, Kate was just fine. Although, your gut was telling you everything wasn’t quite that simple.

“You’ll see,” Wanda reached out her hand and cupped your chin. Your eyes met hers and you saw the sadistic twinkle in her eye as she grinned down at you. “It’s part of your surprise.” 

You gulped at that, not liking the sound of it one bit. At this point in the night you made a lot of choices with Wanda already that you promised you wouldn’t do and the way she was acting now was making you sick to your stomach. She needed to leave, tonight needed to be over. Tomorrow you’d go to work and hopefully see Kate there in one piece. And if she was then you’d apologize profusely for whatever Wanda did to scare her off from your date. 

“Wanda, you need to leave.” As much as you tried to sound commanding, your voice was weak and shaky. Wanda’s smirk just grew and you realized now she was looking at you like you were her prey and she was about to pounce.

“Now, now,” She tsked as her thumb went up to press against your lips. “It’s really hard to take you seriously when you still have my cum glistening on your lips, pet.” 

You tore your head away from her and wiped at your mouth, as if that would make any difference in erasing what had just transpired between you two. You let her claim you, you let her mark you. You almost let her take you to your bedroom and fuck you senseless until the pain and humiliation of tonight were washed away. Of course, now that humiliation was back tenfold and mixed with it was a gut wrenching fear for Wanda you had never felt before. 

“If I had let that girl show up for your… date,” Wanda practically spit the word out. “Then, you wouldn’t have gotten a taste of mommy’s cum now would you?”

You were speechless. The way she was talking, the way she was acting. Was this how Wanda was all along? It made you scared, so scared that you quaked where you stood. But also… the way she had been handling you all night, claiming you, mixed with the glint in her eyes as she realized she had you right where she wanted you and the demanding tone she was taking… As sickening as it was, it excited you. 

Like a light switch the frustration left Wanda’s face and was again replaced with the excitement she had before. Wanda’s hands were back on you, turning you around and leading you back towards the dreaded surprise that awaited you in your bedroom. Despite what it all meant, you let her guide you without any more protest. “Close your eyes,” Wanda whispered in your ear. “And don’t open them until I tell you to.”

For whatever reason, you did exactly what she said. It was like you were wired to obey her. Like someone else stepped inside your body and now you were doing all the opposite things you should do. Except, you couldn’t blame anyone else but yourself. You knew, this was all you. This was why you ran, because you were Wanda’s little play toy and you wanted to be more than that. At least, you thought you wanted to be more than that. 

The creak of the door swinging open brought you out of your thoughts and you knew your way around your apartment well enough to know Wanda was leading you to your bed. With both her hands on your shoulders, she pushed you down until you were forced to sit on the edge of your bed. Still, you kept your eyes closed. No matter how anxious you were, you were going to be good for her. You needed to be good for her. 

You could hear Wanda take a few steps back from you, but you still had no idea what this surprise was. Something told you, in your gut, that it wasn’t going to be a good one. Yet, still you were so ready to accept whatever Wanda had to give you that, with a wave of shame, you didn’t think you cared whatever it might be. 

“Open them,” Wanda ordered. You opened your eyes slowly, just as you were told. First, you just stared at Wanda. She was beaming as she stood in front of you. Then, you turned your eyes to the side and practically leapt out of your own skin. “Do you like it?”

All you could do was sit and stare. There she was, Kate Bishop, bound and gagged. She was helplessly facing where you sat, restrained on your own office chair. You should’ve felt embarrassed or ashamed that she was seeing you in such a state of undress, but you were still in way too much shock to process much of anything. 

Wanda, in the meantime, was circling the bed. You didn’t really pay much attention to her at this point, still just fixated on the way Kate pulled at her bindings, trying to lean towards you. Kate’s eyes, at first, weren’t even looking at you. They were glaring at Wanda, as if she was trying to break free and protect you. But you knew. You weren’t the one in need of protection. Even in Wanda’s grasp, you knew that in her twisted possessive mind, it wasn’t you she felt threatened by. It was Kate. The woman who, as Wanda saw it, tried to take what was hers. 

You felt a dip in the mattress as Wanda crawled to you from the other side of the bed. Once she reached you, she stopped, kneeling directly behind you. Wanda’s hands came to circle around your waist and you let her. Your mind hadn’t told you to do anything to stop her, to take any kind of action at all. The logical part of your mind told you to untie Kate, but then a larger part of you, the part that told you that you were way too far gone, demanded you don’t displease Wanda anymore. 

Hands moved all over your body, running up and down your sides, groping your breasts, nails leaving marks in their wake. It was causing Kate to practically growl through the cloth muffling her mouth. 

“Oh, look at her,” Wanda pretended to pout as she cupped your chin and turned your head to meet Kate’s desperate eyes. “The poor girl is in love with you. She thought tonight would be the start of some big love story. She was stupid enough to brag about it with anyone who would listen. Too bad she doesn’t know you’re really just a pathetic little thing already ruined by me. Isn’t that right?”

Wanda’s hold on your chin grew tighter and you held back a wince. You knew she was waiting for an answer, but as Kate’s panicked gaze searched your face you felt too ashamed to utter a single word.

“I almost feel bad for her,” Wanda continued when you didn’t speak. “I mean, I can relate. Much like her, I wanted you the moment I saw you too. But she and I have one big difference…” Wanda dropped your chin again and her hands made their way down your body. You let out a gasp when you felt a hand move straight down between your legs and cup your pussy. 

“I already fucking took what I wanted,” Wanda snarled as you felt two fingers enter you. Your hand flew to Wanda’s wrist at the surprise intrusion, but you couldn’t help that your previous gasp had turned into a pathetic moan. “And I’m never letting you have her.” She punctuated each word with a pump of her fingers and you bit down hard on your lip to stop the sounds that were threatening to fall from you. Kate was thrashing in the chair in front of you and your eyes dropped to the floor. Your fingers flexed around Wanda’s wrist, but you still didn’t pull her away. At this point the only thing on your mind was to make her happy, regardless of the horrifying circumstances. Wanda has scared you tonight, she has made you take a giant backstep to which you won’t ever return from and she’s gone to lengths you’d never expect. Except, you were just too far gone now. 

Feeling Wanda inside you again was earth shattering. You’d spent so many nights alone and in those frustrating nights you had told yourself you just wanted somebody, anybody to hold you. That was a fucking lie. You wanted- No, needed Wanda. You were hers and no amount of time or distance changed a damn thing about that. It took one night, less than three hours even for you to fall back into place with her and realize just how deeply you needed to be hers. Wanda’s goal this whole time was to remind you and teach you and Kate a lesson and unfortunately for the both of you, the lesson was learned. You didn’t think you’d ever have the strength, courage, or even sense to leave Wanda ever again after this. 

With Wanda’s fingers pumping inside you and her bare body pressed to your back, your head was swimming. Never mind the poor girl who was forced to watch helplessly. Your eyes squeezed shut at the magnitude of shame you had for enjoying this as much as you were while Kate looked at you with what was possibly the most heartbreaking expression you’d ever seen. 

Before Wanda could make you cum she withdrew her fingers. You couldn’t help the whimper that left your lips at that, but quickly bit your lip again to keep from making too much noise. With the circumstances, it felt wrong to be enjoying all of this as much as you did. but this was Wanda. The one person who knew your body better than anyone else. Even after almost a year apart, she hadn’t forgotten the way you liked it when she curled her fingers inside you or the way you’d get so wet from her treating you in such a rough manner. 

At one point, when you were with her, you wondered what you had become. Never did you think you’d be someone who let another person utterly own your entire being, body and all. When you left you thought you could free yourself of that. But if you learned anything tonight, it was that you still belonged to Wanda. With the measures she had gone to and the way you kept letting her do whatever she wanted to you, that fact was pretty clear. 

You twisted your head around to see what Wanda was doing, only to watch her reach under your own pillow. What she revealed was very familiar to you; a dark red strap on that Wanda used to love to use on you. She kept it. Your eyes widened as you realized she wasn’t going to let you off the hook any time soon tonight. Or Kate for that matter. 

Your head turned back to Kate who had stopped struggling to stare in shock at Wanda too. For a moment you thought to get up and actually help Kate, if only so she didn’t have to watch what was to come next. Only, it seemed like Wanda knew exactly what you were considering, because she was on you before you could move a muscle. 

With a surprised yelp, Wanda had your body turned and your back hitting the bed in mere seconds. She swung her leg over your body at that and you just stared up at her as her predatory smile slowly turned to Kate. “Look at you,” Wanda was directly talking to Kate now. “This is killing you isn’t it?” Wanda’s hands were slipping under your knees now, bending them so that they could hook around your waist. The toy was lined up and your chest was heaving in anticipation. Anxiety was coursing through your veins, but so was this hard to ignore, appalling feeling of anticipation and excitement for what was to come. For what you missed so desperately. 

You held your breath as Wanda entered you with the toy that you never quite got used to back when you two were together. Now, since you were out of practice, the familiar burn of it stretching your pussy out reminded you of the very first time she used it on you. You squeezed your eyes shut again and couldn’t stop the pitiful groan that left your lips. 

Wanda chuckled from above you before she finally bottomed out inside you. “Was this how you planned to fuck her?” Wanda was still talking to Kate as she began to rock her hips. “Or were you going to be gentle? See the thing with her is… She likes to be ruined.” Your fingers tangled in the sheets as you tried your best to get used to how big her cock was inside you. Your desire for Wanda was completely in control at this point, letting Wanda start a steady pace with no intentions of stopping her. The way you could hear Kate struggling made you feel sick, but the way you never wanted Wanda to stop, despite her presence, made that feeling worse. 

Wanda’s pace kept increasing. Her body bent over you until she was pressed against you. The way she pumped into you was making the whole bed rock and the burn of her practically abusing your pussy had finally turned into extreme pleasure in a way that had your body arching into hers. You had totally given into this feeling now, all thoughts of Kate gone and replaced with how much you wanted Wanda to just keep claiming you in the way that she was. 

“Tell me,” Wanda growled into your ear this time as her hips slowed for a moment. “Do you really think she could fuck you like this?” 

“N-no,” you were trying to catch your breath as you spoke. 

Wanda snapped her hips hard and you immediately cried out again. “What was that? I don’t think she heard you.” 

“No!” You cried. “Fuck! No, only you can. Only you. Only-”

“Shhh, that’s my girl.” Wanda’s hand stroked down your cheek as she picked up the pace yet again. Her hand moved down your jaw until it stopped right on your throat. Her fingers wrapped around your neck and she squeezed. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt you, but still enough to make you struggle to take the much needed deep breathes as she fucked you as hard as she did. 

All sounds of Kate’s struggles were lost on your ears. Your body was trembling and you were two seconds from falling apart all over Wanda’s cock. Wanda was loving every second of it. She was moaning in your ear as she kept fucking you harder, just the sight of you turned her on beyond belief. The way her hand flexed and squeezed slightly more on your neck mixed with the way she was pumping herself into you with such a force had strangled moans coming from you with abandon. It took more strong snaps of her hips before you were falling apart on top of her with a miserable cry.

Wanda’s hips slowed when you came down from your orgasm and her hand left your neck. You took loud, gasping breaths for air. Your body was spent and splayed out on the mattress. Wanda was looking down at you with such a satisfied grin on her face and for a moment all you could think of was wanting Wanda to make you cum again. Except then you remembered.

Your head slowly turned to see Kate still there, bound with tears running down her face. What now? That was the only thing running through your mind. 

Wanda’s hand came back to your chin, turning your head so you were facing her again. The shame that was coursing through your veins again felt louder, more painful. Except she was stroking your cheek, looking down at you with more pride in her eyes than you’d ever seen before. 

“Shhh,” she soothed. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. Then you and I are going to go somewhere far away.”

You couldn’t help the shiver of fear that ran through your body as Wanda kept stroking your cheek in a gentle way that you hadn’t seen since she first arrived. Something told you that you didn’t really have a choice, but to go. 

A thousand scenarios ran through your mind about what Wanda was going to do with Kate. You felt pity for her and embarrassment at what she had witnessed. 

“I’ll go.” You heard yourself before you could even think about what you were saying. “But let Kate go.”

Wanda frowned for a moment, her hand pausing on your cheek. She looked over at Kate and then back down at you, the frown quickly leaving and being replaced with a conniving. “If I promise to let her go, you must promise to never try to leave again.”

You nodded furiously, taking this one chance to get Wanda to do your bidding. Kate would be free, even if it meant that you sealed your fate. Only, little did Wanda know, after tonight you didn’t think you’d ever have the strength to leave her again. She was the one thing you wanted that you wished you didn’t. She was in your veins, she was your entire being. You were hers completely and nothing, no amount of time or space, would ever set you free. 

You surrendered to Wanda the moment you saw her again. Even if you tried to leave once, you knew Wanda was going to spend a lot of time reminding you that you would never be able to leave again. 

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Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Summary: After missing a few notes during rehearsals, you have to prove once again to your Maestro that you still deserve a chance.

Warnings: +18, Minors DNI!, smut, nat has a penis, loss of virginity, groping, overstimulation, rough sex, pet names, a bit of manipulation, light choking, unprotected sex, praising, abuse of authority, infidelity, age gap.

Word count: 6.2k

a/n: here's part two for all you horny people. also; comment if you want to be tagged in the next part <3 ✰ series masterlist, main masterlist

"Okay, stop!" the Maestro's loud voice makes everyone stop playing their instruments immediately. Your hands that were previously on the piano keys just rest on your lap, playing with a loose thread of your blouse. "What's going on today huh? Just because it's Friday and you guys want to enjoy the weekend doesn't mean you have to play like a high school band."

When she says this your eyes go directly to your friend on the other side of the orchestra room, Kate. She widens her eyes, and makes a funny face like she's bored. Even though Natasha's words can be a little harsh at times, everyone here is used to it. Especially Kate. You remember one time Natasha just walked out of the auditorium after making you guys play the same song for hours and hours, saying it was still bad, and all that Bishop said was that at least she didn't say it was terrible, just bad, and that coming from Natasha is like a compliment.

You end up quietly laughing at your friend's action, but then Natasha's body get in the way, stopping a few meters away from you, right in the direction you were looking. All you see for a few seconds is her white shirt, but lifting your gaze you meet her green eyes, feeling her strong judgment in you. Fuck. Your smile disappears instantly. "If you keep playing like this, you don't even have to show up on the day of the big performance." she continues, looking away from you and crossing her arms in front of her body. "An empty stage is better than a whole audience listening to whatever this is that you're playing. Because as much as this symphony was composed by me, the way you guys are playing make it sound like shit, and I don't want people to think I compose shitty music."

She takes a step forward, getting out of the line of sight between you and your friend. You look at each other again, and Kate mouths an 'ouch.', exaggeratedly making an offended expression with her face. You again cannot contain a smile. Bishop always finds the fun in tragic moments, and you love her for it. And you know that if Natasha even saw these kinds of interactions that you two have during rehearsals she would be pissed, not out of jealousy, of course she's not jealous of you, but out of the fact that she hates not being taken seriously.

"In the next rehearsal I don't want any mistakes, especially in the violin part, you're not playing in sync." Natasha takes a deep breath through her nose, turning her face to look in your direction, but you’re more focused on staring blankly at the keys of the instrument in front of you. "But for now... you're dismissed." as soon as she says the words everyone starts to get up, walking towards the stairs to go down from the auditorium stage. You follow your colleagues, going to the first row of seats, which is where everyone usually leaves their belongings. 

"Today she's in a bad mood." Kate says as soon as you reach her side. You take a quick look at the person she's referring to, she has her back to you, tying her hair up in her usual bun. You tried not to spend the entire night thinking about what happened between you two. But all you could imagine when you closed your eyes was how her cock felt inside your mouth, and how good it felt. You don't even remember when, but your hand was already inside your pajama pants, imagining it was her. You even tried using two of your fingers to mimic the feeling of what it might be like to have her inside you, but it hurt, all you were able to bear was half of just one finger of yours, so you stopped. You already know that she'll want to do something else today, and you think if it will hurt too. Or if she's going to let it hurt.

"I mean, it's impossible for her to be in a good mood."

You ignore Kate — so oblivious to your thoughts that you don't even know what to say to her — before picking up your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder. Every Friday you guys usually go to the bar at the end of the street after rehearsals, but you remember Natasha asking you to stay today again, and the way her mood is you sure don't want to give her another reason to stay even more grumpy. "I... I'm staying a little longer, the Maestro is helping me with some of my compositions." you lie, you don't even compose songs. "But you can go to the bar with the others, I'll meet you there."

"Oh... okay... I'll definitely want to listen to your piece later." she says in an excited tone, closing her violin case. "Just promise not to take too long, the bar is kinda boring without you."

"I promise."

"Okay perfect, and good luck with her." she pats your shoulder twice before walking past you, and you just stand there waiting for everyone to leave the orchestra room. When silence sets in, you realize that you are finally alone with Natasha again. She remains onstage as you grip the strap of your backpack so hard it looks like you want to tear the poor thing apart. You think if you look good, if the outfit you chose today caught her attention, if all the strands of your hair are in place. You’re nervous.

Natasha stares at you for a few seconds, actually, she couldn't take her eyes off you the entire time you were playing the piano, which isn't all that unusual, but this time she knew that at the end of the day she would have you, and that she wouldn't come home just to have to relieve herself alone thinking about you. But she didn't have a good day, you could tell from the way she was harsh with her words throughout rehearsal. Not that she isn't like that naturally, but today she put a lot of work into the insults. So all she wants now is to have something to make this day better. And you are the best option she has to solve this problem.

Her steps get louder as she steps down from the stage to approach you, who still has your back to her when you feel her presence so close to you. "Why don't you drop this, you're not leaving." she says referring to your backpack, and you immediately do as she asks, dropping it on the floor. Natasha smiles, seeing that she doesn't need to ask you twice for you to obey her. "Don't think you're an exception Y/N, you also disappointed me today."

You swallow hard, feeling her smooth the strands of your hair to the side to be able to kiss the curve of your neck. You close your eyes, her breath so close to your ear that you pay no attention to any other sounds in your surroundings. "You're gonna have to work really hard if you still want to be my first choice for the world tour, because with all the mistakes you made today..." she sucks your pulse point after saying this, making sure to leave a mark for everyone to see. "...maybe you don't really deserve this opportunity after all, hm?"

You haven't missed a single note, since you've been playing for her you've never made that mistake. You play the piano since you were six years old, so hitting the wrong key is something very unusual for you. But when you hear her saying that you made a mistake, you end up believing, it's her song, not yours. And Natasha knows it, she knows you played the song perfectly. But she needs a something to make you give her what she wants, even though deep down she knows you'd give in for no particular reason. "I-I... I know I deserve it." you say in a weak voice. "I can prove to you that I'm the best option, I know I can, Maestro."

"Yeah?" you gasp as her strong hands grope your breasts, pulling your body towards her and making you feel her hard bulge against your ass. You tremble in anticipation knowing that you're going to lose your virginity to her today, and you've kind of been preparing for it all day, so maybe that must have caused you to miss a few notes. Yeah, that would make sense. "I can put your name on the list today, you wouldn't have to wait another day to be part of the world tour... but only if you prove to me that you really are the best choice. Would you like that?" she asks close to your ear, and you nod frantically. "Good."

You feel a cool breeze hitting your body as she suddenly pulls away. As you turn to face her, you see her grabbing your backpack from the floor, slinging it over her shoulder before taking your hand. You look at her confused, but let her lead you to wherever she is leading. The two of you enter the hall of the building that you come to every day to stay hours playing the piano. It's dark, probably all the other employees working here are gone by now. You're known as the late-night musician crowd here, the ones that play for more hours straight too, five hours of class in total. So it wouldn't be surprising if in fact the only ones left here are you and Natasha. "Did your parents complain that you were late yesterday?" she lets go of your hand to get a key from her pocket, and unlocking a door she takes your arm to pull you into the room.

"No, I told 'em I was practicing, and they believed." you answer, hearing the door lock behind you. It's a relatively small room, it has a piano against one of the walls, but unlike the one in the orchestra room — which is a grand piano — this one is an upright one. There's a couch with red upholstery, a few other decorations, and then a desk. You walk towards it, running your finger across the wood material from one end to the other. "Is this your office?"

Natasha drops your backpack on the sofa along with her glasses before walking towards you. "No." she answers, and you again feel her warmth behind you. "I have my own office somewhere else, I just leave my stuff here from time to time." her hands go to your hips, sinking her nose into your neck to smell your perfume. "I spent the whole night thinking about you." you understand that she's not here to talk, she just wants something specific from you. You let her grip your body possessively, her hands squeezing every inch of you like she doesn't want you to leave. It's hot, you think that's even a little weird considering the fact that it's winter, but having her so close to you makes it feel like summer. And you can't deny that feeling her gaze on you throughout rehearsal has you completely needy for her, you already know that your underwear situation isn't the best, and you can't wait for her to finally do something about it.

But then something on the desk draws your attention. A ring. Natasha is a married woman, but she rarely wears her wedding ring. She just puts it on before leaving the house to prove her wife that she wears it, but whenever she gets here for rehearsals she leaves the little accessory in this room. There were times when she forgot, and kept the ring on all day, but rarely did anyone notice. Because as much as she loves her wife, Natasha still hates showing everyone that she belongs to someone, and that thought only started when you entered her life, what a coincidence. You bend your body to pick up the accessory, and when you look at it you can see a date engraved on the inside. It has a name too, but before you can read it Natasha snatches the object out of your hand.

"Sorry." you whisper, expecting her to call you names for taking something that isn't yours, but she doesn't. She doesn't have time for that. Natasha puts the ring on her finger, before turning her attention again to gripping your body. You feel bad for a few moments, knowing she has a wife who don't even imagine the things she does to you. But your mind is immersed in desire when Natasha's hand starts to go down between your breasts, to the button of your pants. She plays with your zipper while planting kisses all over your neck, with that, you find yourself thirsting for her with every passing second. "Nat..."

"Did you hear what I said? That you didn't get out of my head last night?" she unzips, and slowly pulls your pants down to your thighs. You feel your cheeks burn, feeling her play with the hem of your underwear. Are you really prepared for this? You think. But also think of the world tour, and the answer becomes clear. "I had to fuck my wife thinking about you to relieve myself." you bite the inside of your cheek, hearing her say such words makes you wet. You feel bad for her wife, yes, but turned on to know that Natasha thinks so highly of you. She thought about you all night, just like you thought about her. Maybe this could be more than just an exchange of favors, no?

With one hand, Natasha spreads your legs apart. You have both of your hands resting against the desk, as her hand starts to move up your inner thigh. "You're always so quiet." she chuckles when her hand reaches between your legs, your body squirms, pressing her fingertips against your underwear Natasha can feel how wet you are for her. This just makes her harder. "Is it because you've never done this before? Is that why you don't know what to say sweet girl?"

"Uhum." you hum, closing your eyes when she presses on your clit. "I just... I just need..."

"What?" in one swift motion she pulls your underwear down, and you end up moaning as her hand goes straight to your slit. You spread your legs a few more inches apart when she starts to move back and forth over your folds, looking down Natasha groans at the sight of your cheeks so close to her covered cock. "What do you need?" she continues to spread your wetness all over your pussy while her other hand grabs one of your breasts, making you close your eyes at the aggressiveness she does. "Do you wanna tell your Maestro what you need from her, hm?"

You want to talk to her, you really do. But it's the first time anyone's touched you like this, and you can do anything but form a complete sentence. You didn't think she'd be this quick, you really thought you'd at least talk before she had all of you, but feeling her fingers slip through your slits makes you not mind too much about that. You just need her, you're practically begging her to finally ruin you. "I really need you to say it so I can keep going." she murmurs, opening your folds with her fingers before teasing your entrance. "Do you want me to stretch your tight little pussy? Want me to be your first?" she ends up sliding just the tip of her finger inside you, and since you tried to do the same last night, the sensation is not so strange for you, but even so, because she’s the one doing it, it makes you feel different type of feelings.

You manage to nod your head at her question, gripping the edge of the table tightly as she switches from teasing your entrance to playing with your clit. You smile trapping your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to follow her movement into your sex with your hips. "I need words baby, please."

"Y-yes, fuck I need you, p-please."

The Maestro smiles, her heart beating wildly inside her chest. She pulls down her own pants and boxers, her hard cock as it springs out brushes lightly against your cheeks. Your hands that were once on the edge of the desk are now both pressed against your low back as Natasha takes your wrists, and with her other hand she forces your body into the desk, causing you to whine in pain when your cheek is pressed against the icy wood material, your breasts practically smashed against the table. You close your eyes for a few seconds at her subtle movement, and think about how easily she can position you however she wants. She's much stronger than you. And she wasn't really planning on ending up being this aggressive, but sometimes she can't help herself.

"Fuck... you're so wet." she says as she pulls back a little just to get a good view of your sex, her hand still holding yours against your lower back. "Who knew you got so turned on in the presence of your Maestro huh? What would your parents think of that? I don't think they would be so proud to hear that you lie to them by telling you're practicing when in reality you're letting yourself be fucked by your conductor."

You turn your head away to hide the embarrassment you feel, but pressing your forehead against the table is even more uncomfortable, so you end up turning your face away again, resting your cheek on the furniture. Natasha uses her free hand to rub her cock against your slits, groaning at the sight of your wetness mixing with her pre-cum. "Natasha... I..." you whisper, remembering that this can hurt. Even though you're so turned on, so wet that you might not feel a thing, you're still tinged with fear, and the red-haired woman can see it too. "I don't know if-."

"Shhh." she silences you, letting go of your wrists to brush the strands of hair that fall over your face. "It's okay, no need to be scared, it will feel good, I promise." you find comfort in her words, and that makes some of the fear go away, even though you know she's not that honest sometimes. The older woman even thinks of getting the lub she brought, but seeing how wet you are she thinks that won't be necessary. A gasp escapes her lips as she continues to rub her cock into your slit, and feeling the heat of your sex only make her more painfully aroused. “Stay still detka.”

You close your eyes tightly as you feel her tip slowly stretching your hole, and you realize it's very different from when you tried to use your fingers. She stays still for a while, and you think it's not that bad, at least not until she starts sliding even more inside you. You grunt in pain when half of her cock enters you, and even though you are wet, it still burns a little, trying to get used to this new sensation. "Fuck, you're so tight." Natasha breathes out the words, moving her hips back and making your pussy clenches around nothing. "Is this okay? Can I keep going?”

"U-uhm y-yes." you open your eyes again when she pulls your head by holding your hair, lifting it slightly but your body still pressed against the table.

"Good... This might hurt a little. Tap my thigh if you want me to stop."

You don't understand why you would have to tap her thigh when you can use your words, but feeling her hand pressing over your mouth you understand why. She uses her hand to stifle the scream that rips from your throat as she thrusts her cock all at once inside your pussy, and it hurts, it hurts like hell, but even so, your hand remains still, making no move to tap her thigh. Your entire body protests Natasha's gross invasion, but you remember she said this will feel good, and that's what you want to believe in. She pulls out, leaving only the tip inside you, before moving her hips forward in a blunt act, causing the table to swell slightly beneath you. "F-fuck." you mumble against her palm, every inch of her stretching your walls, feeling like at any moment she's going to destroy you from the inside by the thickness and length of her. She is indeed really big, you don't know what was on your mind when you thought this would be easy to take.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight, how am I supposed to move inside you hm?" Natasha's fingers continue to wrap around your hair as she presses your face back against the table, while her other hand grabs your hips to keep you still. She starts to fuck you slowly but hard at the same time. Her every thrust is aggressive, some things on the table even move with every move she makes against you. You palm your hands to the side of your body as that aching feeling inside you starts to turn into a feeling you didn't know would feel so good until now. "Do you think you can take more? Want me to fuck you hard?"

You clench around her dick at the thought of her fucking you harder than she already is, and the sensation this causes around Natasha's length makes her moan in pleasure. "Oh that's it... clench around my cock, fuck you're so hot." she sinks her nails into your hips, pulling you closer to her. "Do you want me to continue? Want me to fuck you mercilessly?"

"P-please." you beg, even deep down you want her to take it easy at first, moving your hips back when she stops suddenly with her movements. "Keep going, feels so good."

"Hm?" you feel her strong hand against your throat, pulling you up and making your body fully erect again. You feel the relief this caused on your cheek, but what holds your attention the most is the way Natasha's cock starts to fuck you from behind. "Like this? Want me to treat you like a slut?" your arms are pulled behind your body while her other hand is still around your throat. Natasha fucks you while preventing you from moving your arms, and at the same time making it difficult for oxygen to rise to your brain. You arch your back, your eyes rolling as you feel her hit against the deepest part of your pussy.

She's rougher with your cunt than she was with your mouth, sinking her thick cock into your tight walls and making you moan over it. It still hurts, you didn't have time to get used to its size completely, but you get wetter with each thrust that gets easier and easier for Natasha to fuck you hard. You feel your pants sliding down your legs with every pound of her, and it's not long before it falls to your ankles. "You wanted this didn't you?" she asks tightening her fingers around your neck even more. "I bet this isn't the first time you've wanted this from me, tell me, did you touch yourself thinking about me too? Did you use those talented hands of yours to imagine I was fucking you?” she wants to hear it from you, she wants to know that she wasn't the only one doing this all these months that you've been her apprentice.

"I-I, yes." you admit it, even though it's not true. Even if you had impure thoughts about your Maestro you've never really touched yourself thinking about her, but if that's what she wants to hear, that's what you'll say. And again, a big mistake you just made. "Fuck. it. hurts." you end up saying it out loud between labored sighs, feeling the tightness in your throat loosen.

"Want me to stop?" you shake your head from side to side quickly, feeling embarrassingly closer to the edge. Natasha slows down her thrusts inside you as she lowers the hand that was previously around your throat to massage your clit. She fucks you slowly, while making circular motions on your bundle of nerves at medium speed. With her light movements you can feel better the way she moves inside you, not just hard thrusts. You feel her cock sliding over your walls, and how her fingers work so well on your clit.

That's much better, slowly and carefully. You throw your head back, not understanding how you can still stand when the way she fucks you makes you feel boneless. "S-so good." you murmur, your arms move a little when you feel her ridge digging deep into the spongy part of you, but natasha holds them tighter, pulling you against her, almost making your back press against her covered breasts. She again feels your perfume invaded her senses, and thinks how she never wants to try anyone's scent but yours.

You didn't imagine that your first time would be in a random room, with a woman much older than you, and whom you admire so much. But now you don't think how it could just be better that already is. It's just wonderful the way her dick enters you carefully, as if this whole time it was meant to be. You wonder if it's normal to feel so ecstatic so quickly, you didn't think that anything other than your hand would be able to pull you over the edge so fast. And you want to hold on longer, trying to prolong her pleasure as well, but it gets hard when all you can feel is her thick cock sliding in and out of you, as your clit begins to grow sensitive to her touches. “You’re doing so good.” she whispers close to your ear, increasing the stimulation on your nerve just a little bit, only to pull you further towards the climax.

She hates that it took you so long to give yourself to her, and even though you're not completely hers yet, she already feels that way. She's wanted this for a long time, and now that she finally has what she wanted, it's going to be hard for her to let go. She rolls her hips over yours, and it's torturous but perfect at the same time.

Natasha has a hard time keeping her movements slow, all she wants is to abuse you until you can't walk the next day. But she also wants to make you feel good, she wants to make your first time worth it. And it's working. You feel the orgasm starting to build, and you know you won't be able to hold it back for long because of the way she makes you feel like you're out of gravity. "I... fuck... I'm so-." you don't even know what to say, you just try to control the moans that insist on coming out of your mouth. "Fuck I think I'm-."

"Come for me pretty girl, come on, I know you're close, come on, I got you."

It doesn't take long for you to reach your peak, and unlike when you're alone, this time feels totally different. You close your eyes tightly when the pleasure is all you can feel in every muscle in your body, Natasha rests her forehead on your back as she feels you squeezing her cock, feeling the wetness that spreads on her hand as she keeps stimulating you. "That's it..." she stops inside you, pressing her finger against your clit and feeling your sensitive area pulsating on her fingertips. Your breathing is uncontrolled when you finally break out of the trance, feeling your body sweating even though she did all the work.

It feels like you're drugged, and you're afraid you'll end up becoming addicted to her. And this was only the first time, you don't know if there will be others, but really hope so. With time she stops completely, waiting for you to get back together. And you thank her for it. It was so good, you want to go again, and again, until you can't take it anymore. You didn't know it would feel this good, you really were afraid that it would just hurt, but even though it did, in the end it was worth it.

You stay that way for a few moments before Natasha slowly pulls out of you, and you suddenly complain about the emptiness. Your legs are shaky as you turn your body to face her, her eyes showing nothing more than desire as they look directly into yours. "You okay?" she asks gently, cupping your face in her hands. You nod, staring at her parted lips. You try to bring your face even closer to kiss her, but the Maestro holds your jaw, preventing you from getting any closer. "No... no kissing."

"Why?"

"Oh detka, we're not trying to fall in love here, are we?" she speaks in a subtle way, even though she knew those weren't the words you wanted to hear. But you end up agreeing with her, it's really not what you're looking for, it's just an exchange of favors. You force that thought into your head, feeling the tip of her cock pressing against your bare sex. You look down, seeing the length of her glistening with your fluids, she imitates your act, this time getting a perfect view at your pussy. Is certainly one of the best views she's ever had. "Gonna keep fucking you okay?" she warns, running her fingers over your slits to make sure you stay wet, You shiver as she runs her finger over your clit before returning to your entrance. She pulls two fingers inside you, wetting them before leading them to her mouth. Natasha hums while feeling your taste on her tongue, and you think it wouldn't be possible for a scene to be this mesmerising, but ends up being anyway. Being completely aware of your arousal she quickly gets back to work.

Natasha groans, lifting one of your legs up to her hip to continue. She hasn't come yet. You weren't expecting it when she pushes her cock back inside you, and unlike how she was doing it a few minutes ago this time she just uses you like a fuck doll. And that's what you are to her, just someone to fuck, not someone to create emotional bonds with. At least that's what she's trying to get herself to believe in.

"You don't know how good it feels to have you squeezing my cock... my god how tight you are." you'll never get tired of hearing her tell you this, it just works the way you feel around her even more. The sounds you two make aren't low by any chance, and you're grateful that there's no one around to know what the two of you are up to behind closed doors. "You're so fucking beautiful, you're perfect."

Your legs feel like jelly, still trying to fully recover from your last orgasm, and noticing your difficulty standing up Natasha holds both your thighs, pulling you to sit on top of the desk, while thrusting her cock even deeper inside you.

She grips your jaw tightly, forcing you to look deep into her eyes as she fucks you. You see the darkness that consumes her, so lost in desire it makes your body convulse. "You're just a tiny little talented slut aren't ya? Look how good you take me all in." her breath hits against your lips, and you try to control yourself so you don't end up realising it again, feeling overstimulated by her every second. "So... so good for me, only for me.”

You rests both your hands on the table, wrapping your legs around Natasha's hips feeling her fuck you quickly and aggressively. Her hands grip tight on your thighs, and she tries to maintain eye contact with you, but she wants to see how she fucks you, she wants to see the scene of her destroying you from the inside. She lowers her sight to focus on the way her cock disappears inside you, how you take her so well even being your first time. "Gonna come so deep inside you." she whispers, feeling closer with her own words. "Gonna fill you up so good baby."

You feel the heat getting more unbearable, as it seems the walls of the room get smaller around you, one of your hands going towards her shoulder for better balance. You expect the table to break at any moment, just like Natasha is doing with your insides. And unlike her, you keep your eyes glued to the expressions on her face; how her eyebrows furrow up, how she tries to keep her moans from being audible. "Oh fuck... fuck... keep taking it... that's it..." you feel her nails digging deep into the skin of your thighs, and you know you're going to be bruised all over, but the thought of it makes your heart warm. "Is this making you feel good? Oh I bet so. Want to tell me how good I make you feel?"

"Y-yes... you make me feel so good." you say in uncontrolled breaths, squeezing her shoulder hard as you feel yet another orgasm slamming against your body like a brick. But still Natasha doesn't stop, even noticing the way your walls tighten around her cock, she still keeps pushing inside you harshly. "Fuuuck... fuck I don't think I can... Nat... p-please-."

"Shhhh, yes you can, I'm almost there, keep taking it." her hands lift your shirt up to your breasts, and she grunts at the sight of them covered by your bra. All she wanted right now was to get that stupid piece of clothing off your body, but being content with what she has she just squeezes them, your breasts fit perfectly into her palms, and she gropes them so hard it seems like your skin burns with her touch.

Your legs fall from her hips, feeling so overstimulated you don't have the strength to keep them wrapped around her. Natasha also finds it difficult to keep pushing inside you because you're so tight, and you try your best to keep taking her. That pain that had passed comes back, making you cry when you realize that you won't be able to hold on. "Please... please!" you beg, squeezing her shoulder and making Natasha hiss from the strength you do it. "Nat please I can't… it hurts.”

"Baby, begging isn't going to get you anywhere... you didn't ask me to stop, so keep quiet hm?" you nod your head realizing that what she says is true, you didn't actually ask her to stop, you just begged, but for nothing in particular. You feel so sensitive, her cock feels so big on you that it really hurts, but also a pain that feels really good. Fuck, it hurts so good you even feel ashamed to admit it. It feels like you're going to pass out, the room grows dark and your breath gets shorter. And the Maestro sees the tears running down your cheeks, and that's the last straw for her. With a few more thrusts you feel her warm fluid being released inside you, painting your inner walls all over. "Yeah... that's it... fuck… you feel so good."

Natasha practically collapses on top of you, resting her head in the crook of your neck as she continues to fill yourself with her cum. She moves her hips slowly to fuck the cum inside you, and you hate to admit that the wet noises of her action are so arousing. She closes her eyes for a few seconds feeling her dick throbbing inside you. "Nat..." you whine as she pulls away, and then taking her cock outside you you can feel the liquid seeping through your slits. You sigh with immediate relief, and only then do you realize your face is wet with your tears. Natasha grabs her shaft, rubbing it in your pussy and watching as her white juice spreads through your folds. She slides the tip back inside to keep every last drop that’s left in you, before going back to rubbing the end of it on your clit. Natasha is mesmerized, and even though she wants to continue she takes a step back.

"You did so good, I'm proud of you." she runs her knuckles over your cheeks, wiping the tears away. You close your eyes in her caress, feeling your pussy throbbing. "You were perfect."

And then the room is back to its normal size, the walls aren't suffocating you anymore, and the heat isn't so unbearable. Natasha picks up your underwear on the floor, and passes them by your feet to help you put them on, and you end up getting up from the table so she can pass the piece of clothing to your thighs. She doesn't say anything as she picks up your pants as well, holding them out to you before running her fingers over the strands of her hair. She's still hard when she tucks her cock into her pants, and as soon as you're fully dressed again you approach her. "I can help you with that..." you say directing your hand to the bulge in her pants, but Natasha shakes her head no.

"No, it's okay sweet girl." you smile when you hear her call you by the nickname, then just nod as she starts walking towards the door. She unlocks it, and holds it open for you to pass. As you move you can feel some of her cum that was still inside you wet your underwear, and then it hits you, you really did it, it doesn't even seem real, and the worst of it is that you liked it more than you should have. After you pick up your backpack on top of the sofa, you two begin a silent path through the corridors. You feel your legs weak, and you fear it will only get worse when you wake up the next day. But as has been said before, it was all worth it. When you're next to her, you see Natasha fiddling with her phone, talking to someone in messages. You also notice the way she squeezes her cock over her pants, the discomfort you left her in still isn't entirely gone. "Are you gonna get an uber or something?" she asks as soon as you step onto the sidewalk outside of the building.

"Uhm... no... I'm gonna go to a bar with my friends at the end of the street."

She just nods, not taking her eyes off her phone screen. You tighten your backpack straps, rocking your body back and forth not knowing if you should just walk away or wait for her to say goodbye first. She types quickly to whoever is talking to her, and you see the way her brows furrow, like she's worried about something. "I uhm... I should go." she says before finally looking up at you, giving you a weak smile. "Are you okay with what happened today?"

"Yes." you answer immediately. "It was... really good."

Indeed it was, you could do it for hours. You didn't know sex could feel this good. Or at least the sex with her definitely was.

"Okay good." she's relieved that she didn't make you do anything you didn't want to, even though she knows the real reason why you actually did it. "And... I'll talk to you next week about what I told you earlier."

"What?" you ask, not really knowing what she's talking about.

"The list... Your name on the list."

Oh, this.

For a moment you even forgot about it, you felt so good in her presence that you didn't even remember that in fact all of this was for other intentions. "Oh yes of course… okay." Natasha stares at you for a few more seconds before walking towards her car, leaving you alone. When she drives away you follow the vehicle with your eyes until it completely disappears from your view. And then you're back to reality. And what a shitty reality.

taglist: @kksalexa @madelineleong @shaniaauld03 @natashafanatic @gayerthanevertbh @wifeofnatasharomanoff

[amascomet]

What's your take on Shinigami (in Gene Spliced au)?

Here’s the rough concept I have of her! It’s unfortunately the only drawing. 💔 Hopefully I can lock in and change that soon.

When we first meet her, she’s Bishop’s right hand! She’s both his executioner and his interrogator. My concept of her is heavily inspired by Makima from Chainsaw Man and Catherine Keener’s character from Get Out.

Rather than being a literal witch, she’s more of a hypnotist and manipulator. 5 minutes w her, and you’ll be confessing shit you swore you’d take to your grave.

[deusvervewrites]

Ask Game AU

All Might and All For One kill each other in their first battle, leaving behind no successors to the legacies they’ve cultivated.

The Dawn of Quirks and subsequent era of chaos resulted in near-complete anarchy until All Might emerged. With the governments basically powerless and widespread panic, crime flourished. This resulted in organizations like the MLA and AFO's syndicate. But there was another organization that emerged at this time, the White Court, comprised mostly of people with weaker Quirks looking for mutual protection

While many other organized criminals forged allegiances with All For One, the White Court instead went underground, spying on and manipulating other gangs to weaken opposition and turn profit. This worked out great for the White Court when All Might started dismantling organized crime in Japan as part of his longer-term strategy to cripple AFO's criminal empire.

From the perspective of All Might and All For One, pretty much everything in this AU is canon-compliant up until their fateful battle. All For One died there after having his head caved in. All Might was rushed to the hospital but his wounds were too severe and he succumbed not long after, taking One For All with him.

All Might's death was publicized, which, combined with the sudden power vacuum in the underground, destabilized Japan. Not to the levels of post-Jaku Canon but it's not great. Heroes are retiring, criminals are emboldened, the MLA is siphoning political power from the floundering HPSC. It's rough.

Midoriya Inko is the current White Queen, leader of the White Court. In the decades since its founding, the White Court has ties to most major powers in Japan and a few beyond. The White Court's unmatched prowess in espionage, information, and sabotage has allowed them to subtly direct politics and crime in equal measure. And with the new golden age of organized crime about to start, she's going to have her work cut out for her.

+1. The White Court are the ones who saved Nedzu from experimentation. He subsequently joined the organization and due to his brilliance shot up the ranks. As chief strategist, he is the organization's White Bishop, Inko's right hand man and personal friend.

[felucians]

un bisou

Fandom: Marvel X-men | Gambit/Remy LeBeau x Reader

Reader is gender neutral with no physical descriptions. Rated PG-13 because Gambit would be the type of guy to grab anyone's ass during a kiss, he would test the boundaries and we all know it. Reader is a mutant with celestial Sun powers - technically based on my OC's powers which manipulates the Sun, specifically it's fire.

Summary: Takes place during Days of Future Past in the original X-Men series, where Bishop accuses Gambit of an assassination that destroys the future, reader is the only one to believe him. Pre-established relationships between Rogue/Gambit, Reader/Gambit and Reader is a member of the X-men team. Title is French for "a kiss". Wordcount: around 800 words.

"Don't nobody trust Gambit, eh?"

Rogue can't meet his eyes, her gaze downcast and guilt etched onto her features.

Gambit won't look at you, at your eyes glazing over in tears as your shared family denies him, believes that he could be the assassin. He didn't hear your whisper of "I do" as he loudly announces to the room, "Then Gambit don't need nobody."

He stalks away, glowering as his trench coat flows behind like a cape, and then the room is silent as his footsteps fade.

The lights black out and you're finally unfrozen, "How dare you? All of you? Not trusting one of our own, our team. Who are we if we cannot trust each other? What kind of family is this?"

The Sun hesitantly flickers through the windows, as solar flares begin radiating from your arms, anger burning through your body.

Rogue is first to speak, "Calm down, Sugah—"

"Calm down? When you all just turned your backs on him?"

Jean fixes you with a soft, understanding gaze and whispers "Go" in your mind - your chair hits the wall, leaving a dent with flashes of celestial energy trailing behind.

You don't even realise your feet carrying you through the hallways, yelling his name throughout the mansion, praying to anyone listening that he's still here and you find him before he leaves here, before he leaves you.

He's standing, paused at the doorway to the X-jet, breathing heavily with angry mutters of Cajun creole - blurring English and French seamlessly. Gambit looks up at the sound of your footsteps, a flash of vulnerability in his eyes that left in a second, replaced by a harsh piercing glare, "Porquoi êtes-vous ici, Dulcinée?" (Why are you here, sweetheart?)

The nickname is spat out, venom seeping out from the endearment that would usually bring a soft flush of heat to your face. You try not to flinch. Emphasis on try, because you do, and his face somehow looks even more pained at that. Words evade you as your throat dries, refusing to respond, so you take a deep breath and a soft gulp before you respond, grateful that you could understand his mother tongue.

"I'm here because I trust you, Remy."

He falters, searching your eyes desperately to spot any falsehoods, any inkling that you were spying on him for Charles - he doesn't find any. He finds pure raw love, the kind you knew you felt but could never truly verbalise.

Everyone on the team could see your soft spot for Gambit, and he knew it too. Sure, he flirted with every woman he came into contact with and he couldn't stop thinking about Rogue - but there was something about you that left the Cajun torn, as if he also loved you but didn't dare bare his heart to anyone, as if his shield crumpled, then his world would collapse and destroy everyone he cared about with it.

But here, with only you left, dangerously close to him in the enclosed space of the doorframe's entrance, he couldn't remember why he kept those walls up. He allowed his eyes to flicker to your soft lips, watching intensely as you involuntarily catch the bottom one in between your teeth. Your heart is hammering in your chest and before you can think to pull away, to move down the hallway or into the next room, his big hands are splayed on your soft hips, your spandex suit in bright terracotta separating your skin to skin contact.

He's surprisingly soft, as his lips meet yours and he tastes like spice and tobacco. It infiltrates your senses, enveloping you in a blanket of warmth and desire while you gasp, allowing him to deepen the kiss further, to let Remy explore your mouth, your taste, your emotions. His gloved hands grasp around your waist as the other dips down to your ass, giving it a small squeeze. His smirk brushes his stubble against your cheek at the soft breathy moan you let out from his actions - you would swear Jubilee was in here with the amount of fireworks lighting up your veins, the passion and love igniting your whole body in flames.

Gambit pulls away, and his face is almost unreadable and then it's sad. It's a goodbye kiss, you realise as he walks past you through the door to the X-jet - and you almost let him.

He's so lost on his own emotions and thoughts from the kiss that ghosts his lips that he doesn't notice you slipping into the darkened room after him, only to be blinded by the harsh lights as Bishop and Wolverine reveal themselves, entirely unaware of everything that just transpired between you both...

[harkre]

I don't know where to post this—

But it isn't like she and her "group" can't drive me off the server—because I've long left it behind. And it was I who originally introduced them to "Minecraft" which I had made a realm and invited them alongside friends. However, when people were suggesting I made a server—I told them it would take me awhile to make one. Well—Niklos couldn't wait and took everyone off from my realm and invited them to 'their server' without inviting me which I had to third-party to get a invite because I didn't even know about it!

And many don't know the actually reason why I left Moon Guard—it was due to "Niklos Adamant" Guild Leader of the Remnants of Lordaeron and it wasn't due to the "Minecraft" incident. They are manipulative and most of this stems due to lack of communication from them and other people. The only person that really communicated to me about any complaints was the leader from the Residuum. Apparently "Niklos" had a problem with me for months but never communicated about it once despite our close proximity in-game and being friends in discord. They never contacted me to expression their complaints to me directly for "months" and when they did contact me about it—

Literally didn't communicated back with me for "months" via discord and accused me of "siccing" my friends after them. When I wasn't even online in-game for that and don't know the full context of what had happened. Just that I was doing a role-play that involved someone wanting to role-play with people from the Cathedral group and that wanted to be involved with my story. But something happened and it blew way out of proportion and was never given screenshots of what actually occurred from either party. But as you can see Niklos hadn't contacted me since December of 2021 and all the way until May of 2022 and /whisper communication in-game was non-existent.

And the screenshots in regards to the conversation that had with Hillsbradian below were originally shown to me by Niklos herself before I joined their discord back in 2019 when I had originally joined Moon Guard and was desperate for friends. I should have taken screenshots but I never thought anything like this could occur in the future with "drama"

Basically they whispered me this tinyurl link that they were "sad" that these screenshots were going around framing them in a bad way and that they were fake. And basically said something like this: "you know that isn't my discord profile picture and name" and I was dumb enough to believe them—because I didn't know better and was just desperate for a friend. However the conversation always hit me as fishy because—"you can change your profile picture and name" at any time!

I stumbled back on the screenshots here on tumblr and clearly other people seem to be aware of them and that they aren't "fake"

I've made even more people aware of them. For example: "Gnews" "Eveneah Rosewood" and some of the core officers and the leader for the "Residuum of Icecrown" are aware of the screenshots and if there is more evidence apparently this Maxen has them.

Including of Bishop "Tyragonfal" which the Residuum of Icecrown does have a document about them with evidence for why they are "blacklisted"

Tyragonfal also stalked my character from the Residuum of Icecrown various times until I had to join a voice chat for the "Midnight Repose" to tell them to stop parking themselves right nearby me in emote range. They would also metagame using their alt in the Residuum of Icecrown at the time called "Nightravens" and they are a 38+ female player who was sending inappropriate messages to the officers from the Residuum of Icecrown in a very "s*xuel matter" and seem to target young men for their "r*pe" kinks and even wrote an inappropriate fanfiction with them and another character without their consent. Eitherway "Midnight Repose" defends them and Niklos gave them a high role in their Remnant of Lordaeron discord.

[muiitoloko]

So bit of a cliche one but any Rickman character discovering that y/n can sing and is completely enamored with her as he watches her. After finding he can’t get her out of his head and wants her so badly now so he confronts her? Personally I imagine the scenario with Obadiah Slope but literally any character of his works imo

Title: To Possess an Angel

Summary: Obadiah Slope will stop at nothing to claim the choir singer who has captured not only his ear but his very soul.

Pairing: Mr. Obadiah Slope × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Obsession.

Author's Notes: I didn’t follow your request to the letter, but I hope you enjoy the story anyway! I must apologize in advance for any inaccuracies—I’m not very familiar with The Barchester Chronicles or the details of the Anglican church, so there might be some mistakes. Thank you for understanding, and I hope it still brings you joy!

Also read on Ao3

The soft murmur of the congregation died away as the prayer concluded, and Obadiah Slope sat stiffly in his pew, his tall, thin frame leaning slightly forward as he glanced toward the choir loft. His hazel eyes, usually sharp and calculating, wandered with disinterest over the assembled singers. The performance of the choir was a routine part of the service, and Slope had never found much to appreciate in it. Music, like most things that did not directly advance his ambitions, held little appeal for him.

But then, a voice rang out, clear and pure, rising above the other singers like a ray of sunlight piercing through heavy clouds. It was almost otherworldly, an angelic sound that seemed to suspend time itself. Slope’s eyes snapped upward, drawn irresistibly to the source of the voice.

There, in the midst of the choir, stood you.

He recognized you immediately—the quiet daughter of devout anglicans, always modestly dressed and unassuming. Slope had exchanged no more than a few perfunctory words with you in all his time at the church. You were polite, reserved, and wholly unremarkable—or so he had thought. But now, watching you sing, the air around you seemed to shimmer with something extraordinary.

Your voice carried the hymn with such grace and emotion that the other choir members seemed to follow you instinctively, their voices blending into the harmony you shaped with ease. The congregation sat in hushed awe, but Slope hardly noticed them. His focus was entirely on you.

If angels truly sang, Slope thought, his hazel eyes widening slightly, then surely it must sound like this.

He had never truly looked at you before, not beyond a cursory glance. Your beauty was quiet, unadorned, and entirely devoid of the artifice he often found among the women of Barchester. Your hair was simply styled, your dress plain but neat. You came from no wealthy or influential family, had no striking feature to catch a man’s eye—until now. As you sang, your face lit with a serene joy that seemed to transform you into something luminous.

Slope’s breath hitched as he watched, transfixed. For the first time in his life, he felt… powerless. It was an unfamiliar sensation for a man so used to manipulating others to suit his needs. The calculated thoughts that usually occupied his mind—how to advance his position, how to gain favor with the bishop—were gone, replaced by something entirely foreign and unsettling. Desire.

It wasn’t a crude lust, though that simmered somewhere beneath the surface, unbidden and undeniable. It was something deeper, something that tugged at the edges of his carefully constructed persona. He wanted to possess the source of that voice, to claim for himself the woman who could bring such beauty into the world.

When the hymn ended, the church fell into a silence so profound it was as though no one dared disturb the lingering echo of your song. Slope remained motionless, his hazel eyes still fixed on you as you bowed your head modestly, retreating into the anonymity of the choir once more.

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. How had he never noticed you before? How had such a remarkable gift been hidden from him? His mind raced, thoughts colliding as he struggled to make sense of the emotions surging within him.

As the service drew to a close, Slope found himself lingering in the aisle, his gaze following you as you filed out with the other choir members. He wanted to speak to you, to hear your voice again, but words eluded him. For a man who prided himself on his eloquence, it was a humbling realization.

“Miss,” he finally managed, his baritone voice softer than usual as he stepped toward you.

You paused, turning to face him with a polite but puzzled expression. “Mr. Slope,” you said, your tone even and courteous, though your eyes flicked away, as though hesitant to meet his gaze.

“You…” He hesitated, then plunged ahead, his thin frame towering over you but his demeanor oddly hesitant. “Your voice. It was… exquisite.”

A blush rose to your cheeks, and you looked down, your hands clasping nervously in front of you. “Thank you, Mr. Slope. I’m glad it pleased you.”

“It did more than that,” he said, his hazel eyes glinting with something intense and unreadable. “It… moved me.”

You glanced up at him then, your modesty warring with curiosity. “I only wished to glorify God,” you murmured.

“And yet,” he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “it is you who has left me enchanted.”

The words hung between you, daring and bold, and Slope realized with a start that he meant them. For the first time in years, his ambitions and schemes felt distant, unimportant. All he could think about was you—your voice, your unassuming beauty, and the way you made him feel utterly, completely alive.

As the days passed, Slope tried to focus on Eleanor Bold. It made sense—marrying the wealthy young widow would elevate his position and solidify his influence within the church. She was a key piece in his carefully laid plans, and yet… you lingered in his thoughts like an echo he couldn’t silence.

He scolded himself for that moment of weakness in the church. What was I thinking? he chastised himself, pacing the narrow confines of his bedroom late one evening. The room was dark except for the flickering light of a single candle, casting long, restless shadows on the walls.

You weren’t wealthy. You weren’t connected. You weren’t important.

And yet, Slope couldn’t forget the sound of your voice, how it had filled the church with something transcendent. He recalled the way your hands had rested lightly on the choir rail, the soft curve of your fingers, the subtle gleam of light on your well-groomed nails. He stopped pacing and stared at the ceiling. Nails? he thought, aghast. Good Lord, man. Have you sunk so low as to fixate on a woman’s hands?

But there it was. He couldn’t deny it. Those hands—gentle, expressive, beautiful in their simplicity—had become a torment to him. He clenched his fists, trying to banish the image. Eleanor was the one he needed to think about. Eleanor, with her fortune and her position. Eleanor, who would bring him respectability.

And yet Eleanor did not sing like an angel. Eleanor’s laughter, when she deigned to bestow it, was polite and restrained. She did not have your luminous joy, your quiet strength, your—stop this, Obadiah, he thought fiercely. Eleanor Bold is the key to everything you want. She is the path forward. You are not some lovesick fool.

But as the nights stretched into a lonely parade of sleepless hours, your voice continued to haunt him. When he closed his eyes, he saw the way your lips had moved as you sang, the slight quiver in your throat as you reached for a high note. He felt a hot flush creep over his face as the thought lingered too long. He was ashamed of the carnal stirrings you awakened in him, a man who prided himself on discipline and self-control.

“God help me,” he muttered, pressing his palms to his eyes. He could picture you now, your hands folded in prayer, your head bowed in reverence. The modest slope of your shoulders beneath your plain dress. The way a single strand of hair had slipped free from your coif and rested against your cheek. You were not worldly, not flirtatious, not even aware of the effect you had on him—and that only made it worse.

His thoughts turned darker, more vivid, as he lay alone in his narrow bed. He imagined what it might feel like to stand close enough to you to hear your breath, to brush his fingers against yours as you handed him a hymn book. What would your voice sound like if you whispered his name? Would it tremble? Would it soften into something private and intimate? His hand clenched the sheet as a shameful heat built within him.

No, he told himself again and again, but the battle was becoming harder to fight. You were nothing to him, a distraction, a temptation. And yet you had taken root in his mind like a stubborn weed, entwining yourself around his thoughts until even Eleanor’s considerable fortune seemed dull and lifeless in comparison.

The next Sunday, he avoided looking at the choir loft during the service. He forced himself to focus on his duties, to exchange polite words with Eleanor afterward. But even as he spoke to her, the sound of your voice echoed in his memory, and he found himself glancing toward the door, wondering if you had already slipped away.

That night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he whispered a single plea into the darkness: “Why must you torment me so?”

But the answer never came, and his restless thoughts spiraled deeper into the forbidden territory he could not seem to escape.

His mind wandered treacherously, conjuring images he should not entertain—images of you, your hands grasping at his coat, your nails scratching down his back, leaving marks as you cried out his name.

Slope bolted upright, his breathing shallow, his tall, thin frame trembling with unspent tension. He ran a hand through his disheveled brown hair, slick with sweat. This madness had to end. He could not endure another sleepless night, tormented by desires he could not suppress.

Grabbing his coat, he flung it over his shoulders and stumbled out the door, not even bothering to put on shoes. The cold cobblestones bit into his bare feet, but he barely felt them. His hazel eyes burned with a mix of desperation and determination as he marched through the quiet streets of Barchester, the faint glow of oil lamps guiding his way.

Your house was not far, though each step felt like an eternity. When he finally reached it, he hesitated for the briefest moment before rapping urgently on the door. The sound was sharp and insistent, shattering the stillness of the night.

After a tense pause, the door creaked open, revealing your father’s stern, sleep-rumpled face. He squinted at Slope, taking in the sight of the disheveled clergyman. Slope’s coat was wrinkled, his hair unkempt, and his bare feet painted a picture of a man who had abandoned all pretense of propriety.

“Mr. Slope?” your father said, his voice laced with incredulity. “What on earth are you doing here at this hour?”

“I must see [Your Name],” Slope blurted, his baritone voice uncharacteristically raw and trembling. “Please, sir, let me speak to her.”

Your father’s brows knitted into a frown, his expression hardening. “It is highly inappropriate, Mr. Slope. Whatever business you have with my daughter can wait until morning. Go home.”

But Slope stepped forward, his thin frame taut with urgency. “I cannot wait, sir. I… I wish to ask your permission to court her.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, pressing on. “No, more than that. I wish to marry her.”

Your father’s eyes widened, and he took a step back, clearly taken aback. “Marry her?” he echoed, his tone incredulous. “Mr. Slope, you’ve hardly spoken two words to my daughter in all the time you’ve been here. This is absurd!”

“It is not,” Slope insisted, his hazel eyes blazing. “I have seen her, sir. Truly seen her. She is unlike anyone I have ever known—pure, angelic, a beacon of light in this wretched world.” He took a shuddering breath, his thin chest rising and falling as though the weight of his words might crush him. “I am not a man prone to sentiment, but she… she has awakened something in me I cannot deny. I burn for her, sir.”

Your father’s face darkened, his lips thinning into a disapproving line. “Mr. Slope, you are speaking of my daughter, not some object of your infatuation.”

“She is no mere object,” Slope shot back, his voice rising. “She is salvation itself! I would do anything to possess her, to make her mine. I would dedicate every waking moment to her happiness, to ensuring she wants for nothing. I would—” He faltered, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “I would worship her as she deserves.”

Your father shook his head, his disbelief evident. “This is madness. You’ve lost your senses.”

“Perhaps I have,” Slope admitted, his voice trembling with emotion. “But if madness is the price of loving her, then so be it. I will not leave until I have your blessing.”

The two men stood in silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, your father spoke, his voice firm. “You will leave now, Mr. Slope. Return when you are in your right mind, and perhaps we can discuss this further. But tonight, you will not see her.”

“I beg you, sir,” Slope said, his voice breaking as he fell to his knees on the doorstep. “I cannot endure another night without knowing she might one day be mine. Let me prove myself worthy of her. Let me—”

But the door slammed shut, cutting him off mid-plea. Slope knelt there in the cold, his coat slipping from his shoulders, the harsh reality of rejection washing over him. Yet even in his despair, his resolve hardened. He would not give up. Not until you were his, body and soul.

As he stumbled to his feet and turned back toward the darkened streets, a single thought burned in his mind: You will be mine, no matter what it takes.

[heckcareoxytwit]

Rogue, Bishop, Jubilee and Gambit VS Siena Blaze

Rogue, Gambit, Jubilee and Bishop are on the way back to the X-Mansion when they are attacked by Siena Blaze. Gambit, Bishop and Jubilee try to fight Siena but she is too strong for them. Then, Rogue sneaks up behind Siena to absorb her powers. However, Siena's electromagnetic manipulation powers gives Rogue a terrible feedback as it was too uncontrollable and painful to handle. While Gambit tries to calm Rogue down (and letting her absorb a portion of his powers to keep the absorbed power under control at the same time), Jubilee and Bishop try to attack the weakened Siena Blaze but she teleports away before they could get her.

X-Men 97 #2, 2024 (1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th pics)

X-Men 97 #3, 2024 (6th, 7th and 8th pics)