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slaughter-kin · 2 months ago

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SFW alphabet: Arthur Morgan

a/n: warning not proofread!!

i’ve been obsessed with this man since 2018 so i figured it was time to write about him on here

as always if you have any comment or critiques leave them in the comment section! also reblog as are nice!

also credit to saradika for the dividers!!

A= Affection (How Affectionate are they? How do they show affection?

𐚁₊⊹ Arthur isn’t much into PDA. He may kiss the side of your head or give you a quick peck before leaving on a mission. The only time I see him actually not caring about PDA is when he’s drunk and then he’s very grabby.

𐚁₊⊹ However when it just the two of you, he is very touchy. he likes to have his hands on you at all times.

𐚁₊⊹ I definitely feel like his love language is acts of service and quality time.

𐚁₊⊹ Whenever he leave for a mission and comes back he always like to bring you back something small that he knows you like or something that reminds him of you. Also around camp he will do your chores without even being asked.

B= Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

𐚁₊⊹ Arthur would constantly tease you. Like we see with any of his interactions with the gang, but with you as a best friend he would say a little jab and then grin at you to let you know he was just teasing.

𐚁₊⊹ also having Arthur as a best friend means you would have someone constantly in your corner. he is extremely protective of the ones he cares for.

C= Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

𐚁₊⊹ Arthur would say he doesn’t cuddle. this is a lie.

𐚁₊⊹ the only time I could see him cuddling in public is if you two are sitting around the camp after most of the gang have bent to bed. then he’d probably pull you in his lap or have an arm wrapped around your side.

𐚁₊⊹ HOWEVER in private this man loves to cuddle. he likes holding you in his arms and feeling like a protector.

𐚁₊⊹ Sometimes after he’s been gone for a longer period of time or a mission was especially tiring all he craves is to hold you in his arms.

D= Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

𐚁₊⊹ That is a constant internal struggle with Arthur, i mean that’s a big reason him and mary’s relationship ended. but yes i do believe he would want to settle down, if he ever got out of the gang. He would want a small house with his partner with enough room outside for horses.

𐚁₊⊹ At camp he is always trying to help everyone out with chores and especially his partner. Grimshaw asked you to cut wood? He’s already on it! Like i mentioned earlier acts of service would be one of his love languages so helping his partner out wouldn’t feel like a chore, he would it because he wants to make things easier for you.

E= Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

𐚁₊⊹ yay now i’m gonna cry. Arthur is 1000% committed to the gang so more than likely it would end over something of that nature.

𐚁₊⊹ It would obviously be done in person. He may get a little cold just to distance himself from i guess the emotional aspect of breaking up with a partner. of his partner broke up with him i think he would of course be upset but wouldn’t show it just nod in understanding. however if he did it, he would just be kinda forward and straight to the point, then probably leave very shortly after it happens.

F= Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

𐚁₊⊹ When Arthur is in a relationship with someone he is 100% committed.

𐚁₊⊹ With marriage that’s a little tricky. Again obviously with Mary, he wanted to marry her but the situation with the gang. Then of course with Eliza, but that situation was a little different.

𐚁₊⊹ However, if he found someone that understood him and understood his commitment to the gang, then yes I do believe he would marry them. I don’t think it would be a quick process though, it would take a while for him to get to that step and a lot of built up trust in his partner.

G= Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

𐚁₊⊹ Arthur would say he’s not a gentle/ good man. His hands are dirty and he’s an outlaw, however with his partner he would be as gentle as he could possibly be.

𐚁₊⊹ I mean we’ve all seen how he treats women in the game.

𐚁₊⊹ Of course if you guys got into an argument he may say something he regrets and hurts you, but after the fighting is over and both of you had calmed down he would come back over and apologize.

H= Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

𐚁₊⊹ Back to the pda thing, he wouldn’t be hugging you in public or anything like that. However in private it is a completely different story.

𐚁₊⊹ I feel like a real hug from Arthur, not just like a quick one with a pat on the back, would be so comforting. Arthur is a broad dude so his arms would just engulf you and make you feel safe.

𐚁₊⊹ so while hugs aren’t super common when they do happen they are something to relish in.

I= I love you (How fast do they say the L=word?)

𐚁₊⊹ This would take a while

𐚁₊⊹ Firstly, i feel like Arthur would struggle admitting to himself that he has those feelings for you to himself. he has been hurt before, and we all know he doesn’t have the best self- image of himself, so he would also probably feel like you wouldn’t feel the same way even if it painfully obvious that you did.

𐚁₊⊹ Once there is an actual confession, whether is be from him or you and you actually do get together. Again he would probably struggle to admit the feelings are that deep.

𐚁₊⊹ So I would say it would take a while for him to actually say I love you to his partner just because of all the mental barriers he and you as his partner would have to break down. However when he does say it, he 100% means it, no doubt.

J= Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

𐚁₊⊹ I don’t believe he gets jealous often. However when he does get jealous he just kinda goes quiet. I think he more so turns into a ‘They realized they could do way better than me’ situation for him mentally rather than him getting jealous, if that makes sense??

𐚁₊⊹ So I feel like he would just kinda get a little distant and quiet and then you would have to reassure him that you do love him and that he is good enough.

K= Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

𐚁₊⊹ Oh lord

𐚁₊⊹ Kisses with Arthur are amazing. Whether it be just a rushed peck before he has to leave or it’s a tender loving kiss in private. There would always be emotion in that kiss, letting you know how he feels.

𐚁₊⊹ also you’re telling me with a man who’s lips look ike that, he gonna be a bad kisser?? no way

𐚁₊⊹ Favorite place for him to kiss his partner: Probably on the forehead. there is something so tender in the act. Him holding in his arms while softly pressing a kiss on your brow. It’s a tenderness he doesn’t get to show often, so when he does get to do it, it’s his favorite.

𐚁₊⊹ Favorite placed for him to be kissed: I know it a little bit of a basic answer but probably on his mouth. He loves the feeling of your lips on his, the intimacy of it all. How warm and inviting they are and how you can make every worry or doubt go away just by pressing a kiss to his lips.

𐚁₊⊹ also he would never admit it but hand kisses are his favorite too. his hands are dirty with crime so for you the the best thing that has ever happened to him, takes his hands and presses small kisses to his knuckles that have beat people. he feels a little shame i suppose, but also he feels incredibly loved at the same time.

L= Little ones (How are they around children?)

𐚁₊⊹ Just going based of the game and not even hc he is amazing. Just look how he is with Jack.

M= Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

𐚁₊⊹ Whenever there is a mission and you two are together on it, I don’t think he would be as relaxed. Just because there is the chance that something could happen. He would probably keep watch throughout the night to let you sleep, and maybe have some coffee waiting on you when you wake up.

𐚁₊⊹ However if it is a trip just for you two and you are camping or at a lodge, he likes to hold you as long as he can. He likes to hold you in the soft hours of the morning and just pretend even for a moment that it is just you two in the world.

𐚁₊⊹ I do think though that he would always like to wake up before you just so that he can sneak not so shameful stares at your sleeping peaceful face.

N= Night (How are nights spent with them?)

𐚁₊⊹ Again it is all about setting, but just for the sake of this I’ll say it’s at a camp.

𐚁₊⊹ whether it be sitting by the fire just basking in each other’s presence or in the private of your guys tent, holding each other talking in whispers so you don’t wake everyone up.

𐚁₊⊹ nights are always a little more quite because there is no rush to start the day, or the build up to what will happen once everyone is awake. it’s just a quite time for the two of you.

𐚁₊⊹ I also believe Arthur would love stargazing

O= Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

𐚁₊⊹ yeah this is definitely a slower reveal.

𐚁₊⊹ Arthur is not open about his feelings at first. It would take a level of trust to be built before he would start being vulnerable.

P=Patience (How easily angered are they?)

𐚁₊⊹ With his partner i don’t think he could get easily angered. It would have to be a pretty good argument for him to get angry, and even then he would never harm them or anything like that. he may say some things out of anger that he immediately regrets, but i do believe if he ever got so angry over an argument with his partner he would just walk away and cool down before things got too heated.

Q= Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

𐚁₊⊹ He remembers a lot. Obviously he wouldn’t be able to remember everything single thing you mention in passing, but he would remember a lot.

𐚁₊⊹ Like the flowers that you said you like the smell of or your favorite kind of candy.

𐚁₊⊹ and whenever you aren’t together and he sees these things he would always make it a point to get it for you, just to see your face glow in surprise and happiness that he remembered something that small.

R= Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

𐚁₊⊹ Probably seeing how well you just accepted him for the man he is and not trying to change him into someone he isn’t.

𐚁₊⊹ Arthur is a good man no matter how much he insists he isn’t, and for you to see that in him and for him to know that you believe in him 100% that’s a feeling he isn’t used to, and something he would always remember.

S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

𐚁₊⊹ are you joking? this man is so protective!! and it’s not because he feels like he needs to just because he is a man, it’s because he loves providing the people he cares about with a sense of protection, he likes being a protector.

𐚁₊⊹ for him a sense of protection, would you always being in his corner. like always taking up for him, and supporting him. that would give him the most sense of being secure.

𐚁₊⊹ and of for how he would protect you, i mean it’s 1899 and he is an outlaw and this is a cowboy game, you do the math

T= Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

𐚁₊⊹ it’s not an extremely common thing to go out on a date when you’re an outlaw, so as for dates that would be stretched far and in between

𐚁₊⊹ however for anniversaries, i feel like he would try to make an effort. it probably wouldn’t be anything grand, more so like him picking your favorite flowers and waking you up with a cup of coffee saying happy anniversary type thing.

𐚁₊⊹ and we’ll as i’ve mentioned before with everyday tasks, he has no problem with that, he loves helping out his partner.

U= Ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

𐚁₊⊹ i would say when when you two get into really heated arguments, him saying something hurtful. he almost instantly regrets it and feels bad for days after, even if you two have made up.

V= Vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

𐚁₊⊹ lmao he is so not concerned with how he looks, he already thinks he’s ugly. however if you mention that you like his hair or beard a certain why he will try his absolute damnedest to keep it that way.

W= Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

𐚁₊⊹ He would have to be okay without you and you without him because of the environment that you two would be in. However it doesn’t stop him from always wanting you around.

X= Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

𐚁₊⊹ i will die on this hill. Arthur would 1000% draw his partner in his sketchbooks. he would have whole pages dedicated to you. it would be random things like your side profile, you cutting wood, taking care of the horses.

𐚁₊⊹ he also seems to me like the type of guy that would stare at his partner a lot. whether he means to or not, and if you catch him doing it he would totally deny it but there is a slight warmth to his skin.

Y= Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

𐚁₊⊹ just to say it to get it out of the way. abuse and things of that nature

𐚁₊⊹ and i’m gonna make these a little silly cause i don’t want to get in too deep

𐚁₊⊹ i don’t think he would like taffy because of how it gets stuck in your teeth

𐚁₊⊹ would hate the feeling of wet socks

𐚁₊⊹ would not be a fan of spicy food, or more so couldn’t handle it lmao

Z= Zzz (What are their sleep habits?)

𐚁₊⊹ oh this man does not have a consistent bed time. just whenever he can get a couple of hours in.

𐚁₊⊹ but i feel like he likes to lay on his back with his partner laying on his chest and his arm around them, or him being the big spoon.

𐚁₊⊹ i also feel like he prefers sleeping out under the stars rather than sleep in the hotel. yes the beds are nicer than a bed roll on the ground. but he prefers sleeping under the stars with the sounds of nature.

𐚁₊⊹ also falls asleep in like 20 minutes and definitely snores

#rdr2 #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan headcanons #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan hc #rdr2 community

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katyawriteswhump · 5 months ago

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the freak in the penthouse part 2

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve.

Part one here On AO3 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse

Part two: room service

Steve hopped up to grab another glass from the minibar and poured them both a double shot of vodka. He insisted on bandaging Eddie’s knuckles before they got on with anything else.

It felt… odd, intimate. He couldn’t help thinking, though: This guy just smashed the plasterwork!

He’d stepped into this room feeling concern for Eddie. He should jack-knife right back to being anxious for himself. Next round, it could be my face that gets smashed.

Still, Eddie seemed more downcast than buzzing with pent-up violence. Steve continued worshipping Eddie’s slightly unsteady hands, dripping with weird silver rings. Which had fortunately missed the worst of the smashing stuff or Eddie really would be badly bruised.

Pianists’ hands, Steve thought.

Which brought a lump to his throat.

Now was so not the time to think about everything that had gone to shit in his life or his crappy loser-ville dreams. He forced a smile, trying to catch Eddie’s eye. He consoled himself with the matter he found Eddie attractive, which was a rare win with a John, plus he seemed… nice. Edgy, fidgety, but an all right dude.

Steve neatly tied the end of the bandages and chugged back his drink. Down to business.

“What’s your trip gonna be, Eddie? What sector of paradise city you wanna go cruisin’ thru tonight?” He internally face-palmed. Way to go, Harrington. Real smooth. “You wanna party first?”

A smirk twitched across Eddie’s soft-looking lips. “Weeeell, I don’t party up here much.”

“You’re kidding?” Steve leaped to his feet, waving his arms literally everywhere. “How can you not? This place is wild! We’re gonna party, okay? We’re gonna have an awesome time, man.” Raking his hair from his eyes—that cheap gel never was worth jackshit—he absorbed a few more details of his plush surroundings. “You got one of those sound systems that takes 8 CDs at a time? That’s totally mental! And… shiiiiiit! Is that your guitar?” Steve dived to grab one of the coolest six strings he’d ever seen, a slender beauty with two-tone cream bodywork. “It’s totally rad! Do you play? I mean, that’s a dumb question. You must, I guess…”

He trailed off. Eddie stared at him, squirming slightly. It bordered on creepy. Steve kept blabbering because he was already waaaay too far down shit creek without a paddle to stop.

“Hey, should we put music on?" asked Steve. "Or do you wanna jam? You know, I kinda dabble myself from time to time… Uh, you okay?”

Eddie had finally got up. He took two paces across the room and yanked the guitar from Steve’s grip. “Nooooo music.”

“Is that some kinda rule?”

That teeniest smile again. “Shouldn’t you be telling me your rules, Steve? Like how much is a ‘party’ with you gonna set me back? Not that I give a rat’s ass, so c’mon, hit me.”

Another internal facepalm. Steve had intended to be upfront about rules and prices. Then again, it was the first time he’d negotiated for himself.

“You want me to stay the whole night?”

Eddie shrugged. Up close, his dark eyes were intoxicating, sucking Steve in, which was probably why Steve said, flustered: “Two hundred bucks and I stay till daylight.”

You were gonna quote four! If Kline comes sniffing, he’ll have at least a hundred off you.

Eddie nodded, laughed. The air reeked of vodka now. As well as the weed. Steve cleared his throat, pressed on:

“Rules. Okay. Nothing that leaves any marks on my skin. No breathplay. Got any weird kinks?”

“Not right now.” Eddie started fiddling with his rings on his unbandaged hand. “Nothing other than a hankering to fuck a really cute guy.”

Steve blushed like an idiot, and his heart gave a crazy thud. What the fuck? “And we gotta use rubbers,” he said.

“Obviously. Anything else? Like, do you kiss on the lips?”

Steve snickered. “You watch too many movies, Eddie.”

“Not much else to do, stuck up here with cable. So, you do kiss on the mouth?”

“Sure thing.”

Truth was, Steve had been thirsty for Eddie’s lips since that first merest hint of a smile. He edged forward so they stood pretty much nose to nose. He slipped a hand to cup Eddie’s jaw and plastered his mouth enthusiastically to Eddie’s. Eddie gave a surprised grunt, not yet parting those tempting lips.

Steve panicked. Shit, too much?

Then Eddie plunged his tongue straight towards Steve’s tonsils and they started kissing for real, and… Wow!

It was some kiss.

Steve dove straight in with his best tricks, sweeping the depths of Eddie’s mouth, hands roaming everywhere, trying to figure out what Eddie liked best. He threaded his fingers down the length of Eddie’s hair, which was salon-smooth and silky to the touch. Trouble was, the kiss was too damn pleasurable, and Eddie was giving it some too, messing up Steve’s hair, mashing their faces so it got kinda bruising. Steve plunged a hand down the front of Eddie’s loose jogging pants, grabbing his package.

“Hello big boy,” purred Steve, as they broke for air. “You fancy a little kiss down there?”

Ugh. Way to go with the cheesy lines again, Harrington.

Eddie didn’t seem to hear anyhow. His gaze locked so hard on Steve that he seemed almost in a trance. “I want to feel… Oh shit, I don’t know what I want.” Eddie clamped a hand in the small of Steve back, crushing Steve so close that his hand got squashed between both their erections. “I want to fuck you, Steve. Basic stuff.”

Steve smacked another sloppy wet kiss on Eddie’s parted lips. “Your wish is my command. I’ll, uh… be right back.”

…

After Steve left, Eddie sank down on the couch, buried his fingers deep in his hair. Wtf am I doing? What the fuck, WHAT THE FUCK?

He’d got a giant erection from the kiss alone.

Steve was gorgeous, and yeah, Eddie wanted to fuck him bad, and he was already having the best evening he’d had in eons. Didn’t stop his stupid brain racing onward to the black hole of doom that would follow.

You pay for fuck-buddies, now? Seriously, Munson? Seriously!

His heart was already dying a little death, and part of him withered with embarrassment too. He knew the staff of this place thought he was a weird-ass freak. The God-like Dungeon Master and the front man of Corroded Coffin wouldn’t have given a damn about that.

But now? Eddie was embarrassed, and Christ, that was pathetic. And where the heck was Steve? If he took any longer in the bathroom, Eddie’s nerve would snap, he’d ask him to leave. It would be yet another date with Mr Palm and his five sons.

Tentatively, he tapped on the back of the door—it was the smaller of two washrooms in the suite. The one without the plunge pool. “You okay in there? Getting lonely here, brother.” Shit, ain’t that the truth, and was Steve doing drugs or something? If so, the son-of-a-bitch should share.

“Yeah. I’m just… Look, I’m not powdering my goddamn nose, okay? It’s, you know… lube. Been a while since I… um… yeah.”

Eddie’s knee-jerk disappointment overrode his spiralling nerves: “No way! I wanna do that.”

He opened the door a crack. And there was Steve—jeans around his thighs, no underwear, fingers plunged between sweetly rounded ass cheeks, eyes wide as a startled bunny-rabbit. Eddie’s grin made his face ache. Damn, he’d not used those muscles in way too long.

“Sorry, I… Look, man, I’m gonna be straight with you.” Steve had backed up against the sink as Eddie closed in on him. “Most clients just wanna get in there, and—”

“I want in , believe me,” said Eddie, still grinning. He’d pretty much forgotten how good feeling this fucking hot for somebody was. “Fingers first. Seriously, I love playing with a guy’s ass.”

“Well, that’s kinda cool. Because you have the most gorgeous hands I’ve ever seen.” Steve grasped the wrist of Eddie’s uninjured hand, drew it up to his wet shiny lips. The hrrrr of Steve’s breath alone was enough to make Eddie’s cock spring even farther to attention. Steve sucked Eddie’s fore and middle fingers deep, rolling his tongue around them, even emitting a douchey little moan. Didn’t sound as fake as Eddie felt it ought.

Slowly, almost torturously, Steve mouth-fucked Eddie’s fingers, eventually dragging them free with a wet pop.

“Jesus Christ,” murmured Eddie. Steve had gotten some full-on come-hither-shit going on in those ridiculously pretty eyes, and it was almost too much, too soon. Eddie was going weak at the knees, just letting Steve take the lead, and his brains were disintegrating to mush.

Steve—the slutty little torturer—dragged Eddie’s fingers around toward his butt, guiding them along that warm cleft between his cheeks. “You want in?” murmured Steve. “Then get in me. Though, seriously—you got a whole penthouse, and you’re gonna do me against the sink in your second-best restroom?”

They stumbled toward the bedroom. Steve almost tripped over the jeans he’d gotten tangled around his ankles, and Eddie nearly collided with another fake-marble pillar. They wound up on Eddie’s gigantic, four-poster Emperor size bed, with Steve splayed naked, ass upward, on the grotesque pink satin covers.

Eddie crawled up over him on all fours, ready to go. Damn, he didn’t wanna rush this. Didn’t want it to be over. Steve looked fucking edible, one knee hitched, chin tilted to the side, chewing his lower lip in a deliciously filthy fashion.

Eddie leaned back and gave his own dick a couple of pumps. He mingled his own precum with lube, rolling it gleefully between his thumb and forefinger, before sliding the latter into Steve.

Steve’s little hiccupping gasps were precious. Eddie snickered—he knew just how awesome it could feel, all those nerve-endings set alight. And Steve’s hole… Eddie wasn’t gonna complain that Steve had loosened himself up. It was like gliding into goddamn honey. He pressed another digit in, scissored, literally crumbling at the sound of Steve’s sexy hitched breaths.

“Oh God, Eddie… Yeah… there… fucking awesome. You got me dripping, man. I’m gonna fuckin’ come.”

“Liar, liar, ass on fire. Nobody’s that easy.” He curled his fingers, deliberate delving for Steve’s prostate.

“For you… I’m… uh… uh… whatever you w-want me to be.” Okay, that was a wake-up call. Eddie was maybe enjoying this a little too much. But the corny lines felt way faker than Steve’s needy sighs. He pulsed and clenched around Eddie’s fingers and Eddie revelled in it. He kinda wanted to slide his fist in, but Steve was still pretty tight, and…

“Oh Gooooood,” wailed Steve. “I should be paying you.”

“Nah. I’m having fun here, Sweetheart.” Eddie really was.

“I… uh… uh… charge extra for pet-name. J-joking.”

“Okay, Princess.”

That earned Eddie a punishing clench. “Sh-shut the f-fuck up.”

“Gimme that tough lovin’ around my dick, Princess.”

Eddie grinned harder than ever, slowly eased his fingers out. For a joyful split second, he realized he was feeling himself again. Eddie flip-the-bird-at-the-whole-fucking-world Munson was back!

Nah, don’t think too hard. Don’t lose the illusion…

He gave Steve light swat on the ass.

“Ow! Uuuuh, Jesus, I feel empty.” Steve waggled that insane cute butt. “Eddie, you gotta fuck me. I want you, man. I need you.”

Eddie stared down Steve’s little hole, and the rest of the world might as well have gone nuclear. He slipped the rubber on his dick—Steve seemed to have lost it so far, he’d forgotten even to remind Eddie—then he slid into Steve’s tight body and fucked him hard.

…

“Can I have my two-hundred dollars, please?”

Steve hated asking the question of Eddie.

Eddie was nice. And hot. Even while peeping from beneath the bedcovers like a vampire scared shitless of daylight.

Last night was pretty damn good, really. Far better than Steve had any right to expect. So yeah, he hated asking, and his stupid fingers were shaking, which was annoying and weird and meant he really struggled with the buttons on his shirt, but…

He needed the money. He needed his meds, and he’d still gotten that hopelessly colossal hospital bill from last winter hanging over him.

“Uh, Eddie? Look, I’m really fucking sorry I woke you, man, but I gotta go serve breakfast. Oh, and try not to limp. You got quite the python in your pants there, dude.” It was a dumb cheesy line, but not entirely flattery. Steve hadn’t been fucked in a while. Eddie had ridden him three times in the end, before they’d snatched a few hours of sleep. “So..?”

“Yeah. Right.” Eddie finally lugged himself into action, wandered into the lounge. “Okay… wallet. Not sure where I left it, uh… You need help with those buttons?”

Standing in the doorway between the rooms, Steve wrinkled his nose in surrender. “Please?”

That just proved fresh torture. Eddie got up close and personal again with those hands, one still bandaged, and those lips, and…

Get over it, Harrington. He paid to dick you for the night. You got lucky that he’s a nice guy and now you’ve got a dumb crush on him?

“Uh, you might wanna do something about your face,” mumbled Eddie.

“Huh?”

“Eyeliner? You look like a stray member of Kiss, Honey.” Eddie gently dabbed beneath Steve’s eye with a fingertip, and Steve… kinda froze. Then he flinched away. Eddie wandered off again and still couldn’t find his wallet. Steve was gonna be late, so after he’d washed the rest of the crap off his face, he settled for a fifty-dollar bill that Eddie found stuffed down the side of one of the couches.

“I’ll have the cash later, promise,” said Eddie, rubbing bleary, blood-shot eyes of his own. “You’ll come back?”

“For my fee? You bet,” mumbled Steve. He grabbed his knapsack, and made for the door. Eddie caught his wrist lightly:

“Yeah, but… You wanna come back for more than that?”

Despite his rising stress levels—Kline was gonna flay his ass—Steve’s heart gave another crazy little pulse. He mentally slapped himself, schooled his features into a weary mask of don’t-give-a-shit.

“That’s up to you, not me. I mean, it’s gonna cost you another two hundred dollars on top of the one-fifty you already owe me.”

“Done,” said Eddie, almost too quick, and then…

Shit, Steve couldn’t help himself. He leaned in, brushed his mouth lightly against Eddie’s. He sensed the moment when Eddie’s slightly parted lips curved toward a smile. He just about managed to smirk rather than grin back like a besotted idiot.

“That one’s on the house.” Steve tugged his wrist free and literally sprinted from the penthouse to the service elevator.

Chapter 3 on AO3

Chapter 3.1 on tumblr or search #thefreakinthepenthouse

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igotanidea · 1 year ago

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All the little voices : J.T x reader

Request: A Jason fic where the reader is insecure.

A/N: the parts in italics are retrospective.

***

It was one of those days.

Those days when she felt inadequate, insufficient, judged and dished. The mere thought of going out of the house was like a slap on the cheek.

She just wanted to rest, to not see people, not compare herself to all the other woman and girls on the streets and at work, ending up feeling like a walking disaster. Not getting lost in her own thoughts, her own head.

But a girl gotta work. And besides, she had that little critic inside her always saying mean stuff, making her feel guilty for not wanting to go out. And she listened, forcing herself to do things that left her even more broken than at the beginning.

Y/N really did like her job, found a way to express herself through it. Mostly, she was energetic, helpful, concerned, smiling and beaming while performing her duties. But after a while, her self-consciousness always started creeping in.

Always.

And it was like a step back from all she achieved.

Those were the days when she would rather fit into the wall, acting like a freaking chameleon than talk to people. Her duties were taking twice as much time, because she got scared of making phone calls and would rather search for the information by herself. Instead of talking to the coworkers in the other department she preferred sending e-mails just to avoid face to face confrontation. And an hour before the end of the shift she realized she was just staring at the clock praying that no one would drop by to have a little chat with her.

Surviving the work, however, was one thing.

The other, possibly harder, was getting back home.

Putting her earphones on and trying to separate herself from reality, Y/N got lost into her Spotify shuffle playlist, sounds of music bringing even more thoughts, plans, scenarios, making her even more insecure than before. Suddenly, she was painfully aware of the oldness of the T-shirt she was wearing, her worn-out shoes, bitten nails and that stupid zit on the chin that she couldn’t for the love of god conceal in the morning. Songs sparked some memories of the words her boss addressed her, about how she could be so much better and how she should step up in work and in life. And that lead her straight into thinking about Jay.

“I’m not worth any of this.” she thought “what does he see in me? Definitely something that is not there. I am not who he thinks I am. Honestly, I don’t know who I am at all. And what if I’m crazy? What if I’m gonna end up as someone I don’t even recognize? I don’t want that. I just want to get home and hide from the people. But I can’t do that” she felt like crying “there’s so much work to do, so man e-mails and tasks to deal with. And what if I can’t deal with them? What if I’m both ugly and stupid? What if I fail? What if I’m a failure?!” she didn’t even realize that, but her eyes turned sad, showing that vulnerable side of the girl, who truly was at the verge of tears. Her whole posture was just screaming “please don’t hurt me”.

She didn’t want people to look at her, to see her, and yet, somewhere in her crazy, spinning mind she felt like all eyes were on her, judging, commenting, laughing at her internally. She just wanted to disappear, ditch the grocery shopping, but it was either that or starving since her fridge was absolutely empty. Thank god for the self-service checkouts!

That spinning and turning and worrying made her get back home in a very strange mood with a mix of feelings, she couldn’t possibly contain. She wanted to laugh and cry and scream and walk around and lay down all at the same time.

Slowly the panic started creeping in and it was harder and harder to breathe.

She practically did nothing for the whole day, so why was she so tired. Why was she already fearing the upcoming day, despite the fact that it was barely 5 p.m. and she still had a whole evening to relax?

“Come on, just breathe Y/N. It’s gonna be fine, you are gonna be fine.” she whispered, hugging herself tightly.

A mistake.

Feeling her own body and those little rolls of fat made her cry out loud. She never had a good relationship with her own body. How could she possibly love or accept something so broken, marked with stretched, imperfections, discolorations? How? Damn, she just wanted to be pretty and skinny and perfect. For so many times she wished she was mentally capable of wearing a dress or shorts or something more …. revealing. Last week when Jason and she were shopping at the mall, she stopped in front of the lingerie shop, admiring all those fancy panties and lacy bras.

“You like that princess?” Jason smirked coming from behind her back, wrapping arms around her waist and hugging her tightly to his chest, scaring her to death in the process. “I would love to see you in that, one day.”

“ I…..I …..” she stuttered

“why don’t we go inside so you can try it on?” Jason smirked “I’m most definitely ready to buy the whole shop for you.”

“Why don’t we just go home and stop goofing around?” she wriggled herself free leaving him a bit dumbfounded

“It’s all right, baby. You’re still hot and sexy for me, even without….”

“Mhm, sure….” She mumbled, her eyes wondering all over, hands shaking and she just clenched her fingers to cover up for that. Hot and sexy, sure…. “You know what I just ….. I just remembered something I have forgotten. I…. I need to go to the mall bathroom real quick, all right? You …. Take that and I’ll meet you here in a moment, all right? Great….” She did not even let him finish, taking off and heading straight to the one place when she could possibly get some peace and quiet.

She never told him she cried her heart out in that tiny lavatory. Quick make up was enough to hide the stains and reddened eyes.

Why was it all coming back to her now?

Just one trigger was enough to get her completely spinning.

“Y/N!”

“Yes, Jane?” she smiled at her coworker, waiting for the words coming

“I’m gonna need you to take some of my work and deal with it”

“I’m sorry, what? Why would I do your work when I got so much of mine?”

“Cause I’m leaving with the boss. He might promote me into his assistant, you know! Which means I am practically your immediate supervisor, and you shall do as I say.

Jane was not the sharpest tool in the shed and definitely not the most hardworking and she was getting promoted. Maybe Y/N truly was stupid for giving so much of herself to work. Maybe she was just not good enough and too quiet to ever be noticed.

Why the hell was all of that coming back now!?

She wanted to try something new and that’s why the girl found herself at the workout class at the gym. Not entirely sure how to use any of that special equipment, just standing like a statue and observing all those fit girls with their perfect figures.

If that was what Jason was watching every time he hit the gym ……

“Hey, are you new here?” a female trainer with the widest smile approached Y/N. “How about I show you around?” Y/N could tell the other girl was being sincere, but she already had enough. She did not fit in here. Not with her T-shirt and leggings serving as a workout suit and covering all those parts of her body that she was ashamed of.

“Um… I… thanks, but I think I actually feel sick…..” she mumbled, spun on her feet and never came back.

Y/N was extremely insecure at this point. She needed a hug. She needed someone to whisper sweet nothings and comforting words into her ear. She needed Jason, but at the same time never wanted to be a burden to him. To put the weight of her problems onto him. But maybe she could just casually call him up?”

“Jason?” she dialed the number and he picked up at the first signal.

“Hi, princess. What’s up there?”

“not… not much…” she swallowed harshly “I just needed to hear your voice….”

“What happened?” oh, he caught up on that little trembling in her voice and became concerned in an instant.

“Why would something happen?” she tried to scoff him playfully, but it did not work at all.

“don’t play with me babe”

“I need you, Jace” she cried into the phone “I’m sorry, please, can you come?”

“I’m on my way. Don’t hung up.”

“It’s not like I’m in any danger……”

“I don’t care. You are shaken so clearly someone upset you. You keep talking to me. I’m mounting the bike and will be there in like ten minutes. You do not hang up on me.”

She did not . At least not until she heard knocking on the door and very disturbed Jason with disheveled hear, in his leather jacket busted through them, immediately wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug.

“Jason….” she wriggled a bit

“Hush. Let me hold you for now and then we’ll talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“What do you want?”

“A way out of my head.”

“Cuddles?” he asked

“please……” she whimpered and he didn’t even hesitate picking her up and carrying her toward the couch.

“I can…..” she protested but he cut her off.

“Yes, I know you can walk, but something tells me your legs are going to give up on you soon, so don’t fight against me.”

He laid her down gently, climbing up next to her and sneaking arms around her.

“ Thank you for coming….” She muttered hiding face in his jacket

“You really left me no choice, baby. That phone call was rather disturbing. “

“I;m sorry” she winced ashamed of taking his time and attention.

“Stop saying you’re sorry! Why would you be sorry? Y/N, baby, look at me” his right hand ended up on her cheek caressing it gently “what…..? Ohmygod…..”

“What?” she trembled. Was he going to leave because she was so needy and whiny and shaken? Was he done with her, like all the other boys in her life before? Not that there were many but still enough to leave a scar.

“You feel like you’re not enough.” He stated simply. “you think you are a burden.”

“What? No, of course not! I’m perfectly fine!”

“You’re not. “ Jason shook his head “I know that look. First handed. I used to do that too. Constantly wondering if I was too much to handle for you. If I was only bringing you down.

“You did?” her eyes grew wide. “I never knew…. Why didn’t you tell me?” she lifted herself up, hand lying on his chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart.

“Possibly for the same reason you did not tell me.” He smiled lightly, but his eyes were sad beyond recognition. “Because I love you. And I never wanted to worry you.”

“Jason….” tears started falling down her cheeks “Baby, you have to tell me such things. I love you too, I don’t want to see you hurt or feeling insecure. Ever. I’m here for you, you know there’s not a single thing I wouldn’t do to make you feel better and …. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re just so sweet, baby. But now, I need you to think about what you just said and turn those words around.”

“What? How….?” She looked at him, a bit confused but only for a second “oh, you little rascal!” Y/N hit his chest a couple times, before he grabbed her wrist and kissed it gently, lovingly “you played me!”

“Yeah, I did. Like a pro, didn’t I?” he smirked, clearly proud of himself

“You made me cry!”

“And I hate myself for that. But it was needed so you would understand exactly how I feel when I see you like that. I’m not good with words, Y/N, I know I’m not, but the feelings I have for you are right here.” Jason closed his eyes and put her hand back on his rapidly beating heart “ there are no words in any language to describe them.”

“I think I might cry again….”she warned, her face twisting

“Go ahead. Here’s the shoulder, dedicated especially to that.” He pointed towards his limb and smiled widely “Y/N….”

“Yes?”

“I bought that thing you were watching at the last shopping spree…..”

“YOU WHAT?! I’M NOT…..”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get there baby. I’ll be proving to you how wonderful you are, using every method possible. I’ll make all those little voices of yours shut up. And If that may require taking some things off your ….” His eyes travelled over her body with lust, making her tremble “…. Shoulders” he finished smirking “than I’m game.”

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mock-arts · 2 months ago

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Internal Illustration for "An Ode to Red Dust" by @wrecklwj for the @bottomjibigbang

Art on Ao3

Rated E

And then there is nothing left on Wei Ying but his trousers, and all too soon he is stepping out of them. He grins shamelessly up at Lan Wangji without bothering to cover himself, lovely and flushed and whole. And Lan Wangji naturally finds his eyes drawn downward, toward a single, obvious focal point, the source of his desires, and his furtive, nighttime fantasies.

alternate universe — wuxia/royalty; hidden identity; palace drama; emperor Lan Xichen; hostage Lan Wangji; servant Wei Wuxian; military officer Wei Wuxian; muscular/buff Wei Wuxian; service top Wei Wuxian;

#cql #mdzs #the untamed #wangxian #wei wuxian #nsft #wei ying #bottomjibb24 #big bang

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anki-of-beleriand · 1 year ago

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A Heart Made of Glass ch.9

Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.

Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision - Powered!F!Reader x Carol Danvers

Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, smut, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, religious fanatisms, homopobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol, violence, multiverse travelling. More tags as the story progess.

Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story, I did all the tags you guys ask for but if I forgot someone please do not hesitate to tell me. Thank you for the support.

I'm back!

And Carol Danvers is back as well. i'm sorry for the long delay, guys. But this chapter gave me some trouble before making some decisions as to where I wanted to take the story. I hope you like this new chapter, you will have action, flashbacks, and finally the worlds collide.

Remember that English is not my mother tongue so I apologise for the grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

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

Chapter 9

The breaking of the storm

Three months ago – Stark Cabin - Fairburn, Georgia

It didn’t take her too long to locate the cabin.

She stood by the road for a very long time, debating with herself if it would be appropriated to approach the man living there. She was still wearing the clothes she wore to the funeral; the tears were still fresh on her face and the many memories in her mind were threatening to overwhelm her all over again.

The world had changed in the last five years she had been absent.

And yet, many things were still the same.

The service had been sweet, with a long sermon giving by an old priest that praised Steve for his courage and his life. Wanda had almost broken when the priest mentioned Bucky and how Steve’s love for him had made him stronger in the times of need. She listened as everything was revealed, as the lovers were uncovered in front of friends and family, and she realized right there and then everybody knew about it. And everybody accepted it, embraced it, and celebrated it.

“Sooner or later, Wanda, you will need to face the truth…than in all of this, it was you the only one that thought it inappropriate, that punished herself for something as pure as loving another human being.”

Steve’s words resounded inside her mind; Wanda had come to terms with what she couldn’t in her youth. Not only the mistakes of her past actions, but also to the thoughts she allowed herself to govern her decisions, in all reality, just as Steve had told her, her family would have never stopped loving her even if she chose another woman to be by her side. To be the love of her life, to marry and form a family with.

Times had certainly changed, and by the time Wanda had made a decision about her life and what she needed it to do, Thanos had come, and she had missed five years of her life. The sound of birds above her head broke her remembrance of another time; she shook her head and tried to step forward but was unable to do so.

Wanda Maximoff hesitated with her hands inside her pockets, the key to the old Avenger compound wrapped tightly around her hand. She chewed on her lower lip, turning around ready to leave until her eyes fell upon a young girl. She was no older than five years old, with auburn hair, and curious eyes she stood there glancing at Wanda while holding onto a metal glove that fit her small hand.

“Are you lost?” She asked, tilting her head, Morgan Stark took a step closer to the redhead while glancing left then right.

Wanda pressed her lips together shaking her head, “no, I’m not.”

Morgan furrowed her brows, her eyes narrowing slightly though her stance did not lose the easiness she carried with her. Wanda could see much of Stark in the young girl, there was intelligence behind her eyes and also a sense of confidence Wanda never possessed at her age.

“Then, what are you doing?” Morgan asked, this time around she pursed her lips pointing to the cabin. “Are you looking for daddy?”

Wanda sighed glancing down the road, her breath caught in her throat when her clear eyes fell upon the form of Tony Stark. The man was standing by the entrance of the cabin, his eyes completely focused on her and Morgan. With an uncomfortably shifted stance, Wanda glanced back to the girl that still had her eyes on her.

“Yes, I am.”

Morgan broke into an easy smile; she approached Wanda taking her hand in hers while dragging her all the way to the cabin.

“Silly, you can’t stay here. Daddy is having his afternoon tea.”

Tony Stark stood by the porch in his cabin, his heart had almost stopped the moment he realized Morgan had gone all the way to greet the strange newcomer only to realize this newcomer was no other than Wanda Maximoff. In his mind, five years had passed, but the old wounds as well as Wanda’s old transgressions were still fresh in Stark’s mind; he had not forgotten the moment she broke Y/N’s heart. Nor did he forget the fact Wanda sided with Steve when the world needed them the most; seeing her walking down the road with his daughter by her side only made him shiver in anticipation, his hand getting ready to access his armor if necessary.

“Wanda.” He couldn’t hide the coldness in his voice, the young woman winced trying to let go of Morgan’s hand but the young girl refused the gesture taking her past Tony.

“Come! Mommy brought some cupcakes and daddy has to eat his tea or he gets cranky.” Morgan turned to Tony, the innocence in her eyes didn’t allow her to notice the obvious tension between Wanda and Tony.

The man straightened up, his jaw clenching tightly while his eyes let Wanda know she was not welcomed. Wanda knew this, of course. She was risking a lot by reaching out to Tony, but in all honestly, he was her last option.

She didn’t have anyone else.

She was alone. Completely and utterly alone.

Tony dropped his shoulders placing a hand on Morgan’s head, before pointing with his head the house.

“Well, I guess we are stuck with one another for the time being.”

“You don’t have to…” Wanda started, but Tony shook his head.

“Morgan wants you here, come on.”

The house was like nothing Wanda remembered of Tony. There were many electronic devices and gadgets that Tony had adapted to his home, but otherwise this looked like a normal place. Nothing too fancy, and nothing too ostentatious. It was strange to set foot in a place that was not as extravagant as Tony had been once.

“I hope you two are…Wanda? What are you doing here?” Pepper stood by the hall with a tray filled with pastries and two white cups filled with tea.

Wanda offered a weak smile; her heart shrank at the incommodity this situation generated in her. She wished she had thought this through, but in reality, there was nothing she could do. She had been so lost at the funeral, she had been so devastated when she saw Y/N in the arms of another, when she realized after Steve’s death, she was alone.

“I’m sorry to come uninvited, Pepper.” She all but whispered. “I will be out of here in no time, I just…”

Pepper had been frowning at the young woman all this time, but something in her voice and her posture made Pepper softened slightly. She offered a motherly smile pointing to the love chair on the living room.

“Take a seat, Wanda, I will bring another cup of tea.”

Teatime went by uneventfully.

Morgan ended up filling up the silence with her stories, and the adults merely spoke whenever she spoke to them. Wanda couldn’t help the tension growing as the time passed, and the eyes of Tony kept on pinning her with anger and questions. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Pepper grabbed Morgan and left Tony and Wanda alone.

“You have some nerve coming in here, Wanda.” Tony finally commented leaning back on his chair. “I thought by now you would have left to get the normal life you have always wanted. Though, now that Vision is no longer alive, I guess you don’t have much from were to choose, am I right?”

Wanda winced at his honesty, she knew Tony and Natasha had been always advocates of Y/N and had always stood by her side after the incident. The young woman couldn’t help the tears pooling out her eyes, she swallowed down her sadness, trying to collect herself to start talking.

But she couldn’t.

“I…I…am sorry.” Wanda let down a whimper, her tears rolling down her eyes as the pain in her chest became unbearable. She stood on shaky legs, shaking her head while trying to make her way to the door. “I sh-shouldn’t…I will…I will leave…”

But as she said this, her heart crumbled and soon she was on the floor with Tony Stark wrapping his arms around her. Of all the people that she had gotten to know, Tony was the last one she ever thought would comfort her. They had such a troublesome past; she had hated him for so long only to develop respect and then a shaky form of friendship that had always been on the rocks for as long as they had fought on the side.

Now, Wanda couldn’t stop crying and Tony had acted out of instinct.

Wanda cried for herself, for the time she lost. For the things she had done, for Steve because he would no longer be there to comfort her and to be the family she had lost. For Y/N because she hated Wanda, and Wanda knew that regardless of her wrongdoings and her mistakes, she was still pretty much in love with her. Wanda cried because she let her old beliefs, and the words of sin and forbidden governed her decisions at some point.

Wanda cried because she was alone, and she had come to a world in which she was not welcome.

And then, when she thought nothing good could come of this meeting, she had the very same man she had always thought insufferable and narcissistic comforting her. Then a pair of small arms wrapped around her, and soon Wanda felt, for the very first time in a long time, the warmth of a family trying to pick up the pieces of her heart and lonely soul.

*****

Night had already fallen, and Morgan was already in bed by the time Wanda had stopped crying.

The warmth of the mug between her hands brough comfort to her cold chest, she glanced at the fire while trying to ease out her breathing and hearing Tony talk about what had happened after the Blip. She heard about his fight with Steve, how he had given his back to the Avengers to go and form a family with Pepper, how the world crumbled in the very first year before it started building itself.

Tony talked about Steve and Natasha, how they struggled to keep the team alive, to try and look for a solution while also helping the rest of the universe with the help of Rocket and Carol Danvers. He talked about Y/N, and Wanda couldn’t help the fluttering of her heart at the mention of Y/N and how she had been affected by the Blip, how she had met Carol and the bond had been formed.

“She missed you.” Pepper ignored the glare coming from Tony, her eyes were solely on Wanda who was looking back at her with a hopeful glint in her eyes. “Y/N was in a dark place after she saw you vanished into thin air.”

Wanda furrowed her brows at this, “she…she was there?”

Pepper and Tony nodded, and Wanda tried to remember that moment.

She knew you had arrived because your shadows had invaded the battlefield for a moment, but she never imagined you had gone and looked for her. Wanda never imagined Y/N had seen her disappear. Tony shifted on his chair pursing his lips while facing Wanda, his eyes demanding.

“She took it hard and was not the same for a while. Up until she and Carol started seeing one another.” Wanda winced at these words; she looked away trying to hide her pain, but Tony had already seen it. “What are you doing here, Wanda?”

Wanda glanced at the beverage in the mug, she thought about you for a long time. She thought about your voice and laughter, how happy you had seemed with the blond-haired woman back at the funeral. The young woman lifted her face, new tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I’m…I came here to ask for your permission.” She finally said, Tony blinked confusedly at her.

“Permission for what?”

“The…the Avengers compound.” Wanda mumbled. “I know it’s still active but empty and…I… I really don’t have a place to stay. I just…”

“You are alone.” Tony stated not without a tone of reproach in his tone. “This is your own doing, Wanda. I hope you know that.”

Wanda didn’t react at all, but her lips broke into a broken smile.

“I made so many mistakes, Tony.” Wanda all but whispered. “The only thing I did right was…was being with her.”

“And yet, you broke her heart in the worst possible way.” Tony replied, the old anger dripping from his words.

“I know.” Wanda placed a hand on her forehead, she had nothing to lose at the moment and her words came rushing in. Not to give an explanation, she didn’t think her actions have one, but she just needed to let everything out.

For the very first time, she would talk with all honestly to someone that wasn’t Steve.

“I was so afraid to give in, to allow myself to be seen with her.” Wanda hiccupped placing a hand on her mouth, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. “My mother…my father…They always talked to me about sin, I knew what I had always feel, what I am…was a sin. Papa found me once, and he…I never forgot his lesson. I knew I was wrong, and when I saw her and knew I couldn’t breathe without Y/n I just…I was failing papa and mama…you know?”

Wanda shook her head, a gasp leaving her lips while her hand closed tightly around her chest.

“I had failed them, they had died, and I had failed them…time and time again, I failed and then…” Wanda shrugged. “I fell in love with her and I just…I let my family die, I couldn’t…I couldn’t be happy, I shouldn’t…I should do what they wanted of me I just…”

Pepper softened her features, watching the confusion, the conflict running wildly through those green eyes. But Tony remained impassive, hearing everything without giving anything away.

“I just…I couldn’t let them down, them and Pietro and…god, Y/N was just…I was feeling so much…I realized I wanted to have her children, that I wanted…I wanted to leave my powers and…” Wanda suddenly looked desperate, lost, and hopeless. “I know I mess up, Tony, I’m not asking for your forgiveness...I just…I just need a home.”

Wanda broke at the very end; Tony lowered his gaze before settling his eyes on Pepper. For the very first time, Tony wondered what would have happened if Pepper had given up on him. How many times had she discovered him with another woman, how many times she had seen him flirt his way through the parties before he realized that Pepper was all he needed. Y/N had been hurt deeply by Wanda, it was quite evident Wanda didn’t know the extent of Y/N’s feelings for her or what she was ready to do for Wanda.

And yet, Wanda was ready to do the same, but her mind was being tormented by old believes, and the fear of failing her family. The fear of falling into sin, of being less than what was expected of her.

“I know I’m going to pay my whole life for my mistakes, Tony. I know she…” Wanda wrapped her hands tightly around the mug, lowering her gaze she continued with a shaky voice. “I have broken everything that was good for me, and I deserve to be alone. I just…I’m tired.”

Tony stood up making his way to where Wanda was sitting, he knelt down placing a single hand on hers. His face was solemn, and for the very first time he allowed himself to see Wanda the way she was. A young woman lost, not knowing what to do or what road to follow, someone who wanted to be loved, but that didn’t want to fail those she loved anymore.

Ten years were a long time for him to keep a grudge, and for Wanda to still being put down and being ripped from what she really wanted.

“You can stay here tonight, Wanda.” Tony squeezed her hand comfortingly. “You have a home here, and we can talk more tomorrow. The compound is yours if you want to, but for now let me take you to your room. You must be really tired.”

Wanda wrapped her arms around Tony, a small weight lifted from her heart, and a huge void in her soul filled by the affection she felt for the man hugging her tightly. After that day, Wanda would spend five more days in Tony’s home, and she would cry while trying to let out everything she had kept for herself.

The morning of the fifth day was sunny and filled with a warm breeze.

Morgan was checking out the car Tony had given Wanda, while Wanda was trying to reject the gift. Tony shook his head placing the keys in the young woman’s hand, his eyes gleaming warmly while he also extended a mobile.

“You will find my number in there. But…” Here Tony trailed off before speaking again. “You will find Y/N’s number and location.”

Wanda opened her eyes wide, her hand trembling at this revelation. Her lower lip quivered, and she was left speechless for a moment.

“I don’t think…”

“You told me you wanted to talk to her, to mend things, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes, I did but…”

“Or, were you pretending to be interested in patching things up with Y/N?”

“No, no Tony I do but…” Here Wanda trailed off glancing at the phone with trepidation. “She hates me. She…she really despises me.”

“She does.” Tony stated shrugging. “But you don’t.”

Wanda lowered her gaze, her cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“Now, I understand many things, Wanda, and it is time for Y/N to know them as well.”

Wanda shook her head, the fear of a confrontation with you was something that haunted her sleep. There was nothing else she wanted more than to go back to you, but she knew she was late. She was always too late.

Tony closed his hands around hers, the items firmly placed in her hand.

“Talk to her. Perhaps, it won’t be what you want, but being friends could be a start.” Tony then offered a smile, nodding to the car. “Go, get settle, and when you have decided, just call and the ticket to her home would be ready for you.”

Wanda threw herself at Tony, and this gesture caught the older man by surprised. But he returned the hug, and he realized that having a family, having Morgan had changed his vision of the world. And now, he didn’t want Wanda to go around suffering needlessly.

“Don’t wait to long, Little Witch.” He whispered choosing Y/N’s nickname for her. “Go and chase happiness, you will always have a home here.”

“Thank you, Tony.”

Wanda left the place with a lighter heart, and hope in her heart. She glanced at the phone on the passenger’s seat with titillation growing in her abdomen and spreading to her chest.

Perhaps…

Wanda swallowed down and dared not to hope. First things first, she would go to the compound and after that…after that you would look for Y/N. This time around, she was ready to do everything she could to redeem herself and have a chance with Y/N; Wanda drove down the road never noticing the eyes sneaking in the reflection or the purple mist engulfing her mind.

_____________________________________________________________

Present day – Former Avenger’s Tower - New York

The place had never been this packed ever since Loki came crashing down with the Chitauri on his attempt to conquer earth. Tony served some of the drinks, his eyes going over an over to the impatient form of one Carol Danvers, the woman hadn’t stopped looking at her watch and her mobile ever since they got in there with Monica Rambeau.

Natasha grabbed two glasses, winking at Tony who merely snorted while observing the interaction. Carol turned sharply to Natasha, her lips curling lightly into a smile while she received the glass of whiskey she was being offered.

“So, how did you find earth so far?” Natasha was not one to make small talk, and Tony had a feeling he knew why exactly the Black Widow was trying to stall the other woman’s stay in the tower.

You and Wanda were finally left alone to have the long-awaited conversation you deserved to have with one another. Tony then took the other glass walking towards Strange who had dropped on the nearest sofa, with a hand covering his face.

Carol took a sip from the beverage, glancing down to her mobile then back up to a smirking Natasha. The young woman hated the fact Natasha had the knowing glint in her eyes.

“So, are you in a rush?” Carol rolled her eyes at the questions, her lips breaking into an easy smile shaking her head.

“I am.” Carol sighed glancing at Natasha with expectation. “How is she?”

Natasha held Carol’s stare for a moment before shrugging, “she is fine, right now all of us are dealing with the current crisis trying to help America and find a solution.”

Carol clenched her hand around the glass, Natasha heard the cracking sound of the glass though Carol was trying to apply all her self-restrained as to not break the glass. By now, she already knew you were not alone, and that America had gone to you for help with no other than Wanda Maximoff. Carol would be lying if she didn’t admit a part of her was highly jealous of this meeting, she knew as well as everyone else that your love for the red-head witch was something still latent in your heart.

A wave of sudden sadness and uncertainty reached Carol, and the woman jerked away when another hand placed itself on her forearm. Natasha offered the comfort of a single smile, her eyes gleaming with sympathy and understanding.

“Don’t worry, this meeting won’t take long and you will have a chance to go right to her without waiting for me or the Quinjet.” There was a teasing tone in Natasha’s voice, Carol tried to relax but her mind was full of uncertainties, and her heart was aching to see you.

“I know…and I know this is important.” Here she made a face turning her attention to Monica then to Strange. “It seems Maximoff has created a huge trouble, and as always some of us are here cleaning up her mess, right?”

Natasha pursed her lips at this declaration, “It’s not her fault, not completely.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” This time around Strange was the one to talk, he straightened up his back, all eyes of the presents were on him.

The man was looking terrible, with bags under his eyes and the clothes completely messed, it seemed as if he hadn’t sleep for weeks. He probably hadn’t. Tony sat down nodding towards Stephen, glancing at the group before emptying the glass in a single gulp.

“Okay, then, start talking Strange, we’re delaying the space princess over there, and I don’t think she has more patience for this.”

Carol rolled her eyes looking away to try and hide her red cheeks, Natasha chuckled, squeezing her forearm tenderly before joining Tony and Monica. Carol glanced at her forearm before she too joined them with the same trepidation she had been feeling from the very beginning.

“As far as we could find with Wong, Wanda and this woman…Agatha were in possession of the Darkhold.” Strange spoke waving his hands, some of this they already knew but his explanation had to start there. “As I explained to you before, this book is highly dangerous, containing spells that could granted destructive powers to whomever gets a hold of it. One of such spells is called dream walking.”

Tony pursed his lips leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“You told us this book was missing, alongside the woman Wanda was supposed to trap in the real Westview, right?”

“She didn’t do a very good job, did she?” This time around it was Carol the one to speak, the woman sat down pinning Strange with her eyes. “So, this dream walking ability, what does it do, exactly?”

Strange didn’t know how to explain the technique, he knew as soon as he started talking about it many of them would jump to the same conclusion he did. Though, his own theory still had many holes that he wasn’t sure how to fill in; he let out a heavy sigh hoping once Wong was back, he would have more answers.

“Basically, it is a technique that allows its user to use their counterpart across the multiverse. They can possess their other variants but…” Stephen scratched the back of his head, his eyes focused on every single one of the presents before they settled on Natasha. “The stronger the sorcerer or the witch, the stronger the spell, they can maintain it for a long time, and they are capable of creating the very same creatures that had been chasing America through the multiverse.”

“You are thinking about someone, aren’t you?” Carol crossed her arms shaking her head. “You think it’s Maximoff?”

Natasha shook her head, her hand waving away at this while she glared at the blond.

“Wait a second, Wanda made many mistakes in the past, but this is on a whole new level…”

“I agree with Romanoff.” Tony stated glaring at Carol. “Wanda may have made many mistakes, but this particular case we are talking about murdering to get to an innocent kid…”

“She created and slaved a whole town, I mean…” Carol said shrugging, she turned to Strange nodding. “Besides, I don’t see Strange fighting much my affirmation.”

Everyone turned to Stephen who was looking at some point on the floor, the man sighed lifting his face nodding.

“That’s my theory, actually.” Stephen lifted a hand to stop any arguments, he locked eyes with Tony trying to appear as the voice of reason. “However, I do agree with you. This Wanda, our Wanda has gone through so much…I don’t think it is her, perse.”

Monica furrowed her brows tilting her head, “what exactly do you mean with our Wanda? You mean…”

“I think it may be another version of her.” Stephen stated firmly.

Everyone jumped startled when a glass fell to the ground, Natasha opened her eyes wide turning to Stephen. She was paled, as if all of a sudden, she saw a ghost.

“Dream walking…is it possible…is it possible that they can show themselves in dreams to other people?” Natasha asked. “It is possible for them to…make physical damage through the dreams?”

Stephen opened his eyes at this, he stood up rather fast striding towards Natasha while placing his hands on the Widow’s shoulders.

“What exactly has happened, Romanoff?”

Natasha felt her world turned around, dizziness overcome her as she remember you telling her about your dreams. The hickey…the scratches… and right there and then, Natasha knew you were in trouble. Carol observed the scene and went from Natasha to Stephen and then back, she clenched her jaw understanding without any more words what was happening. She turned around and went right through the window without hearing the screams from Monica and Natasha for her to stop.

Carol would not wait. You were in danger, and she was not about to let anyone harm you. Much less Wanda Maximoff.

______________________________________________________________

The city of Ulsteinvik was filled with snow and wintery activities that include Winter festival in which the shipyard became the main attraction.

School was over for the day, and many had been invited over to the main festivities that would welcome the weekend. America was bouncing reluctantly around her classmates, her eyes drifting to where you were standing near the car with Vera and other teachers around. She put the jacket around herself, her eyes drifting around until they fell on Wanda; the young woman was strolling down the streets watching everything in awe while trying to locate America and Y/N.

“Hey, America, are you coming?” America turned around to see one of her classmates calling to her, she hesitated nodding pointing in the general direction.

“I will, give me five!”

Wanda smiled at the approaching figure of America; she observed as the teen waved her friends before making her way towards her. America was smiling, her face beaming with emotion at being part of something as mundane as a festival, but also knowing this was the chance she was looking for. The last two days, you and Wanda had been civil around one another, and little by little you had been lowering your defenses to try and get closer to Wanda.

Everything was going according to plan.

“Hey, Wands!” America wrapped her arms tightly around the redhead, Wanda offered a tiny smile fixing America’s hair while pointing to the group of teens waiting at the other end of the street.

“Aren’t you embarrassed to be showing such affection towards me?” The comment was meant to be a joke, Wand didn’t pretend to be nothing else but an acquaintance of America.

The young woman crunched up her nose shaking her head, “Never, Wands you are like…I…you are family.”

Both shifted awkwardly, the conversation dying for a moment until both of you heard your laughter. Vera was rubbing your arm, laughing at something someone else had said; America scowled at her closeness, and she could see that Wanda was not happy with it either. The young woman took that moment to call upon you, making sure everyone turned to see her and Wanda waiting.

“Y/N!! We’re here!” Wanda opened her eyes wide; she saw the glint of mischief in America’s eyes but before she could say something you had already gotten there, your lips breaking into an easy smile.

“Hey, kiddo, ready for the festival?” You passed your arm around her shoulders, America nodded grabbing Wanda’s hand and putting her closer to you.

For a brief moment, America could sense the tension around the three of you. Wanda was almost touching your arms, and you were close enough to see her clear, green eyes gleaming warmly at you. Something inside your heart shifted, and you knew glancing at those eyes was dangerous.

“I am, but I just…” America trailed off looking back at her friends. “I mean, Wanda came over and Kathe and the others are waiting…”

The breeze went pass you brushing your heated skin for a moment, you shot America a quick glance trying to gauge her real intensions but not seeing anything beyond her eagerness to be a part of the festival. Wanda was holding her breath; her whole body was hurting due to the tension she was putting on her posture.

“Go on, I take care of Wanda.” You finally replied, the words of Natasha running around your mind as you realized this could be a chance to have that conversation you have been avoiding the last couple of days.

“Good, you guys are awesome!” She hugged the both of you at the same time before walking back waving. “See you in few!”

A long uncomfortable silence filled the space left by America.

You stood there feeling a pair of eyes on the back of your neck, and you were pretty sure Wanda and Vera had their attention on you. The last couple of days had been strange, to say the least. Wanda, America, and you had been left alone with a great house and a feeling of familiarity you hadn’t felt in a long time. The last conversation you had with Natasha and Yelena had been dancing around your mind ever since they left, and the intensity of those conversations only increased whenever you were alone with Wanda.

And she had been in your mind at all times.

Even when you were dreaming.

The conversation you knew the both of you needed to have had been postponed mainly because you were a coward. And you didn’t want to fall all over again in the same pattern with Wanda, this time around you needed to let everything out and make sure Wanda understood how badly she had messed up.

“You don’t have to, you know?” Wanda broke the silence, her eyes downcast and her posture showing the defeat she had been feeling as of late. “I…I understand and you don’t…I know you don’t want to…”

Wanda shook her head, thinking herself and idiot for thinking perhaps you would want to talk to her, that perhaps this day was what they needed to start building a shaky friendship. But of course, your resentment was strong, and Wanda could not pretend to have the conversation she was dying to have with you to happen anytime soon.

The young witch was turning around ready to stroll around the city before going home when a warm hand wrapped around her wrist. She stopped death on her tracks, turning to face you and finding uncertainty in your eyes.

“Where are you going?” You furrowed your brows, uncertainty filling your mind. You were hoping to break the huge wall that was between you and Wanda, to try and lower your defense and start the process of forgiveness.

To finally hear the advice from Tony, Natasha and even Yelena.

“I…I just thought…” Wanda tried to speak but she had distracted herself with your hand holding her wrist, your eyes glancing at her intently. “I just thought I…walk around the city, you can…I know you must be busy.”

This kind of thing used to be easier.

You remembered all those times in which you would merely whisper a plan, and Wanda was dragging you around to comply with them. Now, everything was uncertain, and your mind kept on playing the treason but also the moments in which Wanda had been hurt, lost…miserable. You took a deep breath, taking a step closer to her, you let go of her hand and made sure she was listening to you.

“I would like to talk to you, I think this is a long overdue conversation between you and me.” You mumbled shrugging. “But, I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to…”

“I do!” Wanda blushed at the abruptness of her answer, she almost fell on her face while trying to hold her emotions.

You couldn’t help but snicker, Wanda wincing before nodding briefly.

“Yes, I think…we…we need to talk.”

“Good then, now that we’re on the same page I know a place you may like, wanna come?” You offered a single smile, that Wanda returned tentatively.

You were very conscious of the growing tension between Wanda and yourself.

It was something you had been living with in the last couple of months since the witch returned to your life. It was almost impossible not to experience it after the myriad of emotions going through your system whenever you thought of Wanda Maximoff.

Now that the both of you were finally alone by circumstances, more so than by election, and the conversation you and her never have was something quite inevitable right now. The streets of Ulsteinvik were filled with people all making their way to the harbor and the shipyard, the conversation in a mixture of Norwegian and English made a cacophony of sounds that surrounded Wanda distracted her from her current situation, her mind had been a pool of thoughts and emotions she had been too scare to face but now that she had the possibility, she wasn’t sure how to approach.

Her eyes fell upon your figure, the confidence with which you strolled down the streets made her falter. A tingle filled with anticipation started growing on her stomach, and it spread out to her chest and limbs; Wanda was trying to organize her thoughts, to think on what to say…she thought she was prepared for this confrontation but, as you guide her inside a café and requested for something warm while sitting in front of her she realized, she was not ready.

“You mingled with the people around here quite well.” Wanda commented lightly, lowering her gaze to the table while wiggling her hands. “You have been living here for a long time, right?”

You pursed your lips nodding curtly, if Wanda was nervous about this conversation, you were ready to explode from anxiety this brought to you. Right there was Wanda, as you had always imagined her. Her long hair falling in waves around her shoulders and back, her deep green eyes gleaming with uncertainty and shyness like that very first meeting in which you bowed to love her. How many years had passed since then? How many wounds? How many treasons?

The waitress offered a kind smile while placing the cups on the table.

The warmness of the liquid brushed your mouth, and helped you distract yourself from the inevitable. Wanda played with a napkin, her gestures revealing the same nervousness you had been hiding ever since she got to your place.

“I have been living here for seven years.” You finally revealed leaning back on the chair, your eyes wandering around refusing to look at the woman sitting in front of you. “This place was refreshing for me, a new beginning.”

Wanda chewed on her lower lip, her trembling hands grabbing the porcelain cup warming up her sweaty palms.

“Can I…” She hesitated lifting her face only to see your eyes on her, you nodded curtly raising a single eyebrow at her. Wanda shivered before asking her question. “Can I know what you did before coming here?”

Wanda had never heard of you after you left the Avengers’ compound, you had disappeared and no one, not even Natasha, was able to provide any news about your whereabouts. You tensed lightly remembering those dark times in your life, the traveling through the shadows and accepting random jobs to get some money and make yourself forget the pain of your broken heart.

You rested your hands on the table, knitting your brows together you pursed your lips thinking about an answer. Your whole body ignited when her hand placed itself on yours, and her eyes were showing regret and begging for you to forgive her.

“You don’t…you don’t have to tell me, I just…” Wanda sighed squeezing your hand tenderly. “I was just curious.”

“I was in a dark place, Wanda.” The sound of the customers filling out the café made this conversation a private one, Wanda went rigid at these words.

Your eyes fell on your hands still wrapped comfortingly under hers, your heart was beating fast and a part of you wished you weren’t in love with her anymore. That your heart had healed enough for the woman sitting in front of you to not affect you the way she was doing at the moment.

“I’m sorry.” Wanda whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks, her words carrying with them the weight of your history with her.

You shrugged bitterly, taking your hand away from her while drinking your coffee.

“It doesn’t matter, I was hurt and lost and I just need a way to vent over my frustrations and my pain.”

“Y/N…” Wanda started but now that you had spoken it was impossible for you to stop.

You clenched your eyes closed, before making sure Wanda was hearing everything you had to say. Everything you had always wanted to say to her.

“I was broken, Wanda, I…travel around trying to harm myself, to make my physical pain greater than my emotional one.” You let out a snort looking out of the window. “I didn’t make it, and I grew tired…that was when I let Natasha find me.”

Wanda heard as you told her everything you had done, and a part of her felt grateful for this. It was the very first time she had accessed you, in a way she had lost after that day. You told her about your misgivings, about your findings, how you came to Norway and ended up being a double agent for Tony and Steve. You told her about your falling out with Steve when the man tried to make you find reason and confront Wanda.

“Then, a few months ago I received some tapes…” You shrugged, tired and suddenly lighter, “Westview…my anger and resentment were back and now…I can’t keep living my life hating you, Wanda. I can’t live my life with resentments and without daring to look at you. Not anymore.”

Wanda wrapped her arms around herself, she didn’t know what to say or how to react to your story. The side of the story she had always been curious about, but no one was ready to reveal to her. She heard about your lovers, and her heart broke into a million pieces knowing you had found comfort in other’s arms. She knew she didn’t deserve your forgiveness, the knowledge of you forgetting about her little by little brought pain she had been experiencing all her life.

“It was never my intention to hurt you, Y/N.” She all but whispered, you snorted shrugging once more. Your lips broke into a bitter smile while your eyes shone with unshed tears.

“We can’t help who we fall in love with, right?” You replied in a broken tone, Wanda scrunched up her nose ready to be honest with you for the very first time in a long time.

“I wasn’t in love with Vision.” Wanda noticed the shredded napkin on her hands, her heart was beating painfully hard against her ribcage while she made herself look at you.

Your back and shoulders were hurting for all the tension you were putting in them, this revelation was something you were not expecting. Your eyes finally looked with those of Wanda, and for a brief moment you saw red swirling around her green irises. The dreams that had been plaguing your for a long time coming in several images, Wanda and Scarlet mixing up just as you heard her voice.

Mine. Only mine.

As much as I have always been yours, my love.

“You have a funny way to show you are not in love with him.” You broke the spell shaking your head, frowning while clenching your fists. “You slept with him, and then you spend your time travelling with him, that and let’s not forget Westview and the happy family you had there.”

Anger was far easier than any other emotion, you clenched your jaw watching as Wanda broke in front of you. So much different than Scarlet, and yet…

“I was never in love with him. I was just…a coward. I was afraid.” She mumbled, her head pulsating painfully. Sparks of red appearing on her fingertips, and the blackness she had come to associate with her blackouts flickering in and out of her fingers as she spoke.

“You’re telling me you…you cheated on me with someone you didn’t even love?” You clenched your jaw putting money out of your pocket and leaving it on the table.

Wanda watched as you stood up and left, she hesitated, the pain inside her head almost unbearable a tug on her abdomen making her stand up and follow you.

“I…yes! Yes! I…god, Y/N, I was afraid and I was confused and I just…” Wanda followed you speaking louder, she didn’t realize she was crying until the cold winter wind touch her face. “I didn’t know…It went against everything I had been taught and my parents…my brother…I thought…”

“I was in love with you, Wanda!” You turned around screaming at the top of your lungs. “ I had the ring, and the house…I even had the names of our children…”

“I know…I found them in the compound, I just…” And Wanda felt the pulsating pain in her head mixing up with her thoughts. Scarlet tried to push the other woman away, tried to tell you that the children were yours…that she had seen it all and that she had created the world for you and her, but at some point, her counterpart, this Wanda had messed up.

The people walking down the streets all turned to look at you and Wanda, the both of you were close enough to touch one another yet it was quite evident there was a distance neither one of you knew how to close. Wanda winced hugging herself tightly, she opened her mouth and closed, the push inside her chest breaking her resolution and her eyes gleamed red for a brief moment until you finally saw it.

One red.

One green.

Her voice, their voices…sounding like one.

“I have lost everything, Y/N. I lost my parents, and I lost myself in hatred and revenge, I gave myself to be an experiment, and then I lost Pietro.” Wanda spoke with a broken voice, she shook her head trying to tell you how she felt. “I could never tell you…you were such…god, you were such a powerful force that made me feel I could do anything, I could be anyone…but then…they started talking about the reconstruction of Sokovia, and Tony brought my parents to be buried alongside Pietro.”

You were trembling in rage and helplessness, Wanda talking about her upbringing. She talked about her mother’s teachings, the church’s teachings and what was expected of her. Wanda spoke about the fears she was not brave enough to tell you for fear of your rejection. She spoke of her papa, and how he had taught her a lesson at some point when she showed her attraction for another woman. The confusion she felt when Vision approached her with a speech about logic, biology and philosophy, about the wrongness of what she was feeling, but also about the nature behind experimenting.

“I couldn’t I just…I didn’t…” Wanda almost felt on her knees, but you were faster than her. She rested against your body, crying with tension building around her body refusing to return your embrace. And in all of this you saw them, Wanda and Scarlet, and your fears and suspicions were clarified at that moment.

They were one and the same, yet two different entities.

“I’m sorry, I never…you…I don’t know why Westview…but they are yours…just yours…” Wanda was crying now trying to get away from you. “I just messed up…I…I’m so broken I just…”

Your heart broke at the sight.

It didn’t justify her, and in all honestly the conversation had not been clear enough. But a part of you, the one that had been running in fear for what you were and who you are, understood.

“I’m sorry.” Wanda repeated over and over, and you put her tighter against yourself.

“It’s…It’s okay.” You mumbled placing a comforting kiss on her head. “It’s okay, Wanda.”

“I can’t…I couldn’t…” Wanda cried softly, and Scarlet pushed through what Wanda had to say all along. “I love you…I…never…I never stop and you…”

Scarlet stirred inside Wanda; she was so close.

It was the right time to make her move. Scarlet was finally at her breaking point, your warmness and your words, the feeling of your skin and your kisses. It was time to get rid of Wanda and for her to come forth. America was around the city and Natasha and Yelena were no longer there.

This time around, the spell would be successful, and Billy and Tommy would be back. And no one would dare to intervene.

“N-No…N-no, please, not…not again…” Wanda screamed in pain, and just as Scarlet was ready to come forth, the humming sound of a flying object approaching broke into the sky.

You tensed.

That humming was familiar, and the hairs at the back of your neck stood up at the energy surrounding such an individual.

You were so distracted you never noticed when the green eyes were lost replaced by the crimson of Scarlet. When you lowered your gaze, the woman was smiling at you, this time around she was not afraid to wrap her arms around you.

“You are mine, detka. Finally.”

“Get your hands away from her, Maximoff!” The golden blast almost made you falter, but your shadows and Scarlet’s reflex were enough to prevent the blast for harming any of you.

Carol Danvers landed with a heavy step, the blasting of energy coming out to put Wanda away from you. The shadows engulfed you separating you from Wanda, while at the same time protecting the redhead form any harms.

“You!” Scarlet growled out, her hands wriggling around with a red mist, while her fingertips started taking in a black colouring. “I won’t let you take her away from me!”

Carol advanced ready to fight the other woman, you opened your eyes wide.

Scarlet wasn’t the only one there.

The red mixed up with purple, and the sky started igniting with runes you had never seen before. The world started trembling, and the smirk Scarlet was wearing told you she was the one working on her magic.

“Carol, wait!” You approached both women, Carol hesitated turning to you with a concern frown when she noticed the blood on your forehead.

“Y/N…” She whispered turning to you, “Strange told us he thinks it is her…”

“I know.” You replied running to the blond woman, Scarlet clenched her jaw refusing to see as Carol’s hand went to your forehead cleaning up the blood in there.

“You knew?” Carol scowled turning her golden eyes to Wanda.

“You won’t have her, Y/N is mine and no one will get in the way.”

At that moment several things happened.

Carol decided to attack Scarlet without hearing your screams of warning, your powers igniting to try and prevent an ever-bigger incident when Scarlet exploded in a bubbled of red mist while the sky above your heads went purple and the runes shone with energy.

Everything around you went black and then, all of a sudden you knew no more.

______________________________________________________________

You heard the beeping of the machines breaking into your unconscious state.

Your body shivered, and this only made you aware of the deep pain you were experimenting. You opened your mouth, for a minute it took all your energy to get out the simplest of moans charged with pure pain. You tried to remember what had happened, what you did and what exactly did Scarlet and Carol did to put you in such a state.

Your eyelids were heavy, but you tried to open your eyes to see exactly where you were at.

Another moan, this one firmer. Your eyes fluttered open, and you had to blink a couple of times due to the intensity of the light.

“MOMMA!”

“MOM!”

Whatever pain you were experimenting, whatever reluctance you had in regards to opening your eyes completely were soon forgotten when you heard those voices. Two boys voices.

You sat up sharply, this time around a scream of pain left your lips, but your eyes were seeing blurry trying to focus on the two figures standing by your bed. Their little hands grabbing yours, and as you blinked away you started focusing them.

“Momma, momma you’re alive!” One of them said hugging you tightly.

You blinked trying to get away, looking around desperately until you saw her.

Wanda Maximoff standing by the door, heavy bags under her puffy eyes. The tears still fresh and she came right at you closing the space in between you and her, her lips soft and tender against yours. For a brief moment you forgot about everything, your head tilting to deepen the kiss, to get reacquainted with Wanda’s taste. The softness of her lips, the warmness of her body…god you missed kissing her.

“God, detka I though…” She whispered smiling soppily when the twins made gagging sounds at the display of affection.

Wanda smiled at you leaning in to get another kiss, but you backed away almost falling from the bed finally registering what was happening. What you had done moments ago and what the woman in front of you was trying to do.

“What the fuck did you do, Scarlet?!! Where am I?! Where is Carol?”

Wanda stood right away, her hands spreading out protectively in front of the twins. She furrowed her brows tilting her head at you.

“Y/N?” She asked tentatively, you were about to speak but a wave of nausea came right at you.

“What’s…what’s going on?” You asked just before falling unconscious on the bed.

Wanda stood there for a moment, Billy pulling at her hand while glancing at your unconscious form.

“Mom, is momma okay?”

“Yes, dear, she is just…” Wanda trailed off turning to the boys. “Momma hurt herself really bad. Go find uncle Steve and Uncle Pietro.”

Tommy and Billy hesitated but then they nodded and left.

Wanda turned to you stepping closer, her hand placing itself on your forehead, while her eyes gleamed red. She hated to do this, it was an unspoken rule for her to never enter the heads of her friends and family. But your reaction, your questions…and what had happened with Strange’s death and the disappearance of America was enough for her to do this.

“I’m sorry my love, I promise you I won’t look beyond what I need to see.” She leaned in placing a kiss on your forehead, reading inside your mind until a whimper left her mouth. She opened her eyes big, stepping back just on time for Steve and Pietro to show at the door.

“Wanda?” Steve asked tentatively, Wanda turned to him nodding.

“I found America, and she…she is not my wife.” Wanda then wrapped her arms around her boys looking back at you then at Steve. “We are in serious trouble.”

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@username23345 - @wandanats-goodgirl - @catswag22 - @imadethisblogbecauseiamasimp - @marvelogic - @dumpaccdontmindme - @nikkinss - @reereeineedtopee - @kaisenblog - @your-internet-adviser - @dark-hunter16 - @wandabear - @justyourwritter69 - @wandasmarley - @imthenatynat - @bisexualnoodle - @trikruismybitch - @fxckmiupup- @justafoolinlove - @teenybean - @haunt626 - @itshouldvebeenme30 - @wandasmarley - @lonewalker17 - @alwaysgoodnight - @wandsmxmff - @iliketozoneout - @kacka84 - @get-the-fuck-outta-here - @charl-lally - @sadiesgf69 - @fanboy7794 - @yenmaximoff - @yenmaximoff - @the-mute1 - @the-mute1 - @when-wolves-howl - @mroyalll -@justhereformemes12345-blog - @justhereformemes12345-blog -@paaandiculations - @anaaam - @bibliophilicbi - @princess-kennys-rats - @danicarpediem - @iliketozoneout - @oh-thats-cute - @screechcat - @sheriffhaughtearp - @romanoffomixam - ohboiiitsbritneeeeey - @marveloussimp - @g-athenaathens - @mousecakez - cowboyboots236 - weird-shit-i-see-and-enjoy - esposadejoyhuerta - marvelogic

Please, tell me if I forgot anyone.

#wanda maximoff #female Reader #You #Y/N #Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader #WandaxReader #WandaxFemale!Reader #Wanda Maximoff x Female! reader #Wanda Maximoff x F!Reader #imagine wanda maximoff #MoM AU #Marvel AU

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thisisabernieblog · 10 months ago

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International Court of Justice Rules That Israel Must Stop Killing Palestinians

World BEYOND War

The International Court of Justice has ruled that Israel must cease its warmaking in Gaza — cease committing and inciting genocidal acts — and that the case charging Israel with genocide must proceed.

DETAILS OF THE RULING:

By 15-2: Israel shall take all measures within its power to prevent all acts within the scope of Genocide Convention article 2

15-2: Israel must immediately ensure that its military does not commit acts within the scope of GC.2

16-1: Direct and punish all members of the public who engage in the incitement of genocide against Palestinians

16-1: Ensure provision of urgently needed basic services, humanitarian aid

15-2: Prevent the destruction of and ensure the preservation of evidence to allegation of acts of GC.2

15-2: Israel will submit report as to how they’re adhering to these orders to the ICJ within 1 month

This is Article 2 of the Genocide Convention:

In the present Convention, genocide means any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such:

(a) Killing members of the group;

(b) Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group;

(c) Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part;

(d) Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group;

(e) Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.

Therefore, Israel must cease killing Palestinians.

This was a make or break moment for international law, or rather a break or make-a-first-step moment. There is hope for the idea and reality of international law, but this is only a beginning.

The president of the International Court of Justice, who read the ruling, is Judge Joan Donoghue, former top legal advisor under Hillary Clinton at the U.S. State Department during the Obama Administration. She previously was the lawyer for the United States in its unsuccessful defense before the ICJ against charges by Nicaragua of minining its harbor.

The court voted for portions of this decision by 15-2 and 16-1. The “No” votes came from Judge Julia Sebutinde of Uganda and Ad Hoc Judge Aharon Barak of Israel.

The case presented by South Africa was overwhelming (read it or watch a key part of it), and Israel’s defense paper-thin. And the case just grew more overwhelming during the bizarre delay (yes, courts are slow, but this genocide is swift).

People all over the world built the pressure to move South Africa to act and other nations to add their support. Over 1,500 organizations signed a statement. Individuals signed a petition by CODEPINK, and sent almost 500,000 emails to key governments’ United Nations consulates through World BEYOND War and RootsAction.org. Click those links because more emails are needed now. While several nations have made public statements in support of South Africa’s case, we need them to file papers officially with the International Court of Justice. To reach out to additional national governments, go here.

Governments that have made statement in support of the case against genocide include Malaysia, Turkey, Jordan, Bolivia, the 57 nations of the Organization of Islamic Countries, Nicaragua, Venezuela, Maldives, Namibia, and Pakistan, Colombia, Brazil, and Cuba.

Germany has backed Israel’s defense against the charge of genocide, which has been denounced by Namibia, victimn of a German genocide. Prominent Jews have denounced Germany’s shameful action.

Mass demonstrations in the streets of the world have continued in support of peace and justice, and to a far greater extent than major media outlets have reported.

Here’s a discussion of this campaign for justice with Sam Husseini on Talk World Radio.

Prior to today’s ruling from the International Court of Justice, the U.S. government pointedly refused to say whether it would comply with ruling, despite insisting that other nations comply with rulings by the ICJ.

Hamas said that it would cease fire if Israel does, and release all prisoners if Israel does

Germany, to its credit, reportedly said that it would comply.

Arming a genocide is complicity in genocide. While Israel gets most of its weapons from the United States, other weaponry comes from Germany, Italy, the UK, and Canada — at least some of which nations also provide parts to U.S. weaponsmakers that provide weapons to Israel. Italian opposition demanded an end to it. And then the Foreign Minister claimed Italy had stopped shipments on Oct 7. Meanwhile, Canada is coming under pressure to cease shipments and prevarications. In Canada, Members of Parliament are among over 250 people hunger striking for an arms embargo on Israel.

People in the United States can tell Congress to stop arming Israel here or here.

President Joe Biden already faces a lawsuit for aiding and abetting genocide in Gaza. In November 2023, Palestinian human rights organizations, along with Gaza- and U.S.-based Palestinians, filed suit in a U.S. federal court seeking declaratory and injunctive relief against the Biden Administration for failing to prevent genocide, and for aiding and abetting genocide. The plaintiffs seek an order to end U.S. military and diplomatic support to Israel. A hearing to address the government’s motion to dismiss will be held at 9 a.m. PT / 12 noon ET today, Friday. The hearing will be webstreamed to the public. You are encouraged to tune in and witness the U.S. government’s attempts at avoiding accountability and justify its support for the genocide that is happening in Gaza.

Handed down on Invasion Day (26th Jan in Australia)

How fitting ❤️ 🇵🇸 ❤️ 🇵🇸 ❤️

#free palestine #Genocide #Ethnic cleansing #Apartheid #ICJ #ICJ ruling #ICJ hearing #Palestine #israel is a terrorist state #death to israel #fuck israel #israel is committing genocide #israel is a war criminal #israel is an apartheid state #israel is evil

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meeranjaz · 8 days ago

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Optimizing Your Online Presence with Expert SEO and WordPress Services

In today’s competitive digital landscape, a robust online presence is essential for businesses to thrive. Whether you're running a small blog or managing a large e-commerce platform, search engine optimization (SEO) and a well-maintained website are the cornerstones of success. At Jazinfotech, we specialize in providing tailored SEO and WordPress solutions that help businesses grow and stay ahead of the curve.

Why SEO Matters for Your Business

SEO is not just about ranking higher on search engines—it's about creating a seamless experience for your audience. With over 3.5 billion searches conducted on Google daily, ensuring your website is optimized for search engines is critical to attract organic traffic, increase visibility, and improve conversions.

Effective SEO involves various elements, including keyword research, on-page optimization, technical SEO, and link-building. Each component plays a significant role in improving your site's search engine ranking. At Jazinfotech, we use proven strategies to ensure your website’s content, structure, and user experience are fully optimized for search engines, driving better results.

Expert WordPress Services

WordPress powers over 40% of websites on the internet, and for good reason. Its user-friendly interface, flexibility, and vast plugin ecosystem make it a top choice for businesses looking to create or enhance their online presence. However, just having a WordPress website is not enough; it requires ongoing optimization and maintenance to ensure it's performing at its best.

At Jazinfotech, we provide comprehensive WordPress services, from initial website development to ongoing support and maintenance. Our team of WordPress experts ensures that your site is not only visually appealing but also fast, secure, and optimized for SEO.

You Achieve SEO Success

Comprehensive Keyword Research and Analysis Understanding the terms your audience is searching for is the first step in effective SEO. Our team at Jazinfotech conducts thorough keyword research to identify the best keywords for your business. We analyze search volume, competition, and user intent to develop a strategy that will drive quality traffic to your site.

On-Page SEO Optimization On-page SEO involves optimizing individual pages to rank higher and earn more relevant traffic. This includes optimizing title tags, meta descriptions, header tags, images, and internal linking. At Jazinfotech, we ensure that every page of your WordPress site is optimized to meet both user needs and search engine requirements.

Technical SEO Technical SEO is a behind-the-scenes effort that ensures your website is crawling and indexing correctly. It includes optimizing site speed, mobile responsiveness, structured data, and fixing issues like broken links and duplicate content. Our team ensures that your WordPress site is technically sound, providing a smooth experience for both search engines and users.

Content Strategy and Blogging Quality content is at the heart of any successful SEO strategy. Jazinfotech helps you develop a content strategy that aligns with your audience’s interests and search intent. Regular blogging, optimized for both readers and search engines, is a powerful way to attract visitors and establish authority in your niche.

Link Building and Outreach Building high-quality backlinks from reputable websites is essential for improving your domain authority and search rankings. Jazinfotech uses white-hat link-building strategies to ensure your website gains credibility and improves its SEO performance.

SEO Analytics and Reporting Tracking your SEO performance is key to understanding what works and what needs improvement. Jazinfotech provides in-depth SEO analytics and reporting, giving you actionable insights into your website’s traffic, keyword rankings, and overall performance.

SEO and WordPress Services?

At Jazinfotech, we pride ourselves on delivering customized SEO and WordPress services that meet the unique needs of each business. Our team stays up-to-date with the latest SEO trends, Google algorithm updates, and WordPress best practices to ensure your website stays ahead of the competition.

Whether you're looking to optimize your existing website or develop a new WordPress site from scratch, Jazinfotech is your trusted partner in achieving digital success. With our proven track record of helping businesses improve their online presence, we’re confident that we can help your business grow and thrive in the digital world.

Conclusion

Investing in SEO and WordPress services is an essential step toward building a successful online presence. At Jazinfotech, we combine our expertise in both areas to offer a comprehensive solution that helps businesses achieve their goals. Let us help you optimize your website, increase traffic, and boost conversions. Contact us today to learn how our tailored services can make a difference for your business.

About Jazinfotech

Jazinfotech is a leading provider of SEO and WordPress services, offering customized solutions to businesses of all sizes. With a team of experienced professionals, Jazinfotech helps businesses optimize their online presence and achieve their digital marketing goals. Whether you're looking for SEO optimization, website development, or ongoing maintenance, Jazinfotech is your partner for success.

This blog post highlights Jazinfotech’s expertise and how businesses can benefit from its SEO and WordPress services.

#on page optimization #off page optimization #seo #seo services

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saptaxhub · 13 days ago

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Digital Signature Certificate for Import-Export Code (IEC) Registration

The Import-Export Code (IEC) is a unique identification number required by businesses involved in the import or export of goods and services in India. One of the mandatory requirements for IEC registration is the submission of documents using a Digital Signature Certificate (DSC). This blog explains the importance of DSCs in the IEC registration process, how they are used, and why securing your DSC is crucial for your business’s growth in international trade.

What is the Import-Export Code (IEC)?

The Import-Export Code (IEC) is a key business identification number provided by the Directorate General of Foreign Trade (DGFT). It is mandatory for businesses wishing to engage in international trade activities. Whether you’re a manufacturer, wholesaler, or trader, an IEC is essential for clearing goods through customs, making payments for exports/imports, and availing other export benefits.

Why is a Digital Signature Certificate (DSC) Needed for IEC Registration?

E-Filing Requirement: The DGFT requires businesses to submit their IEC registration forms electronically via the DGFT portal. To sign and submit these online forms, you need a Digital Signature Certificate (DSC). This DSC ensures that the forms are validated and processed by the authorities without the risk of fraud.

Ensures Legal Validity: A DSC is recognized under the Information Technology Act, 2000, and serves as a legally valid electronic signature. This makes it possible for the IEC application to be processed legally, just like a traditional paper submission.

Prevents Tampering: The use of encryption technology in DSCs ensures that the information submitted for IEC registration cannot be altered once it’s been signed, thus preventing tampering or fraudulent modifications to the documents.

Faster Processing: Using a DSC speeds up the entire IEC registration process. Since the registration is done electronically, you can avoid delays associated with manual document submission and processing.

How to Apply for IEC Registration with a DSC

Obtain a Digital Signature Certificate (DSC): To apply for an IEC, you first need to obtain a DSC from a Certifying Authority (CA). You can choose between Class 2 and Class 3 DSCs, with Class 3 being the more secure option for business-related applications like IEC registration.

Prepare the Required Documents: The DGFT requires various documents for IEC registration, such as the PAN card, proof of address, bank certificate, and the identity of the applicant. Along with these documents, you will need your DSC to authenticate and sign the application.

Register on the DGFT Portal: Visit the DGFT’s official website and create an account. After registering, log in to complete the IEC application form online. During this process, you’ll be asked to upload your documents.

Attach the DSC: Once you’ve completed the form and uploaded all the necessary documents, you’ll need to sign the form using your DSC. This step ensures the authenticity of the registration application and validates your submission.

Submit the Application: After attaching your DSC, submit the application. The DGFT will process your application, and once it is approved, your IEC will be issued electronically.

Benefits of Using DSC for IEC Registration

Security: The encryption technology in DSCs secures your business’s data and ensures that sensitive information remains protected during the registration process.

Legitimacy: With a DSC, you can ensure that your IEC registration is legally valid, reducing the chances of rejection or delays due to discrepancies.

Efficiency: The use of DSC reduces the manual effort involved in IEC registration and ensures that your application is processed more quickly.

Reduced Fraud Risks: Since the DSC links your identity to the submitted documents, it prevents any fraudulent or unauthorized transactions, protecting your business from potential legal and financial issues.

Conclusion

A Digital Signature Certificate (DSC) plays an integral role in securing and facilitating the Import-Export Code (IEC) registration process. By ensuring the authenticity of your online submission and protecting your business’s sensitive data, a DSC is essential for those seeking to engage in international trade. For a smooth IEC registration experience, consult with the Best CA Firm in Delhi, which can help you obtain a DSC and guide you through the entire registration process, ensuring your business is ready for global expansion.

#gst registration #ca firm in delhi

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dua1999 · 18 days ago

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Start a Business in Dubai with Low Investment

Dubai has emerged as a global business hub, providing immense opportunities for entrepreneurs with various budgets. With the right approach and strategy, it's possible to establish a successful business in Dubai with low investment. Here’s a quick guide on how to get started and make the most of Dubai’s business-friendly environment.

Benefits of Starting a Business in Dubai

Dubai offers numerous advantages for new businesses:

Strategic Location: Dubai connects Europe, Asia, and Africa, making it a perfect base for international trade.

Free Zones: Dubai’s free zones allow full foreign ownership, tax exemptions, and streamlined processes.

Low Taxation: With no personal or corporate tax for most types of businesses, Dubai is financially favorable.

Steps to Start a Business in Dubai with Low Investment

Choose the Right Business Setup in Dubai To maximize investment, consider starting your business in one of Dubai's free zones. They offer affordable packages tailored for entrepreneurs and small businesses. Popular free zones like DMCC, IFZA, and Meydan Free Zone provide cost-effective licensing options.

Select a Business Activity Start with a service-based business, which requires minimal capital. Freelance services, consultancy, digital marketing, and online trading are popular low-cost options. These require lower initial investment compared to retail or manufacturing.

Leverage Virtual Office Options Dubai’s free zones offer flexible office solutions, including virtual offices, which allow businesses to maintain a presence in Dubai without incurring high rental costs.

Obtain the Necessary Licenses Every business setup in Dubai requires a license, depending on the activity and location. Free zone authorities offer various affordable licensing packages, including freelancer licenses for individual entrepreneurs.

Market Smartly and Efficiently Use digital marketing to reach customers on a budget. Social media, SEO, and email marketing can help you attract customers without high advertising costs.

Best Low-Investment Business Ideas in Dubai

Consultancy Services: If you have expertise in a field like finance, legal, or management, starting a consultancy can be highly profitable.

E-commerce: Launch an online store and leverage Dubai’s growing digital market.

Digital Marketing Agency: With minimal equipment and a small team, you can help local businesses grow their online presence.

Freelancing: From content creation to graphic design, freelancing offers flexibility and requires a minimal investment.

Conclusion

Starting a business setup in Dubai with low investment is entirely feasible, given the city’s supportive infrastructure and numerous free zones. With the right planning, selecting cost-effective options, and focusing on low-cost business ideas, you can launch a successful venture in Dubai without breaking the bank. Dubai’s dynamic market, combined with low taxation and robust growth prospects, makes it a prime choice for aspiring entrepreneurs.

know more

#business setup in dubai #dubaibusiness #uaebusiness #freezone in dubai #best business consutant dubai #company formation in dubai #business ideas #start a small business

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averagejoesolomon · 1 year ago

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WELCOME TO THE KIDS. God, we are not ready for this installment, I'm so serious. Matt and Rachel are going to kill us all. To say nothing of the upcoming spycraft and general ass-kickery. Thank you for reading this with me. If you're new here, you can read Full Circle in full on Ao3. Enjoy!

Chapter Two

Before Matt boards a plane to New York, he pastes an OTS-issued mustache to his upper lip and switches the passports in his backpack.

There are no direct flights from Washington DC to Moscow. The reasons for this span far and wide, but the most significant factor also happens to be the simplest—sheer distance. At nearly five-thousand miles as the crow flies, there ain’t a whole lot of civilian aircraft that can make the flight in one go, to say nothing of the fact that neither country is especially amicable to the idea of direct contact. As part of a global effort to reduce the friction between two nuclear superpowers, Morocco offers up its services as the geographical and political buffer between the two destinations, its liminal and atmospheric nightlife acting as the ideal backdrop for the world’s transfers, layovers, and delays.

The trip usually takes eighteen hours if flown straight through, but the gin joints can eat into a full day if given the chance. For his part, Matt’s latest trip takes thirty-seven hours.

But he can’t blame the bars this time around because he doesn’t stop in Morocco, and hasn’t since he picked up a Soviet tail in the CMN terminal last spring. For every US intelligence agent flying through Casablanca, there are five Russian officers waiting on the ground with direct orders to identify and apprehend incoming westerners. The behavior has become too predictable. The Soviets have become too prominent. As Joe puts it: an agent in Morocco is an agent in the grave.

So Matt begins with a trip to New York, then London, then Istanbul, where he switches passports again to fly to Dubai, so he can finally make his way up to Moscow. He survives off of complimentary peanuts and ginger ale, stopping only at the occasional newsstand for the latest local headlines and a fresh packet of M&Ms—one of the few candies sold consistently across international borders. Vigilant airport hours are balanced with the relative safety of the sky, and his only sleep happens alongside the low, rattling drone of jet engines in his ear.

By the time he lands in the Soviet Union, he’s already added a goatee and traded his honey blond hair for a bleached wig that more closely resembles his newly assumed Slavic heritage. After deboarding, he identifies the nearest bathroom to the gate and enters the last stall on the left. As instructed by his CO, he runs his fingers along the wall until he finds a ridge in the tile. He carefully peels back a damn near invisible panel, revealing the compartment Langley promised him. There’s a change of clothes. A pair of contacts. A note written on evapopaper: E ibvltn aely ldrm oor we uti I. The key to this particular skip code was already given to him in New York, which helps him decipher the message that a driver will meet him in Lot 2. Thank God he doesn’t need to hail a taxi.

He drops the note into the toilet bowl and watches it melt from the edges inward. After changing into the provided outfit, he silently shreds his old travel clothes to be discarded in various trash cans on his way to the parking lot. Finally, he pops both contacts in, replaces the panel, and flushes the toilet in case anyone is listening. When he approaches the sink to wash his hands, unfamiliar blue eyes blink back at him from where his own brown eyes ought to be.

Between the sporadic sleep and the changing time zones, he has no idea what the local time is, but the dark sky narrows his possibilities to either very late or very early. The weight of travel saturates every muscle, every joint, every step, but he can’t afford to turn off his senses and slip lazily into the night—not in Moscow. Never in Moscow. After five consecutive flights in less than two days, the hard part has only just begun.

The Soviet Union has always been dangerous to western agents, but the capital has only gotten more hostile in Matt’s time as an operative. Last summer alone, ten US informants were executed in the city, including two of Matt’s most reliable contacts. In the following winter, a handful of Russian specialists left Langley for a field mission and didn’t come home. The last time Matt was here, he met with a Circle informant named Omar who offered to talk in exchange for medication not available in Russia, but easily acquired at a US pharmacy with a forged prescription. Omar is dead now, too, and Matt suspects an assassin finished him off before the illness did. These days, Moscow is a loaded spring trap ready to snap at the slightest tick in the wrong direction, deadly enough that even a skilled Pavement Artist stands to don a disguise or two.

Despite the ocean between them, Joe’s voice rings through Matt’s head. It’s always strongest in Moscow, imploring him to pay attention. Notice things. This is the sort of place where it’s best to lean into strengths, so Matt jumps in with the rest of the red-eyed passengers as the mob progresses through customs, down to baggage claim, and toward ground transportation. From his pace to his posture, he strives to put on a seamless Soviet appearance.

When he reaches the lot, he identifies a license plate number he was instructed to memorize, then enters the backseat of the boxy beige Lada. The driver doesn’t look back when he says, “Nice weather we’re having, yes?” in the sort of thick, Russian dialect that only natives can pull off.

Matt replies in his own practiced Russian. “I hear rain is imminent,” he says. “But I seem to have forgotten my umbrella at home.”

Satisfied with the exchange, the driver shifts gears and squeezes out of his parking spot, working his way toward the main city. By now, Matt knows the streets of Moscow as well as he knows the streets of Hay Springs, so he pays close attention to the route, just in case the driver has been compromised in the past forty-eight hours. The two of them do not speak, wary of bugs. They do not exchange glances, wary of pinprick cameras sewn into buttons. Instead, they embrace their existence as total strangers, not eager to leave any impression of an alliance.

This suits Matt just fine. That is, until seventeen minutes later, when the driver takes a right-hand turn away from the city center, then another.

In this business, in this part of the world, two right turns are a surefire signal to any veteran agent that something significant is about to happen, though it’s impossible to predict whether he’s looking at a positive or negative outcome until the moment actually passes. That’s probably why Joe’s voice is in Matt’s head again, anticipating the worst and providing Matt with escape plans.

The sidewalks look reasonably empty, easy enough to run.

The rear doors appear to be unlocked from the inside.

If the doors are jammed shut from the outside, Matt’s shoe has an iron wedge embedded in the rubber heel, which will help him kick through the window.

The driver isn’t armed, but if he makes a move for the glove box, Matt’s best option is to choke him from behind.

The little Lada pulls up to an alleyway tucked between high-rise apartments and a seemingly abandoned liquor store. There are no streetlights. No witnesses. The driver shifts the car into park and says, “You exit now.”

Risk assessment is a key component of any covert decision and, in that moment, Matt senses some serious risk waiting for him at the other end of that alleyway. At the same time, he also senses an even greater risk if he overstays his welcome with this native Russian driver who, by the way, has about a hundred extra pounds on him. Matt doesn’t need to be told twice. Hands up, he slowly exits the vehicle and prepares himself for the next piece of this rapidly evolving Moscow puzzle.

The instant Matt kicks the door shut and slings his bag back onto his shoulder, the Lada’s engine grinds into full gear with a squeal of the tires. He has officially run out of CIA instructions, but the good news is that he doesn’t have any time to doubt himself before his next priority makes itself apparent. The bad news is that his next priority should probably be to get away from the knife that was just pressed against his side.

The pointed end of the blade pokes along the muscle just above his hip. It hasn’t cut through his shirt yet, but one wrong move could change that and much more. “This is a nice surprise,” Matt says, sticking with Russian in a rushed attempt to keep his cover intact. “Where are we going?”

The answering Russian is good—excellent, even—but it has the subtle lilt of someone who learned it as a secondary language. “Is that all it takes to best you? One knife to the ribs and you roll over completely?” It’s a woman’s voice, and one of the few commonalities between the CIA and the KGB is the rarity of female agents among their ranks. Plus, the hold on the knife is petite and graceful, belonging to someone who was taught to fence before she was taught to fight. Matt decides he’s not up against a Soviet agent, but this ain’t a friend either. Not yet.

Joe’s voice is telling him to fight, but Matt’s curious enough to say, “In my experience, the person with the knife usually gets to make all the rules.” He continues with Russian, hoping that the woman will respond in kind and give him a chance to identify the accent layered below. “And, by the way, if you’re aiming for my ribs, you’re about two inches too low.”

She doesn’t disappoint. British accent, maybe. Or Australian. It really is impressively subtle. “Bold thing to say to someone with a knife to your side,” she says. “Remarks like that could get you killed.”

Matt huffs. “Maybe one day, but not today.”

She twists the knife a little deeper, pricking a hole in his shirt. “And what makes you so certain?”

“Because if you were going to kill me, ma’am,” he says, “I’d already be dead.”

This is a bit of a risky gamble. Few things make one human want to kill another more than spite, and Matt’s gone ahead and welcomed it with open arms. His mama always did say he had a real way about him, when it came to tempting fate. Thankfully, this particular bet seems to pay off as the knife finally falls away from his torso. The woman grabs him by the back of his collar instead, pulling him deeper into the alleyway. “You’ve taken all the fun out of it,” she says with a sigh. “Come with me. And don’t ever call me ma’am—that much will get you killed.”

This is a joke. He thinks. And jokes are awfully promising in a place like Moscow.

At the end of the alleyway, another car sits idling. No headlights. No plate lights. Matt can’t know for sure, but he reckons the brake lights are probably cut, too. In the presence of a car designed for a perfect covert getaway, Matt recognizes this moment for what it is—not an attack, but an escape. A high-tech game of keepaway.

In this particular instance, Matt is not an agent. Rather, he’s an asset in need of transportation, and he’s just met his new driver. When this stranger opens the rear door and shoves him inside, Matt knows that she’s putting on a show for potential onlookers. When she says, “Stay down,” he understands that his silhouette can’t be seen driving through the city. It is not enough to blend in—not when he could have a tail leftover from travel, not when the customs office could have bugged his backpack, not when a patrolman might recognize him from another visit into the city and assign a car to follow close behind. Agents have been known to disappear between an airport and a safe house, which means Matt is only safe if he becomes completely invisible. It’s the sort of thing that can only be accomplished with careful timing, meticulous planning, and an appreciation for redundancy, after redundancy, after redundancy.

In other words, this plan has Rachel Cameron written all over it.

He’s managed to avoid the thought for the past thirty-seven hours—and, frankly, for the entire two years before that—but the idea of being in the same city as Rachel after such a long time away has him wishing for a knife to his side instead. Knife wounds, at least, are an isolated pain with one clear source. They can be cleaned and stitched up. Bandaged and healed. This business with Rachel pings around all of his insides, taking turns with his stomach, his heart, his throat, his lungs. Rancid regret rots his brain and radiates down to every last muscle. Laying alone in the back of a stranger’s car, staring up at the velvet interior, Matt gets caught in a loop of all the things he wishes he’d said sooner.

He didn’t expect it to all stop.

He never should have made her cry.

He didn’t think it would last this long.

He lies, sometimes. He’s sorry he has to lie.

He’s doing good, good, good as often as he can.

Matt has always meant to say these things to her, but the longer they went without, the harder it got to call. Now it feels like too much time has passed to say any of it—like apologizing will only serve as a bitter reminder of just how deeply they tore into one another. Like acknowledging it will only reopen scars that have only just started to heal over.

The longer they drive, the more Rachel’s proximity presses down on his chest, squeezing him into the seat. He knows he ought to count the seconds. Track the turns. Try to get some sense of where they’re headed. But Rachel Cameron fills every last available space in his thoughts and, God almighty, she would lecture him straight to high heaven if she knew how distracted he was.

Once he’s fully worked himself up into a tightly wound ball of unspoken mistakes, the tires hit a gravel drive. The car takes an awfully long route over bumpy back roads and heavily forested hills, which is especially impressive given the lack of headlights, before it finally slows to a stop. His driver turns to the backseat, moonlight catching on the curve of her cheek, an icy white steak against smooth dark skin. “Congratulations on surviving your trip,” she says, and Matt thinks it might be an American southern drawl hiding beneath her Russian, with the way her vowels drawl. “You may leave. Your bag, however, must stay until morning.”

Matt sits upright, his silhouette visible to the night once more. “Sure thing,” he answers. “It’s like I said—the lady with the knife gets to make the rules.”

This earns him a subtle tick of the stranger’s lips. Matt latches onto the near smile and vows to turn into a broad, toothy grin sooner rather than later. But in the meantime, he’ll settle for the semi-charmed side-eye she casts his way, just before she opens the driver door. “Bloody Hell,” she says as she exits, finally switching to English. “She was right about you.”

British. Damn. Matt should have trusted his gut.

Wait.

He bolts out of the backseat and jogs to catch up. “Right about me?” he echoes, falling back into his own American English. “Who was right about me—right about what?”

The Brit’s stride is incredibly long, and would probably be better suited to a runway than barely-used backwoods paths overgrown with weeds. Matt has to quicken his own pace just to keep up with her. “Never you mind,” she says. “This way.”

“Doesn’t seem right,” he tries, “that you get inside info on me when I don’t even know your name—”

“This way,” she says again. “Surely I don’t have to remind you, of all people, that Moscow’s trees have ears.”

Matt has spent a significant portion of his career listening to conversations picked up by precisely placed bugs exactly like the ones she speaks of now. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her the surrounding trees probably aren’t bugged—at least not in the way she expects. The Soviets wouldn’t go to the trouble of tagging each individual tree, only to have an opposing agent uncover them within an hour of arrival. The birds, foxes, and deer, however, are worth a second glance.

Either way, she’s right. The forest is no place for introductions. Instead, he follows as she hikes toward a tiny cabin tucked between one hillside and another. It appears perfectly plain on the outside, built from cedar logs and a tin roof. Shrubs and pines surround the perimeter, and Matt knows from experience that these are probably prickly and unpleasant, making it difficult for any unwelcome guests to get too close. The curtains are drawn. The chimney is without smoke. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say no one was home.

They cover their tracks as they go, wordless right up until they reach the door. Mind split in the dozens of different directions demanded by good countersurveillance, Matt forgets to be nervous until the last minute, when the Brit knocks in a unique, four-rap pattern, then opens the door. The cabin’s light flashes into the nighttime forest, so they waste no time stepping inside.

A new voice greets them. Then again, this voice ain’t really new. Not to him. He’d know this particular voice anywhere, even if he spent years, decades, centuries away. “Grace?”

Rachel Cameron waits for them just inside, seated at a small dining table at the center of a small kitchen. Rachel Cameron has lists, and blueprints, and notes scattered all across the tabletop, the chairs, the linoleum, splayed across kitchen countertops, and taped to cabinets, and stuck to the refrigerator with little black magnets. Rachel Cameron scans one stack of papers with the pencil in her right hand, then another with a highlighter in her left. Rachel Cameron looks up. Rachel Cameron meets his gaze. Rachel Cameron sighs.

Genius. He’s always known the word applied to her, though it strikes him anew. Rachel’s brilliance is better experienced in small doses, when he can slowly acclimate himself to the raw appreciation of it. The last two years have robbed him of his resilience and it’s like he’s seeing her for the very first time all over again.

Except it only takes a single moment for all of their history to come rushing back, filling the room from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, until there’s no more space for words, or gestures, or glances. Rachel looks away first, eyes falling back to a set of blueprints, and Matt follows her lead.

Thankfully, their companion cuts through the silence without a trace of discomfort. “Found your boy,” she says, kicking off her shoes. “He’s cheeky, this one.”

Matt starts to protest with “Oh, I ain’t—” at the same time Rachel says, “He’s not my—”

They both stop, and wait, and wait some more. Neither of them meet the other’s eyes. When enough excruciating seconds have passed, Rachel starts again, and Matt lets her. “Thank you for picking him up,” she says. “I know you were eager to stay in tonight, but—”

“But we aren’t taking any chances with this op,” the Brit finishes. “Understood. Really, Rachel. Though I will say, I was a bit surprised at how easily this one came along with a complete stranger.”

It is as if all of Rachel’s years of etiquette training hit her at once. She brings her fingers to her forehead, suddenly remembering. “Ah, yes, sorry. You haven’t been introduced yet.”

“Not unless you count my putting a knife into his side,” she says.

Matt clears his throat, finally finding his words. “In this business, that’s sometimes the only introduction we get.”

The Brit smiles again. It’s still not the full grin he’s looking for, but it’s closer. “Quite right.”

Rachel studies the pair of them, analyzing something Matt can’t see. She squints back and forth between them, her face twisting into something sour, as though she’s not sure she likes what she’s looking at. “Right,” she says, slowly. Then, clears her throat. “Right, well, anyway. Grace, this is Matthew Morgan. Matthew, this is Grace Harris—”

“Baxter,” Grace cuts in.

“Right,” says Rachel, squeezing her eyes shut, remembering again. Matt’s not sure he’s ever seen Rachel forget anything, and he takes note of the fact that she’s gone and forgotten twice in a sixty-second span. A data point he’ll save for later. “Grace Baxter.”

Grace Baxter holds out her hand to shake, meeting Matt with a far firmer grip than he’s expecting. He feels a couple of knuckles pop in his own hand, and resists the urge to call out. “It’s so great to finally meet you,” she says.

That’s an awfully interesting choice of words. “Finally?” says Matt.

Grace does not elaborate. “My husband is around as well, but he’s being a good little agent and sleeping off his jet lag while it’s still dark.”

Matt, who hasn’t had more than two hours of consecutive sleep since DC, can’t quite hide the longing in his reply. “Smart man.”

“Outrageously so. It’s infuriating, really,” Grace agrees. “You’ll see him at breakfast tomorrow, but in the meantime we should all probably join him. The last thing we need is four exhausted agents trying to run an op in Moscow.”

Matt has about a million more questions for Grace Baxter, but none of them form quite right in his head. A fog fills his brain, clouding all of his better thoughts, and he reckons Grace is probably right. He’s useless to Rachel like this, and she’ll be the first to call him on it. “Sounds like a plan to me,” he says. “Do you think we ought to run it by the boss, first?”

Grace risks a glance toward Rachel, who has already returned to one of her blueprints. With Rachel’s attention occupied, Matt steals this chance to take her in. Her clothes are worn with travel and her shoulders slump with a need for sleep. Some of her curls have escaped the denim scrunchie holding back the bulk of her hair, falling into her face, and Matt remembers all at once that Rachel never did know how to stop, once she got started.

“Good luck,” Grace scoffs. “I’ve been trying to get her to sleep for hours. Maybe you can talk some sense into her. She’s been planning since the moment she walked in.”

Matt ain’t got any sense that Rachel doesn’t already have ten times over, and he doesn’t dare pretend otherwise. Thankfully, Rachel recognizes this and provides an answer of her own. “I’ve been planning for the past three months,” she corrects, just as she circles something on the page. “I just wanted to get some last-minute changes down before bed.”

Grace turns back to Matt. “You see? Hopeless,” she says. “You two may do what you please, but I intend to get some sleep. Pulling off a fake kidnapping at the edge of Moscow is exhausting work, you know.”

With this, she sends a playful jab into Matt’s side. Only problem is, Grace’s idea of a playful jab is most people’s idea of a full-on elbow to the ribs, and Matt has to catch his breath afterward. It takes all of his might not to let out an unmanly yelp in front of these two women. “Right,” he gasps. “See you in the morning.”

“Thanks again, Grace,” Rachel calls, not looking up from her writing.

With a wave of her fingers, Grace disappears behind one of the two available doors and shuts it with a twist of the lock. Matt realizes too late that her absence leaves just him and Rachel. Alone. Together.

This silence just won’t do.

“Flights good?” he asks.

“Yes,” she answers, scribbling away.

“Abby okay?”

Scribble, scribble. “Yes.”

“You okay?”

Scribble, scribble. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason.” This is worse than the silence, actually. Out of questions and energy stores depleted, Matt decides that his only remaining move is one that has been employed by desperate agents for centuries—a retreat. “Listen, I think I might join the others and try to get some sleep. Unless you need me?”

Scribble, scribble. “Not yet.”

“Great,” he says. “Just point me to my bed and I’ll be on my way.”

Rachel’s pencil freezes mid-sentence. This is Matt’s first clue that something is horribly wrong, followed by the fact that her eyes finally meet his and this time, she doesn’t look away. “No.”

“Um.” Retreat, retreat, retreat. “Okay? I guess I can find it—”

But Rachel is already up, dashing through the sliver of a living room that hosts a single chair, a coffee table, and a throw blanket. When she reaches the second available door in the cabin, blood drains from her already pale face, turning it to an alarming, ashen white. Her voice is hollow and distant when she squeaks out a soft, “No, no, no.”

When it comes to Rachel, Matt is woefully out of practice, but it doesn’t take an expert to see the panic, and Rachel’s panic ain’t built the same way everyone else’s is. The sight of Rachel out of sorts is enough to get Matt’s heart really, truly racing. “Rachel, what are you—?”

She flicks on the light, and when Matt steps up behind her, he’s met with an instant understanding of the situation. “There’s only one other bed,” she says, spinning to face him as she explains. “Abby and I usually share. I booked the safe house when it was going to be the two of us, but between the hospital, and the flights, and coordinating our assets…” Sometimes Matt wonders how loud the inside of her head must be. He suspects she doesn’t realize when her words dissolve between inner and outer monologue. It takes some deciphering to understand her complete thoughts from start to finish. “I forgot. I’m so sorry, I forgot to account for the beds when I switched agents, I’ll take the couch.”

By couch, he supposes she means the ancient loveseat tucked away at the end of the bed. The leather cushions are scratched and cracked, and the silver shine of a spring peeks out from beneath the quilt laid across its back. A grease stain rests along the arm where agents have laid their heads for years and years before. Throughout his travels, Matt has seen more than his fair share of uncomfortable furniture and this one has serious potential to rank among the worst, but this is Rachel’s third strike at forgetfulness when she’s usually a home run hitter. She needs to sleep, and sleep well, and it simply won’t do, for her to sleep on that old thing. “I’ll take the couch.”

“No it’s my mistake, I should—”

“Rachel,” he says, and his hands fall to her shoulders out of habit. Out of familiarity. “I’m sorry, but there just ain’t no way I’m letting you take the couch.” She’s looking up at him with big, brown eyes. They’re glassy, and tired, and he spares Rachel her dignity by ignoring the twinge of tears sneaking into either corner. “She may be all the way in Nebraska now, but there’s no quicker way to get Joy Morgan to Moscow than if I let you sleep on that couch.”

She shakes her head. “Matthew—”

“I’m telling you,” he tries again. “My mama can sense that sorta thing, and believe me when I say she’ll shake down the entire agency to find this cabin and knock me six ways from Sunday, right upside my head.”

“You’re worried that your mother will intimidate CIA agents into disclosing the location of one of their most heavily protected safe houses?”

“You’ve never seen my mama when there’s a matter of chivalry at stake.”

“Matthew, I—” she interrupts herself, this time, freezing when she meets his gaze. “Your eyes,” she says, studying the intimate features of his face. “Your eyes are blue.”

This is outright nonsense, and even more proof that she needs to sleep. That is, until he remembers the light blue contacts. He blinks, as though he might be able to get rid of the color, because everything artificial seems so ridiculous now that he’s in the presence of someone who knows him to his core. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, sorry.”

With that, she studies him more deeply, and he notices the faint lines that have started to form where her eyebrows always furrow, the freckles she’s accumulated along her cheekbones with years of missions spent in the sun, the ease with which her lips fall into a tight, even line. Her eyes bounce between each of his, debating her next words before she finally says, “Why are you apologizing?”

Matt’s breath catches, and he knows this is it. The opening he’s been waiting for. But it’s late, and they’re tired, and they both smell like planes, and airports, and taxis. So despite the desperate words trying to crawl from his heart to his mouth, he settles on something softer. “I think we both know I’ve got plenty to apologize for,” he says, finally letting his hands fall. “But I think we both know this ain’t the time to do it.”

Genius. She’s always been smarter than him in more ways than he can count, and this moment is no exception. She’s smart enough to know that they both need clearer heads. That they both need a moment of quiet. That morning will come and they’ll both be better for it, and that tonight is no place for their usual fights. “I’m sorry I didn’t think about the bed,” she says, barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know you didn’t—”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“I know you aren’t.”

“I’m so tired.”

She has this way of taking small words and making them feel big. Of making them span years, when they shouldn’t last more than a second or two. Rachel isn’t tired, so much as she’s exhausted, and burned out, and lonely, and weighed down—and she manages to convey all of this by simply shaking her head, and folding her face into her hands, and standing in front of him with all of the humility in the world.

He has this way of feeling her when she most needs it, in a way that no one else seems to be able to. Of hearing those great big words tied up in all of her small ones, and trying his best to say the right thing in response. “Let’s get some sleep, then,” he says, as though it’s the simplest thing in the world. “We’ll get some sleep, and when you wake up, you can tell me exactly what all of those crazy kitchen plans mean.”

Despite herself, she laughs. It's a pitiful, mangled thing, but it still counts. “They’re not as crazy as they look.”

And Matt can’t hold back a smile. “Well thank God for that, because they look…” he tries to find a word, but this is much like everything else Rachel does, in that it defies explanation. “I mean, seriously, Rachel, you’ve gone full Doc Brown in there.”

She shoves him, gently, and Matt makes a show of clasping at his chest in faux hurt. “They’ll make more sense in the morning,” she tells him.

“Everything will make more sense in the morning,” he assures her.

And she believes him. “Okay,” she says.

“Okay,” he says.

That’s enough for them, for tonight, for now. It’s all they need. And maybe tomorrow will be bitter and hard at the center of Moscow, working an op that Rachel has given her whole heart to, but right now is easy and safe. Right now, they’re old friends who need each other more than they knew.

Rachel finds his eyes again, and sighs something that sounds like relief and regret mixed together. “At least let me ease some of my guilt by hunting down a truly outrageous number of blankets on your behalf.”

Matt looks back to the loveseat and knows in his gut that there will not be enough room for more than one blanket. There is barely enough room for Matt, as is. Even so, he smiles at her. “Rachel Cameron,” he says. “I’ll always take any blanket you hand me.”

#Full Circle

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