#They were like 'Oh so 12 Doctor's | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cthulhus-curse · 1 month ago

Text

Webbed Hearts

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff

Word Count: 12,091

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Spider-Person!Reader, Doctor!Wanda Maximoff | 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: If you remember this…hi :)

All that came crashing down was red when you saw her.

Pain had crashed through your body when laying sprawled across a gurney that was wheeled into the emergency room at the Presbyterian in Lenox Hill. You clung to your side that lacked any red spandex. Humming a tender song, your eyes came to close. Although you carried immense superhuman strength, nothing could prepare you for the wave of criminals rummaging through the streets of the city with a pitch black sky and lights beaming to enlighten it.

You had been quick enough to finish off the last batch for the night. With Kingpin behind bars all you had left were trinkled men of his scouring through the island of Manhattan in search of trouble. Rather than garner a good night’s sleep for your class early the following day, you decided to go after them.

“The doctor will be right with you,” the nurse told you once she secured your side knowing the bruise upon it wouldn’t be fatal. She surveyed your hooded eyes that showed no fear. It wasn’t the first time you had been through it. After countless visits to hospitals that surrounded the city, far away from home due to anonymity, you settled for the first one you could easily swing to without having to deal with the bruised ribs of yours or hiss your way to Brooklyn.

Since high school you have tasked yourself with protecting the city. Once bit by the spider, upon losing your uncle, you knew that with the great power you held came great responsibility. Surely the remaining heroes across the world, the Avengers whose tower stood proudly in the midst of Midtown, were far too busy to take on your shroud of the friendly neighborhood Spider-Person.

The stench of lavender filled your nostrils as a peculiar redhead donning a white lab coat approached you. Her hair was made into a bun held on the back of her head by a pen, reading glasses perched on her nose as she read the clipboard in her pristine hands with perfectly manicured black nails. Albeit beautiful, you didn’t miss the bags which formed underneath seemingly tired green eyes. Sympathy was sent her way. The last thing you wished to do was keep the woman by your side longer than you had to.

“A bruised rib, huh?” Her voice was smooth as honey. Such a sound would not be easily forgotten by you. “It’s 12:34 am on a weekday. How did you manage to do that?”

“The subway?” you sheepishly shrugged.

“What, did you jump in front of the moving train or something?” When she giggled, you swore your wound had been cursed. “You know, if someone did this to you I am legally obligated to tell the police. So tell me,” her eyes flickered over the papers on the board. “Y/N, what happened to you? You seem like a healthy and fairly intelligent young woman. I doubt you did this to yourself.”

The way your name rolled off her tongue, voice thick with what you pin-pointed as a Sokovian accent, made you shudder with warmth. “It really was stupid. My friend and I were messing around at his apartment and I kinda fell off the fire escape,” you lied. “I know it sounds really weird, but I am not really the sharpest tool in the shed.”

“Oh honey this is New York. This isn’t nearly the worst or dumbest thing I’ve seen in the past hour.”

“Really?” You raised your eyebrows at that.

The doctor hummed at that, leaving the clipboard by the foot of the bed to walk towards the side where your bruise kept growing. The noise from the busy ER was nowhere to be found. Instead you put all your focus on the older woman. Watching as she carefully lifted your shirt, pushing your shaking hand away, you swore your breathing ceased. Having her in such close proximity was a true pleasure.

“I had a lady come in a few minutes ago for an ear infection. She went to her doctor earlier today, was prescribed antibiotics, took a few and swung by because, as she put it, ‘I still feel like shit, doc.’ Sometimes I wonder if all those years I spent in medical school were really worth it. But then I get patients like you and I remember that helping people is why I exist,” she explained. Gentle fingers merely ghosted your skin that began showing in an angry light red hue. “Then of course there was a young man who was dared by his very intelligent friends to jump off a building and grab onto a flagpole. It’s still unclear to me if he knows about this wonderful thing called gravity.”

Laughing made the pain worse, but you couldn’t help the amused sound that came from the depths of your throat. Tears sprung from your eyes as you wondered whether they came from the stinging of your wound or the humor of it all.

The doctor made lighthearted small talk with you, telling you more of the enjoyable stories from her job to keep you from thinking about how much it all ached. There wasn’t much she could do given your pain didn’t elicit any severe symptoms upon you. All Wanda brought you was the comfort of painkillers that you knew wouldn’t have much of an effect upon your superpowered being. Well, unless you took four at once.

“So are you married or…?” The innocently asked question floated through the air forcing a smirk from your doctor who, upon further review, began filling out the paperwork for your medicine.

“Happily divorced,” she replied. There was no animosity within her words. If anything the divorce had built up since the first day they got married. “And not looking to have a mid-life crisis with someone younger than me.”

“Ouch,” you laughed it off, winking at Wanda who teasingly brushed her hand upon your bruise. “Ouch, fuck!”

“Stay still, darling.”

The redhead took her sweet time filling out the forms. Although with a frenzy of patients waiting for her until the shift ended, spending time with you was the highlight of the night she never knew she needed.

“Any kids?”

“A lovely pair of twins,” she was quick to answer, her face lighting up at the mere thought of her children. Although quite the devious youngsters cared for by their father when she took late hours of work, she loved them more than life itself.

Twins, huh? It was a lot, but you didn’t dare mind the information. “Huh, that’s cute. Fraternal or identical?”

“Why are you so insistent in asking questions? I barely know anything about you,” she tilted her head.

“Well my name is Y/N Y/L/N and you know that I have a fucked rib.” The pain of it all and exhilaration faced by being around such a beautiful specimen made you much more talkative and confident. “I’m also really good at baking brownies. You?”

“Wanda,” she mumbled. “Dr. Wanda Maximoff, quite literally at your service. Unlike you, I don’t have a cracked rib.”

Although you had only spent less than half an hour together, you desperately craved her presence more often.

///

Wanda Maximoff, how cute.

“So I met this girl.”

Sitting beside your best friend and roommate over the couch of the living room you shared, you broke the silence. The two of you had stuck to watching reruns of whatever Gordon Ramsey show you could find. You always brought up the fact that Julia Child was much better, hell even Rachel Ray, but Peter was insistent that the one true culinary god was Ramsay himself.

“Yeah?” His gaze didn’t break away from the television that she hypnotically stared at while plopping another mouthful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Well, this woman,” you were sure to correct.

That piqued his interest as he turned. The two of you were rather honest and open about who you dated, Peter having stuck by MJ’s side ever since high school as you found yourself more laid-back to the whole ordeal. Never had you gone for anyone older than a few years. “Oh?”

“She’s really pretty and I want to see her again. I mean she’s a doctor and works at the ER. We’re seeing each other again at some point given my career choice. More like a side hobby I guess.”

Peter was the first person who you told about your newfound powers back in your sophomore year of high school. He was quite surprised and unbelieving about it all, but as soon as you began crawling through the walls and ceiling before shooting webs from your very wrists, he was in awe. Only him, MJ, and your aunt knew of your not-so-secret identity.

“Wait, she's a doctor? How old is she?” He seemed worried at first, shutting off Ramsay as he yelled at yet another contestant of his show.

“Umm I’m not sure,” you shrugged, the ‘nor do I care’ going missing. “I don’t think people like being asked that. All I know is that she’s divorced and has twins! And she’s crazy pretty. I mean she had to touch me to do her doctoring job and I think that might’ve single-handedly healed me.”

“Dude you really shouldn’t go for that. She’s got a full life already with kids! You’re a superhero. What if you put them in danger?”

“Pete, I’m barely a hero, let alone super. Is it really that bad that I want to start dating around? Ever since I graduated high school I haven’t been able to do shit. Now I’m leaving college in a few months and I just…want to be happy for once. I don’t want to keep being this savior of the people for the rest of my life. Eventually I want to be with someone.”

Peter was unamused when he monotonically spoke. “With your mystery doctor who could be twice your age?”

“Yup!”

In theory it wasn’t a great idea, nor generally, but you couldn’t shake off the connection you felt with Wanda. Regardless of Peter’s ideals, you’d be sure to try and find your happiness. Lo and behold you’d regain a normal life after years of chaos.

///

With the next few months passing, you carried on about your life normally. During the day you were the average college student who breezed through the final weeks of the Fall semester, while at night you took the mantle of a spider-theme vigilante. Although rest was a commodity you weren’t keen to, keeping those across the city safe sated your need for a thrill, making them happy along the way.

Several visits back to the emergency room at the hospital Wanda worked at had proven to be rather fruitful from time to time. Although with most occasions she was nowhere to be found, the older woman who carried a fire in her eyes not having a set schedule, you were hit with a surge of joy whenever you feasted your eyes upon her – even if it meant watching from afar as another doctor tended to your wounds.

Many moments had the two of you shared silent gazes. Never did you dare stop thinking of her upon your return home. Wanda plagued your dreams as well as your waking life. And yet you couldn’t dare complain.

Another weekend in the island of Manhattan meant busy work ahead of you. Once tugging on your red and blue latex suit, you threw yourself off the window of your shared apartment with Peter, promising that you’d bring him back pizza for him to share with you for breakfast. You’d only be young once in your lifetime after all.

Swinging across the buildings in the city brought you a loving sense of freedom. The power and responsibility that came with your nightly activities was pushed to the back of your mind as you flew from skyscraper to skyscraper. No one could enjoy such an adrenaline-inducing activity quite like you. Especially not Peter who had nearly barfed all over your suit the first and last time you took him swinging around.

The night went by smoothly. Each crime you stopped gave you a high sense of fulfillment. They weren’t major, mainly petty criminals in desperate need of cash raiding stores across the island, bodegas at times in surrounding boroughs. Most nights you could take breaks at the top of a building, crack open a cold bottle of water that you had to press against your sweaty forehead upon taking off your mask, then gnawing at a grilled cheese sandwich from Mondo’s Eatery – quaint little shop in Queens frequented by one Spider-person alongside their much more normal alter ego.

All went by quickly, at least until someone that caught your eye was put in the line of danger.

You weren’t stalking her per se, you truly made yourself believe that. If anything you watched over your faithful emergency room doctor whenever you could, checking out if she got home safely each night across the island. Wanda, you found in a self-assured not-so-creepy-manner, lived by herself in a minimalistic apartment you envied. It was much bigger than your own, one that you could barely pay as it was, and grimaced for a moment at the thought of how much she spent per month to keep living there.

As she made her way across the street to reach her building, her eyes were downcast and upon her phone chatting away with the father of her children who agreed to bring the twins over the following week. Their relationship was amicable, and yet she carried disdain in secrecy at the venom she had been spewed so long ago.

When a car at full-speed made its way down the road Wanda waltzed through, all you saw was red.

“Look out!”

Swinging down the edge of a building, you threw a web across the adjacent one, aiming towards Wanda. You grabbed her swiftly mere seconds before she was to become one with the asphalt. As much as she screamed clutching her phone and staring across the city, you never once let go.

You settled for setting her down gently at the roof of her building. Knowing it was never easy for first-timers, you helped her lay on the floor, clutching your latex suit tightly as she attempted to catch her heavy breath. Being in such close proximity to her, your arm wrapped around her waist while tapping gently upon her skin, made you drool beneath your mask.

“That was a close one,” you awkwardly said, grimacing as you never knew how to break the ice after quite an event. “You should really be careful next time. New Yorkers are no joke when it comes to driving. I wouldn’t want you to be flattened by a 4x4.”

“Holy shit,” was all Wanda could muster. She turned to you, wide green eyes seemingly staring through your soul even if yours were covered. “You saved my life. I almost died and you-”

“Yeah it’s kind of my thing. Don’t worry, I do it a lot. It goes with the whole hero thing, you know?”

Wanda was able to let out a shaky laugh, although deep down you knew she still attempted to ground herself. “I don’t assume you’d like to come over for tea as a thanks. Spider…person?”

“That’s me, but no I have a rule about not fraternizing with the people I saved.” It wasn’t a lie, but for Wanda you’d always make an exception.

“Yeah? Did Tony Stark come up with that for you? Or was it the buff guy in red, white, and blue pajamas who likes destroying the city with the weird frisbee?” Wanda raised her eyebrows.

“Oh I wish. I’m not on the level of the Avengers yet. I’m just a friendly neighborhood Spider-person.”

When the redhead tilted her head as though it was her trademark move, you froze. “You are very friendly indeed. So, about that tea? I can even do coffee. It’s late and I almost died, why not make it a pizza?”

“I live and breathe pizza. It’s my favorite thing ever,” you smirked even though she couldn’t see it. Pizza. Pizza? You frowned at the familiarity of it, but upon a peculiar ringtone blasting through your phone, you cursed beneath your breath. “Oh fuck, Peter’s pizza!”

“Who?” Wanda questioned with amusement.

“Uh nothing, nevermind! You have a lovely evening miss- ma’am?” Although you wanted nothing more than to remain in place, sit down and chat further over a large pizza that you’d eat most slices from, you had a duty to the city and your friend. Waving off to the doctor, you jumped on the ledge. “See ya later doc! Try not to die!”

Wanda was taken aback. Although still stressed, she was able to pull herself off the floor and run towards the edge of the building where she watched you swing away as quick as you had appeared. Shrugging, she found it quite odd. Never had she told you she was a doctor.

///

Seeing Wanda across the city had become a daily habit of yours, an obsession as Peter put it. You had watched her from afar, intervening when required, and simply went off as though nothing had occurred. Upon your arrival at the emergency room where you saw one another differently, you began noticing a rather deliriously beautiful smile upon her features you had yet to see present.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were stalking me.”

It would typically make you jump, and yet after countless times of saving Wanda from the very same fate – nearly being run over – you weren’t sure if it still surprised you. The banter the two of you shared, the unspoken bond that had settled between both you and the hero she looked up to, was nothing you wished to rid yourself from.

“Me? Stalking you? Oh no no no!” A lie. Another faithful night at the top of her apartment building had you leaning against the ledge. “I’m just your friendly neighborhood Spidey. I’m obligated to save a pretty girl when she’s in trouble.”

Wanda brushed the dirt off her slacks, shaking her head with amusing disbelief. “Girl?”

“Er, woman? Sorry.”

“I’m kidding. Gosh, you’re so easy to tease.” She was much more relaxed than at the hospital, a demeanor you had seen was saved for her children. “Who knew the spider vigilante was so cute?”

You ignored the blush that set upon your cheeks, thankful that your mask was on to hide your delicious embarrassment.

“Well I have to-”

“Go. You have to go. Again.” The final part was mumbled almost solemnly. Wanda wouldn’t admit it, but she had taken quite a liking to being saved by you. “Will I ever get to see what my knight in colorful spandex looks like?”

“Uh maybe,” you shrugged. “It’s just a secret identity for a reason. It’s not like we know much about each other.” Another lie. You had spent the better part of the last few weeks chatting amicably with the older woman, exploring different aspects of your individual lives in the safety of the rooftop. As much as you wished to tell her, you didn’t wish for her to react badly. “So, see you later?”

“Yes, darling. Until the next time you save me.”

To your dismay, you didn’t get to save her again in the coming weeks.

///

Although you didn’t get to see Wanda when donning your suit, you still had your ways. Ever so often you’d meet enemies who’d take quite the crack at you, leaving you needing minor stitches or an examination from the doctor. More often than not that task was given to your favorite redhead who began working much more at night.

“Would you still think I’m cute even if I was that swinging arachnid?” You questioned one day. In your defense your confidence and boldness was fueled by the medication running through your veins as she sutured your arm. “You know, the person with the red and blue suit.”

“I never said you were cute.” Her features gave her away fully as she beamed, not even keeping her joy hidden away.

“Well you didn’t say I wasn’t cute.” Watching intently, your eyes flickered upon Wanda’s as she patched you up. The blue from the latex gloves had become a favored color of yours. “Now answer the question.”

“Considering my children are obsessed with that buffoon of a hero, then yes, I would still think you’re cute. They saved me once anyway.” Wanda paused. “Well, a few times. But who’s counting?”

“Yeah?”

��Yes, darling.”

Taking a deep breath, you knew it was now or never. Talking it over with Peter had led you to believe that it was a bad, terribly thought-out idea according to your friend, but gazing at the beauty before you, you couldn’t find it to be true. Each day Wanda consumed your thoughts; each night Wanda consumed your dreams. Honesty was a first step you were willing to take, albeit risky.

“Well good thing I am them.” Your voice was shaky. The last time you had told someone about your secret identity had been years before. “Nice to see you again, Dr. Maximoff.”

Wanda shook her head and let out a howl. The mere thought, the amusing humoring, of one of her most regular patients being the Spider-person was too good to be true. “Sure, and I’m Black Widow.”

Rolling your eyes, you knew you’d have to show proof. After having looked around to make sure no one looked in your general direction, you shot a web from your bare wrists towards the small table beside you, pulling it to you with agility. Wanda wasn’t quite sure of what her eyes saw, if they deceived her, but as you shot yet another web towards the ceiling, she was left with her mouth agape.

“Y/N?”

“It’s really been awhile since we last saw each other. Well, when I was in my suit at least,” you chuckled. “So, uh, do you think it would be appropriate to ask you out now? On a date I mean. I can swing us to the top of a building or even take you somewhere. Just not too expensive because, you know, college student here. But I’d like to get to know you better if that’s alright.”

With her bewilderment still intact, Wanda involuntarily found herself nodding, deep down feeling relief that the two objects of her affection were one and the same.

///

There were a limited number of places you could take Wanda without Peter losing his mind about you spending a fortune, and yet as you left the apartment in silence, you didn’t care to tell him where you were headed. It was easier to swing there anyway, and you doubted he’d find it suspicious if you went out wearing your suit, instead arriving at Wanda’s apartment building only to change on the roof, leaving your backpack webbed to the ledge before making your way down.

You had found it difficult to move past the door that Wanda opened, smiling at you as she allowed you to feast your eyes upon the tight, black dress she donned. Suddenly it was your favorite piece of attire and color. Giving her a bouquet of flowers you had picked up along the way, you didn’t expect much, and yet the kiss placed upon one of your shining cheeks had you blushing for the entire dinner.

“So, uhm, you just shoot webs out of your wrist?”

If there was something you should know about Wanda, it was that she got right to the point. There was no hesitation within her as took a slice from the pizza she had made herself, handcrafting the dough and everything during the little spare time she had between her job and kids.

“Yup!”

“That’s…very interesting. Do you shoot them out of anywhere else?”

At the innuendo you blushed, turning away so Wanda couldn’t catch sight of your embarrassment. “No, no. It’s just the wrists. I promise I am perfectly normal otherwise. Well, except for the superhuman strength, durability, a weird healing thing, agility, the wall thingy, and the Spidey sense.”

“A what?”

“Spidey sense! I’m not sure how to explain it, but that’s just what I call it. I guess it’s like an improved gut feeling,” you explained. Unless she experienced the same as you, she lacked the depth to understand it. At least that’s what you thought until she nodded, seemingly pleased with your response. “Thanks for the pizza by the way. I didn’t peg you for a margherita kind of gal.”

“Well, I have been wanting to sit down and have dinner with my savior for ages now. The least I can do is get you something you’d enjoy.”

Hesitating to take a bite from your third slice, you stared at her. “Do you just see me as the person who saved your life or-”

“Oh gosh no, darling. To me you’re Y/N, the very interesting patient who always makes my nightmares at the ER quite enjoyable.” The warmth in her beam did not go missed. “And of course I have to take into account the fact that you enjoy throwing yourself off buildings in your spare time. It doesn’t matter what you do. I find you to be a very interesting specimen, sweetheart. And if you’ll allow me, I’d love to get to know you better.”

You settled for that response, not noticing the glint in Wanda’s eyes as she watched you look down to attempt to hide a mad flush upon your cheeks. Numerous insecurities came crashing against her at once. She was much older than you, a mother of two children, a divorcee, and most importantly a doctor who had a very demanding work schedule. Her priority was to serve others, but she mused that so was yours. Together you were quite perfect for one another.

The two of you remained seated over the dining room table, the apartment silent let alone for the voices which boomed with the other. You hadn’t felt as relaxed as you did talking to her in comparison to anyone else, not even your best friend and roommate.

“What about your kids?” You decided to ask once Wanda had brought up your family. “Twins, right?”

“Yeah, my boys,” her face lit up at the instant mention of her beloved children. “Billy and Tommy. They’re my whole world. Both are ten right now, which is a very tricky age as you know. But they’re really the sweetest kids ever. And their father he…”

You waited for an answer, but when she didn’t give you any, you pushed on. “What about him? If you want to talk about it I mean.”

“It’s fine,” she brushed it off. “It happened years ago anyway. We got divorced when the boys were two. Everyone assumes the two of us are okay and to a certain extent we are, but it wasn’t pretty. There was a lot that went on between Vis and I. I just…I haven’t allowed myself to be with anyone else since the divorce. I’m not sure how to properly date someone.”

With raised eyebrows you found yourself giggling. It took Wanda aback, of course it did, but you quickly explained your amusement. “It’s not really rocket science, Wanda. We’re just getting to know each other. We talk, we laugh, and we enjoy the other’s presence. I like you, a lot actually. Just relax, take it easy.”

“I don’t think I’ve been able to relax since I graduated high school, but I’ll try,” she snorted.

The evening was quite peaceful. For the first night ever you allowed yourself to take a break, to enjoy the little time you had with Wanda, to sit beside her on the couch and snicker as she put on her favored sitcoms – learning she adored them was a rather endearing fact you’d forever remember about the woman.

The New York City skyline would never carry the same beauty as did Wanda. Although her eyes darted out the window watching the sunset intently, yours were on her god-like appearance. You couldn’t even begin to count your stars at the mere fact of being there.

“I’ll miss you,” Wanda said when it was time for your departure. The half-eaten pizza was cleaned up by you as she stood back, your appetite gone as you focused on being beside her, stubbornly having attempted to stop you from tidying up. “But I know that duty calls. Time for you to save lives, honey.”

Never would you stop the ends of your mouth from rising at the pet names. “I’ll miss you two. I had a lot of fun tonight. I really can’t wait until we do this again.”

That night when you swung around the city, not a thought filled your head other than Wanda.

///

Each passing day you sent Wanda a new picture of yourself, not knowing she adored saving them all into a little folder on her phone meant for just you. Winter was upon you, meaning the hours she put into the work at the hospital were shared with the moments she spent rummaging through the city in search of gifts for the twins. For that entire month, she was a gift-giver, only Santa on Christmas Eve.

During her break at the hospital, she found herself searching through her phone for gifts, all while smiling at the ding of a new message from you. Opening it up, she found you wearing your trademark suit, pointing the camera over yourself as your other hand held a pole in the midst of the sky.

Wanda: Where is that?

You: Top of the Empire State Building. I should really take you here someday.

Wanda: No thank you, my little spiderling. I haven’t recovered from the first few times you took me swinging. It’s freezing out anyway. Not all of us have been bitten by radioactive spiders.

You: I’ll find the spider again and make it bite you. That way you can be Spider-girl!

Wanda: Spider-woman**

Wanda: Were you able to find the Lego sets?

Another image was sent, only this time it was the inside of your backpack which carried differing sets of Legos from Harry Potter: one was a Gryffindor themed one while the other was Ravenclaw.

You: Here they are. How come you need them so soon anyway??? Christmas isn’t for a few weeks.

Wanda: But Chanukah is next week, my darling. The twins have been begging for these. Now I just need to find a new chanukiah. Last year Tommy was running around the apartment and ended up breaking it. I can’t tell you how much that little boy cried.

You: I didn’t know you were Jewish.

Wanda: I am. This season always puts a dent in my bank account. The twins celebrate both Chanukah and Christmas from their dad’s side. It’s hell trying to not spoil them but also get them enough gifts for them to enjoy.

Wanda: Now I have to go, sweetheart. We both have lives to save. Stay safe and warm!

You: Try not to fight any patients. I know some people are dumbasses but one of us needs to have a stable job. Bye, miss you already <3

You tightened the scarf around your neck after having shoved your phone into your backpack. Wanda refused to let you carry out your vigitanlism if you simply wore your suit with nothing to keep you warm. So in her motherly mannerism, she wrapped a scarf around you, guided a beanie over your head with earmuffs, and handed you a coat. She hadn’t been quick enough to get you to wear warm layers over your legs or a sweater. The last thing you wanted was to run around the city wearing a full set of warm gear with only your mask to show off your heroic identity.

Swinging through the city knowing Wanda was there to wait for you at the end of the day, being able to drop by her apartment even if the children were around and finding time to sneak a few loving moments, made it all worth it.

///

Since you became official with Wanda, visiting at the hospital seemed to have lost its meaning. So rather than drop by the emergency room for her to stitch you up, more often than not you found yourself crawling across the walls of your girlfriend’s apartment building, sliding the window she left unlocked just for you before making your way inside to the warmth of the room.

“Wanda,” you whispered. There was no correct way to wake her up, you had found. Either way she’d scream her lungs out, still not used to seeing her partner hovering on the ceiling by a web hoping to get some medical attention. “Babe, I know you need your beauty sleep because you got a demanding job and some gremlins running around, but I could really use your help.” Even then she didn’t budge. Well, at least until you not-so-carefully shook her awake. “Wanda!”

Although ridden with fear, Wanda was adorable when she sat up immediately. Her eyes were wide, forehead coming in contact with your own covered one for a rather heavy hit. You were fine of course, but the same could not be said for the average human who rubbed her face while hissing with pain.

“Baby there is a door for a reason,” Wanda groaned, droopy eyes coming in contact with your figure. “And other doctors at the hospital.”

“Well you’re my doctor,” you mused.

“I’m also your very tired girlfriend,” she retorted. As much as she pretended to dislike being awoken in the middle of the night, Wanda beamed when eyeing you. She would forever find herself in awe with your presence. “What happened this time?”

“It’s nothing bad, just a little fall down a building.” At your words Wanda snapped her head up. “Don’t worry, doc. I’m superhuman, remember? Nothing hurts, but I wanted you to check it out just to be really sure.”

Wanda sighed, shaking her head with disbelief. She had yet to understand how your biology worked and differed from her own, but knew it was best to not ask many questions as you didn’t even know yourself. She was fascinated by the hero, but even more so by the angel that hid behind the mask and knew she’d be more worried if you didn’t say anything.

“Let’s see.” Wanda allowed her hands to run across your mask, finding the edges of it that attached to the rest of your bodysuit. She tilted her head upon meeting your eye line with raised eyebrows. “May I?”

“Go ahead.”

Pulling your mask down, Wanda licked her lips. You were freezing to the touch, but she knew you didn’t feel the cold as intensely as she did. Fingertips ran across your flushed cheeks, the mask being left halfway on as she studied what she saw.

You didn’t pull back as Wanda inched forth, her lips ghosting over your own. “I missed you, little spiderling. I only wish you’d visit me other than when you need a doctor’s gift.”

Before you could dare muster a reply, her mouth crashed against your own. She kissed you hard as though you hadn’t in days, because with the winter season taking full-force, her time mostly spent working and celebrating Hanukkah with her children, you rarely got to sit down and be with one another. There was nothing normal about your relationship, but you both wished to reach for it regardless.

Holding your head in place as you remained floating from the ceiling, Wanda made out with you. The children had long resided sleeping in their beds, far too gone within Sandman’s realm to dare interrupt the delicious moment. When she slipped her tongue past your welcoming lips, you wondered if you had the willpower to stop this from growing. She was far too intoxicating, you being drunk in her, to deny her.

“There’s challah in the kitchen,” was the first thing Wanda said as she pulled back, her face sharing a similar hue to your own. “And as much as I’d like to keep going, I really want to make sure you’re not about to die on me.”

“Yeah that’s fair. Can I, uh, sit on your bed?” You questioned.

“You don’t even have to ask, sweetheart.”

Being nuzzled close by Wanda once you had shed your suit and mask away wasn’t a rare occasion. Instead you found joy in your skin being analyzed by the physician, relaxing as she ensured that no major damage resided on your body. She had stocked up on bandages, gauzes, and enough hydrogen peroxide to cure a small army for your sake. If anything, she adored the little moments she got to play doctor at home with you by her side.

When it came down to just you and her, life was peaceful for once. No longer did either of you have to worry about patients, citizens in need of help, or even children that she dearly loved. It was just you two sharing the sweet moments you’d never easily get rid of.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but do you have anything other than bread? I kinda skipped breakfast…and lunch…and maybe even dinner,” your voice got lower by the second. Wanda had long ago reminded you of the importance of eating, but being busy with finals and heroism, you barely got time to shower at night.

“You really have to take better care of yourself, honey. You may be a hero, but you’re still a person. Basic self-care shouldn’t be alien to you.” Wanda held herself back from reprimanding you. It’s not like you were one of the twins, and yet she couldn’t help but care for you in such a close manner. “But yes, Dr. Lewis brought a delicious matzo ball soup. I think you’ll like it.”

“Darcy?” Wanda raised her eyebrows at that – it didn’t go missed by you. “When you weren’t around she was the one to nurse me back to health. After doing my stitches for a few weeks and talking about the best pizza in the city, we’re now on a first-name basis.”

“Hmm well she’s a wonderful doctor,” Wanda pointed out. She took a pause before allowing her insecurities to get the best of her. “Younger.”

Although mostly oblivious, you could sense the hint of venom and sadness in her voice. Wanda gave a lot of thought to the difference in your ages.“I guess, but you’re the only doctor I got my eye on. Really the only person I care to kiss.”

“That is very sweet of you.”

When Wanda didn’t smile, you did it for her. “Well, it’s true.”

Once you were all checked out, your side merely patched up with little scrapes that would soon heal, Wanda guided you towards the kitchen. She still found it amusing how you pranced around in what she called ‘a very colorful and stretchy pajama bodysuit.’ Teasing you was truly the highlight of her days.

While you took your seat on a stool in the kitchen island, Wanda set off to find the remaining food. She found it heartwarming that although you didn’t share her beliefs, you could appreciate them alongside her culture. Throughout many dates you called restaurants ahead of time to ensure proper dishes for your girlfriend who always pecked you on the cheek for being so sweet to her.

As you fed yourself a mouthful of the dish, you suddenly piped up. “Oh I finished my last final today!”

Wanda shook her head at the childish manner of yours to speak with your mouth full, but her exhausted face was fueled with pride. “That’s wonderful, baby! Physiology, correct?” You nodded. “How was it?”

“I think it went well. I dunno, I just hope I didn’t entirely fail the class.”

“You are a very smart and capable person, okay?” When her features turned serious, you knew Wanda was about to give you the pep talk of a lifetime. “You’d never fail at anything. I am very proud of you for even having done the exam. Now don’t you dare put yourself down, my dear. You sell yourself far too short when having such a big and beautiful brain.”

“You think my brain is beautiful?” Eyebrows raised, you took another mouthful of the soup. “Gross.”

“It’s so sexy.” You and Wanda shared a lighthearted laugh, ensuring that you weren’t loud enough to awaken the twins you had yet to meet. “Now be good for me and eat up. I’m not letting you go back home in your condition. There’s an extra spot in my bed for a reason.”

Although there wasn’t anything wrong with you apart from a faint bruise, Wanda was having none of it. That night you slept better than ever after having showered, wearing oversized pajamas she had given you before laying by her side. You only hoped she wouldn’t comment on the way you awoke with both arms wrapped around her waist as you mirrored a koala – for Wanda, that is what a perfect life was.

///

Wanda: Would you like to meet the twins?

You stared down at your phone when you received the message. It had become a custom for you to always immediately look at it when the distinctive sound of Wanda’s texts came through. She could need you, or be in mid-emergency. Whatever it was, hers were always the first messages you saw in the morning.

You: Yeah! That would be awesome actually.

You: Wait Spidey-me or me-me?

Wanda: Whatever you feel comfortable with, angel. I just thought we’ve been together for two long months. And it’s almost Christmas so they’ll be far too busy with their dad after the 24th.

You: I guess it can’t hurt for them to love me because I’m their favorite superhero.

You: I am their fav superhero, right?

Wanda: 🤐

You: WANDA!!

Wanda: Yes, bubala. You are their favorite. What matters most is that you’re MY favorite!

You: So cute. I’ll call you later tonight and we can work something out. Now go save some lives, Dr. Maximoff!

Wanda: You too, b'shert. Keep warm for me.

Each message she sent you made you smile more than the last. Nothing, no one, had allowed you to feel in such a wondrous manner. Wanda was a breath of fresh air. She was the calm, serene cool breeze on a Spring morning after having woken up to open the window — so beautifully rejuvenating you with life.

You’d never let her go.

///

You weren’t sure what to bring to meet a pair of ten year old boys, but perhaps bags of candy Wanda would surely confiscate and the surprise of meeting a superhero would be enough. The day in which Wanda invited you over caused you great stress, your hands shaking at each given moment, only increasing once you left your home.

“You’ll be fine,” Peter had told you. “They’re just kids. Plus, if it doesn’t work out then you can always, you know, take advantage of the whole superhero thing.”

It was wrong, but you realized he had half a point. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as horrible as you thought given that they were Wanda’s children, but you feared that if they disliked you, that perhaps you’d break up with Wanda — or worse, you’d get between their relationship.

As scared as you were at first, upon seeing the curious eyes of the twins you could only smirk at them, offering the candy you brought as a peace offering while Wanda threw a hard gaze your way.

“Are you Y/N?” One of the twins, Tommy as you recognized from the pictures Wanda had sent and shared with you, questioned.

“Are you dating our mom?” Came Billy’s blunt curiosity.

“Billy!”

You threw Wanda a sympathetic gaze at Wanda, stooping to the boys’ eyeline. “Yes to both of those questions. I hope it’s okay that I’m seeing her. Your mom is a wonderful warrior of a woman and I couldn’t be happier by her side. I’m sure the two of you are just as amazing as she is, huh?”

“Maybe,” Tommy shrugged as she attempted to keep his amusement down.

The four of you sat around the dinner table, you across from Wanda who failed to keep her joy of you being there down. She eyed you every once in a while as the children chatted about the eventful weekend they had with their father. Although seemingly a good parent, you had your reservations about that extending to his persona.

You couldn’t help but find the similarities in Tommy and Billy alongside their mother. They both carried her charisma, the glint in their eyes as they passionately spoke about their favored topics. You learned that not only were they avid comic book readers, but that from their own words their own shared bedroom was solely dedicated to their favorite heroes – you wondered if that extended to Wanda’s heroism.

“Boys, Y/N actually has something they’d like to tell you. It’s about that…swinging spiderling,” Wanda couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease. “Honey?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Well, I guess there’s not really a way to sugarcoat this, but I’m the Spider-person,” you flashed them a toothy grin, but as content as you were relaying the information, they only stared at you blankly.

“Like for Halloween?” Billy asked as he turned to his brother.

“No, I mean I’m the person behind the mask. Swinging around the city and stuff like that.”

The boys eyed their mother, silently questioning your sanity without muttering a word. They had met their fair share of bizarre girlfriends their father had, but never did they imagine their mother to have stooped to such a level.

“Okay fine, look,” you rolled your eyes, raising the sleeve of your warm sweater to point it at the wall. “Sorry, Wanda.” Upon your apologies, you shot a web towards your partner, reaching her fork before pulling it towards you. “Ta-da!”

Although surprised, the boys still weren’t sold on it.

“Anyone can do that. We got web-shooters too, you know,” Billy said.

Sighing, you couldn’t help but stoop to the lowest levels to impress them. You pointed at your bare wrists, showing them off so that they could see the lack of shooters on them. “But I don't have- never mind. I’m just gonna borrow your ceiling real quick.”

“Knock yourself out, darling,” Wanda laughed, making sure that her boys were eating while enjoying the show you put on.

After crawling through the walls and ceiling for long enough, nearly breaking half of Wanda’s decorations at that, you were sure it was enough for the twins to tell what your heroic identity was. You knew your girlfriend wasn’t too keen about you rummaging through her home without walking on your two feet upon the floor, but even she chortled when you hovered from a web above Tommy and Billy, the twins elated to find that their mom’s partner was their favored hero.

From then on, on days which you could visit, at least once a week, you found yourself planted over Wanda’s couch. Your job was to bring the snacks and popcorn while Wanda provided the movies. Together you bonded much better with the twins, and for the first time in your life you didn’t mind being seen as a parental figure.

///

The holidays alongside Wanda went by with ease. You didn’t have much of a family, always celebrating Christmas with MJ and Peter, at times even Ned and May. Although missing them, you found solace beside your newfound girlfriend.

“How do you light it again?” You questioned, eyes darting across the chanukiah sitting before you. The last thing you wished to do was to tarnish such a valuable part of her religion. “Babe, I’m scared to set your place on fire.”

“Hush. You light it from left to right. ‘Left to right, that’s how you light’ is what I tell my boys,” Wanda explained as she stood behind you, her hand guiding your own. “Always light the shamash first then light the rest with it.”

Doing as you were told, you lit the candle in the middle, carefully making sure none of the fire landed over the table. Usually the boys were there to properly help your inexperienced self, but now that you were alone by Wanda’s side, there was no hiding behind the pair of ten-year-olds.

“And don’t you dare break my chanukiah either. Pietro bought me this one and I love the design,” Wanda told you. “Look at that beautiful crystal.”

“Please focus on me and not the crystal. I know it looks fucking awesome, but I think I’m about to accidentally desecrate an entire culture,” you whined as your hand began shaking, the candle merely hovering over a fresh unlit one. “I’m so sorry Wanda, I-”

“HaShem will forgive you, sweetheart. And you are doing great. Here, let me help.” Wanda guided her hand atop your own, letting it run across a candle that she helped you light. She remained there for a few seconds before pulling it away to carefully light the rest on their proper other. “Did you know that the central candle represents HaShem’s light? This chanukiah is a symbol of enlightenment.”

You hummed at that, pressing your back against Wanda’s front. Turning slightly, you didn’t miss the glint of pride she received upon eyeing the candelabra. “Thank you for teaching me about this. It’s really important to you, so it’s important to me too.”

“Hmm how sweet,” she hummed.

Hugging you from behind, Wanda’s lips found your own. It began as a sweet peck, simply embracing all the unspoken love she held for you. As much as she adored her children, the redhead couldn’t be happier that she had uninterrupted time by your side while on a lengthy break from work.

The two of you have lacked the loneliness to be together. After nearly three months of becoming official, the desire you had for the other had reached its boiling point. It was only a matter of time before said volcano erupted.

“You look beautiful tonight,” you whispered against Wanda’s lips. Turning around, you got a full view of her outfit lit up by the six candles. It was a simple cardigan alongside warm yoga pants, and yet you couldn’t help but see her as the most beautiful specimen across the galaxy. “Such a pretty thing.”

“I could say the same about yourself, zeeskeit.” Wanda pulled you close, her hands running down your deeply clothed body which shielded you from the blizzard being carried across the New York skyline. She let her fingertips travel beneath your hoodie, an area she only halfway explored during your lengthy make-out sessions over her bed after your patrol sessions. “May I touch you? Am I allowed to…make love to you?”

“Make love to me?” You raised your eyebrows because beneath the charade of being older and wiser, Wanda was nothing but innocent when it came to lust. She blushed slightly at your institution and attempted to pull back, but you held her face close, thumb running down a reddened, warm cheek. “Yeah. You can do anything you’d like, Wanda. Anything just for you.”

Closing in on you, Wanda allowed you to feast upon the warmth she exuded. Her lips teased your own with small grazes, her eyes darting to them before wetting her own with her tongue. “Come here, my love.” Becoming one, she grabbed your hands tightly, forehead pressed against your own as the oil from the chanukiah burned brightly. With viridescent eyes closed, she breathed out. “Tzu gezunt, tzu leben, un tzu mazal.”

You were dragged to her bedroom by excited arms which simply begged you for fun. Wanda’s giddiness matched an immaturity you held as a young adult, throwing herself over the edge of the bed in sitting position before pulling you over herself. The life in her eyes was lit with the fire in the living room.

“I don’t tend to do this, you know?” Wanda muttered against your lips, taking them in control again, kissing you tenderly. “But I’m happy to make an exception for you, pretty one.”

“I’m honored. I can’t believe I’m the only one who gets to have you like this,” you told her, your mouth dropping a flurry of endearment across her face, merely hovering over her ear with hands that tugged at her clothes. “May I?”

“Knock yourself out.”

As though she mirrored a porcelain doll, you began undressing Wanda. Each article of clothing was shed little by little, her cardigan merely inching up her skin in a slow tempo as the two of you made out. There was hesitation in her body that froze at times, but melted when your lips guided her.

There too was uncertainty in you. With superhuman strength you could easily lift a car and not bat an eye, meaning hurting Wanda wasn’t completely off the table. You didn’t allow your hands to stay long upon her midsection as you removed her top, instead substituting them with your sight that didn’t leave your girlfriend’s upper body which lacked a brassiere.

“Holy fuck,” you drooled at the sight of her bare breast, far too afraid to break such artistic beauty. Praxiteles only wished his Aphrodite matched your own. “There’s no way you’re this pretty. It should be illegal because fu-

A finger landed over your lips successfully shushing you.

“You swear like a sailor, sheifale,” Wanda giggled and you swore you could only see a goddess before you. “Let me help you out of your clothes. It’s not fair if you only get to see me.”

The pout she threw at you was enough to make you inch back, immediately grabbing your clothes and throwing it off. You nearly fell against the bedside table and the pants that pooled at your feet. At least until success met you halfway and you simply stood there with nothing but your underwear on, embarrassed as you noticed the little dogs with Santa hats on.

Looking down at yourself, you didn’t dare face Wanda. “Yeah, sorry about this. It was a gag gift from last year’s Secret Santa. May gets really into Christmas and she loves dogs so…”

“And here I thought you couldn’t get more adorable.” Wanda shook her head with amusement, her room dimly lit and yet you could see every ounce of happiness upon her. “Now come here. I miss you already.”

You helped Wanda off her pants, shifting her so that she’d lay with her head against the fluffy pillows you found to be wildly comfortable after having crashed over for various nights. Her legs were smooth against your touch, so adorably responsive as your partner squirmed at the slightest caresses. You ran your hands up until you grabbed her backside, squeezing it as you pulled her in for a kiss.

Fingertips merely grazed her lacy black panties, yanking down the edges before-

“Wait stop.”

As soon as she spoke, you followed. While on top of Wanda you fully drew yourself back, breathlessly staring down with confusion. Her arms covered her chest, insecurities arising as she closed her eyes, hair coating her face to give her an extra sense of privacy.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” You questioned with furrowed eyebrows, inspecting Wanda in search of any pain.

“No, no, I just…” Wanda felt shame rising through her nude body. “I’m scared.”

“Me too,” you sympathized with her, you really did. Fear was nothing new for you. Ever since you got bit by that spider, not a day went by where you didn’t feel as though it would be your last. With enemies only increasing in size and powers, it was only a matter of time before the friendly neighborhood Spider-person was bested. “I’m scared to hurt you,” you admitted solely. “What are you afraid of?”

Wanda held your hands with her own, brushing her thumbs against the back of them before throwing you a reassuring smile that instantly turned bitter.

“I’m scared that maybe you won’t like what you see. Honey, it’s no secret that I am older, you know this,” she couldn’t help but say with dismay. “I have kids and I’m pushing 40. After the pregnancy Vis could barely even look at me. I’m not as pretty as the other girls you probably see on campus. Your friends. I’m…old and weird. I have stretch marks and I’ve never even been with someone who wasn't him before or after-”

At that you frowned, unbelieving the words that had spewed from her mouth. Surely you understood the fact that her job and children took up most of her time, but Wanda’s beauty shone across the galaxy brighter than the sun itself. “You haven’t?”

“No, sweetheart,” she felt humiliated to not be as experienced as she believed she should be. “I met Vis in high school. It’s always been him. I was supposed to grow old with him, not by myself…”

“Shhh it’s okay. I don’t mind.” You admitted, nuzzling your forehead against her own. A kiss was placed upon the tip of her nose, her face even more dashing without an ounce of make-up covering it. “And you’re not alone. Never with me.”

“But I’m ugly,” Wanda practically cried, unable to tear away the knot in her throat.

“Baby, what? Where is this coming from? You’re not ugly at all. You’re a warrior. You have given birth to not one, but two kids! Look at how far you’ve gotten in your career. With, again, two kids!” Seeing her in such disarray over untrue facts she spewed tugged at your heartstrings. Why couldn’t she see herself for what she was? Perhaps not all goddesses knew of their wondrous powers. “You’re perfect.”

“But honey, my body…” Wanda tried to muster out, but you shushed her to quiet down. Fingertips trailed across a raised scar on her abdomen, exploring the brutal force it had been made with. “Tommy came out fine, no trouble when I was giving birth to him. But Billy he…he was a c-section. The doctor didn’t think he’d make it, but he pulled through at the last second. It was the only way to get him out. As much as I love him, this,” with teary eyes, Wanda touched the marking on her skin. “Ugly scar, it cost me my marriage and my beauty. Vis couldn’t even look at me afterwards. A mutilated wife.”

You shared the sentiment, your own eyes filling up with tears. “If I ever meet him, I’m shoving my foot so far up his ass, it’s coming out his throat. That fucking idiot…” you whispered, a bout of bile rising up your throat.

Wanda didn’t react. She had long been told the same things from her friends, from Dr. Lewis who even once threatened to castrate her ex-husband with a scalpel from her operating room. She couldn’t find the truth in the statements. Vis rolled his eyes whenever she attempted to surprise him during anniversaries, the dreaded August 23rd. He would never lie to her.

“Can I see you?” You questioned, your eyes darting to Wanda’s tender ones raw with tears. “Only if you want. We can sit back on the couch and watch a movie or something. I could swing around and get us some food. Margherita pizza for the lady?”

Remaining silent, Wanda shrugged off her arms from her body. She allowed her hands to sit atop your shoulders, fingers exploring the bare area lovingly. Even without sight she could craft your body blindly, hands contorting to form you into a sculpture.

“Touch me,” she gave in. “please?”

You stared down at her stomach and all that met you were rolls sprawled across her midsection with stretch marks upon every inch of her skin: upon her breasts and along them, on her slightly swollen tummy you’d forever worship – you longed to kiss on her thighs that remained pushed together until you carefully pried them apart, and even by her hips which perfectly presented the markings. It felt alien to you. Staring at Wanda’s body, you wondered how she could ever describe herself as ugly when all that your eyes saw was excellence.

Without hesitation you carefully removed your underwear, garnering Wanda’s undying trust. She whimpered slightly when she saw your full nakedness, giving you the power to take off her own pair down her luscious legs. There was a golden Star of David which hung around her neck, one that she refused to take off ever since she was a child – her parents had given her one, another silver necklace for Pietro.

“Relax, baby,” you muttered towards her, leaning in to graze your lips against her chest. Kissing between the valley of her breasts, you allowed yourself to explore her entirely. “Thank you for trusting me.” you grabbed one of her hands, squeezing tight as you alternated between both soft mounds to place kisses on. “If at any point you want to stop, tell me. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“‘Kay,” she husked out. “Now get to it. I don’t like being teased, detka.”

“Impatient, how cute.”

Wanda was flushed against your body, her own reacting in the most adorable ways imaginable. Nipples stood hard and proud for you as your tongue swirled upon them. Leaving wet trails of saliva behind you, you made sure to give them both the similarly delicious treatment. While you lightly sucked on a hardened bud, the other was pinched and tugged lovingly.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Wanda moaned, back arching at the warm feeling she had never experienced in her life. A confusing wetness formed between her legs, aching as she rubbed her thighs together. “Oh Y/N…”

“Beautiful,” you said against the swell of her breast, kissing the stretch marks you found. “You’re a fucking goddess.”

Fingers began teasing her cunt, loving the dripping mess it had become for mere minutes of foreplay. Wanda adorably mewled in response. She wasn’t used to being so aroused, not even all by herself. Folds were parted as you traveled up and down her slit. When you so much as found her clit with a mere touch, she nearly lost it.

You dipped inside, unable to keep the desperation you felt to yourself. Wanda was hot against you. She wasn’t sure how to react, instead alternating between gripping the bed sheets and scratching at your skin. Slight tenderness caught her by surprise. Even in the times previous to having the children, Vis had never treated her in such a way. But then again, she couldn’t dare compare the two of you. Either way you’d come out on top.

The sole finger of yours twitched within Wanda’s velvety walls which hugged you tightly. It explored the unknown, coated entirely by slick juices and love. You sloshed it slightly, smirking against your lover’s skin as wet sounds filled your ears. She was an unbelievable mess, slightly tight given how tense she was – although after reassurances whispered hotly by her ear, the redhead found it in herself to take a deep breath and melt against the bed.

“I can take more,” she admitted. Her hips sloppily moved against your own slow thrusts, urging you to go faster. Never had she longed for someone so deeply. Wanda hugged you close with a newfound sense of confidence. Her lips found your own, kissing you hard with the utmost amount of love she silently threw your way. “Come on, b'shert. Give me all you got. I want it all,” she slid her tongue against your own, never daring to break eye-contact. “I. Want. You.”

It was enough to release the monster from deep inside. Although you refused to harm her, you slipped a second finger inside her hole, filling her cunt up with digits that urged to bring her to the brink of an orgasm.

“Yeah, that’s it. There’s my good baby.” Wanda’s nipples crept upon your skin. She met your own movements with phlegmatic ones, legs wrapping themselves around your midsection. “I don’t think I’ll last long, sweetheart. Oh honey!”

Surely the last time she dared receive such immense pleasure was beneath her. You curled your fingers deep inside Wanda once she had adjusted to them, thumb circling her clit. She fell apart in your arms that held her tight, swearing loudly in the three languages she knew for the entire borough to hear.

You let her relax for a few seconds, kissing her flushed face, mouthing only the sweetest compliments. “You did so well for me, Wanda. Such a good girl.”

Those words brought her a surge of happiness she had long wished to own. She couldn’t help but smile against you, eyes droopy with adoration as your fingers remained deep within her slick, puffy cunt.

Without a word you began drifting down. Her confusion was clear, but she refused to question you as you placed your kisses all over the rolls upon her stomach, the swollen tummy being adored without a hint of hatred.

Wanda let out a strangled sob as you casually flicked your tongue over her pussy. She had never experienced that, always the same monotone sex with Vision who didn’t dare venture down as you did. The feeling of your mouth upon her dripping slit was far too enjoyable for her to ever wish to let go.

“You taste amazing,” you told her, already drunk on her flavor. “So fucking good.”

That night you didn’t stop until Wanda was a slumped, ragged mess over the bed. She cried to be allowed to return the favor, but with her exhausted voice and heavy eyelids, you couldn’t ask for anything. Instead you picked her up and dragged her to the bathroom, cleaning her up, allowing her to rest against you as you changed the sheets, and kissing her forehead to sleep.

It wasn’t the first night you felt love for Wanda, but it would be the last you left it unspoken.

///

On the night of Christmas Eve, you swung around to save the day.

Vis had urged the twins to visit him on that day rather than Christmas, leaving the small children to agree upon the promise of candy and half of their gifts being opened a day early. Although Wanda disapproved, knowing it was her day with the boys, she didn’t dare fight it. After all, their joy over seeing their father couldn’t be dissuaded. Whatever issues she had with her ex-husband were between the two of them, never daring to involve Billy and Tommy who reeked with innocence.

To say she was surprised to find you throwing one of her windows open and jumping through it would be an understatement. She had settled on a date with her television and leftover chocolates she had laying around the house, perhaps some wine to tone down her sadness. The apartment was horribly quiet without two little menaces running around and begging to be fed nothing but greasy, fast-food.

“Sorry I’m late! I swear I must’ve swung across the whole fucking city just to get you these,” you exasperated, closing the window behind you as you shook off some snow from your covered body. “But I’m here!”

A break had to be taken from patrolling, instead letting the cops take over for a night as you and your newfound protégé, Miles who volunteered at M.I.L.E. alongside Peter’s aunt May, his mom having run for city council and won, a father who you once attempted to save but failed, also spent his Christmas Eve alongside family and friends. Eventually you’d tell Wanda about him, but not until you were sure he’d be a good fit – child endangerment was not something you took lightly.

Your girlfriend frowned at you, more importantly the object upon your hands. She rose from the couch and, to her dismay, ignored her floor being drenched with melted snow. She placed her wine down on the coffee table and walked towards you. “Are those…babka rolls?”

“Yeah! I tried recreating this recipe I found online, but then I got too carried away wrapping your gifts,” you used a hand to point behind you, backpack filled with gifts that overflowed. It was the perfect time to remove the warm beanie and earmuffs that shielded you from the cold, given how warm Wanda’s apartment was. “I nearly set the apartment on fire. Peter Googled a few places for me and, uh, I may have used my Spidey status to get this dude to make it for you.”

“What did it cost?”

“A selfie and video to send to his friends,” you mumbled. It wasn’t that you didn’t love taking pictures with the public, of course you did. But all that adorned your body was one of your old, beat up suits you merely carried around to cover yourself from the freezing weather. The fancier ones were saved for heroic work and better encounters with people. “Maybe an autograph too.”

You didn’t notice Wanda was in such close proximity until she urged you to drop the babka rolls on the coffee table beside her half-full glass of wine with silent hands.

“Take off your mask,” Wanda breathlessly ordered. You did as you were told, setting down the wrapped babka along with several horribly-adorned presents. When standing up straight, your mask off and thrown to the side, your girlfriend didn’t hesitate to lean in. Hands tenderly cupped your freezing cheeks, but she didn’t care. Having you close was good enough for Wanda. “I love you.”

Nothing could ever keep the thousand-watt smile from forming upon your face. You didn’t care that you were covered in snow, that your heavy boots Wanda had urged you to wear left wet trails as they stomped across her hardwood floors. All you could think about was her – pulling Wanda as close and ever to take her lips hostage.

“I love you too,” was all you said upon pulling away much to your disappointment. “Like, so fucking much. It’s kind of crazy how much I love you actually.”

“Hmm I’m glad, baby.”

Wanda nuzzled herself against you, ignoring the wetness from your suit and coat – she was glad to know you at least stuck to her pleas of keeping warm. She held you tight as though you’d leave by the following day, but until she told you otherwise, you’d spent all your waking time beside the woman you adored.

“So, uh, I brought a few DVDs,” you said. “I know it’s old fashioned, but I thought we could hook up the twins’ PlayStation in the living room’s television to watch Home Alone.”

“I would love that.” Wanda placed a kiss on your chest, most importantly over the spider crest that lay there. “My little spiderling. Please tell me you at least brought a change of clothes. Although you know I’ve been keeping extras just for you. And maybe Santa has brought you something for you to have here.”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe,” she teased. “Perhaps someday you won’t have to leave anymore. And we could make this…permanent.”

“I would love that.” Hugging her close, you promised to forever love and care for her, for her sanity, her children, and anything she desired. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Wanda stooped up to kiss you again, this time lingering upon your freezing lips carrying nothing but amour and desire. “Now go take a shower, sweetheart. You smell like a sewer rat. Get yourself all warmed up. I need my cuddle buddy.”

“Anything for you, Dr. Maximoff.”

Without the kids she was miserable, but her misery turned to happiness with you by her side. Wanda was thrilled to not only fall asleep with you hugging her tight from behind, but also awake to find herself half on top of you, face nuzzled against your chest. Although she had never officially celebrated Christmas let alone for her children’s sake, she could surely get used to a very excited superhero tearing open gifts and flashing them towards her.

As you stared back at Wanda that morning, promising that your gifts were for her own celebrations and not Christmas, you noticed the similarities between the scarlet wrapping paper and her hair. It was then you realized that loving Wanda, holding her heart in your hands, would forever be red.

#cthulhus’ fanfics #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff smut #marvel #marvel smut #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x you

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cipher-fresh · 8 months ago

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Mutual #1: Ruby is DEFINITELY Missy’s daughter guys

Mutual #2: I wish 15 had condemned cops or something when Ruby asked why the TARDIS looked like that

Mutual #3: CHRISTOPHER ECCLESTON. CHRIS. CHRIS COME BACK BABY

Mutual #4: She Charley on my Pollard till i Scherzo

Mutual #5: I hate that Moffat is returning to write an episode. Can Steven Moffat kill himself please

Mutual #6: I love that Moffat is returning to write an episode. Can RTD kill himself please

Mutual #7: What if we kissed in front of Ianto’s shrine in Cardiff and we were both girls

Mutual #8: Chibnall’s episodes outside of his era are some of his better ones. I think for every cool thing he does there’s law of conservation of energy applies and the next episode he makes sucks

Mutual #9: I really do not mean to TJLC but i think the Doctor is going to realize he’s in a TV show this season. Bc i don’t know what to do with the death of RTD’s subtlety in foreshadowing

Mutual #10: I’m not misogynistic but I just hate everything about the 13th Doctor era and I just think it doesn’t have a single redeeming quality.

Mutual #11: You are literally an anti-feminist if you hate anything about the 13th Doctor era

Mutual #12: Spydoc are pegging each other rn in my Google docs

Mutual #13: Guys I’m getting a tattoo of the 8th doctor should it say “autism” or “lesbian” underneath in impact font

Mutual #14: It’s so sad that Simm!master turned into a puppygirl. Oh well I must comply to canon

Mutual #15: Was Thasmin queerbaiting? No nuance pick one

Mutual #16: Everybody listen to the TV movie soundtrack NEOWWWWWWW

Mutual #17: Tegan and Nyssa would have the Monkees on their sex playlist

Mutual #18: I just wish 14 got a whole season, you know? Or maybe two. Or three. Who needs 15 anyway?

Mutual #19: If David Tennant steps foot on a Doctor Who stage again I will kill him with my blade

Mutual #20: Link to pirating big finish in reblog. everybody please come to 6th Doctor land with me

#doctor who

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i-cant-sing · 5 months ago

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Time Traveller AU part 11

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Part 6 is here. Part 7 is here. Part 8 is here. Part 9 is here. Part 10 is here. Time Traveller au masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Part 12 is here!

Your eyes are closed as you travel through time and space, wondering where you'll end up this time. Surely, if the universe saved you one more time, it means you'll probably end up in a better place-

Your eyes snapped open at the loud sound of thunder. You're staring up at the sky, dark clouds lightening flashing across it and-

I'm still falling!

You're not able to breathe until you take a gasp just as you hit the ground below you-

Wet. No, not ground. You look around in the dark water, not able to visualise anything before adrenaline kicks in and you start to swim to the surface.

You gasp as you come up and look around you.

You're in the sea. You're in the middle of the sea!

Your heart is drumming against your chest as you look up at the sky. Its dark, filled with heavy cloud and thunder. As the waves around you begin to move, your blood runs cold.

Storm. Sea storm.

Before you're able to react, though you doubt you could've prepared yourself, the waves crash down on you, pulling you back under the waters. No matter how hard you try to come back up, the waves thrash you here and there, insistent on drowning you. Even if you're able to break the surface for a few seconds, you're only able to take in so much air before getting waterboarded by the sea.

You're thrashing about under the waters, your body starting run out of adrenaline and reaching exhaustion, when you spot something in the corner of your eye.

Its a dark, huge figure. Horizontal, streamlined-

Shark. Its a fucking shark!

You'd scream if your body would listen to you. But you froze, and for some reason, your mind went on autopilot and made you raise your fists.

What? Fight the shark? What the fuck Y/n-

The shark was less than 5 feet from you when an orca came out of nowhere and attacked the shark.

You could only watch as the two sea animals fought each other, the killer whale clearly winning as the shark's thrashing began to subdue. That was the last thing you saw before losing consciousness, praying to God someone finds your body at least.

You wake upto the sound of a woman screaming.

Screaming. So, I must be in hell. Huh.

Your eyes flutter open and you look around the large white room you're in.

Its a hospital ward.

Your gaze falls on the shrieking female patient, currently being strapped to her bed as nurses try to inject her with something.

"Oh, you're awake." A nurse states as she comes by your side, noticing the English accent. "Didnt think you would after they found you washed up on the shore. You were shivering all over!"

Ah, nearly drowned. Nearly had hypothermia. Maybe I should have a "near-death" board.

You cleared your throat. "Where am I? How long was I out?"

"You're in London, honey. It was the nearest hospital from where'd they found you. You've been here for a day." She watched you sit up. "Where you from, dearie?"

Pressing your temples, you answered. "Just... around."

Her face turned somber. "You're one of those, arent you?"

"One of who?" You narrowed your eyes at her. "One of who?"

"One of the damned who spread their filth-!" She snarled, stopping when she saw a doctor come up. "Hello, Dr Lowe!" The doctor merely gave her a nod, his eyes fixed on you. "And how are you, miss-?"

"Y/n." Whats the point of lying with another name? Its not like they'd find a record of you.

"Miss Y/n." He nodded. "Do you remember what happened? Why you were on the beach?"

"Um..." You tried to come up with an excuse. "I think... I was trying to swim."

Dr Lowe raised a brow. "Swim? In the winter?"

"Mmhm. Better to prepare myself for the summer." You feigned a smile, not receiving one back.

"Why?" The nurse asked, shrinking when the doctor shot her a glare.

"For... for fun?" You answered, unsure. What, is swimming a crime here?

"And you were swimming in... these clothes." You look down, noticing you were still in the Ottoman attire, wearing a flimsy gown.

"I was rehearsing for a play." The lie rolled out easier this time.

"Are you married?"

"No." I just escaped several attempts though. "Are we done here? I need to get home."

"And where would that be?" The doctor asked, crossing his arms as he looked at you.

"Outside of London. I dont feel comfortable telling you the address." You answered, not appreciating his interrogation.

"Miss, do you know what day it is today?" Shit.

"No. I have never been good at remembering dates." You pull the sheets off you to get off the bed but the doctor's words stop you.

"Its 8th of October."

And this is where you made a stupid mistake.

"What year?" The question came out before you could think of the repercussions.

"You... dont remember the year?" The doctor and the nurse shared a look before looking back at you.

"1860."

1860. 1860. London-

Victorian era.

Shit.

"Of course, I remember the year. I was just making sure. Anyways, I have to go-"

"You're not going anywhere, miss. You're not well. You need treatment." The doctor grabs your shoulders, pushing you back down.

"No, no. I am all good now! You saved my life, but I need to go-" You tried to push his hands off your shoulders, watching the nurse leave in a hurry.

The doctor shook his head. "No, miss. You may be fine physically, but not mentally." "What?" "You dressing up like this, playing some character, going to the sea to drown yourself because you're not happy with life, not remembering dates, and not having a husband- you have hysteria!"

You shook your head frantically. "No, I dont have hysteria-!"

"Not to worry miss! Its very common among women these days, sadly. But I have treated many of them successfully! And I'm sure that will be the case for you as well- Nurse! I need restraints and injections-"

Injection? Hysteria? Oh no, no. No. No! You've read about how they treated hysteria in the 1800s. Sent away to the seaside, lobotomy or forced orga-

"I AM NOT HYSTERICAL!" You thrashed around as more doctors and nurses came to hold you down. You spot the nurse holding up an injection and you only fought harder to escape as you realised Victorian medicine was basically poison itself.

"STOP- STOP! DONT INJECT ME WITH THAT!" You struggled with all your might to free yourself from their grasp, but their grip was tight and unyielding. "ITS FUCKING POISON! YOU IDIOTS! YOU'RE GONNA FUCKING KILL ME!"

You watched in horror as the nurse brought the needle closer to your arm, not even bothering to use an alcohol swab to sterilise the area so great- you'll die of an infection-

"Let her go!" They all looked towards the doorway, where a man stood looking furious. Wearing a brown coat with long sleeves and a wide collar exposing his waistcoat, he marched over to your bed and angrily took off his top hat.

"What is the meaning of this cruelty?! Unhand my wife now!" He yelled at the hospital staff.

Dr Lowe glared at him. "Wife? She said she wasnt married!"

The man scoffed. "We had a fight!" He glared at you this time. "Well, I'm sorry I spent a night away at the pub, darling! Forgive me and come back home?"

They all were staring at you now, and it only took a moment of eye contact with him for you to catch on.

"Fine. I forgive you. Lets go home-"

"Wait a second." The doctor narrowed his eyes at you. "You were found at the beach hours away from here. If he's your husband, then what were you doing there?"

He caught you off guard for a second, but you lied through your teeth.

"I obviously ran away!" You huffed. The man at the other end pulled the doctor by his collar. "And I'm from the newspaper, so if you dont let my wife go now, I will write an article besmirching you- not this run down hospital, no. I will be critisising you personally- whats your name?"

"Dr Lowe!" You pitched in. "Thank you, darling." The man nodded at you before continuing to threaten the doctor.

"I will crucify you, Dr Lowe."

The doctor huffed and nodded at the staff to let you go.

5 minutes later, you were walking with the man to the front desk to collect your belongings. You dont have your time machine on you or your jewellery from the Ottomans.

"Thank you..." You looked at him.

"Colin. Colin Felton."

As you waited for the nurse to return with your things, Colin introduced himself. True to his word, he did work in a newspaper, though you could only describe his work as "investigative journalism", but the term wasnt coined yet.

He was here at the hospital because he'd been trying to collect evidence on the inhumane attitude of healthcare workers towards patients and the alleged barbaric treatments towards the residents.

"So, why'd you help me? I mean, how'd you figured I wasnt hysterical?"

"I didnt." He grinned. "Hysterical or not, no one deserves to get lobotomised or whatever sadistic process they were going to subject you to." Colin looked at you. "How'd you know the injection was going to kill you? And what poison?"

"Look at the state of the hospital- there's arsenic on the walls. And most of the patients there were either strapped to their bed, or lying limp, drooling and groaning. The staff themselves looked like death, and there's no real concept of hygiene here, is there?" You shook your head. "The place is understaffed, overpacked, and completely unprepared for any epidemic or even anything mild!"

Colin chuckled. "Well, well, well. Who taught you so much about hospital management?"

Well, I am from the future where modern medicine has been able to provide vaccines for diseases you could die of.

You shrugged your shoulder. "My brother and I spent a summer at the mortuary." Which is true. You and Qasim had decided one summer to learn more about human anatomy (so that you could one day make your own humanoid-robots) and as kids who were unsupervised by working parents, you decided the best way to learn anatomy would be to go to the mortuary and just... take one home.

Look, in your 7 year old mind- it sounded like a good idea. There were a lot of unclaimed dead bodies at the local morgue and they wouldnt mind if you took one, right?

Qasim was hesitant but went along when you stated it was "for the advancement of science!"

Yeah, anyways, the moment you and Qasim had sneaked in and pulled the storage compartment holding someone, the doctor there caught you two. The only reason he didnt call your parents then was when you two begged you'd do anything and you were just trying to learn about human body and you swore that it wasnt for any "black magic", he instead made you and Qasim intern at the morgue.

Dr Johnson was more concerned that you two werent freaking out over dead bodies, and he probably kept you two around to see if you had any homicidal tendencies, but he found out you two were just curious kids. He was a great teacher, in all honesty, not only did he teach you about anatomy, but also a lot about the embalming, forensics, murder weapons and-

"What do you mean they're not there?" You asked the nurse. "Where's the rest of my stuff?!"

"I'm sorry ma'am, you didnt have anything on you besides the clothes on your back. And you're wearing them-"

"I'm going to give you one more chance- where's. My. Stuff?!" You snapped at her. The nurse stared at you unflinching. You pulled up your sleeve, ready to lunge. "You listen here-"

"What my wife means to say-" Colin placed a hand on your shoulder, reeling you back. "-would you please be kind and check again?"

"Like I told the missus- she didnt bring anything. Also- your missus was carried in here in the arms of another man-"

"What man?" You cut her attempt at tattling.

"He didnt give a name." She scoffed. "He just dropped you on one of the beds and left."

"What did he look like? What was he wearing?"

"I dont remember his face, but he wearing a black coat and hat, and I remember a golden band on his ring finger." She gave you a nasty look at the mention of the ring.

"What was so important that you lost?" Colin asked as you two walked. After questioning the nurse until she got fed up, Colin pulled you out of the hospital.

"Just some... jewels. A bracelet. Some cash- well the last bit of it that would get me home." You mumbled, every part of your being doing its best not to break down over losing the only way home. Because if you dont remain calm and lose your shit, you'll end up right back at the hospital to undergo nightmarish treatments.

"We could report it to the police. Although I doubt your case would take priority over the recent rise in murder cases-" You tuned him out as you tried to think where your time machine is.

I was dropped into the sea.... and the waves were harsh. Did I lose it in the sea?

Your stomach twisted at the thought of losing the time machine forever. At least with the thief theory, you had a small chance of getting it back. But you cant go scuba diving to find it in the sea!

"So, what are you going to do now?" He asks as you both sit down. You're holding your head in your hands. Colin's brows furrow in concern.

"Y/n?"

"I dont know, Colin!" You looked up at him. "I dont know! I lost all my belongings, everything that I needed to get home! I have no family, no place to stay and I'm a woman in a time where everyone is trying to either send me off to the looney bin or live horribly in a workhouse!"

"How do you know workhouses are horrible?" Colin raised a brow at you, an accusatory look in his eyes. "This isnt the first time you ran away from home, is it?"

You looked at his face, judging you. If you say yes, he'll think you're just a mad woman who is actually homeless and is trying to use him to get money. And you're already low as it is, you dont need more kicking down.

Scoffing, you glared at him. "What? You think I'm just a mad woman who is actually homeless and is trying to use you for money?" You shake your head, your mind making up excuses. "I... snuck into one of the workhouses."

"Why?"

"So... that I could expose the horrible working and living conditions." You continued before he could ask why. "A friend of mine lived in a workhouse. She complained about the hard labour, the isolation, the inhumane punishments. She died there." You looked down, both for dramatic effect and to avoid being caught in a lie. "I wanted to get justice for her. But the higher ups found out and tried to keep me quiet, which lead to me being on the run and hiding from them, wearing disguises-" You gestured to your Ottoman attire. "-but they caught me and put me on a boat to kill me. It was just pure luck that I washed up on the shore."

Allah, I know lying is a sin but lord- that was amazing how quick I came up with that. Please do not use this to make an example out of me.

Colin gave you a sympathetic look.

"I think I have a way to help you."

You were sitting in Colin's apartment.

"Here you go." He returned from the kitchen with a cup of tea.

"Thank you." You took a sip, letting the warm beverage heat your hands. "So, whats your plan?"

"I share this place with 4 people, and one of them has moved out. So, we have a vacant room for you." Colin pointed to a room on the left.

You sighed. "Thats very kind of you to offer Colin, but I cant live here for free-"

"Who said "free"?"

"I dont have a job. I cant pay rent-"

"You do have a job." Colin grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Work with me."

"At the newspaper?" You set your cup down. "I mean- I dont have any experience writing-"

He waved you off. "You dont have to write. I'll write. You- will just collect information for me."

You pondered about his statement. So basically, he wants you to be the "investigator" in "investigative journalism".

"Look, you're gutsy, you're smart, and you're strong willed. I need someone like that to collect data and infiltrate places to expose injustice." Colin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'd do it myself, but I've been around these places so many times that they know now that I'm from the paper. Plus, there are many places only a woman could sneak into instead." He clasped his hands. "Its an interesting job. You'll get to meet all kinds of people. And who knows, maybe even the man who saved your life and stole your belongings."

You nodded. "So, how much will you pay?"

Later that night, you met with Colin's flat mates- Liam, who was a police officer, Shepherd, who was a barkeeper and Benjamin who was a barber. Fortunately for you, they were all glad to have you as a flatmate, or well maybe they were just happy to have someone to share the expenses with.

Next morning, Colin told you about the assignment he was working on.

"My main project is about exposing the harrowing conditions of patients forced to undergo unnecessary and painful treatments and the atrocious attitude of the staff towards the patients. Especially in mental asylums." He huffed out, shaking his head as if recalling the nightmarish scenes he'd seen. "But thats a big project and is still underworks. You, will have to first interview and collect some dirt on some influential people and upperclass."

"Why?"

"To get access to Queen Victoria." "And why do I need her?" Colin smiled. "Well, the royal family has many sick people, so if she were to become aware of the grim conditions her subjects have to go through at hospitals, then maybe she will do something about it."

"And you think she would help us?"

He nods. "I believe she will. I think birthing 9 children and being surrounded by men who keep things from her, she doesnt have time for her subjects. But if we were to point her in the right direction until she's unable to ignore the problem."

Well, it is true that the English royal family had many illnesses passed down, famously haemophilia and due to inbreeding, some mental illnesses as well. You suppose Colin's plan just might work.

"Okay. So who's my first interviewee?"

"Charles Dickens."

What an asshole.

When Colin told you that you were going to interview or well "dig up dirt" on Charles Dickens, you already knew the literary legend was a jerk. Like most kids, you had read his books- "A Christmas Carol", "Oliver Twist", "David Copperfield", etc. Unlike most kids, you looked him up on the internet and went down the rabbit hole to find out everything about his life.

Including his unhappy marital life, where he was married to Catherine Dickens and basically cheated on his wife with an actress 27 years his junior- "Ellen Ternan", or as he liked to call- "Nelly". He had a secret affair with Nelly, who he had apparently spoken "highly" of- having “a pretty face and well-developed figure”—or “passably pretty and not much of an actress.”

But wait- it gets worse.

So after Catherine found out about his affair, she quietly lived apart from him. A painful scandal arose, and Dickens did not act at this time with tact, patience, or consideration. The affair disrupted some of his friendships and narrowed his social circle, but surprisingly it seems not to have damaged his popularity with the public.

While Catherine maintained a dignified silence, Charles took it upon himself to justify his affair by writing letters about Catherine as being an "unfit wife" because of some "peculiarities of temperament" she had, even saying that she didnt care for the kids nor they for her, which in 1800s- was all that you were good for as a woman. And if you're not good at your job and have "peculiarities of temperament" then that means you're just insane.

Yes, Charles Dickens tried to justify his cheating ass with a girl almost 3 decades younger than him, by saying "my wife's crazy!" Which is... a pretty serious allegation because you could be sent to the mental asylum for torturous treatments.

Which is how you got into his house in the first place. Your cover story is that you're a doctor at the mental asylum and have come over to check on Catherine after Charles wrote letters to the hospital expressing his "grave concern over her mental health". That was a tip Colin was able to get.

And now here you are, sitting in his parlour as he told you on and on about his works, how terrible his life was in general- not growing up, and how women in his life have been just such a bad influence.

"What do you think, doctor?" He asked, finally stopping after 20 minutes of yapping.

You cleared your throat, setting the tea cup down. "Oh I think you're absolutely right, Mr Dickens! My God, what good is a woman if she cant even satisfy her husband or take care of her kids?!" You watched his eyes lit up at your words. "I mean, all women are naturally homemakers. They're supposed to be the providers, the nurturers! If a woman fails to make her family feel warm, fails to make her house a home, then she surely has something terribly wrong with her head! Ah, she definitely needs our help!"

"So, you agree? Catherine needs to be institutionalised-"

"Well, I didnt say that." You gave him a coy smile. "I do understand your concern for your wife- you are a loving husband after all. Loving, caring, honest husband. Such a rare breed of men these days, hm?" You watched his smile falter a bit. "I think I will need to observe her a few more times before I make any decision, Mr Dickens. Now, good day!"

"I dont understand why I'm not being paid." You huff as you flop onto the sofa.

Colin sighs, rubbing his eyes. "Because I'm not being paid. And if I dont get paid, you dont get paid, remember?" Ah yes. Since you're not officially hired by his newspaper because you're a woman, you're basically Colin's employee.

"And why are you not being paid?"

"Because the paper didnt publish my exposé!" He handed you the paper.

You looked at the front page and threw the paper to the side. "What the hell is this? How long are they going to run the same news- FRONT PAGE, TOO! Its already been a week!"

"Its a big deal-"

"What? Some guy is returning to London is a news now?" You scoffed.

"Its not just some guy." Colin sighed tiredly, slumping in his chair. "Its a FitzGeorge."

"What the hell is a FitzGeorge?"

"You dont know FitzGeorge?" You shook your head. "Prince George, Duke of Cambridge? Queen Victoria's first cousin?"

You tried to remember anything about him. But you dont remember reading much about any cousins of Queen Victoria, when her kids were already so entertaining to read about.

"So, Prince George is returning?"

"No, he's been dead for years! How do you not know this?"

"I live under a rock. So who is returning?" You redirected him back.

Colin gave you a look. "His grandson. Silas Edmund FitzGeorge."

"Right. And why is he so important that he's been on the front page for a week now?"

"He's the most eligible bachelor now." Seeing your unamused look, Colin explained. "Prince George and Queen Victoria fell apart when the former married a ballerina, Sarah Fairbrother. They married without the Queen's consent, though with Sarah being a ballerina, I doubt her majesty wouldve approved of the union either way. Anyways, since they married without her consent, the marriage was essentially null and any heirs produced were illegitimate and not recognised by the crown, thus would not be granted any Dukedoms. Prince George had 3 sons- George, Adolphus and Augustus FitzGeorge. The youngest- Augustus, had two children: Daisy and Silas. Unfortunately, the kids were quite young when they lost their mother. Augustus was away on service on the sea, when his wife was brutally murdered in the family home and rumour has it- Silas had witnessed it first hand. It was just pure luck that he was not spotted by the murderer that the young child was hiding in his closet. While the kids were in mourning, Augustus had apparently went mad with sorrow when he received the news and drowned himself. Pitying the orphans, Queen Victoria had promised to make Silas a Duke and Daisy a Duchess when they came of age. But Daisy was sent to the mad house out of the blue and a few months later, she died there. Poor Silas was now taken in by his grandmother, Sarah, the very woman Queen Victoria hates. Long story short, Sarah worked very hard to raise Silas and eventually he ended up being the first in the royal family to attend Oxford university-" he leaned forward, smiling. "-without any help from the crown."

Oh, so Silas is self made. And not a nepo baby.

"Silas not only is highly educated, but he's also a very successful businessman. He has invested in many businesses and he's been a huge part in reforming industries."

"So... he's rich and self made? Got it." You looked at Colin. "Still doesnt explain why he's making news? Hell, he even took importance over those horrible murders!"

Colin grinned. "Well, he's not the most eligible bachelor just for the commoners. Apparently, the queen is considering him as a match for one of her daughters." He watched realisation finally dawn on you.

"I still should be paid." You grumbled before glaring at him. "Maybe you need to write a better article, good enough for it to take over the front page."

"If you're done criticising my writing skills, I was going to tell you a remedy for this problem." Colin had an evil glint in his eyes. "And we'll have to use our friend Mr Dickens for it."

Colin is a genius.

You're currently sitting in Sarah Fairbrother's house- or well a small mansion. Its a huge estate, lush green grounds surrounding it as far as the eye can see. You were sweating by the time you reached inside, the gardens were huge.

How did you end up here? Colin suggested to use dirt on Charles Dickens and blackmail him into getting you an interview with Sarah, since he is popular and part of the high society. And you only had to say "Nelly" for Dickens to fold. He asked Sarah that a young woman would like to interview her for her years as a ballerina.

You knew Sarah was Silas's grandma, but you still were not expecting to see a slim, 86 year old woman who looked absolutely beautiful. Honestly, she did not look a day beyond 60.

"So, how did you know you wanted to become a ballerina?" You asked her, starting off the interview.

The plan was for you to get close with Sarah and find some secrets, so that when Colin writes about them, the editor will take him seriously and then start posting his Dickens article.

The conversation went from her life as a ballerina, to her life as Mrs FitzGeorge. Sarah practically told you everything, you could see she was lonely and she hadnt had anyone to talk to properly. She was kind, sweet lady, and a prima donna ballerina, and you didnt understand why the queen wouldnt like her. But the thing is, her being a ballerina was a stigma in itself, because back in the 1800s, ballet theatres were used as parlours for men to drink and sleep around with women. Thus, by association, ballerinas were bad too.

But despite the queen's shunning, Sarah did not speak ill of her. No, she was a lovely, demure lady who was still very much passionate about ballet.

"And for all the young girls who aspire to be a ballerina one day, much like myself, what advice do you have for them?" You asked,

"Dance with your heart, and your feet will follow!" She smiled so gracefully, that you couldnt help but return it.

"Thank you for such an amazing interview. I am sure girls from all around London will look upto you one day." You said, closing your journal.

"You flatter me, darling." She giggled before looking down at your legs. "You know, I saw your skirt ride up a bit earlier and I think you have the perfect calves for ballet! Have you ever considered?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I wish! But I think I'm a little too old to learn ballet now."

"My dear, you're never too old to enjoy life!" Sarah smiled.

"Perhaps, one day." You stand up. "I would love to know more about it. Maybe we can do this again, if you have time?"

It wasn't right to use her loneliness, but... you had to make a living. Besides, there are far worse things you can do than talking to an old lady to solict information.

You were not expecting Sarah to invite you back two days later, that too for dinner.

"Its not just a dinner, Y/n." Colin said, pacing back and forth. "I think Silas is going to be there. Of course, it'll be a party in his honour! Ah, the return of the beloved grandson and the most eligible bachelor in town!" He continued to mutter incoherently, his mind working overdrive as he began planning ahead.

"How often does he go mad like this?" You whisper to Benjamin, who was currently styling your hair for the dinner.

He smiled, his moustache curling up. "Quite often." He had your hair in a nice updo, and on your insistence, he also allowed some hair to frame your face.

"You cant go empty handed." Colin said, stopping his pacing. "Its high society, you cant go empty handed! You need to get a gift, something appropriate and if possible, memorable enough for them to call you back again and again."

You glared at him through the mirror you were standing in front of as Benjamin helped tighten your corset.

"I dont think anyone will be forgetting me after the objectionable alterations you made to this gown." You pointed to the outfit you were wearing- a baby blue silk gown with delicate lacework around the scandalous neckline and puffy sleeves, courtesy of Colin.

Colin rolled his eyes. "So what if you showed some skin? I'm only trying to ensure that you leave a lasting impression on them." He put on his hat. "Now come along, we have to get a present too."

You and Colin walked down the streets of London, the area bustling as people returned from their jobs and either rushed home or to the pubs.

"Where are we going to get a present now, Colin? One that is both good enough and you can afford to buy too." You commented as you pulled your coat tighter around your body, the cold biting at your bones.

He offered you his arm and pulled you close to his side to warm you up. "I was going to get a wine bottle but the shop closed early today and Shepherd said he hadn't been able to secure any good bottles at the pub, so we'll- we'll just have to go for the next best thing." You two stopped in front of a shop on Regent street.

Regent's Antiques!

"Really? And you can afford antiques?" You raised a brow at him. He shrugged before pushing you inside the shop. "I dont know, but I am good at bargaining."

The shop is huge and immediately stepping inside, you could tell that there was nothing here Colin could afford to buy. The shelves that held the items alone looked like they were made of rich wood, the smell of mahogany, musk and polish filling up your nostrils.

"Lets get out of here before we embarrass ourselves-" you whisper to Colin but he brushes you off and walks further into the store. Sighing, you start browsing the store, an amalgam of things were present there- relics, ceramics, gold and silver and other metalware.

"And how much is this for, sir?" You turned to see Colin ask the salesman for the price of the vase he was holding. You didnt have to hear how expensive it was when you saw Colin's eyes widen as he nervously chuckled before putting the vase back. You heard him do this again over the next 30 minutes, picking up stuff and placing them back.

In the corner of your eye, you spotted a small box. You picked it up and opened it, smiling as it played a melody while the ballerina figurine twirled in the center.

The perfect gift.

You went upto the counter and asked how much it was for.

"100 pounds."

100 pounds... 100 pounds in 1860, with inflation would be todays-

Your eyes widened as you looked down at the box. The salesman mistook your shock for interest and began explaining how its made of pure gold and that this box belonged to a king who gifted it to his queen for their everlasting love.

"Mmhm. Interesting-" You cleared your throat, placing the box back on the shelf. "- but its not what I'm looking for."

"Y/n? What are you doing? I already bought the gift!" Colin came by your side.

"What did you buy?" You asked him before pulling him to the side to whisper. "What could you have possibly afforded in this place?"

"I almost didnt find anything but then the owner of this place saw me and showed me something a little more in my range and I'm getting it wrapped up now!" He told you gleefully.

"The owner? Who?"

"Mr Blackwood! He came here to get a present for someone too and then showed me some old items that were either too ugly or too damaged or just been here for so long, they had to store it in the back! And I found a gem, not too shabby and in a good condition too!" Colin grinned proudly. "Come on, I'll show you the back!"

He ushered you to the storage and true to his word, the room was indeed filled with boring and damaged items. "Take a look around, I need to haul a carriage to load the present and you cant be late!" He left you there.

You browse through the stuff there before going towards the wooden cabinet in the corner. Its locked. You look through the glass panels at the precious antiques inside- mostly bejewelled items like daggers, boxes, broaches and-

Your breath hitched.

Time machine.

My time machine. Its here!

You press your hands against the glass before pulling on the handles to open it, only for the lock to not budge.

Its just glass. You raise your fist. I can just-

"I wouldnt do that if I were you." A voice called out from behind you. You turned to see a man in the doorway, broad shouldered and even from a distance, you could see he had two shades in his eyes.

Green and brown.

Well suited in a coat and shiny dress shoes, he looked like he was going somewhere. He stepped towards you, an mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Those are my belongings." He said.

Oh. So, he's the owner.

"Not all of it. Thats mine." You point to your machine inside. "It was stolen from me a few days ago."

He shrugged. "How can I believe you? I dont know you." He takes another step towards you. "Besides, everything here once belonged to someone. Now? Its mine."

You frowned. "That belongs to me. I even have an official police report." You dont but you decided to bluff.

He chuckled. "Sure you did. But it still doesnt change the fact that its in my possession now." Before you could reply, Colin returned.

"Ah Y/n! I see you've met Mr Blackwood. He's the-" "Owner. I know. And he stole my stuff." You grumbled to Colin.

Mr Blackwood narrowed his eyes at you. "I did not steal it, young lady. Someone came to us and sold it."

You glare at him. "No-" "Yes, of course, Mr Blackwood." Colin cut you off. "And we appreciate that you've kept it safe, but we would like to buy it back from you."

Mr Blackwood looked at him and then at you, before smiling.

"I wasnt planning on selling but since you already bought one of my antiques..." he nodded. "1000 pounds and its yours."

Your jaw went slack and you almost started to swing when Colin grabbed your elbow.

"Mr Blackwood, if you could just give us a better deal-"

"1000 pounds, Mr Felton. And not a penny less." He said before leaving.

"Why are you mad at me?" Colin asked as he sat next to you in the carriage.

"I'm mad at him, Colin! There was no way that was worth 1000 pounds! No one would pay such a ridiculous amount! For anything!" You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Of course it wasnt worth a 1000 pounds. He raised the price because you pissed him off." You glared at him. "Look, just focus on tonight and when we get our paycheques, I'll go talk to Mr Blackwood again and bargain a good deal. Because even if he did gave us a good deal right now, I couldnt afford it, not after spending money on your outift and that gift,"

You scowl but nod stiffly. "Fine."

The carriage reached the FitzGeorge estate, stopping at the entrance where a small army of servants waited to greet you and other guests.

"Good luck. See you in a few hours." Colin wished you before calling two servants to carry the gift.

"What the hell did you buy?" You ask as you watch the servants carry a rectangular box wrapped in brown paper and a big red bow inside. "Come on, tell me. What if they ask me what it is?"

Colin grinned as he tipped his hat at you. "I guess you'll have to figure out something on the spot. Bye!" The carriage left before you could pester him.

Huffing, you lifted your gown a bit as you walked up the steps and entered inside the beautiful mansion.

The lobby is filled with guests and servants who are taking their coats and leading them inside. There's a stairway on the right leading to private quarters upstairs, a drawing room beside the stairs where you had interviewed Sarah the last time you were here. On the other side, you see a table stacked with presents, your own gigantic box settled behind them.

This was not just a small dinner, was it?

You're lead inside what seems to be a ballroom, the lights seeming to bounce of the polished wooden floors. Waiters are serving guests alcohol and appetisers, and you hold the champagne filled glass too.

Hey, just because I'm not drinking doesnt mean I cant hold it. I need to blend in.

You hold the glass in your hands as you look at the attendees, trying to spot any famous personalities. You notice Charles Dickens again, of course he's here too. Your eyes drink in the pretty dresses of the women and almost roll at the sight of obnoxious men who dont make an effort to conceal their ogling.

Soon, the butlers gets everyones attention as he annoucnes the arrival of the hostess.

"Lady Sarah Louisa FitzGeorge, accompanied by her grandson, Lord Silas Edmund FitzGeorge!"

Sarah was wearing a black regency gown, puffy panelled sleeves and a golden brooch with an onyx stone in the center of her neckline, her neck adorned with pearls and matching tear drop earrings. She walked arm-in-arm with a dashing young man, and you could definitely see why he was the "most eligible bachelor".

Dark chocolate brown hair, the thick locks styled properly and you were sure that under the sunlight, they'd have different shades of brown and golden in them. Fair skinned, yet not deathly pale as most of London is, he had thick brows framing dark grey eyes adorned with enviable thick lashes, that dont seem to be focusing on anyone, just looking ahead, unamused. A sharp Roman nose, followed by perfectly sized pink lips, with a deep and defined cupid's bow and a strong jawline.

They both walked down the stairs and entered the ballroom together, Sarah practically beaming with pride as she walked in with her grandson who towered over her. Everyone talked in hushed whispers, admiring Silas's beauty and how he looked like royalty. Sarah continued to smile at the guests as they made their way towards the center.

As the guest finally quieted down, Sarah began speaking.

"Thank you all for joining me tonight to celebrate my dear Silas's return from Oxford!" People clapped at the huge academic achievement but Silas still looked like he'd much rather be anywhere else than here. Sarah continued. "I had dearly missed him so much. He's been my rock, my star, my everything after his grandfather left me. But tonight is not about sorrows, no. Tonight we celebrate Silas! I hope you enjoy this, darling." She looked up at him and Silas smiled gently at her, a dimple appearing on his left side, leaning down to let her kiss his cheek.

Sarah clapped her hands, nodding at the butler.

Moments later, ballerinas entered the ballroom and began putting on a show. Ah, so this is why you were invited back. Sarah probably thought that you'd enjoy this due to your keen interest in the performing arts.

I mean... its not bad. Actually, its quite entertaining. But you're not here to enjoy ballet. You're here to get dirt on the upper class of London.

You move through the audience, picking up on interesting bits of convo here and there, mostly about extra marital affairs and tax frauds. When you see Silas again, he's not by Sarah's side anymore. No, instead he's now surrounded by some men, much older than him. They seem to be close to him, though Silas doesnt seem to share any familiarity with them as they speak in hushed tones, a hand on his shoulder to emphasise their point. Finally, Silas gives them a nod before moving away from them, and he's once again crowded by 3 boys, much closer to his age this time and Silas actually gives them a smile as they head out of the ballroom.

Friends, maybe relatives? You dont recall Colin telling you he had any brothers, only a sister who passed away in an asylum.

Your eyes trail back to the men who were talking to Silas earlier, only to see a familiar face there.

Mr Blackwood.

Despite being much younger than the men, he seemed to hold authority over them. You could see from the way they shook his hand, eagerly, desperately and talking over each other, but Mr Blackwood just stood there with a charming smile, listening to their concerns before holding a hand up to silence them. He said a few words that seemed to quell their worries before he moved past them and for a brief second, his eyes met yours and he smirked, tipping his head at you before leaving the ballroom.

You thought he'd come to you, maybe interrogate why someone like you was here in the first place, but perhaps you blended in better than you thought.

"Y/n! Darling, you came!" Sarah greeted you happily as she embraced you in a hug. "How do you like the show?"

"Oh, its just so... exquisite. Bewitching, really!" You smile before complimenting her outfit. "And your gown, your jewellery, everything looks so beautiful! If I didnt know any better, I'd say you were Silas's elder sister!"

She laughed softly, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, its you kids who keep me so young! Come on, I want to introduce you to Silas! I'm sure he'd be delighted to meet you." She lead you towards the lobby after a servant told her about his whereabouts, and there you saw him and his friends from earlier.

Silas leaned against the wall, watching humourlessly as the boys went through his gifts, opening them up crassly and mocking the gifts, all while he sipped his champagne.

"Silas- boys! What are you doing?!" At Sarah's admonishing tone, all of them straightened up.

One of the 3 boys, a blonde pouted as he stood up from the floor, dropping the gift box in his hands and you heard glass break.

"Nana! We were just helping Silas open his presents!"

Another boy, also blonde but he was taller than the first one, sheepishly hid his hands behind his back, though the crinkling of wrapping paper gave him away.

"Yes Nana, we were just helping him! He gave us permission to do so."

"Permission to act like animals?" Sarah fumed, making them lower their heads. It was kinds of adorable seeing them standing there looking defeated while a woman much smaller in stature than them scolded them.

Finally, the third boy who was the brunet and the oldest of the three stepped closer to Sarah. "Sorry Nana, we'll be more careful next time. Right boys?" The blondes nodded. The brunet then settled his eyes on you. "And who's the lovely lady next to you, Nana?" He changed the topic and Sarah's anger seemed to evaporate as she looked at you.

"Ah, yes! This is Lady Y/n Paddington!" Yes, Paddington as in Paddington the bear. What? This was the only name that came to mind at the moment that couldnt be traced. "She's the one who interviewed me about my career as a ballerina a few days ago. And look! Today we had a show for her to see!"

The three boys greeted you nicely, making some comments about how pretty you are before getting glared at by Sarah. Silas remained leaning against the wall, looking out the window at the dark night.

"Silas! Darling, come say hi!" Sarah called him before turning her attention to the boys, scolding them for being so undignified for opening Silas's presents.

Silas walked over to you, and you took a deep breath to introduce yourself-

"Are you done?"

You blinked at him in confusion. What?

"What?"

Silas looked past you at his grandma before looking down at you.

"I said, are you done? Have you gotten what you came here for?" He asked monotonously.

Wow. So does everyone have a stick up their ass in high society?

You narrowed your eyes at him. "And what exactly would that be?"

His expression didnt change. "Jewels, cutlery, secrets, contacts, a rich man?"

"What makes you think I already dont have all of those things?"

He scoffed, giving you a look. "You stick out like a sore thumb. You're not part of the wealthy." Silas looked at the champagne glass in your hand before smirking.

"What now?" You seethed.

"Anyone with a taste for finer things in life knows not to hold the glass from the top. You hold it from the stem, so that you dont warm the drink from the heat of your palm." He leans down to whisper in your ear. "Stop pretending to be someone you're not."

You know you shouldnt have, you know that you're better than him academically by literally centuries, you know this is how all rich douchebags act, but you just couldnt let a self entitled brat insult you to your face and you've had enough of those in the past few eras.

You smiled. "I guess you would know who's pretending." Silas smirk faltered.

"Remind me if the FitzGeorges are still considered royalty or not?"

You watched his eyes set ablaze, his jaw tick but before he could respond, the sound of paper being ripped cut him off.

"Charles!" Sarah yelled at the young blonde who had just ripped the wrapping paper off your present.

"Nana! This one's from Lady Y/n! Look-!" He removed the lid from the box before Sarah could stop him and your heart dropped at the sight of the contents.

Its a painting.

Its a portrait. The portrait.

The one Baldwin had made. The one that Mehmed had gotten on his conquest. The one you forgot to destroy in the Ottoman empire.

And now its here. In 1860 London. How the hell did it survive over 700 years?

Sure its not as brand new as the last time you saw it, the paint is faded and varnish is gone, but the face- your smudged face is still there!

"This is ugly, right?" Charles remarked, only to be smacked on the head by Sarah.

"It is not! Its exquisite! Its one of a kind! Just like how Silas likes his things- unique!" Sarah looked at you smiling. "I'm sure there's a story behind this, right darling?"

Your throat went dry as you nodded slowly. "Y-yes." You cleared your throat, eyes fixated on the portrait. "The owner told me that this belonged to the Turkish empire once, and um... one of the princes of the time had gotten it as a part of his loot from the conquest."

"But who's the broad-" Charles cut off his words as Sarah glared at him. "I mean- who's pretty lady in the painting?"

"She's... unknown. I only know that this was commissioned by her lover. Also, he was insane apparently." Sorry Baldwin, but you were insane.

Sarah clasped her hands over her heart, touched. "Ah! Painting by a man madly in love of his beloved! How romantic! I will have this hung up in our hallway with the rest of the paintings!"

You shake your head. "Oh, I dont think it'll go with your style-"

"Of course it will! Its a symbol of love, of devotion. Just like me and my Georgie. Just like how I wish for Silas to experience it one day." Sarah smiled at Silas.

"Yes, the day when Silas will be bitten by a rabid dog." Charles snickered only to have his ear twisted by Sarah as she began dragging him away, saying that she will tell his father of his behaviour tonight.

Without much to say, you left shortly after, bidding Silas's cousins goodbye and not bothering with Silas who was glaring daggers at you.

"You said what to Silas?" Liam asked as he returned from his patrolling. "I cant believe it. He is a part of royalty, maybe not directly but still!"

"He started it first." You pouted as Benjamin chuckled behind you, undoing your updo.

"Yes, but he was right to call you out. I mean, who holds the flute from the top?" Shepherd asked, sitting down as he handed Liam a drink.

You narrowed your eyes. "Well, I'm sorry that I'm not an obnoxious, rich, raging alcoholic!"

All of them chuckled as Colin sat down with a lazy smile, nursing his drink.

"You did good work tonight, Y/n." He raised the glass to you before downing his drink. You perked up. "So this means I'm getting paid with a bonus?"

He chuckled and gave you a nod. "Of course, but first- we'll need to write articles."

"We?" He nodded. "Yes. We. You will work on the FitzGeorge article for me, and write mostly good things about them so it gets published. I, will be working on the Dickens exposé along with the other secrets you've been able to get tonight. This way, when your FitzGeorge article gets published, you will get even closer to the family and the publisher will finally let me post the dirty secrets of high society! Its a win-win, really."

You leaned forward. "You make it sound so simple but while I may have been allowed to personally interview these people- that too, under the guise of not being associated with the paper, I dont think I will be allowed to work at your newspaper without being called out as your source and then none of these rich snobs will ever let me be close." You leaned back, letting Benjamin massage the knots out of your head. "The reason why Sarah even let me interview her was because I told her I wanted to promote the arts, starting with ballet. She thinks I write for the girls fraternity houses, like some sort of school project. Not a major publishing house!"

Colin rubbed his chin before snapping his finger. "I got it!" He grinned as he leaned forward. "You can write two stories! One- about your interview with Sarah! And it'll be under your name and we'll spread it around actual girl hostels, to make it seem legitamate when someone from the FitzGeorge house gets it. Doesnt matter if it'll do well or not, because you'll only sing her praises and this will make you well liked by Sarah and make her invite you to more events. And the other story, will be about the FitzGeorge estranged family relations with the Queen! Now that will get us more readers and the editor will be happy to publish it too! As for how you will actually write it- well, how would you like to be a boy?"

Everyone stared at Colin, as if he'd grown two heads.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, how would you like to be a boy?"

"If I wasnt sent to an asylum before, I'd definitely be sent to one now." You stated as Colin adjusted your bowtie.

"Only if you get caught!" He gave you a cheeky grin before shaking his head. "Which wont happen! I wont let you get caught."

"Now, turn." Benjamin said making you face him. He smiled as he placed a fake moustache on you. "Colin, you really are testing my skills these days. I mean, making Y/n a man? With a moustache? And styling her hair, even though it would've made everything so much easier if someone would just let me cut their hair-" you glared at him. "Okay, okay. No chopping off your hair. Jesus, what's with the death glare?"

"You're worried about the death glare? I'm worried why Liam was so pissed about being the only one whose clothes fit Y/n. I guess he always thought that being a copper meant he way more buff than he actually is." Colin commented. "Despite his lean built, he's surprisingly strong. Did you see the way he flipped over that thief?"

Benjamin nodded, combing your moustache.

"You're a very gorgeous male! Very demure." Colin grins before giving you some brief instructions on how to keep your cover and act manly.

"Right- so what name did you pick for your story?"

The corner of your mouth quirked up slightly.

"Holmes. Sherlock Holmes." What? Arthur Conan Doyle is probably just an year old right now. Its not gonna affect anyone if you chose one of your favourite characters names.

Plus, you're going to be an investigative journalist. So, it fits well, okay?

"Lets go, Mr Holmes."

With Colin's reference, you're able to get a job at the paper. And with your people watching hobby, you're able to successfully pass of as a man, a pretty man- but a man, nonetheless.

You've been hit on by a few women on the streets.

After working here for a few weeks, you finally get paid when the editor publishes your work on the FitzGeorge. You wrote mostly about Sarah and the FitzGeorge family relations with Queen Victoria, and just a few tantalising words about Silas that would have the readers waiting impatiently for the next update on the bachelor, thereby garnering more attention and you- more money, which you need to buy your time machine back.

You're sitting at your desk, typing down your next article when there's a commotion in the office.

"The boss is here! The boss is here!" Everyone rushed to do their respective tasks, or at least- look busy, do nothing. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the owner of the paper walking down the hallway, talking to-

Silas.

Silas was walking beside him, looking uninterested as he listened to his friend explaining how he operated his news agency. He gave a lookover to the cubicles before moving on. For a second, you thought he's seen you. But you were hiding behind other men, there was no way he'd spotted you.

Oh no. Is he here because he'd figured out you were the one who wrote the article in the paper? No, no- he couldnt have-

Fortunately for you, he hadnt. Silas was there because his friend, the owner, had invited him to show his newspaper agency.

With the weight off your shoulders and your pay in your pocket, you were back at the antique shop.

"You got the 1000 pounds?" You cursed mentally when you heard his agitating voice.

"Mr Blackwood, I have 3 pounds-" He cut you off with booming laughter. "Ah, poor people crack me up."

Resisting the urge to strangle him, you cleared your throat. "If you could just give me a real figure, an acceptable deal, I would like to buy my own property back."

He rested his head on his palm, leaning on the cash counter. "Now what's so special about it, hm? Because I cant seem to figure out what it even is?"

"Its nothing...." You remark before sighing. "Its a toy. It holds sentimental value."

He tilted his head. "Does it now?"

You nod.

He smiled, though something else swirled in those mischevous eyes. "Alright, I'll give you a deal." You prepare yourself. "I'll give your toy back if.... you go out on a date with me."

You narrowed your eyes. "I am not sleeping with you, Mr Blackwood-"

"And why would I do that to myself?" He raised a brow. "All I'm asking for is one date, a lovely dinner that I'll be paying for and then we can return to the shop and you can have your toy back."

You pondered over his offer, trying to figure out any traps.

"Why do you want to date me? I'm poor, like you said."

He shrugged. "Maybe I find you intriguing." He leaned forward on the counter again, wiggling his brows. "Come on, its just one date. No funny business, I promise."

You stared at him for a few more minutes before nodding. "Fine. But I get to pick the place and I will have you know that I have friends all over that will be looking for me if something were to happen."

He smirks at your attempt to threaten him. "I think we both know that I could get away with it all, love. All while making your friends disappear if I wanted to."

The way he stated it like it was true- it sent a chill down your spine.

Mr Blackwood waved to you. "See you tomorrow at 6, darling! Dont be late."

The next night, Colin had dropped you off at the antique store, telling Mr Blackwood- or Henry, as he insisted you called him, to bring you back before 10 pm.

You sat across from him in a fancy restraunt.

"I'll have a beef wellington and for the lady-" Henry looked at you.

"Just chips." You closed the menu, handing it back to the waiter. Henry chuckled, shaking his head.

"So... whats your deal?" You ask him, resting your elbows on the table.

He leaned in as well, dual coloured eyes sparkling with mischief and amusement. "I'm resourceful. You?"

"Cut the crap. Why am I here?" You glare at him, and he chuckled, resting his head on his palm. "I like you."

"As anyone with eyes should, but also why would you do that to yourself?" You huffed as you move away, resting against the chair as you crossed your arms over your chest.

He copied your actions, resting his arms against his chest. "Maybe I want to fall in love with you."

"I'd rather poke my eyes out." You snarked. Henry looked at the cutlery on the table. "There's the fork."

Your nostrils flared. "You think you're so clever?"

"Oh I know I'm clever, love. But it is truly remarkable it took you so long to figure it out." He grinned cheekily. "Alright alright. Ask your question."

"How do you know the FitzGeorges?"

He looked rather bored at your question. "I know everyone." Seeing your dissatisfaction, he offered you another answer. "I'm rich. They're rich. We socialised."

Thats how rest of the dinner was spent- you interrogating him, him dodging you with vague answers. Though you had a feeling he knew more than he was letting on, almost like he could read you like an open book.

Finally, the night came to an end as you saw his store come up in view.

At the end of the street, just a few shops down from his, you stopped and looked at him. "Well, this was a... date." He chuckled as you continued unphased. "I held up my end of the deal, now its your turn."

Henry nodded, grabbing your hand in his warm one, thumbing your knuckles. "Of course. I'm a man of my word." He brought your hand upto his lips, pressing a soft kiss.

"I hope you get home safely, darling."

You made a disgusted face, yanking your hand from his grasps as you wiped his kiss off with your coat. "I hope I never see you again."

He chuckled, throwing his head back. "Oh I think I'll be seeing you again rather soon, love. I enjoyed our date too much." Seeing you pissed made him laugh again, and he nodded his head at the store.

"Come along. Lets get you your toy-" He was cut off by the sound of a loud blast, the shockwaves so powerful that it made the glass of all windows in a mile shatter, the ground shook. In a second, Henry lunged at you, covering your body with his as another blast went off. Moments later, he got off you and you finally saw his shop set ablaze and completely destroyed.

Your ears rung as you stared at the fire in the shop, not noticing the people rushing out of their homes, not hearing the screams of shock, not hearing Henry calling your name.

"Y/n?! Y/N?!" He shook you by the shoulders hard, finally making you look at him. He was saying something, but you couldnt understand what. You looked at him confused, before your eyes shifted back to the fire.

You dont know when Colin came, you dont remember when Henry pushed you into his arms, yelling at Colin to get you out of there. You dont know when you got home, you dont know what the boys were asking as they picked out bits of glass from your skin.

All you know is when you woke up the next morning and stared at your bandaged skin, events of last night flashed through your head again and the realisation became the painful truth-

The time machine is destroyed.

You're staring at the tea cup, the beverage swirling as the maid added sugar in it.

Round. Round. Whirlpool. And then... everything settles.

The motion of the tea perfectly depicted how your life has been for some time. Thrown around in a hurricane of calamities, from one era to another, your life coming close to an end just like the tea threatened to spill over the edge, before everything settles down. Like your plans of ever returning home- stopped.

You'd returned to the sight of the incident, a part of you holding on to the hope that maybe- just maybe, your time machine survived.

It hadnt. Nothing in that store had. Henry Blackwood ran around the store, his face hardened and his collected faccacde was long gone, replaced with frowns and wrinkles. His store was surrounded by coppers and what you could only assume were either detectives or insurance guys.

After the devastating realisation, you had sort of went into a depressive spiral. Lying in your bed for days, your pillow stained with tears, Colin promising to replace whatever it is that you lost as Benjamin petted your hair, inconsolable.

A few weeks later, you returned to work. Though nothing interested you anymore, you felt like you were living on borrowed time, that any moment now, you'll face the consequences of screwing around with history and either die or possibly destroy the universe.

"Y/n?" You blinked, coming back to reality.

Sarah was sitting across from you, her face concerned as she set her tea cup down. "Darling, are you okay?"

You tried to smile, but your facial muscles didnt cooperate.

"Yes. Just... a bit tired." You diverted your eyes as you brought the cup up to your lips.

Sarah's brows furrowed even more, but she could see you were hesitant to talk about the subject.

"I called you here today to congratulate you on your article!" You looked up at her, staring at her a bit dazed. "The interview was very well received with not only just people in my circle, but female students all over in London as well!"

Sarah continued to sing your praises, while you kept your head down, offering little hums here and there.

"Even my family, who I hadnt talked to in a while, told me that they adored the way you wrote-" Your heart cracked.

Family. Mom. Dad. Qasim. I'll never see them again. They wont find out what happened to me, probably hoping that I'm missing but... alive at least. Forever holding onto that painful hope, that I may return home one day.

But I wont. I cant.

You stood outside the FitzGeorge house, under the pillars as you watched the rain fall.

"I think you should stay until-" Sarah offered, eyes looking at the sky that was pouring like cats and dogs.

"I need to go home. Thank you." You tried to smile again, but your eyes betrayed you, shinning with tears. But you left before she could say another word.

Your bones could feel the cold rain biting, your dress drenched, your socks uncomfortably wet, the tip of your nose chilled, your hair sticking to your skin, but none of it mattered. Not when you needed the same rain to hide your tears.

Your neck muscles strained as they tried to contain your sobs, your grief.

I messed up. I screwed up everything. This is all my fault.

You walked faster out of the estate, the water splashing as you stormed away, trying to find some corner where you can hide away and cry your heart out.

I'm alone. I'm all alone. I have no one. No home, no family.

You struggled to breathe, feeling like your chest was caving in.

What have I done?

In your haste, you didnt see the carriage coming straight towards you, until someone yanked you out of the way by your arm.

"Are you blind?! Or deaf-" Silas stopped his scolding as he stared at your red eyes, your wobbling lips. He loosened the painful grip on your arm, his eyes still staring into your crying ones.

Silently, he pulled you back towards the estate, though he didnt take you inside. He had a feeling you didnt want his grandmother pestering you with questions right now.

An arm around your shoulders, Silas lead towards the botanical garden house.

He helped you sit on one of the benches as the dark clouds seemed to veil the garden house, giving you two privacy. He sat down next to you.

"What happened?"

Silas watched your face screwed up in pain as you bring a hand to your temples, your lips quivering as you sniffled.

"I lost... everything."

After a few moments of silence, before sighing.

"You've only lost when you give up. Have you given up?"

You turned your head to the side, looking at his serious face.

"Yes."

He took another deep breath.

"Can you do anything about it?"

"No."

He glanced at you before looking back at the clouds.

"Do you want to die?"

You stopped for a moment. Do I? Do I want to die?

"Maybe."

"Thats not an answer." He raised a brow at you. "How about this- until you find a definitive answer to that question, you keep on living?"

Seeing your dead stare, he continued. "Look, if the worse has already happened to you, you have nothing left to fear anymore. In fact-" Silas went on to say similar motivating stuff for the next 20 miuntes, and you were simultaneously listening and not listening. Well, you heard what he was saying, you just didnt bother processing it because your mind was preoccupied by your own monologue.

He's right. The worse has already happened. I have lost the machine. I have lost my only way home. I have screwed up history. And yet, I'm alive.

Yes. This is what the universe wants- to see me down on my butt, laughing at my misery.

Well, guess what? Fuck this, fuck the universe! I'm been so careful only to barely survive. Now? I'm gonna live and I dont care what chaos it'll cause!

"Y/n?" You looked at Silas, who looked at you expectantly. "I asked you a question."

"What?"

His shoulders slumped.

"I said- will you marry me? And before you say no-"

"Okay."

Watch this, universe. Its my turn now.

So???? Thoughts???? Comments and asks???

Part 12 is here!

#time traveller au #yandere x darling #yandere #yandere male #male yandere #yandere boyfriend #soft yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #silas my oc

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wonderjanga · 2 months ago

Note

Magical Fawcett drugs get smuggled into a bunch of cities and the entire League is LOSING THEIR MINDS trying to control the chaos. And then Cap just goes:

"Ahh, the good old days. You know, I used to be addicted to this (this referring to a drug so powerful it could shut down every bodily function instantly for like a solid 2 days and magically make you well again) when I was a kid! Helped me get through the war."

Flash: “Whaaaaaaaaat…? Dude that literally killed a man. How did you survive taking that multiple times as a child?”

Marvel: “It literally killed a man because nowadays people are weaklings. (Fawcitizens are built different. Literally) Back in my day, 62-year-olds to 22-year-olds to 12-year-olds would take this thing and then feel fine.”

Flash: “You sure?” *sounds skeptical*

Marvel: “Of course I’m sure! Granted, it would shut down your body for like two days, but then you’d feel perfect.”

Supes: “Shutting down your body for two days, doesn’t exactly sound healthy, Cap.” *sounds concerned*

Marvel: “Well, it like flushes out the toxins, right? Like after you’ve cleaned up all the piss that you soiled yourself with and ate a nice little meal you’d feel great!”

Supes: “I don’t like how you talk like this is nothing.”

Flash: “Well, he did say he was addicted… it’s was probably normal for him- Also, wait, you don’t know if it flushes out the toxins or not??”

Marvel: “Well, that’s what my doctor told me. It’s been a while since I’ve been to one.” *shrugs*

Supes: “Your doctor used to prescribe this?” *sounds slightly horrified*

Marvel: “Yeah?”

Flash: “To children?”

Marvel: “Yeah?”

Supes: “And elderly?”

Marvel: “Yeah?”

Supes: *trying to find words* “Okay.”

Later…

Marvel: “Come on try some.” *holds up a bit of the drug*

Flash: “Dude, I’m not trying that.”

Marvel: “Why? Trust me. You’ll feel better than ever once those two days are up.”

Flash: “Still no. Also why are you peer pressuring me?”

Marvel: “I’m not peer pressuring you.”

Batman: “Yes, you are.”

Flash: “Yeah, dude, you are. If Spooky says it, that means it’s true.”

Marvel: “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll stop telling you to try it.” *puts the drug down*

Even more later at the Watchtower…

GL, Flash, and Marvel: *all in the cafeteria, eating cereal, each wearing one of these things (you pick who’s wearing what)*

Flash: *pauses eating his apple jacks* “Dude, earlier, did you say that the drugs helped you through war?”

GL: *nearly chokes on his honey nut cheerios* “What?” *wasn’t there for the entire fiasco of having to confiscate the drugs*

Marvel: “Hmm? Oh, yeah.” *eats his captain crunch* Flash: “Is that you admitting you went to war?”

Marvel: “No, I didn’t. But everyone was kinda depressed back then so the drugs helped. I also worked in ammunition factories so I’ve seen a couple people get parts chopped off.”

GL: “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” *sounds concerned*

Marvel: “Eh it’s fine. That’s what the drugs were for. That and all the diseases and problems you could get from inhaling the wrong things or standing too close to a machine.”

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

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certifiedcodbabygirl · 10 months ago

Text

Simon Riley crying and praying for the first time in years bc you're hospitalized

(self indulgent as fuck, based off of personal medical history bc it'll be more accurate)

You hadn't ate or drank for 5 days, unable to keep anything down. You thought it was the flu at first. Fevers, puking, extreme fatigue. It didn't seem like anything out of the norm. Except for when your fevers started casing full body convulsions that made you look possessed. Chills and cold sweat turned to groaning and crying, muscles all over cramping and clenching, breathing becoming difficult. You figured it was because you hadn't had the flu in years. How wrong you had been.

Once your puke turned green, which was later found out to be bile from your kidneys, Simon rushed you to the hospital. Unable to stand, he pulled a wheelchair from the entrance and pushed you everywhere. Within 2 hours, the nurses had you admitted and on IV meds. Pain meds, IV Tylenol, and bags of fluid were hooked up to you, rehydrating you being high priority. Your body is in shock, resting heartrate being 140. He sat by your side the entire time, holding your puke bag in one hand, and your hair back in the other. The doctors drew blood, running blood cultures, searching for a more accurate answer.

The night you were admitted, they informed you that your kidneys were so infected that one got injured. The bile that was thrown up was caused but how hard you were puking, pulling it up from your kidneys.

He stayed the night, sleeping in the rocking chair, right next to your bed. He woke up when your fevers came back, holding your hand and telling you how good you're doing, calling in a nurse. The morning that followed, he had to go back to the house to make a bag of your immediate needs, clothes, deodorant, hairbrush, and anything else he could think of. When he came back, a doctor and a couple med students came in with important news.

"We ran blood cultures to see if there was possible an infection in your blood due to your symptoms leaning towards that. They came back positive. We are going to give you antibiotics and run cultures every 12 hours to track if the antibiotics are working" The doctor says as gently as possible.

The room begins to feel like it's spinning. Sepsis has a 68% mortality rate, and knowing how deadly it is, it feels like you're already being buried. Simon looks to you with a confused look, not knowing exactly what that it, but knowing it isn't good.

"I have sepsis?" You ask in a quiet voice, throat constricting.

"Yes" The doctor says softly.

"Oh fuck I'm gonna die" you whisper under your breath, tears forming.

Simon looks to you, eyes widening. 'Not again'

"Wait, the hell is Sepsis?" He demands, but not sounding confident, more scared than anything.

The doctor explains it to him, how it when your blood is infected, how the infection can latch onto your other organs and slowly kill you from the inside out. Once it reaches your brain, it's too late. His grip on your hand tightens. The doctor tries to give hope, but she can only do so much without lying. She leaves to give you privacy.

It's silent, neither of you speaking out of shock. The only noise in the room is the quiet hum of the IV machine and Simon's shaky breathing. Your thumb softly glides back and forth over the back of his hands, trying to ground him.

"Si" you softly call.

It takes hour to get him to loosen up a little. It's only when you manage to keep down a popsicle that he feels like he can breath a little easier. Like maybe you'll be part of the 32% that pull through.

That sliver of hope is crushed that night, being woken up by his arm being slapped repeated by you in a panic. His eyes meet yours, concern instantly written on his face. Your hand is on your chest as short, sharp breaths are the only thing you can manage.

"I,, can't,, breath,," you whisper between breaths, unable to say a sentence in one go.

"Baby it's alright, jus' try to breath wit' me, hm?" he tries to demonstrate slow breathing, mistaking it for a panic attack.

"not a,, panic,, attack,, please,, nurse,," you try to tell him.

He nods in a panic, running out to the nurse station and explaining. They rush in and take your pulse-ox just to see your oxygen percentage is at 86% when it should be above 95%. They try to do the deep breathing again before Simon interrupts them.

"It's not a bloody panic attack, she literally can't breath. Get her oxygen or somethin' before she fuckin' suffocates!"

They put you on oxygen until they can get you an X-ray. The nurses try to chalk it up to a panic attack until in the morning they see you still can't breath. They give you an X-ray and when the results come back, they send the doctor in. She informs you that the nurses gave you too much IV fluid and that caused your organs to swell so much that they pushed up on your lungs, collapsing them by 3/4ths. 1/4th of your lungs are still open and they're going to take you off fluid, start you on exercises to open them back up, and keep you on oxygen.

That's the last straw for Simon. Once you fall asleep for a nap, he heads outside to the bench area and punches a wall. His knuckles split but he barely feels it, ringing in his ears drowning out the surrounding noise. With no one around, he sits on a bend, elbows on knees and face in his hands. His breath picks up as his throat tightens and tears threaten to rip out of him.

"Why would ya let this happen to 'er? Aren't you supposed to be lovin'?" He whispers into the wind, looking up at the sky, "That girl in't like me. She's the fuckin' sunshine in human form and she's on death's bloody doorstep."

Tears cloud his vision, unable to keep it in any longer. He blinks them away, falling onto his clenched fists. Years of praying, to a god he later grew to resent, for him to fix his family. A child kneeling at his bed, begging him to get his family out of his father's grasp. Once he got to his teenage years, his desperation became resentment and anger. His jaw began to clench when his drunken father would spew bible verses at him to condemn him. He realized God wouldn't save him, nor would he when Simon's family was ripped from him.

Yet here he was, back to that same god, desperate that maybe, just maybe, he'd have mercy on him this time. He believed himself a rotten man, even if it was subconscious, unworthy of the angel sent to him. His light, reparations for the mistreatment The Father had destined for him.

"You sent 'er to me, it's gotta be for a reason. You've never listened to my prayers before but just this fuckin' once, please don't ignore me." His voice breaks, openly sobbing with no sound, "You sent 'er to me and now I can't live without 'er. She's fuckin' everythin' to me. Don't take back your gift, please" The end of his sentence slips into a whisper.

He wipes his tears on his sleeve and sniffles hard, trying to erase the evidence of his vulnerability. He stands and walks to the door, looking back at the bench before turning back to the door and walking in. 'Amen'

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charliemwrites · 4 months ago

Text

Part 12 SpecGru reader!!

No content warnings for this chapter.

You mull over your captain’s words in the hours before dinner. Sitting behind Nova in her temporary room, Doctor Who’s opening theme warbling from your laptop’s speakers. You gently work oil into her scalp, following the precise alleys formed by her braids.

It’s a soothing ritual, not just for her, but for you. An act of care for a woman who’s been so kind and patient with you. Who always stood her ground on your worst days, and never allowed herself to be goaded into a useless argument. She’s warm beneath your fingers, soft against your chest, the scent of coconut and cinnamon sweet in your nose.

Slowly, you begin to card through memories you put great care into neglecting.

The day you left the hospital, feeling more pathetic than you ever had in your life. A packet of care instructions folded over in one hand. You remember the way Gaz hadn’t quite looked you in the eye, mouth tight and regretful at the corners. Almost guilty. Even when he handed over a bag of fresh clothes, saying he was glad to see you on your feet.

Did you know then? Was there some twinge of foreshadowing in your gut? Did you hear a foreboding whisper in your mind, of how the following twenty-four hours would devolve?

Maybe you did or maybe hindsight is a liar.

What really stands out, even after all this time, is how betrayed you felt (still feel) when you reflect on that interaction with Gaz. That the best he offered was a weak warning that Ghost and Price were pissed off at you. The hurt that he didn’t even ask how you felt before disappearing for the rest of that awful day. You never saw him after your initial discharge, he might as well have borrowed his lieutenant’s namesake.

And then there was Johnny.

Soap, who made himself perfectly visible, if only to express how pissed off he was. He never bothered to ask how you were doing either – didn’t even seem relieved to see you conscious and in one piece. He was tight-jawed and tense; the few times he deigned to speak to you was clipped and terse.

When you finally left, you remember how your chest ached, knowing (intending) you’d never see his thousand-watt smile again. A fair few of your tears on that flight had been in self-deprecation for expecting anything but his total, unwavering loyalty to Simon. It stung that for all his crowing about being a team, looking out for each other, no one left behind – he couldn’t spare you a crumb of forgiveness for a mistake in the field.

Price and Ghost had almost made sense, really. But Gaz and Soap had been a peculiar sort of pain. Your fellow sergeants, who had made you feel welcome and comfortable in the beginning – who had been the bridge and buffer between you and your intimidating superiors. And maybe it wasn’t their fault that you never quite felt like you had a seat at their table, but they’d tried.

Still… at least you can look at them. You can’t imagine opening your mouth to face Price or Ghost and anything but acid pouring out.

“What’s on your mind, babes?”

You blink, palms automatically cradling Nova’s head as she tilts it back to peer at you. On autopilot, you dip down to kiss her forehead, then the gentle curve of her lips.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t get me wrong, the massage is nice,” she teases, “but you’ve gone over my whole head at least twice now.”

“Oh,” you intone, swiping your thumb behind her ear. “Just thinkin’ is all.”

“I can tell,” she giggles, “there’s practically smoke comin’ outta your ears.”

You grimace a bit, arms lowering down to circle her shoulders in a hug. She curls her clever, slender fingers around your forearm, tracing soft patterns with her blunt nails.

“Sorry, love,” you mumble, flicking your eyes to the screen. Realize you’ve only got a vague idea of what’s going on. “I’m being a bad date.”

“You’re not,” she insists, squeezing your wrist. “This s’all been a lot, yeah? I just don’ want you being on your own in there.”

She taps two fingers against your temple. You used to spend all your time alone in your own head. Not because it was safe – it wasn’t – but it was familiar. It took her and the rest of the team concerted effort to pry anything of value from you.

Now, you muster up an appreciative smile as you nuzzle into her hand.

“I’ve just been trying to decide…”

She pauses the show and wriggles to get a better look at your face, hums for you to continue.

“If I should try talking to the 141,” you continue. “Cap said I should consider it. See if we can put all that old shit to rest.”

“Do you want to put it to rest?”

“I should.”

“But do you want to?”

The question brings you up a bit short. Being mad is easy. You’ve been mad at them for so long, one step short of loathing, that you’ve settled into the feeling. Dug your heels in. It’s an easy way to put a stopper on all the complicated hurt lying beneath.

“I want to talk to them the same way I want to go to the dentist,” you muse.

She picks up what you aren’t saying.

“You don’t want to, but you know it’s healthier if you do.”

You grunt, still too proud to admit it outright.

“The wound closed over, but it never healed properly,” she says. “Maybe you’ve got to reset it, yeah?”

You sigh. ��Yeah. Just not sure where to start.”

She shrugs. “Wherever you want to. Do it on your own terms. Only way you’ll be able to stomach them.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“’Course I am,” she chirps. “I’m used to navigating bad weather.”

You nip at her fingers, prompting a bright peel of laughter as she tries to squirm away. As you wrestle her back into your lap, your nerves soften and settle.

Even if you excise this wound, you know you won’t be left bleeding alone. Not ever again.

You haven’t come to any concrete decision after dinner. Not that anyone asks. Nova isn’t one to push and your captain has already said his piece. You haven’t told Nikto or Keegan about your dilemma yet, and you’re not sure if you will.

Nikto’s take on the situation isn’t obvious – though if you had to guess, it would be similar to Nova’s. But Keegan? You already know what his answer would be.

Of anyone in SpecGru, he had to work the hardest to earn even an iota of warmth from you. He reminded you too much of Ghost – and how could he not? The perpetual mask, the sharp one-liners. Gruff and closed off, frighteningly capable, and a crack shot with a sniper rifle to boot.

It used to take everything in you to pull your punches during spars. The rare instances that you would agree to eat with your new team were never if Keegan was present. And more than once, you walked into the rec room, saw his looming figure, and turned right back around.

The only time you could stand to look at him was during missions, but your captain was always sure to receive a killer glare if he paired the two of you together.

Keegan was your partner on the mission that changed things.

It had been a week straight of shit sleep and bad memories, sick on loneliness and anger. When boots hit the ground, you stormed right in, eager to prove to yourself (but really, to them) that you were valuable. Didn’t wait for Keegan, but that had never stopped him from keeping pace with you before.

You didn’t clear your corners, got sloppy and hasty.

Took two stab wounds before Keegan shot the hostile in the temple. When he tried to call the others, you demanded that he finish the mission first. Would have rather bled out than be the reason another mission failed.

The pain and blood loss dragged you under as soon as you choked out the demand.

Then, Keegan’s face was the first thing you saw in the hospital room. Not the mask, him.

Even with dirt and black paint smudging his face, you could see the dark, worried circles beneath his eyes. Could read regret in his angular jaw, relief in the slant of his scarred mouth. For the first time, you looked in his eyes and saw more than an echo of your former lieutenant.

You saw your teammate. The partner you’d left to fend for himself because you’d been handicapped by your own pride. You saw Keegan.

“Did you finish the mission?” you rasped.

He frowned, but your captain stepped forward. “He did – once we were there to stop the bleeding.”

You never saw Ghost in the weave of his mask again.

And soon after, Keegan was the first person you opened up to about the 141.

It was that very same week. You’d been sick on shame and embarrassment, using your injuries to nurse your wounded ego. Skipping meals in exchange for raiding your snack drawers and moping in your cot.

Keegan hadn’t made himself scarce after your discharge. None of your team had, really – but he’d made a point of checking on you. And lacking your usual sharpness, he hadn’t been deterred by your comparatively mild standoffishness either.

Which was how you found yourself stubbornly tucked into the corner of your cot one night, while Keegan sewed the holes in your shirt. He kept shooting you amused looks – probably because you hadn’t taken your eyes off him once. Half wondering why he was there, half waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You gonna say something, or you just glare all night?” he drawled eventually.

You narrowed your eyes. “Do you plan to stay all night?”

He shrugged, but his eyes flicked to yours, the corner of his mouth ticking up. (No mask. He hadn’t worn one around you since the hospital. Not unless people outside your team were around.)

“If you’ll have me. Been meaning to get you caught up on the show we’ve been watching.”

You huffed, frustrated. “Why?”

He arched his brows at you, needle paused. “Because I like you, despite your best efforts.”

You stared, a little appalled, a little touched. Keegan just chuckled and went right back to mending your shirt. You drew your knees up tighter and hid your quivering mouth with your arms.

“Cap says your last team was shit to you,” he said into your sullen silence.

You scowled. He put a hand up as if in surrender.

“He hasn’t said more’n that, don’t worry,” he continued, “I’m just sayin’… I don’t take any of it personal. You’re a good teammate, I trust you with more than my six.”

Why, you wanted to demand, flabbergasted and all the guiltier because you knew you didn’t deserve it. Why did he trust you? Why was he so patient? Why was he there at all?

You sniffled, but he just kept talking.

“I want to return the favor, ya know? I’m not askin’ you to trust me after the mission, but you don’t gotta be on your own either.”

You were crying quietly by that point, face so hot that your tears felt cold, stomach aching from more than stab wounds. He finally looked up, saw how you were falling apart. But he didn’t shy away, didn’t close himself off. It wasn’t pity or sympathy that softened his eyes.

“The shit you and I carry, we’re not meant to do it alone, sweets.”

And what else could you do, but spill your sorry guts?

You remember the expression on his face when you got to the part about Ghost. Remember how tightly he held you on your cot, all the distance (emotional and physical) closed between you two. Remember waking up the next morning, Netflix still open on your laptop and flopped gracelessly over Keegan’s stomach like a childhood sleepover.

You couldn’t have iced him out again even if you wanted to, after that.

No, there’s no question what Keegan would tell you, if you asked about talking to the 141. He would say there’s no good reason to waste oxygen on a single one of them.

So, you don’t ask.

You climb into his lap in your temporary room that evening, peeling his mask up and off with slow hands. His eyes are already half-lidded, the corner of his mouth curved fondly. His hands spread across your thighs, warm and rough. The scar twisting across his left palm is sweetly familiar when he draws it along your skin.

“I’m going to try talking to the 141,” you admit.

His jaw twitches, eyes flickering. “Now why the hell would you do that?”

You sigh, curl your fingers into the brassy crop of hair he’s been growing out. He’s got a quick temper, and a habit of misplacing it when it’s been triggered by something out of his control. You don’t take it personally, you never have – it’s gratifying to see how much he cares.

“There’s no good reason to waste oxygen on a single one of ‘em,” he growls.

“There might be.”

He sits back, skeptical but waiting.

You continue, “I’ve got a lot of shit to say to them, and they seem eager to hear it.”

“Why give ‘em the satisfaction?” he asks.

“Maybe it’ll help with the nightmares.” That gives him pause. You draw your thumb soothingly across his temple – a bullet graze from saving your life. “We’ve got too much shit to carry, you and me. Unloading some of it is as good a reason as any.”

His hand drifts up your side, grazes the tattoo coiling down your arm. (The second you ever got – a big piece that took hours, Keegan never leaving your side. Nikto, Nova, and your captain periodically dropping in to provide snacks and water.)

He cups your jaw, guides your face down until your foreheads touch. You stay there, breathing him in. He smells like yours.

“What if they make it worse, huh?” His thumb caresses over your cheekbone the way it has a dozen times before, wiping away tears. “I’ll have to kill ‘em.”

You huff softly, amused. “Then kill ‘em. But I’m stronger than I was, Kee. There’s nothing they can weigh me down with that I can’t carry.”

“I know,” he whispers, tilting his chin to drop a sweet, aching kiss on your lips.

“Besides, I wouldn’t be carrying it alone anymore.”

His expression lightens, pride shining from his eyes. “Damn right.”

It’s nearly midnight when you wake from a light doze. Keegan is snoring softly, an arm and leg each hanging over the side of the bed. Your mouth is dry, but you realize it’s your stomach that woke you – pangs of hunger from picking at your dinner earlier. You need to eat.

Quiet and careful, you crawl out from beneath the sheets. Keegan is a heavy sleeper compared to the nearly supernatural senses of Nikto; he hardly stirs as you pad for the door. The hall lights are dim, but you only open it a crack to slip out.

The hall is quiet, no lights on beneath any of the other doors. You hope that means the rest of your team is sleeping peacefully. If you remember right, Nikto and Nova crawled in with your captain this evening. They’re all in good company if nightmares creep in; you pray Keegan doesn’t have any while you’re up.

Thankfully, the rec room is only two halls away. Light is spilling out as you turn the corner – there’s a sensor that shuts them off if no movement is detected for a while. Someone is either in there now or was recently. You half hope it’s the latter, but that doesn’t deter you from entering.

Your surprised to find Soap leaning against the kitchenette counter, a steaming mug in hand. His expression is flat, grim. Tired. You pause just inside the doorway.

“Might as well come in,” he says, voice low and rough. “I’ll clear out in a mo’.”

Even from where you’re standing, you can see that his cup is mostly full.

You exhale and shake your head. “Don’t have to.”

“How gracious,” he rasps, brows twitching like he wants to scowl. Like he can’t quite commit to being as bitter as he should be.

You’re too tired for your usual acid, as well. Just sigh and reach for the fridge door.

“Is that how you want this conversation to go?” you ask.

“Is this a conversation?” he replies.

You pluck out a yogurt cup. “It can be.”

He’s glaring into his coffee now, index finger tapping at the ceramic. Thinking. Or maybe just leashing all the things he wants to say but knows will drive you right back out.

“Why now?” he says finally.

You shrug. “Because I’m ready now.”

A tendon in his jaw twitches. “That’s not fair.”

A hot flicker of anger ignites in your chest. You tamp it down with a spoonful of yogurt, measuring out your words and tone.

“How do you reckon?” you inquire.

“You left,” he says. It’s been a while, but you can detect the hurt underlying the accusation. You suspect it’s something he’s wanted to say for a long time. “You left us behind.”

You click your teeth off your spoon, take a deep breath. It’s factually true. You are the one that left but—

“I wasn’t going to wait for you all to kick me out officially.”

He finally raises his eyes, a dark storm of emotion swirling within them.

“We wouldnae have.”

You tilt your head, cynicism in the flat line of your mouth. “Didn’t seem that way to me.”

“I ken you and Simon were—”

“Don’t.”

His mouth snaps shut, brows furrowed. You point at him with your spoon warningly but bite back the sharp remark on your tongue. Arguing isn’t the point here.

Settle instead to say, “Don’t speak for the others.”

There’s a beat of silence as he digests that, then finally nods. “Alright. Just you ‘n me then.”

You turn back to your yogurt, swipe up another spoonful as you reorganize your thoughts.

“I didn’t leave because of Ghost,” you begin. “Not entirely. I left because I was never part of the team. And what happened after that mission just… made it all very clear.”

Soap frowns, opens his mouth like he wants to deny it, but you hold up a finger to stop him. He takes a long sip of coffee and waits.

“You didn’t check on me at all. You weren’t there when I woke up. You never asked if I was okay,” you continue. “You were too busy being angry on Ghost’s behalf.”

“You almost got the both of you killed,” he argues.

“But you cared more about Ghost almost being hurt than the fact that I was,” you say. And dammit, you feel your sinuses burning, but your eyes stay blessedly dry. The anger disappears from his face all at once as realization sinks in. “I mattered to you less than Ghost.”

His hand tightens around his mug, knuckles blanching. “No. No, lass, tha’s no’… you were always… you survived.”

“I felt the worst I ever had in my life, but you didn’t care because I crossed the almighty Ghost,” you insist.

“I cared about you,” he denies.

“But not more than you did about Ghost.” You drag your gaze up to his. Even his eyes look a little wet now. “And that… that wasn’t enough for me.”

You suck in a shuddering breath, trying to loosen the tightness in your chest. Clear your throat once you feel the threatening prick of tears subside.

“I didn’t… it wasnae that,” he rasps. “I ken you think I’m full of shite, but ‘s true.”

You do think he’s full of shit. Maybe not on purpose, maybe he really does think he cared about you as much as Ghost, but you know better.

“I was just… so angry wi’ you,” he explains. “You could have died. Nearly got Simon killed, all because you thought you knew better.”

You exhale hard. “You’ve never made a bad call?” you challenge.

“It wasnae your call to make. You should have listened to Ghost. Instead, you—”

“I what?”

Your fingers tingle, numb. Can’t even feel the spoon, or the chill of the yogurt cup anymore.

“You disobeyed orders, it was so—”

“I didn’t.”

He stops. Stares. “What?”

You stare right back, “I didn’t disobey orders.”

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#cod #my writing #reader fic #from specgru with love #specgru reader #keegan p russ #john soap mactavish

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