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gingiesworld · 1 year ago

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Family Is Forever

Chapter Three

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Warnings: Angst.

Taglist: @fxckmiup @ginnsbaker @gb12d @casquinhaa @angrywhisperslove @louxbloom @natashamaximoff-69 @wizardofstories @canvascoloredin

18+ MINORS DNI

The next day came around pretty fast, Y/N had already had the lawyers draw up the papers, not wanting to draw the divorce out any longer than it needed to.

"So, we're doing it here?" Wanda questioned as she sat on the sofa as Y/N stood before the mantel, looking over the pictures of the four of them.

"Yeah, I figured it won't be long." They told her honestly, picking up the picture of the two of them stood outside of Tony's cabin. "I love this photo, I always thought you were stunning even of you hated the wind in your hair."

"What are you doing?" Wanda snapped as Y/N put the picture back in it's place.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That was never my intention." They told her just as the doorbell rang, Wanda just huffed as she got up to answer it. Allowing the divorce lawyer inside as the three soon moved to the dining table. Both Wanda and Y/N sat opposite each other.

"So, what is the reason for this divorce, is it infidelity?" The lawyer questioned as the two shook their heads no.

"I guess we just drifted apart." Y/N told them as they looked away from Wanda. Wanda hummed in agreement as the lawyer sighed.

"We won't be able to get this divorce finalised as fast as you both would like." He told the two as he placed his pen down. "You will need to be separated for at least 6 months before a divorce can be filed. Even then it's a trial separation and marriage counselling is advised."

Both Y/N and Wanda shared a look before Wanda looked away, leaving Y/N with the talking.

"I don't think that counselling is an option." Y/N told him. "This decision by the two of us is set in stone."

"So it will be a trial separation, then in 6 months we can revisit the divorce. If that is what you both really want." He said as the two nodded. "I understand you both have a prenup and you have children, yes?"

"Yes." Wanda answered. "We are going to split the custody."

"And I am moving out so Wanda and the boys have the house." They spoke up. "Also I am still going to be paying for the boys, providing for them. Whatever they need."

"I do suggest going through the court for the child support, just incase of unforseen circumstances." He told the two.

"You mean like if I don't pay it one month?" Y/N questioned, Wanda could see that they were getting irritated by the insinuation.

"Y/N isn't like that, they never ever let the boys down." Wanda defended them. "This marriage is ending, not because we don't love each other."

"But because I haven't really had the time to split between work, Wanda and the boys." Y/N admitted as they looked at Wanda. "And I can't make a promise of something that isn't really in my control as I do travel for work sometimes, and Wanda deserves more than what I can give her." Y/N looked at the lawyer as Wanda's gaze remained on her soon to be ex. "We're going to co-parent the boys and Wanda has my schedule and she will get any changes made to it too." Y/N informed them both. "I have also just made appointment to sign a lease at an apartment nearby."

"What about belongings?" He questioned as Y/N sat up straight.

"I already took everything of my own." They told him.

"You only took your clothes." Wanda told them as Y/N nodded.

"I did take everything of my own." They repeated. "All of the furniture and electrical gadgets are all yours and the twins, I won't take anything more than what I already have."

"Ok." The lawyer hummed. "It seems you have everything under control with this separation." He packed away his papers before bidding the two good luck.

"So." Wanda started as Y/N stood up, pushing their chair back in it's place.

"I best be off." They told her. "I've got these reports from last week that areway behind."

"Ok." Wanda whispered. "Do you maybe want to have dinner tonight? I'm sure the twins would love to see you." Y/N inhaled shakily as they looked at the woman who will always have their heart.

"Yeah." They nodded. "I'll be here at the usual time."

"Thank you." Wanda told them as she walked them to the door.

"Why don't you open a book shop." Y/N suggested as Wanda looked taken aback. "It was always a dream you had and you have more than enough money in your account to do it."

"I don't know the first thing about running a business." Wanda admitted as Y/N gave her a tender smile.

"The community college has a business course that you could do." They told her. "You could learn everything you need to."

"But I have the twins." Wanda told them.

"I can always have them on the nights you have classes." They told her honestly. "I know you can do this Wanda so please just, make your dream come true. Do it for yourself."

"You really think I can do it?" She whispered as Y/N just nodded.

"I know you can." With that, they left her as she watched them drive away from the house. She started to wonder amidst all of the separation, she forgot about the dream she had before the twins were even a thought. Maybe because when she had that dream, Y/N would be by her side as she opened.

Once Y/N had finally made into the office, Tony greeted them as he dragged them into his own office. Gesturing for them to take a seat as he closed the door.

"I hear that you are having some trouble at home." He stated as Y/N sighed.

"Wanda and I are going through a separation." They stated calmly.

"So that's the reason for the recent splurge in absences." He stated as Y/N nodded.

"I've had to move out and well, I have an appointment for an apartment near the house so I am still there for the twins." They rambled as Tony held his hand up for them to stop.

"I understand Y/N but we can't be behind on weekly reports. It's not a good sight, especially on me." Tony told them. "Maybe you should step down from your senior position."

"No. I don't need to." Y/N told him. "I only have one appointment left and then the rest I am going to be doing in my own time. It's just this is hard right now and well."

"Maybe you should take a sebatical?" He suggested as Y/N shook their head no.

"That isn't an option." They stated. "I can assure you that this will not happen again Mr Stark. I just have a small appointment this week which I can take out of my lunch break. It's just signing a lease and picking up the keys for my new place."

"I am trusting your word Y/N." He told them sternly as Y/N thanked him before heading back to their own office to get to work. Time passed fairly quickly as they sent the late reports of and started on the new. They had also completely lost track of time, so they soon raced to the house just in time for dinner to be served.

"O'PA!!!" The twins yelled once they entered the house.

"Hey boys." They beamed as they hugged the twins, kissing the top of their heads before seeing Wanda stood in the doorway. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"You're here, that's all that matters." Wanda stated indifferently. Although the sight of the three of them made her heart swell, she still felt the heartbreak that this is only brief.

The two listened as Tommy was telling them about an upcoming game he has this weekend to which both Y/N and Wanda stated they wouldn't miss it. That was something that Wanda could trust with Y/N, they never missed a chance to cheer on the boys.

"When's the decathlon meet?" Y/N asked Billy who smiled shyly, something he gets from his mom.

"In 4 months." He told them. "We're just studying for the possible subjects and questions we could be asked."

"That's awesome Billy." Wanda beamed at him.

"Be sure to save me a ticket for it." Y/N told him as he just nodded. Once dinner was over, the boys had disappeared to do their homework as Y/N helped Wanda clean.

"You don't have to do this." Wanda told them.

"I know." They said as they put the dishes away. "I guess I, never mind." Wanda turned to face them, seeing them troubled was something she never liked to see.

"Are you ok?" She asked them as they gave her a tight lipped smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine." They told her, although she didn't buy it. "I guess I am going to go."

"Yeah." Wanda nodded as she watched Y/N disappear to say goodbye to the twins before Wanda met them at the door. "Be careful." She told them as they nodded, already making their way back to the office to get up to date on the work that has been piling up on their desk. Their head in their hands as they let the tears slip through, wiping them away faster than they would fall.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you

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eddies-artofsuffering · 2 years ago

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Part I: Sweet Tooth

(Part II)

Eddie stares down at his wristwatch. One minute to noon. Just one more minute.

“Want us to clear the path?” Argyle claps him on his shoulder and squeezes. “It’s almost time.”

“I don’t – I don’t know. Maybe you guys could stand behind the kitchen doors? You can see through the windows, right?” Eddie scrunches his nose.

He can feel it, he’s been conditioned to it by now, the familiar pit of anticipation. Other people may call it butterflies. Eddie thinks it’s more like pterodactyls breathing fire inside his stomach. He desperately needs someone to hold his fucking hand during this hardship.

But he also really, really doesn’t want anyone up close to witness him making a fool of himself in front of Hot Steve - a new regular customer at their cafe. An incredibly attractive guy who works at the bookstore next door.

Eddie can NOT fuck this up. It only happens once a day, for a maximum of three minutes.

“Maybe today’s the day you ask him out,” Jonathan smiles. Dude never smiles with his eyes. It’s kind of unsettling.

“Absolutely not, have you seen Hot Steve?” Eddie groans. “There’s no way he plays for my team. He’s –“

The doorbell chimes. Eddie’s head snaps towards the entrance, mouth falling open. Hot Steve is walking towards him, holy shit. It’s go time. Eddie shoos his coworkers away with a frantic wave, straightens his name tag, and rests his chin on his palm and bends over a little, elbow on the counter.

This is always the way he greets Hot Steve. It’s his signature move. Although, it hasn’t really worked yet. If it worked, Eddie would’ve won Hot Steve’s attention by now. But this is the best he got at the moment, damn it.

“Hi, Eds, how are you doing?” Hot Steve is wearing a baby-blue button-down today, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His name tag pin on the left side of his chest glints.

Eddie loves that Steve came up with that nickname on his own, despite only having seen him here at Cafe Byers for, like, two weeks now.

“Better now that you’re here.” Eddie gives him a cheeky smile, If Argyle and Jonathan were here, they might’ve been impressed with how smooth it sounded; they always comment on the way he flirts, the things he says. If you ever said shit like that to me, I’d be hella blushing, brochacho. You know you got game, right?

What they don’t know is that these lines are rehearsed in his head, so many times. It’s all Eddie ever does: practice pickup lines for Hot Steve.

“Right out of the gate, huh? You're makin' me blush,” Hot Steve smiles, and honestly, it’s hard to tell if he’s blushing at all. Or if he’s even flustered. Hot Steve's always so confident. “I’ll get a latte. With oat milk, please?”

“Oh?” Oat milk? That’s new. Steve didn’t care last time what milk he was getting. Interesting. Or is it? Eddie decides to file that information away for later. “Yea, coming right up.”

“Thanks.”

Another thing about Hot Steve that really does something to Eddie’s overworked pterodactyls, is that he never has a phone with him. Or on him. If it is, it's never visible.

Which is odd, because the entire café is littered with folks who cannot tear their eyes away from their little gadgets and devices, especially their phones; most people can’t even wait for their drinks without looking at them, checking something constantly, emails or texts or whatever.

And, well, Hot Steve never does any of that. He always waits at the end of the counter, patiently watching Eddie making drinks. It always makes him feel so self-conscious. Eddie’s burnt his hands under hot steam a couple of times, actually.

But these two, maybe three minutes of Eddie making a fresh beverage for Hot Steve – this is the only time he gets to make small talk with him. Each time, he learns something new about him, or confirms something that Eddie’s already inferred. The grand question of the day is: “So, who’s the drink for?”

Hot Steve blinks rapidly, as if coming out of a daze. “Uh – what?”

“Whose drink is this?” Eddie says, tamping the coffee grounds. “I’m assuming it’s not yours.”

“How… did you know it’s not mine?” he narrows his eyes.

God. It’s really telling, isn’t it, that Eddie’s noticed these things? “First time for you to ask for oat milk, so. I don’t know, I figured,” he shrugs.

Hot Steve opens his mouth as if to say something. Then he doesn’t. In the corner of Eddie’s eyes, he sees him nodding with pursed lips, with a hint of a smirk. It’s so distracting that Eddie almost heats up regular milk despite this whole conversation being around someone’s (not Steve’s, apparently) preference for plant-based milk. Oops.

He finishes making the latte and walks over to the cash register, handing over the drink. Steve receives it with a small thanks.

But Eddie knows Steve's not quite done here today. Because, when you have a tiny (massive) crush on a near-stranger, you just, kind of look for patterns. That’s just how human minds work; Eddie has been carefully collecting all the little information about Hot Steve, just based on the few minutes that he spends at the café at noon.

Which is how that Eddie’s almost certain (almost, because there’s always room for anomalies) what Hot Steve’s about to do when he asks, “Is that it for today?”

“Oh – um,” Hot Steve scans the glass case of assorted desserts and baked goods, subconsciously wetting his lips. “Actually, yea. Can I have the blueberry crumble, please?”

This is one of the very few predictable things about him. Eddie doesn’t know why Hot Steve even looks at the shelves of sweets each time as if he’s ever going to make a different choice, because it’s always the same, the only constant pattern besides his entrance that he’s ever shown Eddie: the house blueberry crumble, the ones that Eddie bakes himself.

And every time Hot Steve asks for it, Eddie has to turn around and flex his arms, letting out a silent scream of victory, because Hot Steve is fucking hooked on those things. It’s truly incredible to know that he wants it. Eddie pours his heart and soul into those.

“Of course, babe,” he swoops down, takes a small square piece out with tongs, wraps it in a pocket of parchment paper. “D’you know I bake these every morning?”

“You – it’s you?” Hot Steve’s eyes widen comically. “Wow. I thought they were, like, shipped over from a bakery or something.”

“We do have an oven,” Eddie points behind the kitchen with his thumb and looks back, makes a mistake of drawing attention to the door, only remembering then that Argyle and Jonathan are probably watching this whole thing. Really hoping that they’re being discreet.

“That’s amazing. I – I love them,” he says, not at all looking behind, thank God. “Guess you’re good with your hands.”

Eddie could practically hear the angelic chorus from the sky. Holy shit. Hot Steve loves his crumbles. Fuck. He could cry.

But, you know. Everything always comes to an end, and that’s usually how far their conversation goes. Nothing more than just small talk, and then Hot Steve would pay for the stuff, go back to the next-door bookstore where he works. And until the next day, it’s as if he doesn’t even exist. A mythical creature that only appears during those three minutes in time and space, then vanishes afterwards.

So he tries, just one last time before he leaves. “Steve?”

“Yea?” Hot Steve looks up, batting his lashes. They’re – so – pretty. So long, delicate. Such a fucking contrast to his muscular arms and chest that his thin blue shirt does nothing to hide, sleeves and buttons ready to pop. It’s sinful.

Fuck, and time’s ticking, yet there are so many things Eddie wants to ask. What is your drink, then? ‘Cause you never get the same drink twice.

Why is it always at noon? Is that your break?

Where are you from? When does your shift end? You do work at the bookstore, right?

When are you free?

All of these are more or less reasonable, if not a tiny bit creepy questions. But any of these would’ve been so much better than what Eddie actually blurts out, so out of the left field that he surprises even himself: “So, uh, how much do you bench?”

Oh, fuck. Where the hell did that come from? Eddie cringes hard inside, unsure how those words, that kind of vernacular even came out of his mouth, please, he wants to rewind time -

But it's spilled oat milk. Guh. He crinkles his nose to prepare himself to apologize. Sorry. That was so – I’m not a gym bro. I’m not! Look at me! He's about to say, but:

“You wanna know?”

Hot Steve has a shit-eating grin on. That’s a first. There might even be a faint blush on his cheeks. Holy shit. Hot Steve took the fucking bait. Not that it was bait – it was just Eddie being a fucking disaster – but he nods all the same, stupidly. Of course he wants to know. He’s committed, now.

“Let’s see.” Hot Steve’s now circling around the counter to take a closer look at Eddie, eyes travelling up and down. It feels like Hot Steve is undressing him with his eyes. It’s kind of insane that they’re doing this in public.

Hmm. 140, 145 at the most – Hot Steve mutters under his breath. “Oh yea. Easy,” he says, still smiling wickedly.

“What do you mean, easy?” Eddie croaks.

His breath hitches when Hot Steve leans over the counter, inches away from Eddie’s face. “Probably could do twenty reps of you,” he whispers, winking.

Eddie’s brain short-circuits. He stares open-mouthed at Hot Steve, unable to move until he exits the café with the drink and a brown bag, fading away from view. Gone for the rest of the day, rest of the evening. Rest of the next morning. Only to return the next day at noon, like a fucking reverse-Cinderella.

“Why were you guys whispering?” Jonathan appears from behind, nudging him on the arm. “What did he say? Did you finally ask him out?”

“I’m about to ask him out myself if you don’t,” Argyle says lazily, earning a sharp smack from Jonathan. “Just joking, man, you know you’re my main dude,” he squeezes a squirming Jonathan on the side.

“He… “ Eddie gulps, closing his eyes, and pictures Hot Steve’s tantalizing smile. “He winked.”

Continue reading on Ao3

Read the sequel: Savour

#steddie #steddie fic #Steve x eddie #eddie x steve #Steve harrington #eddie munson #argyle stranger things #jonathan byers #jargyle #jargyle supremacy #steddie:sweet tooth #ao3 #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #ronance #stranger things #stranger things fic #modern au #coffeeshop au

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kitmoas · 1 year ago

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purgatórium versenye

WandaNat x Reader

Warnings: **18+ ONLY** **MINORS DNI*** ***SMUT*** dark and demonic themes, cult vibes, gun and syringe, blood, gaslighting and stolkhome vibes, gives almost...Saw vibes in a way?, clicker training

As per usual if i forgot anything let me know

Author's Note: oh look I actually hit a deadline with this one! Okay second part of the double feature is here!! Again I am still getting back in the grove of writing so I'm sorry if this sucks, also I did not edit this at all sooooo yea

Kitmoas | Necrosis Kitmoas | Navigation

Exhaustion filled your body but thankfully you knew that the wait was almost over. For the past three and a half years your world was four walls, dozens of gadgets, millions of sounds, and two women. It wasn’t torture by any means, the work was nice and the company of two of the most beautiful people to ever grace the Earth was even more nice, but you were more than ready to pack up the project and move on with the next item for your resume. You knew the frustration you had with this job was at no fault of your mentors, a failed experiment is never in the cards for anyone but you couldn’t help but feel some anger towards them and their actions throughout the years.

There is no doubt that they are gorgeous, charming, and extremely brilliant but you had to ponder their focus on some occasions. Yes, the job was granted funding for four years which allowed a bit of wiggle room when it came to how strict the workplace was on a day to day basis. It meant that the stress was off of the three of you to produce results quickly, but you never thought the efficiency would suffer. In your mind, if anything, it should have been even better since every single detail could be worked. It meant that you could have trial run after trial run, fixing any small little error that you could find but instead the deadline is rapidly approaching with not a single trail run completed.

“Hey, how do you feel about dinner tonight? Maybe go over the last stage of progress so that we can really get into “trials”?” Blinking, you turn slowly to the raspy voice. She’s a few inches taller than you and a soft smile graces her face as she looks down at you. Her hand is already reaching out towards you, fingers twitching as the tips get closer and closer to strands of your hair.

It’s easier to talk to her alone, she feels soft and safe. Her presence is calming and she rarely teases you in uncalled for moments, but when fun comes she’s the life of the party. Sarcastic and witty, she truly had it all and you know that she’s way out of your league but you just had to remember that she is your coworker; nothing more.

You don’t even realize you’ve nodded, agreeing to the plans before your brain can catch up but she’s smiling widely. “Great! I’ll cook, just go ahead and bring yourself and that pretty little smile.” Her hand cups your cheek, thumb graze along your lip before she quickly pulls away. Fleeting touches keep your brain in a spiral, a light haze causes it to be hard to think but your entire body buzzes at the compliment.

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

It was the moment your Uber pulled up to the large house, gates opening slowly that you realized you had never asked about your crush’s background. There was no way that the research that you were doing paid for this property. You could barely pay your rent and still have enough money to eat anything besides instant ramen. No one ever got into this world for the money, it was all for the experience.

The attire you adorned was casual, no dress code given and no formal wear in your closet, you felt completely out of place as you climbed the front steps. The urge to flag down your Uber and run was strong, but you knew that if you finished this dinner you would be done and the end of the job would be near.

The door swung open quickly, a young man answering it almost the moment the first chime of the doorbell sounded. Your finger was still against the cool metal and the you knew that your face gave away just how surprised you were but you tried to shake it away when you were able to take in what he was wearing. Casual clothes, almost gym attire with what looked like nicer joggers and a colorful tight long sleeve shirt. “You my sister’s guest?”

His tone was crude, a brash contrast to how the sweet girl you knew spoke and you dumbly nod. It wasn’t that you weren’t used to people speaking to you rudely, you lived in the slums of New York City, but you weren’t prepared for someone who should know your status in the company to treat you as harshly as this.

“I would have thought the girls could have found a better option, but I suppose this will work.” He’s mumbling mostly, eyes trailing your body up and down before he starts to walk away. The door left open as you watch him retreat into the depths of the house.

It took you a moment, body frozen as you tried to figure out what to do. The toe of your shoe had barely touched the dark marble floor when a soft hand wraps around the edge of the door, smirking face popping out in front of you. Despite the racing of your heart, and the temporary fear in your throat, you begin to relax as the sight of your coworker. “Well hello édes szerelem, you’re late.”

The accent settles you even more and you can’t help but chuckle, finally taking your spot inside the doorway fully. “It wasn’t my fault.” You snicker slightly under your breath, a mischievous smirk pulling at your lips as you watch the woman’s eyes roll. While you may not appreciate being so behind, you can dabble in the fun that she brings to the lab.

“You have literally been standing here like a frozen little gremlin for at least five minutes, I do believe it is your fault.” She grips your forearm, dragging you father into the foyer. She barely waits for you to take your shoes off, a look of confusion on her face as she watches you but thankfully a taunt doesn’t fall from her lips.

Your jaw drops slightly as she guides you farther into the house, twisting hallways and grand archways blur as she practically jogs. “Well I wasn’t expecting to be greeted by—“

“Pietro.” The sentence gets cut off by the woman you were most excited for as the two of you turn into a wide doorway. You were unsure exactly how she heard you that entire time, but you were glad she did because you felt like she could easily answer any questions that you may have. “I must apologize about him, he’s not too fond of guests; even Natasha here.”

The redhead chuckles, her grip on you finally relaxing as she separates from you and heads to the bar in the corner. “What can I say, not everyone likes me.” Finally feeling the ability to relax, you allow your eyes to roam and your body to settle on a comfy looking chair. You weren’t expecting such a cozy room, it almost looks like something a middle class family would have. Adorned with cheesy family pictures, a few worn in couches, a huge television and the recliner that you happen to be sitting in you could almost close your eyes and believe that you were at your uncle’s house to watch the lastest football game.

“Sure and it has nothing to do with the fact that you are a bika egy kínai szekrényben. “Your neck almost snaps as the foreign language catches your ears. Wanda had never once spoken the what you believed to be the native tongue of the mysterious woman drinking a martini in the corner, but here she was. It sounded fluent, a casual switch between English almost like she was with her grandmother who had immigrated to the United States.”

Scoffing, you can see the ginger purse her lips before she downs the rest of her drink. “Oh yes, let’s just hate Natasha, the new girl. It’s not like I haven’t been trying to fit in because you know I have! I’ve been working hard towards my goals and everything that the family wants time to finish to become one of you.” Her voice comes out in a hiss, anger fueling her speech and you realize that the two had to have forgotten that you were here.

Clearing your throat, you try to catch one of their attention. You didn’t want to intrude too much, but you also didn’t know where to go to excuse yourself. Jumping slightly you weren’t expecting Wanda to practically jump at you, her body rushing towards you but stopping just a few steps away. She smiles, but it’s a little bit to fake for her normal comforting grin. The look on your face must have indicated her mistake because Natasha immediately crosses the room, slapping the younger girl on the back softly.

“Now Wanda, don’t scare our guest.” The ginger smirks at you, reaching up to cup your face. Her eyes roll when you flinch, her fingers smooshing against your jaw to keep you still. “We aren’t going to hurt you darling.” She straightens her back, her head tilting to stare you down. “You don’t think we would hurt you do you?”

The other woman is hunched over, almost struggling to stand up, when you finally take notice of her, Your eyes straining to find hers as you search for some kind of signal what is happening. She adverts your gaze though and instead falls to her knees, settling comfortably and reaching out to lay a hand along your calf. The soft touch slows your heart rate and allows you to focus enough on the questions you were being asked. Slowly you shake your head, unsure of where the intensity has come from.

Biting her tongue as it slips between her teeth, her smile morphing her mouth some. “Good, now, it’s a custom to play a game. Won’t you play with us?” Her voice is sultry, grip on your cheek forces you to nod your head. She cuts you off before you can verbally answer, raising her eyebrows as she waits for you to actually fight her but she is met with nothing but silence. “Exactly, good. Wanda, would you tell them we are ready to begin?”

Time practically stands still as you watch your object of affection scurry out the door, and you have to gulp down your nervousness once more while you are alone with the older woman. You have many questions but the uncertain stretches across your skin. Anticipation was rising in your body, as well the blush that tinted your skin.

It was only a few minutes when Wanda returned, the small device that the three of you had been working on in hand, along with two women carrying covered platters. She makes eye contact with Natasha before beelining it directly towards you, her hand cupping your cheek immediately. “Trust me, everything will fall into the place that it’s meant to be.” Her voice is soft, eyes searching yours as she lets her thumb boop your nose gently. She smiles when she sees you mindlessly nod.

Your heart races the closer she gets and it practically stops when you realize what is about to happen, though your brain doesn’t get much time to catch up when her lips finally touch yours. The kiss is slow, tender, and it makes your confidence in her statement strong as you realize that she’s going to be the foundation that she falls on during this game. A small electronic click sounds in the room, echoing in the background, and though it sounds familiar you don’t pay it any attention.

A hand in your hair interrupts the moment you two are sharing, and while your body is tugged away from the older woman your mind stays stuck on it as Natasha’s grip tightens. She’s speaking but you can’t help the hazed look in your eyes as your focus stays on Wanda, unknowingly agreeing to whatever the ginger is saying. “Glad, I’m glad you agree.” Her voice, final and firm, shakes you and you try to turn to look at her but a cool piece of metal lands on your temple. “Nuh uh pretty girl, you agreed to the terms of my game. Now you play.”

A chill freezes your blood, your muscles locking up as your predicament settles in. Nodding, a small frantic motion, your eyes searching for Wanda’s to try and signal for help but she stands in the center of the floor. She’s calm but her eyes are sharp, watching you almost like a predator watches prey. You weren’t sure why she had your project, but you no longer cared about that. You just wanted to leave this house alive. “Don’t you want to play with us, sweetheart?” It’s her voice that makes you melt, even with the sharp digging of the muzzle into your skull. At your smile, and slight relaxation, another small electronic click.

Missing the evil smirk that spreads across the ginger’s face, unnaturally sharp teeth showing, you allow your body to press against hers. Believing that Wanda would get you out safely, you decide that you’re just going to allow this game to play out as it was meant to. “Eszter, step forward. Our players are ready for round one.” One of the girls approaches you, standing slightly off center from in between you and Wanda. “I, Natalia Romanoff, the GameMaster officially call a beginning to this trial. Lift the dome, Eszter.”

The gun is still lazily pressed against your head to keep you inline, and you flinch as a ringing sound radiates into the room when the metal lid scraps. There sits two levers, one red and one blue. “It’s simple, you each pick a lever and you better be fast after you choose. We wouldn’t want the game to end so early now would we?” She steps back, snickering as your body sways unstably.

A soft hand wraps around your wrist, Wanda reaching out to keep you upright and tugging you forward. She pulls you into another kiss, electronic click sounding. This one was rough, quick, as she forces her tongue into your mouth. It ends abruptly, she rips away from it and smirks at your breathless form. “Come darling, we have to play the game. You pick your lever first.” She sets your hand on the platter, releasing your wrist as she stands back.

You weren’t really sure what it meant but you knew that you wanted the blue one from the beginning, something drew you to it and you instantly lifted your hand there. Wanda barely reacts, eyebrow twitching slightly as she settles her hand on the red one. A soft countdown comes from behind you, punctuated by a tapping of metal against something. At the count of one you both pull your chosen colors, but only Wanda moves. She’s swift, and if you would have blinked you would have missed the dagger that flies out of the wall and just barely misses her. Thumping into the wall behind where she once stood, you can’t help the gasp that tumbles from your lips.

Natasha hums behind you, stepping up to press the gun to your lower torso and her hand roughly grabs your hip. Dragging you back so your ass is rubbing against her, and your back is digging into the gun. “You didn’t even move, as if you have a death wish idiot.” Her voice is mocking, teeth biting at your ear lobe. “If you want to live you’re going to have to play the game better than that.” Tutting she shoves you forward, before pulling you back to spin you around. She uses the barrel of the gun along your jaw to move your head around the way she wants, leaning in slightly to hover her lips over yours.

Chuckling, she watches as your eyes slip shut, and you take a shaky breath in. Lips parted pathetically as you wait for hers to touch. “Do you want me to kiss you, slut?” Her eyes shine, a glimmer that is found when you begin to nod. It’s a quick motion before you immediately try to take it away. Shaking your head to deny it, you didn’t like Natasha–only Wanda. “Nuh uh little one, you can’t take back your first answer.” Allowing her gun to run down your body she smirks at the shivers she causes, before she shoves the metal between your thighs. Tapping it randomly against your covered clit, it shocks you how quickly she finds it but your body reacts subconsciously.

Hips jumping at the contact, you try to lean into her. Electric click sounding loudly in your ears, echoing in the quiet of the room. You’re confused as you start to crave her touch, being denied it this entire time. You aren’t even sure how long she stands there, playing with your body, but you know that she never lays a finger on you but by the time she pulls away you are soaked. It causes you to fill with shame because you weren’t sure what kind of game you were playing, and you just wanted to live but you no longer wanted to escape. You should but you didn’t.

“Time for the next round, Dorottya. Bring forth the rest of the equipment, she’s ready.” Wanda jumps forward at Natasha’s words, wiggling up next to you as the last girl steps towards you; pulling the dome off as she comes closer. “This is even easier, no movement needed for the dumb little thing. Pick a needle, and one of our girls here will administer it to you.” She smiles at the two of you, it’s almost too soft and it makes you whine. It’s sinister the way she cackles at the sound, drawing you into her to just shove you back.

A click. Wanda giggles and kisses your shoulder. Another click. Her mouth stays there though, a low whisper coming out to calm down. “We find out the winner of this round at the end of the game, my love.” You melt and another click, the hint she gives you goes over your head at the possessive pet name.

Blindly you reach out, rolling the two syringes along the metal. Neither seem flawed nor do they seem to have any true differences, so you just grab one at random. You weren’t sure which girl grabs the shots because the brunette is dragging you into another kiss, her hand mapping out your body. Hands trailing up your shirt, forcing herself under your bra to thumb at your nipples. A click. You whimper softly, for some reason you’re extremely sensitive and you can feel yourself clench slightly around nothing at her touch. It had to be because of how long you pined over her, the gorgeous girl finally giving you the attention that you dreamt about for years. A click.

Natasha lets her body mold against your back, gun tapping methodically against the outside of your thigh as she grinds in your ass. “Look at you, finally willingly playing the game.” You can feel a bulge against you, and you can’t help yourself as you allow your hips to roll back into it. A click. Something was happening to your body and you just needed more, you wanted to be filled and you wanted Natasha to be the one to do so.

You move your body as much as you can, trying to find a way for your clit to rub against something. A click. You wanted some kind of relief from the rapidly approaching heat. It wasn’t something that you were expecting, but you were okay with this wild game if it meant that you would be taken care of by these ladies. Maybe it was all fake and they just wanted to be weird, you never know what kind of freaky shit rich people got into.

Clearing her throat, the ginger shoves you off of her. It causes you to tumble into Wanda, helplessly you flop onto her. You were surprised she could hold your weight but you were content to rub your face against your breasts, though you weren’t allowed to stay long. When the older woman behind you dragged you back down. She effortlessly moved you as if your body was made of a fluff, shoving you around until you were laid out on the ground. A click.

A growl comes out of her mouth as she lets her body fall on your aggressively, hips humping into you where she had forced your legs apart. It was rough and quick, a moment of chaos in the tight fisted control that the ginger usually had. A click. It was almost like she was losing herself in the pleasure, her hands all over you as she tugged your clothes down and ripped them. “Play the next round.” Her voice was deeper, rough and rumbly, as she moved on top of you.

You were confused but just as you opened your mouth to ask how, Natasha had pulled away only to be replaced with Wanda. Her mouth was on the exposed skin that was left behind from the ginger ravishing you, and her fingers were already swiping through the wetness that she found in between your thighs. A click. She slips two fingers into you, the tips at first just to test out how tight you were but she thrusts both in fully when a metal collar is slapped around your neck. It all happens at once and your vision blurs as you're filled by the brunette, your pussy stretching around her fingers. A click.

She uses her hips to shove her fingers deeper into you, while you were unsure of when your arousal got so high, you knew that you wouldn’t last long. A click. It had been so long since you were even touched slightly, and you had been dreaming of Wanda touching you for years. It was everything you dreamed of and you could feel the cool of her rings slightly. They were rubbing against your leaking hole, and your hips jut upwards when her metal wrapped thumb rubs tight little circles on your swollen clit. A click.

“I pick a card, you win if you get a face card. If you both get one, we continue to play until the first number card is chosen. Who is going to go first?” You can barely see where Natasha is sitting above you. Her voice is nonchalant as she shuffles the cards in her hand.

At the same time Wanda shoves a third finger into you, chuckling against your stomach where she’s leaving hickeys as her name falls from your lips. A click. You weren’t sure what was happening but you hear Natasha reading out the card she choses. It’s slow, and you let your head flop to the side. Forcing your eyes open you watch as the ginger slowly strokes her strap, it’s large and you crave it. A click.

The brunette on top of you moans, her hips have found home on your thigh and you can feel her wetness as she grinds down onto you. A click. It’s the feeling that almost pushes you over the edge unexpectedly. You didn’t think you were close, but apparently Wanda knew otherwise. “Natty she’s so fucking tight, her little cunt will be perfect even after she loses.” Her voice is shaky as she chases her own high, fingers inside you almost painful as her control fumbles. A click.

It’s in that moment that Natasha gasps, a taunting sound as she turns the next card over. It shows a golden five surrounded by butterflies, a soft sweet image for the torture you unknowingly subjected yourself to. “Well well look at this, it looks like the little whore lost.” A filthy moan falls from your lips when you hear the ginger’s words, and humiliation fuels your orgasm even more when you realize that losing has caused you to dangle even more dangerously over the edge. A click.

The collar around your neck suddenly drops, cold metal instantly tightening around you. Your eyes are wide open, though you are struggling to keep them that way, it allows you to watch as the oldest woman stumbles over to jerk off over you. It’s quick as she grunts, ropes of cum landing on your lower belly from the strap. It almost feels medical as she immediately pulls the harness off, the leaking tube leaves a trail of her cum along the floor as she sets it to the side.

Though sterile and professional, you can’t help the way the coil in your tummy begins to shatter when Wanda shoves a glob of the cum into your cunt. A click. Another click. Another click. Intense pain starts to radiate through your body, and a searing sting burns your neck. Through your foggy hazed brain, you can hear Wanda excitedly telling the other women that it’s working.

You can feel metal start to pierce your neck, the pressure breaking as does your skin and the pain throughout the rest of your body overtaking everything. A click. Another one. Your body starts to flail causing Wanda to struggle to keep herself inside you, but she continues to force three fingers into you as you react to the way she touches you.

“I see the brainless slut lost the second round too?” Natasha laughs, a full body harsh sound, before she comes over to you. Dangling over your face, she smiles at the blood starting to leak around your head. A click. “I guess we’ll see if the poison or the spikes kill you first, but don’t worry. Your body will be put to good use. It’s already conditioned to the sound, if we did this correctly it should react even when your heart stops.” It’s almost too soft as she speaks to you, but she gives you a soft kiss on your forehead.

It doesn’t take long for you to stop feeling things, and the disappointment of a ruined orgasm runs through your closing veins. You can’t move or speak, and your vision is extremely blurry but you do see Wanda stand. The brunette leans down, a fake pout on her face as she looks down on you. “I’m sorry but I guess you won’t get to have a little fun before the end, Drágám. I tried but our formula must work too well.” A click.

The two stand shakily, a sigh falling from their lips as they watch the puddle of blood get larger underneath you. “That’s going to be a pain to clean, they won’t be happy about that.” Pietro’s voice cuts through the room like a knife, suddenly showing up. “Did you have to be naked for this one? I don’t need to see my sister like this.” He pretends to puke, and for a moment things could be seen as normal. The three of them laughing and acting as if they were family, off to go find their elders to show them what they made. The sacrifice they have for them, almost like a present that Natasha has brought them to be accepted into the family.

Your eyes are wide when the beating stops, when the world goes quiet and the pain ends. Even so, as a click echoes through the room your body convulses and your empty cunt pulses.

Translations are loose: English to Hungarian

Drágám -- darling

bika egy kínai szekrényben-- bull in a china closet

#kitmoas | Necrosis #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #dark natasha x reader #dark natasha romanoff #dark natasha romanoff x reader #dark wanda maximoff x reader #dark wanda x reader #dark wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel wlw #wandanat #wandanat x reader #wandanat x y/n

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thethirdromana · 7 months ago

Note

Who would you think would fit as the team's "tech wiz" in a more recent setting? Seward, Mina, Van Helsing?

I think it's between Seward and Mina, but in different ways.

Van Helsing is the Giles here. He brings information (not all of it accurate!) and knows the right people to ask. The main technology he brings is a dubiously innovative use of communion wafers. I imagine the research he does still taking place in dusty university stacks, even in a modern setting.

Seward is the guy with all the modern gadgets. He's the one queuing outside the Apple store to be the first to get his hands on the new iPhone. He has the technology but he doesn't necessarily think that much about how best to use the technology (see: the lack of organisation in his used phonograph cylinders). He definitely has every type of smart home product set up, and what's recorded there forms part of the clues in hunting down Dracula.

Whereas Mina is the opposite. In a modern setting she's surely a broke university student, or very recent graduate. She doesn't have all the latest toys because she can't afford them. What she does have is the ability to make technology work for her, which in Dracula manifests as memorising railway timetables.

In the modern day she might be the programmer who always writes really concise and elegant code because her laptop is too old and creaky to run anything bloated. She's be the one who's like, "hey, Jack, I wonder if your doorbell recorded anything useful?" And in both the 1890s and the modern day, she's a really fast typist.

#dracula daily #dracula spoilers #ask and askance

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anonymergremlin · 1 year ago

Text

"Mx and Mr. puppet"

Have a little thing with inventor!stalker!reader and their husband >:)

The doorbell of the shop rang as the elderly man stepped inside. He carefully removed the topper from his head and held it against his chest. A "Good afternoon" echoed through the shop. Eyes wandered from left to right, searching for the person in charge. The shop he entered is owned by an inventor, well known for their lovely toys and other delightful gadgets. He hoped they might be able to fix his grandchild's favourite music box. "Good… afternoon," replied a soft male voice, a little choppy but clearly understandable. The voice's owner appeared before him, a young man with long light-grey hair and blue eyes. "Ah! I see! You must be the famous inventor everyone is talking about -" "Sorry." The young man interrupted the elder. He gave a polite shake of his head before speaking again, "My… spouse is the owner. I… am just helping, sorry."

"Pino, my love. Did someone enter the shop?" said a soft and calm voice from the backroom. Their footsteps grew louder and louder until they were finally standing in front of the customer and P. "Ah, welcome. What can I do for you, sir?" [Name] asked with a friendly smile. The eyes of the old man went wide for a second, he hadn't expected to meet someone like them. A young adult, covered in scars, damaged from Krat's former horrors, but here they were standing in front of him with a smile on their face. "'Excuse me, I had to take care of a few things in the back," [Name] turned their eyes to P for a few seconds, "My husband supports me with running the shop, as my health restricts certain functions. Nevertheless… how can I help you sir?". "Well, you see…" he replied, coughing. Could they have been a former stalker? And why does their husband look so familiar to him? "I have this music box… It belongs to my grandchild, but it seems to be broken. I was hopin' you could have a look at it and maybe repair it".

The old man reached inside his pocket, pulling out a wooden brown music box and handing it to [Name]. He watched as they opened the toy, winded up the key, and waited for a response. But nothing happened. They gently pushed and pulled at certain parts, looking at every nook and cranny. "There it is, our little culprit. A gearwheel is damaged, but I can repair it. Would you be so kind, Pino, and get me a new one from our inventory?" P smiled and nodded before disappearing into the storeroom. It took him only a minute to return with said piece, watching his spouse as they repaired the toy with just a few simple steps. The old man watched in amazement as they repaired the music box in just a few minutes. "There you go, sir. It should be all fixed now," they held the box out to him, expecting him to pick it up. At their request, he took the music box and placed it back inside his pocket. "Thank you very much! I hadn't expected such a quick repair. How much will that…" "Nothing," P replied before [Name] could even begin to speak. They nudged him with their elbow and muttered, "Dear, that's my line, haha". They turned their attention back to the old man, "As my husband said. It's on the house. There was only a small issue to fix… knowing that a child will be able to listen to their music box is payement enough". He let a small laugh slip out of his lips before he put the topper back on his head. "So, I guess I should be thanking you. Mx and Mr. , ehm?"

"[Name] [Last Name] and Pinocchio [Same Last Name]"

#lies of p #lies of p x reader #p x reader #inventor!stalker!reader #little oneshot #rise of p ending #some husband p

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atlasthegreatest · 2 months ago

Text

Cracks in the Shell / Cassandra Cain x Killer Croc!Female Reader

Y/n Jones, a woman with a reptilian appearance and severe agoraphobia, becomes Oracle’s apprentice after meeting her online. To help her gain confidence, Oracle introduces her to Cassandra Cain, who accepts her without hesitation. Through late-night walks and quiet moments, the two form a deep connection, and Y/n begins to feel safe and accepted for the first time.

Word count: 4138

A/n: This was requested by an anon. Enjoy it!

The heavy blinds blocked out the sunlight in neat lines, shrouding the small apartment in a hazy dimness. The room felt more like a safe cocoon than a living space—cluttered with books, devices, and scattered gadgets Oracle had sent over. Y/n hadn’t stepped outside in months. Maybe years. It didn’t matter anymore. Y/n’s days bled together in front of a glowing monitor, where the digital world was safer, less judgmental, less cruel. Here, no one saw the scaly ridges that curved across her cheeks or the sharp claws at her fingertips. No one flinched at her size or muttered insults under their breath.

Well, almost no one.

Barbara Gordon—or Oracle—had found Y/n online months ago, and now she spent most of her days as her apprentice, soaking up everything she taught: encryption, systems control, surveillance tricks. She hadn’t just been a mentor. Barbara had become a lifeline. Even on the worst nights, when Y/n’s self-loathing gnawed at her chest, Barbara reminded her that she had value, that she was not broken.

Today, however, Oracle had thrown a wrench in their routine.

“I want you to meet someone,” she’d said through the comm-link.

Y/n’s heart had clenched. “What kind of meeting?”

“She’s… important. Trust me on this one.”

And now, here Y/n’ was—sitting on the couch, hunched forward with clawed hands gripping her knees. The doorbell echoed through the apartment, and Y/n froze, every muscle tensing with an almost primal fear.

Y/n had expected some tech-whiz friend of Oracle’s or a masked vigilante, maybe even a fellow misfit. What she hadn’t expected was Cassandra Cain.

The door opened slowly. Y/n’d left it cracked as if that would make this easier. And there she stood—quiet and small, but somehow more imposing than the walls around her. Cassandra didn’t carry herself like someone trying to make an impression. There was no pretense, no fake smile or judgment in her deep brown eyes.

“Hi,” she said softly.

Y/n stared at her for a long moment, trying to size her up—and failing miserably. She wasn’t dressed like a hero tonight. She wore dark, simple clothes that didn’t draw attention, and her black hair fell loosely over her shoulders. But there was an intensity in the way she moved—so controlled, so careful. Like she noticed everything. Including how Y/n was shrinking back into herself.

“You… want to come in?” Y/n asked, her voice rasping slightly.

Cassandra nodded once, slipping inside and closing the door with the same quiet precision. She took in the room—how small it was, how cluttered—and finally, her gaze landed on Y/n.

Y/n could feel Cassandra studying her. Not in the way most people did—those awful, sneering glances filled with disgust or pity. This was different.

Cassandra stepped closer, slow and deliberate, her eyes tracing the scales along Y/n’s arms, the jagged ones curling around her neck. But there was no fear in her expression. No hesitation.

“You’re beautiful,” she said, voice soft but clear.

Y/n’s heart skipped painfully. A laugh bubbled up, bitter and reflexive. “Yeah, sure,” she muttered, pulling her arms around herself. “That’s the first thing people think when they see me.”

Cassandra didn’t flinch. She only tilted her head, as if weighing Y/n’s words, and then shook it slowly. “They’re wrong.”

It took a moment for those two words to land—They’re wrong. It was the simplest thing in the world, and yet it unraveled something deep inside Y/n.

For the first time in ages, Y/n wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I don’t… leave this place much,” Y/n admitted, glancing toward the windows as if they were barred. “Oracle thought meeting you might help with that.”

Cassandra stepped closer, close enough now that Y/n could see how much smaller she was compared to her. It should have made her seem fragile, but somehow it didn’t. There was strength in her silence.

“Not fast,” Cassandra murmured. “Slow.”

Y/n blinked, confused for a second. “What?”

“We go slow,” she said, her dark eyes locking with Y/n’s. “Not today. But soon.”

The warmth in her words startled Y/n, the quiet reassurance that she wouldn’t be rushed. For the first time in a long while, the idea of leaving didn’t feel so terrifying.

Cassandra sat down beside Y/n on the couch without asking, close enough that her shoulder brushed Y/n’s. Most people didn’t sit this close—not without recoiling from Y/n’s scales. But Cassandra didn’t care. She seemed entirely at ease as if the thought of Y/n’s appearance was irrelevant.

Y/n shifted awkwardly, still not used to this kind of contact. “Why are you okay with… me?”

Cassandra shrugged gently, her eyes soft. “People look different. That’s all.”

It wasn’t a grand declaration or an attempt to make Y/n feel better. It was just a fact to her—a simple truth. And somehow, that made it even more powerful.

A long silence settled between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. For once, Y/n felt… okay. Like she could breathe without the crushing weight of self-consciousness.

After a while, Cassandra leaned back, her hands resting lightly on her knees. “You like movies?” she asked suddenly, glancing toward the TV.

Y/n blinked at the unexpected question. “Uh… yeah. Why?”

Cassandra gave a small, almost mischievous smile. “Movie night.”

“Movie night?” Y/n echoed, trying to hide the disbelief in her voice.

Cassandra nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Pick one.”

For a moment, Y/n hesitated. But then she found herself scrolling through the streaming service, surprised at how easy it was to sit next to Cassandra.

As the movie started, Y/n caught a glimpse of Cassandra out of the corner of her eye. She sat quietly, her gaze fixed on the screen, but there was a calmness about her presence—a steady warmth that made Y/n feel, for the first time in years, like maybe she wasn’t alone.

And maybe, just maybe, Y/n wouldn’t always be trapped inside these four walls. Not with someone like Cassandra beside her.

Maybe she could take things slow. One step at a time.

And for the first time in a long while, that didn’t seem so impossible.

——————-

The first few “movie nights” with Cassandra were easy—comfortable, even. She didn’t push, didn’t pry. She just showed up. Every time she came over, she brought that same steady calm with her, and slowly, Y/n began to loosen. The weight on her chest didn’t vanish, but it felt lighter with Cassandra around. And, even stranger, she never seemed to mind the space Y/n lived in—how cluttered it was with wires, broken devices, and sketches of projects Y/n was too nervous to complete.

The way Cassandra acted—like Y/n was someone worth showing up for—started to chip away at the walls she’d built around herself. But the progress was slow, like trying to teach herself how to breathe again.

And Cassandra seemed to understand that without Y/n saying a word.

One evening, two weeks after their first meeting, she arrived with something tucked under her arm—a folded hoodie, dark green and far too large for her.

“This is… for me?” Y/n asked, raising a brow.

Cassandra nodded and handed it over. “For outside.”

Y/n stared at the soft fabric, a knot forming in her throat. It wasn’t just a hoodie—it was a gesture, a lifeline. Something that could wrap her up, make her feel smaller, safer. It would cover Y/n’s scales, at least partially, and maybe, just maybe, make the outside world a little less overwhelming.

Y/n swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “You really think I can do this?”

Cassandra’s hand brushed hers briefly—a feather-light touch, careful and deliberate. It sent a jolt through Y/n, not because it startled her, but because it didn’t feel cautious. It felt… reassuring.

“You already are,” she said simply.

Her words hit Y/n like a punch to the chest. No one had ever framed it that way—like simply existing was already an act of bravery.

The first time Cassandra convinced Y/n to leave the apartment, it wasn’t some grand event. There was no pressure. No crowd to navigate. Just a short walk—late at night, when the streets were quiet and the city felt like it belonged only to them.

Y/n had pulled the hoodie over her head, drawing the hood low enough to hide most of her features. The fabric was soft against her scales, the sleeves loose around her wrists. It didn’t erase Y/n’s fear, but it gave her something to hold onto.

Cassandra didn’t say much as they stepped outside together. She just walked beside Y/n, silent but steady, her presence an anchor keeping Y/n from drifting too far into her mind. Every once in a while, she’d glance at Y/n, her eyes crinkling at the corners in that almost smile she reserved just for Y/n.

The cool night air brushed against Y/n’s skin, sharp and unfamiliar after so long inside. Her claws flexed nervously in her sleeves, but she kept walking, her steps slow but sure.

Cassandra didn’t guide Y/n—she let her set the pace, following wherever Y/n led. It wasn’t until Y/n stopped at the edge of a quiet park that she spoke.

“Feel okay?”

Y/n took a deep breath, the air filling her lungs like she hadn’t allowed herself to breathe properly in years. “Not terrible,” she admitted.

That made Cassandra’s lips curve into the faintest smile. “Good.”

The two of them sat down on a bench, side by side, the streetlights casting long shadows over the ground. It was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic and the rustle of leaves in the wind.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Y/n felt… almost normal. Sitting here, in the open, next to Cassandra—like the world wasn’t something to be afraid of.

“Thank you,” Y/n whispered, her voice thick with emotion she couldn’t quite be named.

Cassandra didn’t respond with words. She just reached over and slipped her hand into Y/n’s—claws and all. Her fingers curled around Y/n’s like it was the easiest thing in the world like it didn’t matter what she looked like or how sharp her edges were.

And in that moment, something inside Y/n cracked open.

———————-

As the weeks passed, Y/n ventured out more and more—always at night, always with Cassandra by her side. Y/n started with small steps: a corner store, an empty street, and a quiet coffee shop. Each time she went out, the crushing weight of fear lifted a little more.

And each time, Cassandra was there.

It wasn’t just her quiet presence that made the difference—it was the way she saw Y/n. She looked at Y/n like she wasn’t something strange or broken. She looked at Y/n like she was enough, exactly as she was.

And, slowly, Y/n began to believe her.

One night, after a walk through the park, they sat together on Y/n’s couch, the glow of the TV flickering in the dim room. The movie played in the background, but Y/n wasn’t paying attention. Not really.

Cassandra’s head rested lightly on Y/n’s shoulder, her small frame warm and solid against her. Y/n could feel the rise and fall of her breath, slow and steady, and the weight of her trust pressed against her heart in a way that made it ache—in a good way.

“Cassandra?” Y/n murmured, breaking the comfortable silence.

She hummed softly in response, not lifting her head from Y/n’a shoulder.

“Why… why do you keep coming back?” Y/n asked, her voice barely audible.

Cassandra shifted slightly, just enough to glance up at Y/n, her dark eyes soft and unwavering.

“Because,” she said quietly, “I like you.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, and for a moment, the world tilted beneath her.

It wasn’t just the words—it was the way she said them. Like it was the simplest truth in the world. Like it didn’t need explaining.

And in that moment, something inside her changed.

Y/n wasn’t just someone hiding away from the world anymore. She was someone worth knowing. Someone worth loving.

And Cassandra Cain—silent, strong, and impossibly kind—had seen that in her from the very beginning.

For the first time in as long as Y/n could remember, she allowed herself to lean into someone else.

And for the first time, Y/n knew that she wasn’t alone.

————————-

The nights with Cassandra became Y/n’s lifeline. It wasn’t just the walks or the movie marathons—it was the quiet moments in between, when her presence wrapped around Y/n like a shield, warding off the gnawing insecurity that had lived inside her for so long. She never forced Y/n to talk about her fears, her agoraphobia, or the way the world had broken her down bit by bit. She just stayed, steady and unyielding, until the parts of herself Y/n had hidden started to surface, little by little.

One night, as they walked together along the riverbank, she stopped suddenly. Y/n glanced over, curious, as she pointed toward the water.

“Look,” Cassandra said, her voice quiet.

Y/n followed her gaze. The moonlight shimmered over the surface of the water, and her reflection stared back—a hulking figure with jagged scales, claws, and ridges. Y/n flinched, heart, stuttering in her chest.

“I hate it,” Y/n whispered before she could stop herself. Her voice cracked, thick with frustration. “I’ve hated it for as long as I can remember.”

Cassandra turned toward her, her dark eyes soft but intent. She didn’t speak right away, giving Y/n space to fill the silence if she wanted.

Y/n shook her head, clenching her fists in her hoodie sleeves. “People look at me like I’m a monster. Even when they don’t say it, I know they’re thinking it. That’s why I stopped going out. Why… it’s so hard to leave.”

Cassandra’s expression didn’t change, but she stepped closer—just a little, her shoulder brushing Y/n’s in that familiar, grounding way. “You’re not a monster,” she said firmly, the certainty in her voice wrapping around Y/n like armor.

Y/n let out a shaky laugh, bitter and uncertain. “You don’t know what it’s like… looking like this.”

For a moment, Cassandra was silent. Then, she reached up, gently guiding Y/n’s hood back, revealing her face to the cool night air. Y/n stiffened, expecting the usual discomfort or pity she saw in others, but when she looked into her eyes, all Y/n found was warmth.

“Not scary,” she said softly, as if it were a simple fact.

The sincerity in her voice cut through Y/n’s defenses like a knife through water. Cassandra never sugarcoated things, never said anything she didn’t mean. And somehow, that made it even harder to dismiss her words.

“See you,” she added, tapping her chest lightly. “Not just this.” She gestured toward Y/n’s scales, her hand brushing her arm briefly, her touch feather-light and deliberate. “You.”

The weight of her words settled deep inside Y/n, stirring something unfamiliar—something dangerously close to hope.

————————-

The first time Cassandra stayed the night, it wasn’t planned. They had been watching a movie—something cheesy and old, with terrible special effects—and somewhere along the way, the two of them had fallen into a comfortable sprawl on the couch. Cassandra curled up against Y/n’s side, her warmth seeping through the fabric of her hoodie, and for once, Y/n didn’t feel the need to shrink away.

When the credits rolled, Y/n glanced down to find her already half-asleep, her breathing slow and even. She looked so peaceful, so at ease, and Y/n didn’t have the heart to wake her.

So Y/n stayed like that, her arm draped carefully around her, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest. It was strange—how natural it felt to hold her, how right.

For the first time in years, the gnawing voice in Y/n’s head—telling her that she didn’t belong, that she was unworthy of this kind of closeness—was silent.

And in the quiet darkness, with Cassandra nestled against her, Y/n allowed herself to believe—just for a moment—that maybe she deserved this.

Morning came slowly, the soft light filtering through the blinds, and Cassandra stirred beside her. Y/n blinked down at her groggily, her mind still thick with sleep, and found her watching with those deep, dark eyes—calm, patient, and unwavering.

“Morning,” Y/n rasped, your voice rough with sleep.

Cassandra gave her a small, sleepy smile, the corners of her mouth curling just slightly. “Morning.”

Y/n didn’t realize she was holding her breath until Cassandra leaned in, her hand brushing Y/n’s jaw in a careful, deliberate touch. There was no hesitation in her movements—only quiet intent, as if she had made this decision long ago.

And before she could overthink it—before the familiar wave of doubt could swallow Y/n whole—Cassandra kissed her.

It was soft, gentle, and achingly tender, like the first bloom of spring after a long, brutal winter. Her lips pressed against Y/n’s, light as a whisper, but it was enough to make her heart stutter in her chest.

For a moment, Y/n was frozen, her mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. But then, slowly, Y/n melted into the kiss, her hand lifting to rest on Cassandra’s back, anchoring herself to the warmth of her presence.

When Cassandra pulled back, her gaze locked with Y/n’s, and the faintest trace of a smile danced across her lips.

“Okay?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Y/n swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. “Yeah,” Y/n managed, her voice rough but certain. “More than okay.”

Cassandra gave Y/n a small, satisfied nod as if her answer was all she needed.

And in that moment—curled together on Y/n’s couch, the morning light spilling softly into the room—Y/n felt something shift inside her.

The walls she had built around herself, brick by brick, were starting to crumble. Not all at once, but slowly—like a glacier melting under the warmth of the sun.

And for the first time in a very long time, Y/n allowed herself to hope. Not just for more nights like this, but for a life beyond the shadows she had hidden in for so long.

A life where she wasn’t defined by her appearance.

A life where she was enough—just as she was.

And with Cassandra beside her, that life didn’t seem so far away anymore.

Bonus Chapter:

The sun was too bright.

Y/n hadn’t been outside during the day in years. Nighttime was her comfort—its shadows softened her shape, hiding the rough angles and sharp edges. But daylight was unforgiving. It laid everything bare, making it harder to believe that she could blend in, harder to shake the feeling that the world would judge her the moment it saw her.

But today was different. Today, Y/n was doing this—for herself and for Cassandra.

“Ready?” Cassandra’s voice was soft but steady. She stood beside Y/n on the doorstep, her small hand tucked into Y/n’s.

Y/n adjusted the hoodie she was wearing—it was the same one Cassandra’d given her weeks ago, now a comforting part of her armor. With a deep breath, Y/n gave her a nod. “Ready.”

Cassandra squeezed Y/n’s hand, her gaze full of silent encouragement, and the two of them stepped out into the daylight together.

The walk through Gotham was… strange. Y/n kept her head down, her hood drawn low over her face, but every sound—the hum of cars, the chatter of people—felt louder, sharper in the daylight. Y/n’s claws flexed nervously inside her sleeves, and her shoulders tensed under the weight of every passing glance.

But Cassandra stayed close, her hand never leaving Y/n’s. She didn’t rush her, didn’t try to force Y/n to keep pace with the world. Instead, she slowed down with her, matching Y/n’s steps.

As they approached the apartment building where Barbara lived, Y/n’s heart pounded harder. Y/n’d met her online countless times through video calls and chats, but this was different. In person felt so much more real, so much more vulnerable.

“It’ll be okay,” Cassandra murmured as if reading Y/n’s thoughts.

Y/n gave her a tight nod, hoping she was right.

Barbara’s place was in a building that looked both old and sturdy—like it had stood against Gotham’s chaos for years and had no intention of falling. Cassandra led Y/n up a flight of stairs and soon they were standing in front of a door with a small brass number on it.

Cassandra gave Y/n’s hand one last squeeze, then knocked.

The door swung open, and there she was—Barbara Gordon, also known as Oracle. She was perched in her wheelchair, her expression warm and welcoming. Her red hair caught the light, and the way her blue eyes crinkled when she smiled made Y/n feel like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

“Hey! You made it!” Barbara said brightly, her voice filled with genuine excitement.

Y/n shuffled awkwardly, trying to hide deeper in her hood, but Barbara wasn’t having it. She rolled forward and gave Y/n a once-over, her gaze calm but sharp, like she was seeing all of her at once—Y/n’s nervous posture, the way her claws fidgeted in her sleeves, and the heavy weight of the years Y/n had spent in isolation.

“Nice hoodie,” she said with a grin, breaking the tension with practiced ease. “I see Cassandra’s got good taste.”

Y/n let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, a small laugh slipping past her lips. “Yeah… she does.”

Barbara’s smile widened. “Come on in. Someone else is dying to meet you.”

Y/n blinked, confused until a low, familiar voice rumbled from deeper inside the apartment.

“You must be the one Cassandra’s told us about.”

And then Bruce Wayne stepped into view.

Meeting Batman—the actual, living legend—was something Y/n never expected, let alone in broad daylight. He stood there in casual clothes, his broad frame imposing even without the cape and cowl. His sharp blue eyes studied her with the kind of intensity that made it impossible to tell what he was thinking.

Y/n first instinct was to shrink back—curl into herself, disappear. But then, something surprising happened: Bruce smiled.

It was small, subtle, but it was there—a quiet gesture of reassurance.

“Cassandra doesn’t usually bring people around unless they’re important,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

Y/n stared at him, stunned, trying to process the fact that Batman had just casually implied she was important.

Barbara gave a little laugh from her wheelchair, clearly enjoying Y/n’s stunned expression. “Bruce doesn’t say much, but when he does, he means it.”

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her chest—an unfamiliar but welcome sensation. Y/n wasn’t just a project to them. Y/n wasn’t just someone Cassandra had to look after. She mattered to them, in a way that felt real and tangible.

Bruce extended his hand toward Y/n—not out of politeness, but as an invitation. Slowly, tentatively, she reached out and shook it. Y/n’s claws grazed his palm, but he didn’t flinch. He just gave her hand a firm, steady shake, like her appearance didn’t faze him in the slightest.

Barbara grinned. “See? Told you they’d like you.”

————————

The four of them sat in Barbara’s living room, the conversation easy and light. Y/n expected awkwardness, or at least some tension—after all, she was still getting used to being outside during the day—but instead, it felt natural.

Barbara talked to her like an old friend, asking about your latest tech projects and cracking jokes about Gotham’s quirks. Bruce, though quieter, chimed in now and then with dry humor that caught you off guard. And through it all, Cassandra stayed close, her presence a steady anchor in the swirling sea of newness.

For the first time in years, sitting in that bright, sunlit room, Y/n felt like she belonged.

When it was time to leave, Bruce and Barbara walked them to the door.

“We’re glad you came,” Barbara said warmly, resting her hand lightly on Y/n’s arm. “And whenever you want to come by again—day or night—just say the word.”

Bruce gave Y/n a nod, his expression unreadable but kind. “Take care of each other,” he said quietly, glancing between Y/n and Cassandra.

Cassandra gave a small, almost imperceptible nod in return.

As the door closed behind them, Y/n stepped out into the afternoon sun, feeling lighter than she had in years.

Y/n glanced at Cassandra, the corners of her mouth twitching into a small, hesitant smile. “That wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.”

Cassandra gave Y/n one of her rare, full smiles—the kind that made Y/n’s heart skip a beat. “Told you.”

And for the first time, standing in the bright light of day, Y/n believed her.

Because with Cassandra by her side—and now with new friends who saw her for who she was—maybe the world wasn’t such a scary place after all.

#cassandra cain x reader #female reader #gxg #batman #barbara gordon #oracle #killer croc

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