#had to draw THE woman on her special day

[baylardian-1]

mfw youre the female of the species who initiates mating

[jewishcissiekj]

i should make a post with my list of favorite artists who drew Asajj

[arolesbianism]

I should rly get around to designing the Jackies and Olivias from my swap aus now that I have ideas for how to differentiate them for their non swapped counterparts, but at the same time the eternal dread of having to commit to either keeping or changing the gravitas uniform for the swap aus hangs over me with ever increasing pressure, so maybe I can just only draw headshots of them and commit to that til the end of time instead

[pucksandpower]

That’s Not My Name

Toto Wolff x wife!Reader

Summary: in which people assume you are everything except for your husband’s wife

Warnings: mentions of a significant age gap

The Daughter

You take a deep breath as you step through the paddock, clutching your pass tightly in your hand. The noise and energy of the Formula 1 weekend thrums around you. You’ve never been to a race before, and it’s all so new and overwhelming.

When Toto invited you to join him for the British Grand Prix, you were hesitant. This stage of your relationship is still so new — you’ve only been married a few months. But Toto was insistent. He wants you by his side.

Still, you feel out of place among the teams and journalists. You’re just a normal girl, plucked from obscurity by a man twice your age. What must they all think of you?

You arrive at the Mercedes garage and glance around nervously. The mechanics are bustling about, focused on their work. You spot Toto across the garage, talking intensely with his drivers. He looks stressed, his brows furrowed as he discusses strategy. This high pressure environment is his domain, but it’s foreign to you.

Toto glances up and notices you hovering near the entrance. His face breaks into a smile and he quickly excuses himself from his conversation to come greet you.

“Mein liebchen, you made it!” He exclaims, enveloping you in a tight hug. You cling to the solidness of him, drawing comfort from his familiar embrace.

“I wasn’t sure I should come,” you say softly, glancing around. The mechanics are staring curiously. You know how it must look — their team principal hugging an unknown woman half his age.

Toto cups your face gently, “I want you here. This is your world now too. Don’t worry what anyone else thinks.”

You bite your lip but nod, trusting in him. If Toto believes you belong here, then you do.

He tucks you under his arm and leads you further into the garage, introducing you to his team. They greet you politely, hiding any surprise or judgment. You know you’ll have to win them over, prove that you’re more than just Toto’s midlife crisis.

A sudden commotion draws your attention across the paddock. The Red Bull Racing team is gathered around the entrance, greeting their team principal enthusiastically as he arrives. Christian Horner is holding court, shaking hands and clapping shoulders.

You tense involuntarily. The rivalry between Mercedes and Red Bull is legendary, with Christian often attempting to get under Toto’s skin. You don’t know how he’ll react to you.

As if sensing your thoughts, Toto tightens his arm around you. “Don’t worry about him,” he murmurs. “I’m here.”

But you can’t relax as you see Christian look your way, his gaze sharp and assessing. He says something to his team and begins walking towards the Mercedes garage. Your heart sinks. There’s no avoiding this confrontation.

“Toto!” Christian calls out jovially as he approaches. “I see you’ve brought a special guest this weekend.”

Toto presses his lips together but forces a polite smile. “Yes, I wanted her to experience her first race weekend. Christian, meet Y/N, my wife.”

You extend your hand nervously. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Christian raises his eyebrows, blatantly looking you up and down. “Your wife? My, they do start young these days.” His tone is patronizing.

You blush deeply, humiliated. But Toto comes to your defense.

“I’d appreciate if you leave her out of our rivalry,” he says sharply. “She has nothing to do with it.”

Christian holds up his hands in mock surrender. “No need to get defensive! I just didn’t realize you had gotten hitched again. And to someone so … fresh faced. She could be your daughter!” He chuckles.

Your face burns. You hate Christian for putting voice to that thought. You know people judge you and Toto for your age difference. Hearing him joke about it so callously stings.

Toto steps forward angrily but you grab his arm, silently begging him not to cause a scene. He takes a deep breath, struggling to contain his temper.

“It was lovely to meet you, Christian,” you say as evenly as you can manage. “I do hope you’ll have a good weekend.”

Christian looks surprised by your composure. He nods farewell and heads back to the Red Bull garage, throwing one last smirk over his shoulder.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Toto turns to you. “I’m so sorry about that,” he says earnestly. “Christian is an ass. Don’t let him get to you.”

You shake your head, swallowing back tears. “It’s fine, I knew people would think those things about me … about us ...” you trail off miserably.

Toto cups your face in both hands. “Look at me. None of that matters. He can think what he wants. But I know who you are. You are my heart, my present, and my future. No one can take that away, not even Christian bloody Horner.”

You give a watery laugh at his vehemence and he kisses your forehead tenderly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you tell him, finding your courage again. “I want to be here.”

Toto smiles proudly and laces his fingers through yours. “Good. Let’s show them we’re not going to hide. I want you here, where you belong.”

Holding hands firmly, you walk with your head held high back into the bustling garage. Let them stare and whisper. You know your place is here with Toto. No judgment or rivalry can change that. This is your world now.

The Assistant

The day has been a whirlwind so far. After the confrontation with Christian Horner, you tried your best to settle into the hectic swing of pre-race preparations. Toto has been swept up in strategy meetings and sponsor obligations. You trail along behind him, clutching your paddock pass, trying not to get in the way.

During a rare free moment, Toto turns to you. “Why don’t you go exploring for a bit? Get a feel for the place. I need to take this call but I’ll come find you soon.”

You nod uncertainly. Venturing off alone makes you nervous, but you want to prove to Toto you can handle this new world.

You wander toward the garages housing the Formula 2 teams. The cars are lined up, mechanics hovering over them making final tweaks and adjustments. You watch them work, enthralled by their practiced movements.

“Are you lost?”

You turn to see a mechanic frowning at you. He’s from one of the backmarker teams, a lower budget operation.

“Oh no, just looking around,” you stammer self-consciously.

The mechanic’s eyes drop to your pass. “Ah a VIP pass eh? Who are you with?”

“Oh um Mercedes ...” you trail off awkwardly.

His eyebrows raise, impressed. “Posh. You must be Toto’s new assistant then?”

You freeze, the old insecurity rising. Assistant. Because why else would someone your age be hanging around the Mercedes garage? You want to correct him, but the words stick in your throat. You don’t want to make a scene.

So you just nod and mumble something noncommittal. The mechanic looks sympathetic.

“First race weekend is it? They can be chaotic. But don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. Who knows, if you impress the boss, you might get to travel full time!”

He means it kindly, but his words dig into your wounds. You give a thin smile. “Thank you, I appreciate the advice.”

You turn away before he can respond, a lump forming in your throat. No matter what Toto says, people will make assumptions about you.

Lost in thought, you wander toward the bustling fan zone. It’s a sea of colors, supporters wearing their favorite team’s kit. You pass unnoticed, just another face in the crowd.

The roar of an engine makes you glance up. The Formula 2 cars are being pushed out of the garage, heading for the grid. You hurry over, eager to get a closer look.

A harried looking engineer nearly runs right into you, focused on his tablet. “Oh, sorry, excuse me.” He does a double take. “Hey, you’re Toto’s new assistant right? I saw you with him around the paddock earlier.”

Your heart sinks. Word has spread. You open your mouth to correct him but he barrels on.

“Listen, I hate to do this, but any chance you can help me out? My usual assistant called in sick and I’m swamped. I just need someone to hold these and stand with the engineers during the race. You’ll get a front row view of the start!”

He looks at you pleadingly. You hesitate, but his need seems genuine.

“Um, sure, I can help,” you say.

“You’re a lifesaver!” He exclaims, piling several tire blankets into your arms. They’re heavier than you expected. “Just follow me.”

He leads you onto the grid and you get swept up in the controlled chaos, focusing on not dropping the blankets. The cars pull into position around you. The engineer directs you where to stand and you end up right against the barrier, the engines roaring just feet away.

Your heart races with excitement. The start is exhilarating, the cars peeling away in a blur. You forget your insecurities for a moment, lost in the thrill of the race.

The checkered flag waves and the engineer finally relieves you of the weight in your arms. “Thanks so much for your help! I really appreciate it ...” he pauses. “Actually I don’t think I got your name?”

You open your mouth but a familiar voice interrupts. “There you are!”

Toto appears through the crowd and pulls you into his arms. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Are you alright?”

He notices the engineer standing there awkwardly. “Can I help you?” Toto asks coolly.

“Nope, we’re all good here. Thanks again for your help,” the engineer nods at you and disappears into the dispersing crowd.

“What was that about?” Toto frowns. “Why was he giving you tire blankets?”

You sigh, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you again. “He thought I was your new assistant. He needed help so I said yes.” You shrug helplessly.

Understanding flashes across Toto’s face and he swears under his breath. “I’m so sorry, I never should have left you alone. I should have made things clearer who you are.”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. I don’t mind helping out, really.” But your voice wavers, betraying your hurt.

Toto cups your face gently. “No, it’s not okay. You are my partner, my equal. Not my assistant. I need to show people the extraordinary woman you truly are.”

His faith bubbles up your own courage. You straighten your shoulders, looking him in the eye.

“Then let’s go show them. I’m not hiding anymore. Take me where I belong, right by your side.”

Toto kisses you fiercely. “With pleasure, meine liebchen.”

He tucks you under his shoulder proudly. You keep your head high as you walk back through the paddock, passes reflecting in the sun. Let them stare and whisper. You know where you belong.

The Trespasser

A few months later, you’re starting to find your stride. Each race weekend poses new challenges, but with Toto by your side you’re learning to navigate the hectic world of motorsports.

The Mercedes team has slowly warmed up to you as well. Seeing how happy Toto is has softened their skepticism. You pitch in where you can — bringing freshly baked pastries and trying to make yourself useful. Having a purpose eases your lingering insecurities.

The Singapore Grand Prix means a sweltering heat that makes the paddock sticky and humid. The stuffy garage offers little relief so you wander outside hoping for a breeze. You end up in the fan zone, mingling with supporters visiting the various team merch shops and activities.

You chat with a few enthusiastic young fans, gently deflecting their eager questions about Toto and the team. Despite the heat and crowds, their passion for the sport is contagious and you find yourself smiling.

Toto texts that he needs you back at the garage, so you reluctantly leave your anonymous conversations and make your way through the paddock. As you draw closer to the Mercedes garage, you realize your pass has gone missing from your lanyard.

Your heart sinks. The passes grant crucial access and you don’t want to cause problems. But the garage is just ahead so you decide to explain yourself once you’re inside.

Slipping through the open door, you immediately spot Toto in the back. As you weave between bustling mechanics, a hand grasps your shoulder.

You turn to see one of the newer Mercedes mechanics frowning down at you. “What are you doing in here?” He demands. “This area is restricted.”

Flustered, you try to explain about your missing pass. But the mechanic’s stern expression doesn’t waver.

“How did you get in? I know all the team members but I haven’t seen you before.” His eyes narrow suspiciously.

Other mechanics have noticed the confrontation and start drifting over. You shrink under their doubtful gazes.

“I, uh, I’m Toto’s ...” you stammer, but the mechanic cuts you off.

“A likely story. Every race some starry-eyed fan tries to sneak in for an autograph or photo. You picked the wrong garage for that. Come on, let’s go.”

He takes your arm in a firm grip. Your protests fall on deaf ears as he escorts you briskly outside.

To your dismay Toto is occupied with an intense conversation, his back turned. No one intervenes as the mechanic marches you away from the garage and into the paddock.

“I don’t know how you got in here, but I’ll be reporting this. We can’t have unauthorized people wandering around restricted areas.”

You tug uselessly against his hold, trying to explain it’s all just a misunderstanding. But he remains stoic, unmoved by your pleas.

Other teams and drivers are staring now as he parades you past. Your face burns with humiliation at the thought of causing a scene or being accused of lying.

In a stroke of luck, you spot Lewis heading towards the Mercedes motorhome ahead. He knows you, surely he can clear this up!

You call his name desperately. “Lewis, Lewis! Help, please!”

Lewis turns, confusion clouding his features. But then he recognizes you and his brow furrows.

“What’s going on here?” He asks sharply, striding over.

The mechanic snaps to attention, clearly intimidated to be addressed by Lewis directly.

“I caught this girl sneaking around the garage! She claims to know Toto but it’s obviously a ruse to get access. I was just escorting her out.”

Lewis looks incredulous. “This is Toto’s wife, mate. She’s supposed to be there.”

The mechanic gapes, his authoritative air dissipating. “His wife? But she’s so young ...” he glances at you uncertainly. “My apologies, ma’am, I didn’t realize. We have to be vigilant about security.”

You shrug off his now-slack grip. “It’s fine, just a misunderstanding,” you mumble, face still burning.

Lewis places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get you back where you belong.”

He leads you away from the shrinking mechanic back toward the Mercedes garage. You feel tears pricking your eyes.

“Thank you, Lewis,” you say shakily. “I tried to explain but he wouldn’t listen ...”

“Don’t worry about it. That guy is new around here, still learning the ropes.” Lewis pats your shoulder consolingly.

You nod, trying to brush it off. But the encounter left you rattled. Will there always be those who see you as an outsider?

Lewis seems to sense your swirling doubts. “He was just new. The team knows you well by now. Stuff like this will stop happening once the rest get used to you being around.”

You want to believe him. You’ve tried so hard to find your place here.

As you near the garage, Toto comes rushing out, scanning the paddock anxiously. His shoulders sag with relief when he spots you.

“Where have you been? I turned around and you were gone!” He exclaims, pulling you into his embrace.

Over his shoulder, you see Lewis mouth “tell him” before discreetly slipping away.

You take a deep breath and explain what happened with the mechanic. Toto’s expression darkens, his protective anger rising.

You touch his cheek gently. “It wasn’t his fault. It was just a misunderstanding.”

Toto sighs, anger melting away. “I should have been there. I should have introduced you properly to the new staff.”

You shake your head. “You can’t be responsible for how everyone sees me. I don’t need you fighting my battles. This is something I have to earn for myself. Their respect, their trust … I just need more time.”

Toto gazes at you with so much love and pride it takes your breath away. “You are so much stronger than you know. And if they can’t see that, well that’s on them.”

He kisses you softly. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together.”

And wrapped securely in his arms, you finally believe it’s true. This is your world now. Your place is here, with him.

The Nanny

The warm early autumn breeze ruffles your hair as you wait outside the primary school, keeping one eye on the time. Any minute now the bell will ring, signaling the end of your son’s second day of preschool.

You smile thinking of this morning and his eager goodbye hug before practically sprinting into the building, too excited to look back. He has his father’s confidence.

Shifting the baby carrier holding your sleeping newborn daughter, you smooth down your dress self-consciously. Even after years with Toto, you still can’t help but feel out of place at posh schools like this.

The other mothers eye you curiously. No doubt wondering about the young woman with an infant waiting alone.

You know some of them recognized Toto yesterday when he dropped off and picked up your son. Your heart had lurched seeing him cradling Leon’s small hand, both your boys glancing back to wave goodbye.

But duty called for Toto today with important meetings at Mercedes’ Brackley Headquarters, so pickup fell to you today. Not that you mind another glimpse of that overjoyed grin when your son spots you.

The bell rings and a stream of children come pouring out the doors. You crane your neck, looking for a familiar head of tousled curls.

There! You wave eagerly as your son breaks into a run when he sees you.

“Mama!” He cries joyfully, slamming into your legs. You stroke his hair, hugging him tight.

“Did you have a good day baby?” You ask as he looks up at you adoringly.

He nods, launching into a story about finger painting that you can barely follow. But his enthusiasm is contagious and you can’t help but smile.

A polite cough interrupts you. An immaculately dressed woman is hovering nearby, eyeing your son curiously.

“Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to introduce myself properly. I’m Clarice, Emma’s mum,” she gestures to a girl clinging shyly to her leg.

“Lovely to meet you,” you say politely, shaking her offered hand. “I’m Y/N and this is Leon.”

You ruffle his curls and he gives a dimpled smile before hiding against your side. Clarice’s eyes flick between you and your son, a slight furrow in her brow.

“I hope I’m not overstepping, but I met Leon’s father yesterday during drop off. Is his mother … not around?” She asks delicately.

Your cheeks flush. Of course she would assume you’re the nanny, not the mother. Bracing yourself, you shake your head.

“No it’s okay! I’m his mother. Toto — Leon’s dad — had meetings today, so it’s my turn to do pickup.”

Clarice looks mortified. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry for assuming. You just look so young, I thought ...” she trails off, flustered.

You force an understanding smile. “Don’t worry, it’s an easy mistake. Our age difference does raise some eyebrows.” You punctuate this with an awkward laugh.

Clarice seems eager to change the subject. “What a beautiful baby!” She gushes, peering at your daughter sleeping in her carrier. “And so well behaved.”

Grateful for the redirected conversation, you chat politely about your little girl. Clarice coos over her sweetly.

Other parents begin dispersing with their kids and Clarice makes her goodbyes. “So lovely meeting you both. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

You smile and take Leon’s hand to drive home, his chattering filling your ears. You know curious parents will likely gossip about Toto’s young wife. But it doesn’t sting as much as it once did. You’ve grown used to the assumptions by now.

Unlocking the front door, you’re greeted by the smell of cooking. Leon goes tearing off to the kitchen, shouting “Papa!” at the top of his lungs. Chuckling, you follow after, your daughter beginning to stir in her carrier.

Toto is there to sweep Leon into his arms, smothering his cheeks in kisses as your son giggles. The scene warms your heart.

Noticing your arrival, Toto sets Leon down to embrace you and peer at the baby. “How was pick up? Any tears today?” He asks Leon.

Your son shakes his head proudly. “I made a picture for you, Papa!” He runs off to retrieve it.

You meet Toto’s gaze over your daughter’s downy hair. “It was fine. Just the usual questions about my age from a school mum. She thought I was the nanny when we first met.”

You try to say it lightly, but Toto’s face tightens, protective anger flashing. Even after all this time, he hates when people judge you unfairly.

You touch his arm gently. “It’s okay, really. I don’t care what they think.”

And it’s true. The opinions of strangers can’t touch the beautiful family you’ve built together.

Toto lets out a long breath, anger melting away. “I know. But I still wish people could see you how I do.”

He pulls you close and you lean into him, breathing in his comforting scent. “As long as you and the kids see me, that’s all that matters.”

Leon comes barreling back in, brandishing his painting. “Look!!”

You both admire his abstract swirls of color dutifully. “A masterpiece!” Toto proclaims. “We’ll hang it on the fridge.”

Leon beams under the praise then dashes off again in pursuit of a toy.

You and Toto share a wry smile. “Never a dull moment with that one,” you remark. The baby begins fussing and you gently sway her.

“Here, let me.” Toto takes her expertly and she settles against his broad chest. Your heart squeezes at the sight.

Toto meets your gaze. “I know I’ve put you through a lot over the years. The stares, the gossip … you’ve endured it all with grace when you could have walked away.”

You stroke his cheek. “You and our family are worth any trial. I would do it all again without a second thought.”

Toto leans into your palm. “Having you by my side is the greatest gift.”

You kiss him softly, your heart brimming with love.

From the other room, Leon’s playful giggles reach you. The smell of dinner being prepared still fills the warm kitchen. And your baby girl doses off in her daddy’s arms.

This is your world. The only one that matters. And you know for certain you belong.

The Husband

The morning sun streams through the hotel window as you sip your coffee, scrolling absentmindedly through social media. Race weekends are always a whirlwind, but you’ve learned to carve out small moments of calm when you can.

Toto is already down in the paddock prepping for qualifying today. The room feels empty without him. Sighing, you click over to TikTok, hoping for a distraction.

Immediately a video pops up on your feed from a fan account, the caption “so cute!” catching your eye. You tap play, assuming it’s another clip of drivers’ kids or someone’s grid walk antics.

But you nearly spit out your coffee when the video loads. It’s Toto, standing by the circuit entrance, surrounded by a gaggle of teenage girls. They’re prodding phones toward him eagerly, voices babbling over one another.

“Toto, what’s it like being Y/N’s husband?” One asks boldly.

You freeze, breath caught in your throat. In all the years by Toto’s side, you’ve never heard anyone flip the script like that. It’s always been “what’s it like being Toto’s wife?” You’re an accessory to his fame, not the focus.

Toto looks momentarily surprised, then laughs good-naturedly. “She is extraordinary,” he proclaims sincerely. “Being with her is a privilege every day.”

The girls sigh dreamily at his romanticism. Another chimes in, “You must be so proud of everything she’s accomplished!”

Toto nods, his expression tender. “I am in awe of her strength and resilience. She has faced so much scrutiny with grace. And now people finally see her incredible spirit.”

You press a hand to your mouth as tears spring to your eyes. After years by his side, Toto’s steadfast faith in you still takes your breath away.

“So you’re proud to be Y/N’s husband?” The first girl presses.

“Absolutely.” Toto doesn’t hesitate. “She is my inspiration.”

The video ends and you sit staring at the screen, cheeks wet. Never did you imagine your own fans, separate from Toto. But these girls look up to you, see you as more than just “the wife.”

Your phone buzzes with a text from Toto.

Have you seen the video? The PR team says you’re trending on TikTok!

You type back shakily.

Just watched it. Made me cry happy tears 🥹

His response is immediate.

You deserve all the praise, meine liebchen. I meant every word.

Wiping your eyes, you get up and dress quickly. Down in the paddock, you spot Toto right away. He sweeps you into his arms.

“There’s my superstar wife.” His eyes shine with pride.

You kiss him fiercely. “Thank you for always believing in me. Even when I doubted myself.”

Toto touches your cheek. “You’ve earned every bit of admiration. Don’t ever forget your worth.”

As he walks you into the bustling garage, mechanics glance up from their work to smile and wave. The fans hover nearby, whispering excitedly when they see you.

You no longer feel out of place here. This is your world now, as much as Toto’s. You’ve claimed your seat at the table.

Standing confidently by your husband’s side, you wave back, ready to take on the day.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

For the Article (Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You're sent to cover the opening show of the Coven's next tour. Agatha Harkness, the lead singer, is magnetic. Luckily for you, she seems to think the same as you.

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: Swearing, oral (R giving), strap (R receiving), masturbating, mirror sex

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle @dontsblameme

The crowd was buzzing around you. The music was loud, the thump reverberating through your ribcage, making your heart beat faster. The band onstage was captivating, there was no other word for it. The women were everything they promised to be, the kind that could easily be believed to be witches. They’d certainly cast a spell over the crowd.

Front woman Agatha Harkness was a clear fan favourite. Flouncing around the stage, flirting with any pretty thing in the front row, captivating blue eyes drawing you in, it was easy to see why her fan base had once been described as a cult. You found yourself watching her more often than the others. It might not be the most professional, but she drew the eye, and that was worth putting in the article.

You’d been sent by your boss to review the show, the first on their American tour. The others in the office had bemoaned their luck, busy on other stories when you got to go rock out. It didn’t help that you were the only member of the team who wasn’t a fan of the Coven going in.

Now? Well… you supposed you could see the appeal.

It shouldn’t have worked, the eclectic collection of people on the stage. Alice, the pianist, the child of a 70s star. Jen, the bassist, spending more time on social media than in rehearsal. Rio, the drummer, a wild card if ever there was one. Billy, the guitarist, a replacement for his own mother from the early days, younger than you thought was reasonable to have so much talent. Lilia, who seemed to fill in any small instrument that was needed in the song. And of course, Agatha, the showman.

It shouldn’t have worked, but standing there in the crowd, you’d be the first to admit that it did.

The air was charged, electricity moving through the crowd. You drank it in, soaked in the energy thrumming between the people. It was the kind of show that got the heart racing and the fingertips tingling. Something special was happening. Of that you were sure.

Later, once the last note had been played and the lights had flooded the auditorium, showing the crowd in all their glory at the end of the show, you watched them stream towards the exit. The excited chatter was familiar, almost comforting in its ordinariness.

You, taking a different turn, following the band’s manager backstage, felt a moment of anticipation. It was almost anxiety. You hadn’t gotten nervous about interviewing anyone since your early reporting days. Now, it was just routine.

Something about this band had you feeling butterflies at the thought of meeting them.

The greenroom backstage was not what you were expecting. Rio was sprawled over the small two seater couch, twirling her drumsticks above her head. Billy was hunched over a notebook, sitting on the ground criss cross apple sauce. Jen was perched in a chair, taking a selfie as she chatted to Lilia. Alice was slumped against one wall, arm resting on the top of a bent knee, listening in. Agatha, the one your eyes alighted on first, was in front of a mirror, leaning forward as her fingertip brushed over her lower lip.

“Hi,” you said, hoping to break through the tension in your stomach, “great show.”

Everyone liked compliments. Starting out on the right foot might let you in on some of the secrets behind the curtain. Everyone knew the band, everyone had heard the stories. You wanted to know the truth.

“Thanks,” Billy said, glancing up for only a moment before he went back to his notebook.

“You going to give us a good review?” Rio asked.

“I’m thinking about it,” you replied, “but I’d love to get some behind the scenes flavour.”

“You want the tea,” Billy drawled.

“Be nice,” Agatha said, before her eyes met yours in the mirror, “we’re here to make friends.”

“You don’t make friends,” Jen said.

That piqued your interest.

“What does she make?” you asked.

“Don’t listen to her. I’m very friendly,” Agatha purred.

You met her gaze again, trying not to let it show on your face how intrigued that comment made you. You were there on a job. You had to remain professional. There was no chance you’d be letting yourself be taken in by her, not when keeping your wits about you was necessary. And you thought it would be very necessary around her. She seemed like the kind of person who charmed her way into getting what she wanted.

The way her eyes swept over you made you think that in that moment she wanted you.

“What do you want from us?” Alice asked, sounding more tired than the rest of them. Just looking at her she seemed exhausted. Her hair stuck to her skin from the sweat still glistening on her forehead.

“Not much. I’m just going to hang out for half an hour, see what you’re like.” Honesty seemed like the best route with her, “then I’ll leave you be and I’ll go write up my article.”

“No interviews?” she asked.

“Nope,” you said.

“And this is all off the record?” she asked.

“I’m just here to see what you’re like as a group,” you said, “nothing else. I didn’t even bring any of my recording equipment.”

“Except your phone,” Rio drawled.

“I’ll hand it over for the half hour I’m here,” you said, pulling it out of your pocket.

A warm hand closed around yours, lingering before it pulled the phone from your grip. Glancing up, you found Agatha had managed to sneak up on you, close enough that you could see each individual eyelash. Your breath stuttered, not used to having someone so magnetic focusing all their power on you.

“I’ll keep this safe for you,” she murmured.

“I’m sure you will.”

A twinkle in her eye let you know you were walking a dangerous line. You were getting too close to flirting. And not in order to get her to open up and reveal more than she might want to. No, this was purely because you wanted to.

You could understand why so many people were clamouring to meet her.

You stepped around her, the space necessary for you to keep your head in her presence. Leaving the phone in her hand, you perched on edge of one of the tables, staring out at the group. Agatha’s hips swayed as she sauntered over, lowering into the seat by your hip with a flick of her hair.

“What did you think of the show?” Lilia asked.

“You’re all very talented. I’ve never been to one of your shows before,” you said, turning your attention to their small grouping.

“So we popped your cherry tonight?” Agatha asked, her chin coming to rest in the palm of her hand, gazing up at you from under eyelashes.

“That’s one way to phrase it,” you said, offering her a tight smile.

“Play nice,” Rio warned.

“I’m always nice,” she said, her hand landing on your thigh, “aren’t I being nice?”

You watcher her tongue run along her lower lip, painted red, white teeth flashing at you. Your own lips parted.

“Very nice,” you whispered.

Her hand squeezed your thigh and a flush of heat went through you. She was still gazing up at you with smouldering eyes, hand burning through the denim of your jeans. You had to drag your eyes away from her, physically stopping yourself from looking at her.

“You enjoyed yourself then?” Lilia asked, ignoring whatever it was Agatha was doing to you.

“I’ve had a very enjoyable evening,” you replied, trying to slip back into professionalism.

“No need for it to end so soon,” Agatha said, snatching your attention back.

She was the definition of temptation. Leaning into your body, her hand still on your thigh, climbing higher, her shirt open down to her navel giving you quite the eyeful from your position. You wanted to lick a long line between those breasts. You bet she tasted like heaven.

“There’s nothing stopping us from continuing it after this little meeting,” she said, voice lowering into a seductive purr.

“That would hardly be professional,” you said.

“You’ll be off the clock,” she said, leaning closer, “nothing but two people getting to know each other better.”

“You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?” you asked as you lowered your head towards her.

The loud cackle startled you. Jerking away, you found Rio laughing, head tipped back, almost wild in her delight. The glower that passed over Agatha’s face was fascinating before she smoothed it over, offering you a pleasant smile. Billy’s eye roll felt natural, like something he’d done plenty of times before.

You doubted you were the first one Agatha had tried to seduce after a show.

“Why haven’t you ever been to one of our shows before?” Jen asked, glancing up from her phone.

You weren’t sure how to answer it without admitting you weren’t exactly a fan of theirs. Not that you hated their music, just that you’d never been particularly invested in it.

“Probably because journalists aren’t paid that much,” Billy said.

“They’re paid enough,” Alice said.

“Leave her be. She’s under no obligation to spend her money on us,” Agatha said, hand slipping up your thigh another inch.

“Maybe I’ll have to come see another. I had no idea you put on such a fun show,” you said.

“No need to stroke our egos. Just tell us what you really think,” Rio said.

You considered her a moment that stretched out as you held eye contact with her. You weren’t sure you liked being so seen, especially by a stranger.

“Your music is fine,” you said, “it’s just not my favourite.”

“And what is your favourite?” Agatha asked, voice turning sultry, as if asking something far more interesting than your taste in music.

“A closely guarded secret from those I’m writing articles about,” you replied.

Her head tipped back as she laughed, full and throaty, the kind that made you wonder if this was the truth or another performance to make you like her. You had to admit, it was working on you.

“Well, now I definitely have to get you off the clock, hon,” she said.

Standing, her other hand landed on the other thigh, pushing you up to sit properly on the table. She stepped between your knees, fingers dragging up your legs, turning your brain fuzzy. Your chin tilted up, an automatic response to your position. Her gaze darkened, focusing on your mouth for longer than was appropriate.

“This is definitely not professional,” you said, voice whisper quiet.

“Fuck professional,” she said, “you already know what you’re going to write. This is just between you and me.”

“And the rest of us you’re forcing to watch this pathetic attempt at seduction,” Billy drawled.

Your cheeks heated, becoming aware of the audience to your embarrassment. Eyes were turned towards the two of you, watching. You shook your head, pushing Agatha back. Sliding onto your feet you looked around.

“Well, you’re right about one thing,” you said, “I already know what I’m going to write. Thank you all for your time.”

Offering a tight smile, you turned on your heels and fled out of the room. Cursing your own stupidity, you beat a retreat towards the exit, wanting to get home and not linger on the way that woman had made you feel with so little effort. There had to be something wrong with you to lose your head so quickly. You were trained better than that.

It wasn’t until someone fell into step beside you that you became aware of the sound of heels on the concrete floor following you. You glanced over, unsurprised when the smirking face of Agatha was looking back. You sighed, slowing your pace until you’d stopped just feet from the exit.

“You left in rather a hurry there, hon,” she said.

“I don’t want to keep you from whatever after party you had planned,” you replied.

“It’ll be no celebration without you there,” she said.

She took a step towards you and you took an answering one back. Her lips pulled up into a small smile, doing it again. When your back hit the wall, you realised you’d made a mistake. You’d let her corner you, alone, when the only thing you wanted was space to screw your head back on right.

“You left your phone,” she whispered, hand landing beside your head against the wall.

“Oh. Right. Thanks,” you said.

A hand slid into the back pocket of your jeans. Your breath hitched and a look of pride passed over her face. Her body slotted along yours, the hand on your ass pulling you closer, hips aligning in a way that made your thoughts scatter. Her nose ran along your jawline before her lips pressed to the vulnerable place behind your jaw. The noise you made as embarrassing, want and shame mingling together.

“Come celebrate with me,” she murmured into your skin.

There wasn’t any question about denying her request.

Her hotel room was almost clinical, all white sheets and bright lights. Clothes spilled out of multiple suitcases, flung over the couch and the bed. Agatha pushed them aside, uncaring when they fell to the floor as she reached for you.

You fell onto the bed in the cage of her arms, her lips finding yours in a searing kiss. The entire trip back to the hotel had been a masterclass in foreplay. Her hands had wandered as she whispered dirty things in your ear. Her lips would barely brush your skin and you’d shiver in the back of the car, leaning into her as she made you whimper for her touch.

Her tongue swept into your mouth, making you groan, legs curling around her hips. Her hands weren’t careful as they dragged down your body, pushing up underneath your shirt, nails scraping over your skin. You arched up into her touch, offering yourself to her.

Dragging the shirt from your body, she sat back for a moment, eyes tracing over your exposed chest. Fingers tangling in her hair, you pulled her back down, kissing her long and deep. Her hands were swift to divest you of the bra you were wearing, leaving you bare to her touch.

Her lips trailed down your body, your gasp only making her smile into your skin. Her tongue traced around one nipple, fingertips mirroring her movements on the other. You arched into her mouth, fingers tightening in her hair, pressing her to you, refusing to let her go. You were gasping her name. Blue eyes found yours, burning with lust, watching the way you responded to her.

You dragged her back up, kissing her, needing her in a very fundamental way. She laughed into your mouth, hands stroking over your skin. Rolling her, you straddled her waist, staring down at her. So much skin on display and yet not nearly enough. Ducking down, you did as you’d been thinking about since seeing her, running your tongue from navel to neck. Her groan was filthy, wriggling beneath you.

You were careful as you peeled the clothes from her body, lavishing attention on every new inch of skin you revealed. She squirmed, her voice raspy as she told you to get on with it. Grinning up from between her thighs, you waited for the sharp tug on your hair.

Her hips canted up into your mouth as you devoured her. Even in pleasure, she was musical, the noises she was making a symphony to your ears. Your hands held her legs open, refusing to let them close around your head, wanting her wider to get deeper, to hear the deep moans you could draw from her. Her hand was forcing you harder against her, rocking against your face.

You let her use you however she wanted. Her pleasure only made the throbbing between your own legs worse. Staring up her body, you watched as her lips parted, her hand working at her own breast.

She wasn’t quiet as she came, the noise loud, ringing in your ears as you lapped at her. You could spend hours there, doing this over and over again. This was a better show than the one she’d put on earlier that night, far more compelling to you. She hissed as you kept going, wanting to see it again.

With a grip stronger than you were expecting, she pulled you away, throwing you back down onto the mattress. She crawled up your body, lips trailing kisses up your bare skin, making you whimper. It was inconceivable how she made you feel with such simple actions.

She tugged your jeans off, a flurry of movement that had you pressing a hand to your eyes, squeezing shut when you felt her fingers on your wet heat. A featherlight touch circling over your clit had you whimpering, wanting more, ready to beg for it.

“Stay right there,” she whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

You watched as she stood from the bed, gloriously naked, uncaring and confident in her own body. Your own fingers slipped down your body, brushing over your clit, watching as she rummaged through her luggage. She glanced over her shoulder, watching for a moment, eyes darkening as she focused on your hand.

“You’re too fucking gorgeous, you know that right?,” she said before going back to whatever she was doing.

When your finger slipped in, your eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh on your lips. Some relief was better than nothing. You were beyond ready for an orgasm of your own.

Fingers curled around your ankles, startling you. Your hand fell away from your hot cunt, staring at the sight of Agatha at the foot of the bed. More importantly, you were staring at the heavy purple strap bobbing between her legs.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re ruined for anyone else,” she told you, her hold tightening on your ankle.

“Better get on with it then,” you said, feigning a cockiness you couldn’t feel in your breathless state.

Her chuckle was warm, throaty, making you reach for her. She fell over you, kissing you deeply until all thoughts fled. You didn’t even notice as her hands manhandled you until her lips disconnected from yours. Positioned on your hands and knees, her lips trailed down your spine, making you whine. Her hands were palming at your ass as she took her time, uncaring of how you were trying to wiggle closer.

“You’re dripping, hon,” she groaned before her teeth sunk into one cheek.

You pressed back into her, your own moan loud to your ears. Her tongue soothed over the mark before she rose. One hand on your hips steadied her as the other curled around your body, running through your folds. Whimpering, you looked over your shoulder.

“Are you ready for me?” she asked just as her finger pressed down on your clit.

“Yes,” you whimpered, “please.”

“Say it again,” she commanded.

“Please.”

The tip of her strap nudged at your entrance.

“Again.”

“Please.”

She pushed in, both hands grasping your hips, rough and demanding as she slid in to the hilt. Her name was nothing but a moan, your own hips pressing back into her. She was slow as she pulled out before thrusting forward again.

“Look at how well you take me,” she murmured, “you make such a pretty sight.”

One of her hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head up from where it had fallen forward. Staring back at you was your own image, a mirror placed in the perfect position to show you as she thrust into you. Your mouth fell open, watching your two bodies move together.

Her hands were back on your hips, throwing back her wild hair as she increased the pace of her thrusts. You couldn’t stop watching, not realising how much of a turn it would be to watch yourself get fucked by the rock star. Her grip was tight, almost painful, as she began to pound into you.

You were a babbling mess, begging for more, enamoured by the sight of the two of you. Her burning eyes found yours in the mirror, locking on, refusing to let you look away. Your internal walls were beginning to flutter, your desperation obvious. She grinned, slowing down her pace, making you whine like the brat you knew you could be.

“I should bring you on tour with me,” she said, tortuous slow thrusts keeping you on the edge but not enough to push you over, “you’re such a good stress relief toy.”

“Agatha,” you groaned.

“I could do this every night,” she said.

“Please.” You tried to press back into her faster than she wanted. The tight grip she had on your hips kept you in place.

“Would you like to come with us?” she asked.

You nodded your head, knowing it was ridiculous, knowing there was no chance you’d be joining her on the tour. But the thought of having more of this, to be given this every night for months on end, was one that you wanted desperately. You wanted to be owned by her, to be her bitch, to submit to her until you forgot your own name.

Her pace increased agains until she was slamming into you, the slap of skin loud in the room as you moaned like the whore she made you. Right before your orgasm hit, your elbows gave you, sending you face first into the mattress, giving her an angle that let her hit deeper within you. Her name was a strangled gasp and then you were clamping down on her strap, lost in the feeling of fire in your veins and pleasure rocketing through your body. Her slow stroks eased you through it before she finally pulled completely from you.

Rolling onto your back, you stared up at the ceiling, gasping for breath. You passed a hand over your face, overwhelmed by how good it had been. A quick fuck with a one night stand wasn’t meant to rock your world quite the way Agatha had. You listened as she did something by the edge of the mattress.

The bed dipped as she drew closer. She swooped down, kissing you long and deep and dirty, making you curl your arms around her waist. Repositioning you to curl against her side as she lent against the headboard, she was slow to draw away, hand stroking along your ribs.

“We’re leaving for the next stop on the tour tomorrow morning,” she said.

You knew this song. Sitting up, you pulled out of her hold.

“Right, yeah, of course,” you said, “well, thank you for the celebration.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, arms wrapping around your waist, front pressed to your back.

“Home?” you said, unsure what was going on. This was not how your usual one night stands went.

“I suppose you will have to pack but it’s late. Do that tomorrow,” she said, lips pressing to your bare shoulders, turning you back into liquid heat.

“Pack?” you asked while your brain could still produce thoughts that weren’t just about the feel of her against you.

“You’ll need things while you’re on tour with us,” she replied, a whisper into your skin.

“On tour? I can’t drop everything and follow you around the country,” you said, turning in her arms to look at her properly.

Her long fingers pushed your hair out of your face but her lips were pursed in displeasure. Your fingertips ran along her collarbone, feeling the way the bone shifted under her skin as she shifted away from you.

“You said you wanted to come with me,” she said.

“I thought… I thought it was just a heat of the moment request,” you said, peering into her eyes.

“I don’t ask every beautiful woman I fuck to join me on the road,” she said.

“You seriously want me to go with you?”

Her hands on your waist pulled you closer until you were straddling her lap. Your fingers pushed into her hair, tangling in it, tilting her face up towards you.

“Come with me, hon,” she said, “join me on the road.”

You felt crazy for actually considering it.

“I’ll have to talk to my boss,” you said.

“Of course,” she said.

“I can’t lose my job,” you said, “and fair warning but I don’t exactly have any savings.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of you,” she said.

You considered her for a moment before you nodded your head. She brightened, your smile answering hers. You lent down, kissing her again, feeling insane for agreeing but not sure you could stop yourself even if you’d wanted to. There was something about Agatha Harkness that made you want to do things you knew you shouldn’t.

But you sensed it would be worth it.

[pascals-doll]

candy

ellie williams x reader

🫧 happy valentines day to all my beautiful followers | enjoy this vday special 🩷 am i uploading this ar midnight because a bitch had classes and work yes but its valentines (was technically) IM GGONNA WRITE AN ELLIE FIC 🧘‍♀️

🫧 inspired by the song candy by doja cat | bed of roses PT2

🫧 description: fluffy, cute surprises, reader knows how to know paint a bit, just fluff, cute fluff,ellie sings to you (i took the scene from the game because i cherish it sm) smut, SLUT SMUT💋, power dynamic, dom!ellie, sub!reader, you and ellie live together, reader is PUSSYHUNGRY (mmm im so- i would do anything for that tsunami), reader eats out ellie on stairs (you’re welcome), fingering, praises, no use of y/n, use of petnames like doll, mama, and good girl, very little degradation, hair pulling, clit sucking, face grinding, cum eating, just ellie getting eaten so good! enjoy

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

but you know that it ain't real cherry

know that it ain't real cherry

🫧

it was valetines day today which meant ellie got to spoil you rotten; it is very well- deserved.

you would always be very thoughtful with your gifts.

this valentines day, you sneakily woke up around 1 AM and worked until dawn on customizing a wooden workstation that you got her for her artwork.

you knew you had work in the morning but you would do anything for the woman who’s protected you, provided for you, and pleased you.

you painted the workstation very carefully a dark earth-green. you let each coat of paint dry before beginning to carefully paint details on it.

you were going to paint symbols for each of her favorite memories onto it. you took references from her own beautiful drawings.

one of the details you painted were the beginning of Joel’s; now her guitar, painting even the moth.

one of the guitar strings then ran around the whole work-station, dragging the brush till the end.

you began to draw small moths and different flowers with herbs carefully placing them along the string line.

lastly, finishing it up by drawing a silhouette of the both of your bodies intertwined, then painting an outline of ellie’s knife and joel’s gun side by side on the side of her workbench.

once you were done, you carved both of your initials into the side of the workbench.

you transfered all of her essentials from the small broken down drawers; that could barely hold up to her made with so much love customized workstation.

you made your way back into your shared warm bed, careful not to wake up ellie.

sunrise made its way into the sky, ellie waking up now as you now slept.

ellie noticed you got up in the middle of the night, searching for your warmth but she shrugged it off before knocking into slumber again.

ellie got up very quietly, planting a kiss on your head before heading into her work room to get her guitar.

she walked into her art room, stepping as she scans the room. she immediately stopped in her steps, her eyes falling onto your beautiful workstation.

ellie’s heart pounds outside of her chest, tears wanting to form in her hazel eyes as a rush of emotions take over her.

she walks around the small wooden dark-green station, her handing brushing it softly as she takes in your designs.

she couldnt help but think about although you had work sadly on valetines day, you still did this for her.

this was bigger than the world to ellie.

you were the most perfect girl and if one thing was for certain, ellie would be spending an eternity of valetine’s day with you.

🫧

I can be your sugar when you're fiendin' for that sweet spot

Put me in your mouth, baby, and eat it 'til your teeth rot

I can be your cherry, apple, pecan,

or your key lime

Baby, I got everything and so much more than she's got

you were now currently at work, you hated how you got called in today.

you asked ellie if she was going to be good with you going to work today, in which she responded by pulling down your panties.

lets just say, you had a very pleasant morning before going into work.

while you were away at work, ellie got to work on her surprise because eating your cum for breakfast wasn’t enough.

she went to almost all the floral shops she could, selling them out of their pink and red roses.

ellie covered the entryway with petals, even the staircase that leads upstairs, and leading all the way up into your room.

the living room, she had a fairy lights hung along with pink lit candles on the ground.

ellie had a huge case of flowers waiting for you, wrapped in the arrangement of your inital.

that was only the downstairs, your room was filled with more surprises.

your shared bed was covered in rose petals, a couple small gifts waiting for you while your surprise gift was tucked away by ellie.

ellie finished up any last miniute preparations before you came home from work.

she changed from her pj shirt and boyshorts from this morning to a flannel with a black-tee and some baggy shorts that exposed her Calvin Klein lining.

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

But you know that it ain't real cherry, know that it ain't real cherry

She's just like candy, she's so sweet (She's so sweet)

But you know that it ain't real, know that it ain't real

🫧

you came home a bit exhausted but excited because you picked up a teddy bear that held a heart with the writing “i love u” on it from a street vendor, leaving your job.

once you made it home, beginning to turn the keys to step through your front door.

you open the door to see your beautiful auburn-hair girlfriend.

she was sitting there on your shared loveseat, her beautiful fingers strumming her guitar.

the melodious tone from the strums of her guitar strumming the song your love for each other shares.

she began to sing softly “talking away” your hand cant help but go ovee your mouth as you felt tears begin to form.

the sound of her silky voice singing through your ears, making your heart pound and face hot.

“today’s another day to find you”

you could listen to ellie sing for the rest of your life, tears were already streaming down your face. ellie couldn’t look you in the eyes while she sang because if she did, she wouldn’t be able to finish.

you made her heart go a million miles per minute like a schoolgirl crush.

you made her stomach flutter like she was born with a butterfly nest inside her.

you made her soul shine like the sun after never-ending rain.

ellie finished serenating you, putting her guitar down

she finally looked up at you, clutching a teddy bear with tears streaming down your face.

before ellie could say anything, you ran into her arms; immediately taking you in to her embrace.

this was a feeling words couldn’t express, but only actions.

your heart felt like it was going to pop out of your chest with the clash of ellie’s lips onto yours.

you weren’t alone with ellie barely being able to catch her breath but so desperate for you.

the way your lips moved with such hasty movement but yet still passionately and amorously.

you began to walk towards the staircase, lips not leaving a moment. your eyes slightly opening time to time to make sure you were guiding you and ellie correctly.

“all i wanted-“ you began but were interrupted by her lips again.

“all day was to” ellie pulled away momentarily to let you continue.

“come home to this” you whined out against her lips, your tongue slightly licking over them.

🫧

Sugar coated, lies unfolded, you still lick the wrapper

It's addictive, you know this, but you still lick the wrapper

Sugar coated, lies unfolded, you still lick the wrapper

It's addictive, you know this, but you still lick the wrapper

you were fillied with arousal and need to please as you dropped to your knees…on the staircase. you could careless at this given moment.

your hands ran through her back, feeling each crevess of each toned muscle, then coming back around to her arms.

you gave her strong-toned arms a soft squeeze before having them go up to her chest. you needed to have her.

“doll i got a surprise in the room, lets-” ellie begins but you didn’t care.

“no” you said, looking her in the eyes as you unzip and unbutton her shorts “right here, right now” you whine out, pulling down ellie shorts completely.

ellie would be lying if she said you dying to eat her out on each other’s staircase wasn’t the hottest thing, especially on fucking valentine’s day.

it was you, how could she deny you.

“that desperate, mama?” she teases you as you peck her toned abdomen. you gave her a slight whimper as you nod.

she brings herself down to sit on the stairs, grabbing you by your jaw to pull you in for a kiss.

your lips meet again, your hand traveling down into her boxers immediately feeling seeping slick cunt “you drive me insane” you moan out, your mind was so drunk by her.

she had you high on her scent, taste, look, and touch. anything ellie did could have you on your knees, just like this.

your fingers begin to rub her clit in circular motion causing her breathing to hitch and soft moans of content escape her mouth as your lips travel down to her neck.

you begin to suck on the skin as your fingers massaged her clit, slightly putting pressure here and there causing ellie to let out gentle-yet-loud groan.

ellie’s hips began to rise to meet your hand “my beautiful doll-s’good f’me” she mumbled under her breathy moans.

you were sure you left her a purpletrail from her neck leading into her shoulder before going down a couple more steps.

you waste no time in pulling off her boxers, meeting with her wet pussy “s’pretty els, i love you.” you were just completely dazed by ellie at this point, wanting to please her and have her taste on you for days.

“you gonna drool or eat up, doll?” ellie smirks, she knew the effect she had on you and it made you fiend to please her even more.

your hands go to spread her thighs open a bit more before diving your head in between her legs. you met face to face with her juiced pussy, her slick coating your tongue as you lick a stripe.

“ah fuck, doll!” ellie moans out, her hips slightly bucking against your face as her hand had a grip on your hair.

the way you were on your knees on these steps buried into ellie’s pussy, your tongue collects her juices as you begin to swirl your tongue around her clit sucking softly.

she tasted just like candy, you grab her one of her thighs, hooking it up to balance on your shoulder.

the wider angle made her throw her head back “s’fuck doll! just like that. eat it just like that.” her vile voice praising the way you took the way she slopped her pussy against your tongue.

ellie began to work herself towards her orgasm on your tongue, her hand following the movement of your head.

you ate her out like this was your last meal, not wanting to let a single drop “god fuck-y-you’re insane!” she whined out as you worked you fucked her with yout tongue.

ellies stomach stomach flexes, her toned abdomen becoming more prominent as her breathy moans turn into pants and loud gutteral moans as you took your free hand; licking her asshole all the way up to her clit.

“fuck fuck fuck, doll! s’such a good girl” ellie’s hand swore she could’ve pulled your hair our by now but you could careless, the only thing on your mind was making this woman cum.

she deserved the way you ate her with delight, completely letting her use your face for her orgasm.

your nails dig into her thigh as you feel yourself slowly loosing your breath; but you were not leaving till she had came all over your face.

“s’close god! youre such a fuckin’ slut f’me.” her orgasm finally riding out.

“atta girl, lick it all up again.” she praises, pulling you back up from her pussy to her lips, tasting herself momentarily before her hand finds the back of your head guiding you to the white cum-beed that seaped out of her now fucked-out hole.

you licked her from asshole up, completely picking up her cum onto the tip on tongue causing you moan out as your lips were wrapped around her.

once you pulled away meeting her eyes, her cum covering your lips causing your face to glisten lightly.

“you’re a demon” ellie brings you into her embrace on the stairs.

“its not my fault you’re my favorite candy”

🫧

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

But you know that it ain't real cherry, know that it ain't real cherry

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

a/n > part 2 ??? 😇

[edenesth]

The Captain's Favourite

Pairing: captain!Hongjoong x doctor!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

'Crazy Form' Comeback Special Series | Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho |

ATEEZ Masterlist

Struggling to steady your laboured breath, you pressed a trembling hand against the stab wound beneath your chest. Blinking rapidly, you attempted to regain clarity in your vision. From what you could discern, it seemed like the injury might not involve a vital organ, offering a glimmer of reassurance.

However, the stark reality hit hard – you were the sole medical professional on board.

You were always the one attending to the health of your fellow crewmates and never the one in need of medical attention. That all changed abruptly during the unexpected ambush launched by a rival pirate crew.

They strategically targeted a crucial member of the crew before escalating the assault further. The rationale was clear – if the ship's only medical personnel was incapacitated, who would attend to the wounded? Save for the captain, you were the next most important person on the vessel.

But the enemy was also aware you were so much more than just a doctor, "There she is, Captain Hongjoong's favourite. Get her," were the chilling words that you heard before feeling the sharp pain of a dagger piercing your abdomen.

The duration of the battle became a haze, with moments of consciousness slipping in and out as you observed, through blurred vision, your crewmates fighting back fiercely to defend your ship and all the treasures within.

The fight finally ended when your captain impaled the rival leader directly in the heart. Hongjoong, visibly exhausted, let out a weary exhale as he dropped his sword, "Take him and go, the rest of you. If you don't wish to join him in the afterlife." He commanded.

The rival pirates hastily moved to remove their leader's lifeless form from your ship without having to be told twice. It took no time for Captain Hongjoong to scan the surroundings anxiously, his heart racing as he searched for you.

"Wh-where is she—"

Before he could finish the sentence, he noticed what seemed to be your boots tucked away in a corner, cleverly concealed behind barrels. The enemy had evidently gone to great lengths to ensure you wouldn't be discovered until it was too late.

Without wasting a moment, he sprinted towards you, pushing all the obstacles out of his way with newfound strength fueled by desperation. His eyes widened, feeling his heart lurch at the sight of the red staining your shirt and your pale complexion.

"No, no, no, no, no, don't you dare leave me!" Hongjoong screamed, gently pulling you into his arms, "Hey, look at me. I'm your captain, and I order you not to close your eyes."

However, no amount of commanding could mend your injuries, and he was acutely aware of that fact. Time blurred as he urgently directed his crew to transport you to the nearest town without delay. Losing you was not an option he was willing to entertain.

Drawing on his experience from observing you tend to injured crewmates countless times, the captain applied pressure and bandaged your wound to minimise the bleeding until you could receive proper medical treatment.

Upon arriving at the closest town, you were swiftly taken to a medical facility, where Hongjoong fought to catch his breath as they gently took you from his arms, "Don't worry, we'll take care of her," He gave the medical staff a firm glare, "You better."

The nurse nodded nervously, motioning for him to wait by the available bench. Everyone in the facility recognised him; it was the very place he had taken you away from many years ago. As a woman, you had been denied the chance to prove yourself despite being an apprentice there.

That changed the day Hongjoong arrived, bloodied and in need of help.

With all the doctors unavailable, you, the only trainee present, seized the opportunity to showcase your skills by treating the pirate captain.

While he rested after you tended to his injury, Hongjoong overheard a conversation between you and your superior. Rather than receiving praise for your competent work, you were berated for not adhering to the rules and taking matters into your own hands.

Enraged by what he heard, he proposed taking you in as the crew doctor. Despite being aware of his pirate status, you agreed because no one had recognised and acknowledged your skills the way he did.

As time passed, you'd grown to harbour feelings for one another. Though neither of you openly admitted to them, the entire crew was well aware of the captain's undeniable affection for you. They often wondered when Hongjoong would muster the courage to confess.

You were used to him always watching out for you; he would go to great lengths, even pretending to be unwell just to stay near you. He'd reprimand other crewmates for inconveniencing you with their minor issues; a total hypocrite himself. It was hard for you to not realise the fact that he was clearly favouring you, especially when everyone aboard has been calling you 'the captain's favourite' since day one.

Except he would always be in denial whenever teased about it, despite his actions proving completely otherwise.

Now, waiting anxiously, he regretted not revealing his feelings sooner. The thought of you potentially dying without knowing his love haunted him. Reflecting on missed opportunities, he questioned why he hadn't uttered those three words earlier. What was holding him back? What was he so afraid of?

After what felt like an eternity, he was finally allowed to see you. Entering the room where you rested, he held his breath until relief flooded over him at the sight of your chest rising and falling steadily. He sat beside you, gently holding your hand to his face and pressing his lips against your palm, "Oh, thank god, you're okay."

Tears streamed down his face silently, oblivious to the fact that you'd awakened to his sobs. You smiled weakly, moving your fingers to wipe his wet cheeks, "Who would've thought? The mighty Captain Hongjoong is crying for me."

His head shot up immediately, a tearful chuckle escaping him and he nodded, "That's right. Do you see the power you have over me?" Taking a deep breath, he decided it was now or never, "I love you so much, you know that? You mean the world to me."

You nodded, "I love you too, captain. Thought you'd never admit it."

Leaning in, he kissed your lips softly, "I'll tell you I love you every day now if I have to. And I refuse to let anything like this happen again. You're moving to my quarters at once."

If you thought he was joking, you were mistaken. Things were about to change drastically. Consider yourself promoted from crew doctor to the captain's most valuable treasure, as if you weren't already.

Now that we have Prince San, General Seonghwa, and Captain Hongjoong, I'm still contemplating what other roles to assign to the rest of the members.

Anyway, really hope you're all enjoying these imagines. Thanks for reading, and as always, let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[jesuistrestriste]

Missing the Mike Faist priest kink era 😭 still wait for the«  see you in the next Wednesday service » ahaha I’m wondering if the locals suspects their relation or not( do they see each other outside his service ?)( Is he jealous when he sees other guys flirting with her before his church service starts ? ) 👀

OH MY GOD

an ask about "kneel" ???? im gonna cry

no let's talk about it because i never did a pt. 2 or anything

i think that a majority of the locals don't really suspect that the reader is messing around with the priest (they idolize him + see him as a nonsexual figure), but they do look down on her b/c of her visible promiscuity (i.e. the hickies and etc.)

they might notice her wearing shorter skirts to services, and crossing her legs/squeezing her thighs together incessantly throughout his sermons. someone might even catch a glimpse of soft bruises and red handprints on her ass after she bends over to pick something up in front of them the day after mass. and they're like omg? what is this young lady getting herself into? and who in this town could stand to do such vile, obscene things to her body? (as if it's not their precious priest)

i dont think they see each other outside of services/the church b/c they dont want to risk drawing attention to their "special, secret relationship". but! he does give her his phone number and she calls him sometimes when she thinks too much about him and gets wet :( he has talked the reader through touching herself on multiple occasions. tons of verbally guided masturbation over the phone as she lays on her bed, her hand between her legs, with an opened bible next to her. yeah.

he had gifted her that bible after the second time they had sex. not necessarily to indoctrinate her into the religion, but to give her a representation of something that was important to him. it was his subtle way of trying to connect with her. but it kinda backfired b/c now she gets hot and flushed when she reads the words "God" and "peace" and "faith". he basically pavlov's dog'd her. classically conditioned.

because she lost her virginity to him, she's definitely very attached. she tells him that she isn't, but its a total lie and he knows it too. she gets jealous when women, young or old (doesn't matter), come up to him after services all smiley and ready to talk to him about their problems. reader usually gets red in the face and pouts in the back pew as she watches their interactions closely. she worries a lot that she isn't the only person in the town that the priest is intimate with, but she is. he's fairly attached to her too. and because she's a pretty young woman, divorced dads and older teen boys will often try to flirt with her before the priest's regularly scheduled homily, and he has to gather all the restraint in his body not to insert himself between you and them.

they are very cute + sacrilegious. ugh.

[katiascraft]

✐ᝰ "You knew all too well i was right where you left me" | CL16 ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊

parings: retired!charles leclerc x writer!ex!reader

🔎 chapter one: "love is short but forgetting is so long"

chapter two: “did the love affair maim you too?” -> chapter three

summary: It’s the story of a woman frozen in the moment her world fell apart. A perfect dinner ended with, “I met someone else,” and while everyone moved on, she remained stuck in that instant, unable to let go of the past. A poignant tale of heartbreak, grief, and the weight of being trapped in a “forever” that never was.

word count: +4,5k.

BLOG MASTERLIST - series masterlist

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

It's been a few crazy days for you. After what happened last time, it took you a few days to go back to the last flower cafe to write. You preferred writing in your studio at home. You had a comfy balcony with a lovely view of the Monaco sea. So you just took inspiration from it to write another chapter of your book. 

Seeing Charles confused you. You didn't know what to think or how to feel about it. You got scared you would see him again. But at the same time, you wanted to see him again. 

It felt confusing because you knew it wasn't right for you or the best to see him again, or wanting to or whatever. But even if he broke your psyche the way he did, you couldn't stop thinking about the what ifs. 

What if this time works? What if he was immature but he is worth it? What if this time is better? What if he feels the same way you do? What if he says he’s sorry? What if you forgive him?

All of those questions filled the fire to write. Writedown all of the what ifs as it was reality for your character. Maybe in this fictional life, you two have your happy ending.  

Your writing process was interrupted by your bestie phone call that you, of course, picked up. “Hey” you could hear the kids scream as if you were there.

“Are you coming to pick the kids up?” she asked, remembering you, you promised her to take them to have ice cream and for a walk. You facepalm. You forgot about it.

“Oh sorry, A. Yeah,of course. I’ll pick them up in 30 minutes. I’m sorry, i forgot” you apologised starting to walk towards your bedroom to get change. You still have your pajamas on. 

“It’s okay y/n. I knew you would probably forget that’s why I called. They will be ready when you get here. Thank you, i love you” you said i love you back and ended the call. 

You chose to wear a tracksuit, trainers and a coat. It was really cold this year in particular. But you loved it. You weren’t a fan of summer that much. You preferred snow and hot chocolate. Cuddling in bed to keep yourself warm. And playing cards near the chimney. You Loved autumn and winter, it made you feel special. 

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

So today was the day, the day he probably would become officially single. Charles really hated the divorce process. It was a very painful one. He had, once again, broken another woman’s heart. He wasn't proud of it but he really wanted to do things the right way from now on. No more bullshit. No more feeling guilty of the past, tied to it as if he had to pay for everything. So 6 months ago he communicated it to Alex, it was really heavy on the heart scene. He felt like an actual monster. However, he started therapy. He was starting to understand himself more and learning to forgive himself for every decision he took that maybe wasn’t the best, but he didn't know better. He was young and about to become one of the most successful drivers in formula one. He thought he knew what he was doing to then realize he actually didn't at all. 

He started his day journaling. He tried to write something but all he could do was drawing your face. That image he couldn't stop seeing every time he closed his eyes. He felt scared about it but he let himself follow along. It was best to try to take you out of his mind in some way. Then after breakfast he decided to play some piano and record new parts of a new piece he was working on. He sent it to his producer and drove to Carlos' house to have lunch together. Lando was also there. They all chatted and enjoyed barbeque at Carlos’ beach house. 

And at that moment, talking in the living room, something changed. 

“Yeah, I don't know. I think she is a writer. I always see her on the balcony surrounded by multiple sheets of papers and a computer. Or maybe she is a translator or something I don't know but she is cute, you know? Maybe you can hit on her lando " Carlos commented while serving more wine to their cups.

“Do you follow her on instagram or something?” Lando asked for further information, apparently interested. Charles was zooming out thinking about you. 

“Oh no I don't, I don't even know her name but” Carlos opened his window curtains “yup, there she is” Carlos pointed to the balcony that was visible from there. Lando patted Charles' arm so the three of them could see through the window hoping the woman wouldn't notice them. 

“Oh my god” Charles almost fainted when he saw you there in your sherk pajamas drinking from an avengers cup (you didn't change that, though. You still are a geek for movies, superheroes, comics and books he guessed). Your balcony was quite close, the view was 4k. The guys who looked at Charles getting whiter, felt weirded out about his reaction.

“All right mate? I don't think she is that ugly, you know? I mean, she is fine as hell if you ask me and I'm not that into red hair” Lando said, checking on charles.

“Yeah, maybe she is too beautiful… now that he’s officially single” Carlos added.

Charles shook his head going back to the sofa.

“It’s y/N, carlos. y/n it’s your fucking neighbor. She was there all this time and i didnt fucking know. I don't know how I never bumped into her " Charles spitted with so much mixed feeling. Lando and Carlos looked at each other. Carlos closed the curtains before sitting along them.

“Mate, i didn't have a clue she could be y/N to be honest. I’ve never met her, "Carlos explained himself.

“Wait, who’s y/N? And why is she neighbors with you?” Lando was confused. For a moment he thought they were joking but Charles looked affected. He missed a part of Charles' story or something. The only woman he met was alexandra and she is officially out of his life.

“It’s his ex, like the one” Carlos explained to him but then Lando was even more confused. Charles noticed and with a sigh he explained the situation better in his opinion.

“y/n was my girlfriend during my f2 days. I left her for Alex but since that moment I regret it. It was like 10 years ago. "Lando's face expressed understanding with his mouth showing an ‘o’.

“So I guess I can't date her now, right?” Lando said, receiving a correcting punch on his arm by carlos. “Alright, alright” 

“I need to go guys, i got stuff to do” Charles said after a long silence and stood up ready to go. He Couldn't stay longer. He needed to breathe some air. He was scared. He actually hated feeling like that. Scared of what? Of her? Of himself? Of the truth? The truth that maybe he did indeed waste all of these years pretending to like his life when all he wanted to do was go back to her? Maybe. But the truth was too heavy to admit and process. 

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You were out with your nephews. It was a saturday afternoon, cold but the sun was shining bright. Between giggles you were walking with them to their favorite ice cream shop. 

Unfortunately, it was LEC ice cream. 

Benjamin and Renato were four years old, they were twins. And then there was Dante who was 6 years old. They were messy but today was a good day, they were chilling. They ran inside the ice cream shop all excited followed by you. You closed the door and they were already on the counter talking with the cashier. You smiled shyly. 

“good afternoon” you greeted her and she smiled back at you.

“Auntie, I want the chocolate one! It is always so yummy!” said Benjamin, excitedly grabbing your coat and pulling from it in desperation. He did a few little excited jumps as his twin. 

“No! Benjamin! I want the chocolate one!” Renato got mad at his brother. Their voices were so cute they made you giggle a bit. 

“It's alright boys, you both can get the chocolate one” you said, mediating between the siblings smiling at the cashier. She noted and went to look for them. “Dante, darling, which one do you want?” He was the shyest out of them all. He was so like your best friend, polite and collected. He looked at the flavour list on the wall. 

“I want the vanilla one, please” he talked directly to the cashier making you smile proudly.

“That’s my boy,” you said, congratulating him. Seeing him smile filled your heart full. You loved those three kids with your whole heart. You always get so emotional realising how fast they are growing. 

“Alright, gentlemen, here are your ice creams” the cashier said warmly and rounded the counter to give the ice cream to each one of them. You smiled watching the scene. They got shy but grabbed their ice creams anyway. 

“What do you say boys?” you looked at them gently. 

“Thank you very much” they said in unison, making the cashier smile widely. “go seat” you told them and they obeyed you. You got close to the cashier now in her seat on the counter. “How much is it?” you asked but before she could answer you, a voice, that fucking voice, interrupted.

“It’s on the house” you wanted to believe it was a dream and that it wasn’t real. But it was. It was charles. You turned to look at him a bit confused about the whole situation. He smiled at you again, the same way he did at the restaurant. You tried to play it cool, but you knew your smile and attitude were weird. 

“Oh, thank you. It wasn’t necessary” you said politely and he shook his head. 

“No problem, for real” he said and you half smiled in return. 

“Thank you” you say for both of them and went to sit with your boys at the sofa table they chose. You just didn't want to look at him that much nor you didn't know what to say. “Hey” you greeted them, and took some napkins from the table and cleaned the twins' faces full of chocolate. you smiled funny. Dante got closer to you while you were helping Benjamin clean his hands. 

“Auntie, is that the driver dad is a fan of?” he asked shyly close to you and really low so only you could hear him. 

“I think it is darling, would you like a picture with him?” you offer sweetly. He nods, smiling brightly. That made your heart race because you now have to talk to charles. You could hear him talking to his employees in a relaxed way. You could hear he came just to check in. 

You licked your lips nervously “i'll be right back, okay?” you tell the kids and stand up to walk right back to the counter. Your heart was racing. “Um, excuse me” you tried to capture his attention, and for sure you did. He looked at you immediately. His eyes found yours and you felt your heart skip a beat for a moment. “Sorry, but one of my nephews recognized you and I wanted to ask you if you could take a picture with him? Don't mean to bother you, of course,” you finally said. And you saw his face light up instantly. You were pretending you didn't know each other. You just played along without even mentioning it. You swallowed hard half smiling.

“Of course, no problem,” he said sweetly.

“Thank you” you said to him before getting to the kids.

“It's fine,” he assured you. 

You called Dante to come over and he came all shy. “Hey champ, is it good?” Charles was squatting to be on Dante's height. He talked really sweet to him. Dante stuck to you, intimidated to  have that awesome driver his dad loved so much. He nodded looking at him. “You wanna take a picture? I’ll be really happy to have one with you”  he said sweetly so Dante would loosen himself. He looked at me for aprovation. You just smiled and nodded at him excitedly. Dante then relaxed, nodding towards Charles in a huge smile. He gave him a hug and charles’ heart melted between the kid’s arms. 

They posed together and you took as many pictures as you could. And after cleaning Benjamin and Renato`s faces again, they also posed with charles. They started yapping with him and imitating car noises. They made you laugh for a bit. 

They got so excited, they gave Charles so many hugs. You played along so they can have a great moment to remember someday. You recorded some videos to send to your best friend agostina later, so she can have the memories. “My daddy loves you! He always screams to the tv ‘GOOO CHARLES GOOOO’ ” Dante commented imitating his dad in the funniest way making you laugh. “But he doesn't like Carlos that much, he prefers hamilton!”

“Oh wow, you are an expert in formula 1. Who’s your daddy?” Charles really engaged with your nephews. He even sat next to you so he could have a conversation with them. He got confused for a bit, he believed they were your children. But it didn't seem like that. 

“My dad is andrew and my mom is agostina, and she is auntie y/N” dante explained to charles the whole family dynamic in his way. You smiled nodding looking at Dante, then moved to see charles. He now understood the whole thing. You were their aunt. His heart melted for a moment. He didn't know what to say.

Benjamin asked you to grab him and you did. You sat him on your tights, and he was sleepy. You stroke his thin shiny hair gently as he pressed his head on your chest wanting to fall asleep. 

Charles looked at you with a half smile.

“I think it’s time to go home kids, mommy is waiting for you. It’s pizza night!” you told them funny and excited so they would get excited. Dante celebrated along with Renato doing a victory dance making you and Charles let out a laugh.

“Let me give you a ride, that baby wants to sleep,” Charles offered sweetly, looking at Benjamin in your chest. He was trying to play it cool but his heart was speeding faster than his car in any race. Looking at you like this, made him regret every single decision of his life. How could he leave you like that? He wanted to punch himself on the face because he was sure you hated him. So it was impossible to get a second chance nor that he believed he deserved it. 

You doubted but he got a point. Walking ten blocks with a baby or two in your arms was not gonna be an easy task and your back will suffer a lot. You sighed. “Alright, thank you. It’s really nice of you” you gave in at his offer and he smiled widely. 

“Alright, let’s go home guys” Charles announced. The cashier was even more confused than the two of you were. Since when did Charles Leclerc engage so much with strangers and offer them a lift? They must not be strangers at all. They must know each other all too well. 

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Charles helped you get the kids in the car, or well, his Ferrari  that was parked one block away. Dante, all excited, wanted to touch every single thing the car had so you had to tell him to calm down and behave for a bit. You got in the passenger seat. 

Charles let you use his phone so you put your friend's address on it. He now knew where you lived and he was thinking of offering to drop you there after leaving the kids but at the same time he didn't want to be so invasive. 

Smelling your perfume was sending him on a spiral. You still had that effect on him. And he didn't know how to feel about it. You didn't look at him. You probably hate him, he thought. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. But then why did you let this happen? Because of the kids? It was ten blocks away. He stopped himself from keeping up his delusions for way too long he would believe them. He felt like a kid about this whole thing with you. Or the one you had. The life you had. You made him and his family so happy. Arthur still likes you, you always had a soft spot on his heart. And that made Charles feel miserable. 

The drive was silent. The kids fell asleep in like three blocks. You were so nervous you would throw up right then and there. You just looked out through the window. You didn't want to talk that much with him. You knew that would be dangerous. 

He knew it too. He knew all too well what you were trying to do and in a way he was thankful for it. But in another way, he just wanted to know everything about you, again. 

A million questions were playing again and again in your heads silently but agonizingly at the same time.

Ten minutes later, you were finally on your destination: your best friend’s, agostina, house. She was waiting at the porch of her house. When she saw the black ferrari stop by her sidewalk she frowned. She thought you were coming on foot with her three children. 

You looked at charles in a half smile, just praying your friend doesn't get mad at you for this insane idea. “Thank you for lifting us” you said shortly and he nodded. It was awkward. 

“Let me help you” Charles said and both of you got out of his car. 

When your friend first saw you, she looked confused, with a million question marks in her eyes. But then, when she saw Charles coming off the driving seat, her eyes almost fell out. I mean, she was relieved that it was him at some point but not so much out of concern for you. 

“Hey, A” Charles greeted her with a wave helping you wake the kids up. He remembers your friend, of course. He remembered everything about you. 

“Hey, charles. It’s been a long time” A said, grabbing Benjamin from your arms. Charles helped Dante and you grabbed Renato in your arms. Both baby twins were knocked out sleeping. Dante grabbed his mum's hand and waved to Charles in a goodbye. He closed his Ferrari door and waved to us. You just smiled. You were in the most uncomfortable situation of your life. You didn't have a good feeling about this. 

You felt it was the beginning of the end, for some odd reason you couldn't identify yet. 

“Bye charles!” Dante said happily and was still a bit sleepy. Agostina smiled at him but when she turned to look at you, her eyes were screaming “ARE YOU CRAZY GIRL?” and how could you blame her for it. You just put her kids into the car of a known stranger. 

Charles observed the situation with you and your friend from his car. The sunset sun made you glow. And your eyes were so shiny he got confused for a bit if he was actually dreaming. He made his horn sound and disappeared into the monaco streets pretty fast. 

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Cozy wrapped around blankets and pillows, your friend brought you a cup of hot chocolate. You decided it was to sleep overnight to gossip because Andrew, her husband, was out of town for work. The kids were sleeping in their rooms. The baby monitor in front of you two. You were laying on the living room couch with ambient music in the background playing from the tv above the chimney. 

“I can't believe you bumped into Charles, to be honest. It's been ten years, you have never seen him and out of nowhere you see him everywhere” your friend was as surprised as you were. 

“Yeah, I don't know. I feel really weird about it. I thought next time i would bump into him i would be dead but i’m still alive so far. He felt so different… Yet he felt the same. His perfume was the same. His eyes are the same, the way they shine and…” you sighed stopping yourself. You started crying. You didn't know what you were feeling. If you were supposed to feel happy or angry or sad. The stress level was at its peak. It was too much emotionally to handle. 

It hurts you to pretend you didn't know him, that you didn't want him or that he was once your everything and now he was a stranger. A stranger holding so many secrets of you. All of your life traumas and experiences, your virginity, your first ever love story (and the only one). It still hurts because it couldn't be easier. Why couldn't it be forever together as you dreamed? When you saw him you felt the same as that last day you watched him leave that motherfucking restaurant. 

Your friend hugged you understanding how hard this was for you. And how frustrating it must feel to finally be ready to move on and then he is back just like that. How unfair life could be, right? She felt so sorry for you. You deserved to be so happy yet here we are, still crying for that ficking stupid asshole. 

It felt like the beginning of the end.

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“Hey, Arthur, I'm officially and legally single again. Want to have dinner at my place?” Charles called his brother on his Ferrari the second he sat in the driver’s seat. He needed to talk to someone about what happened this afternoon. His anxiety had made a hole in his stomach and he almost threw up a couple of times. 

He felt guilty. Like he did something terrible lifting you and your nephews to your friend’s house.

“Bro!!! That’s amazing!! Ready to enjoy life? I’ll be there in 30 minutes, and order some steak. I’ll bring wine. Love you!!” he shouted into the phone making Charles put it a little far away from his ear so he won't be left deaf. He ended the call, so Charles couldn't say otherwise. He giggled a little to himself. He loved his family, but especially Arthur, he was his little brother, and also his best friend.  

After a few minutes, he was already wearing his comfy clothes and had ordered the stake his brother told him to. He had set the table and put some random playlist on spotify on shuffle. Now that he was home, the hole in his stomach was not as huge as it was during the day. His house was his safe place. Though, it still felt weird not having leo (his and alex’s puppy son) or alex around. He tried so hard to love her, he got used to having her around. The chemicals on his brain were adjusting still to his new life. He changed furniture and redecorated the whole house. He wanted to start again from zero. Rebuilt himself step by step and finally, the Charles he always wanted to be. 

The bell took him out of his thoughts announcing his brother had arrived. 

“Hey, Brody,” Arthur said excitedly, hugging his brother when the older one opened the door. Arthur was really proud of his brother. He knew how hard all of it was. And how hard he was with himself when it came to mistakes committed in the past.

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

They sat on the couch in front of the tv with everything already tidy up and with their stomachs full. They talked about everything and anything but yet not about her. 

“I brought you something, wait a second” Arthur said and got up looking for his bed. Charles observed his brother a little tipsy by wine already. He didn't know what to expect from him. He was always a surprise box. “I know you saw her again, I don't know how you feel about it but I know we will eventually talk about her. But I think it will help you if you read her book. I think it’s a fictional story but the way she tells it… i think it can make you reflect on what happened.” he added coming back from his bag with a book in hand. After he sat again on the couch he handed it to charles. Charles listened and watched the book in front of him. He took it carefully.

“I saw her today, she was with her nephews. I also know where she lives now as well. It was at carlos’ house and he was talking about his neighbor being attractive so Lando could try and hit on her. So he opened the fucking curtains and there she was on her balcony. I almost choked and died. Then I saw her at LEC. and I gave her a lift to her friend’s house. "Charles started throwing up everything that happened that day. Arthur’s eyes were big as plates. He couldn't understand how his brother survived o all of that. I mean, he was happy. He loved y/n, but he knew damn too well it was probably a nightmare for his brother to go through all of that. 

“Oh my god, charles. And you also were announced to be single legally? How did you survive? I'm impressed. You’re strong dude” arthur commented half joking half serious. Charles laughed it out a bit shaking his head. 

“I don't know but all I know is that my heart almost stopped how fast it was beating,” Charles answered.

“That’s called anxiety,” Arthur pointed out.

“I know. I was scared. She looked even more beautiful than she ever did or that I remember” he grabbed the book in his hands more strongly. He took a deep breath. “Today was too much for me,” his brother agreed. 

After Arthur was gone, Charles sprinted to his bed. He had a headache. He wanted to pretend it was because of the two bottles of wine they drank. But he knew it was because of overthinking. He laid in bed. Book in his hands. He started analyzing the cover: It was light blue, her favorite color he remembered. A red scarf and autumn leaves falling down. Her name is printed on the corner of it. He brushed his thumb above it taking a moment.

Adjusting his glasses he flipped to the back cover of it and that’s where something changed inside him.

‘Just between us, did the love affair maim you too?’

⋆˚࿔ TO BE CONTINUED 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

chapter three: coming soon.

tag list: @a-beaverhausen , @priniya , @annaluna12 , @thehoplessromanticclub , @emryb , @hadids-world , @kaztheemyth , @freyathehuntress , @diorbrxtz , @theseerbetweenus , @sie17136

shout out: thank you to my girlies from the gc (ur the best i<3u all), specially Sonny for hyping and helping me sm with this!

author's note: here it is <3 i'm so excited about this series! Sorry if you don’t see that much French I know NOTHING of it so yeah :(

what do you think it's gonna happen next?

don't forget to like, reblog or comment! and follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Holiday Special

Summary: You get ready for your first Christmas with the Maximoffs, but not everything goes according to plan.

Part 2 of 3 of the Holiday Special

A/N: Can you spot the major character we're introducing?

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

Wanda wakes up, alone and confused. The light outside tells her it’s later than usual, and she suddenly remembers it’s a school day.

The woman hurries down the stairs, finding you in the kitchen.

“Hey, chatty patty” you say with a smile, loving her disheveled state. “Hungry?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 11” you look at your wrist watch, pushing a plate towards her.

“School! The kids!”

“I already drove them to school, and yes they had breakfast that wasn’t just cereal” you explain. Wanda finally sits, and looks at the french toast you’re offering.

“This is really good” she praises as she takes a bite.

“I know I call you cute when you’re cooking, but that’s not the only reason I watch you do it, baby” you smile, kissing her temple as you stand up to pour her some coffee. “In Medicine you learn by watching and doing. I’m trying to learn cooking as if it was the same”

“You’re on the right track. Thank you” she comments as you hand the mug. “I’m just a little lost, why did I not wake up?”

“You really don’t remember?” you say, amused.

“No. Did we…?” she says, suddenly afraid that she fell asleep in the middle of sex.

“Oh, no. If we did, you’d remember. Trust me” you say in a low voice, moving closer. Wanda’s eyes drift to your lips and you smile, pleased with her reaction. “No, we didn’t have sex, baby. You woke up at two in the morning talking about a book idea and I wrote it all down until you went back to sleep”

Wanda notices the notebook on the counter, and she takes it. The story is about a girl that makes a drawing of her perfect pet. Her brother sees it and adds things like dragon wings and fangs. By night, the drawing comes to life, and it follows the girl everywhere she goes.

“This is a full story”

“Mhm”

“This is like three months work”

“Glad to hear we were productive” you nod, not understanding her issue with saving months of work.

“This never happens!”

“Counterpoint, you never had a light sleeper that woke up to your mumbling” you point out, stealing some of her toast.

“Yeah… that’s a good point” Wanda says, frowning. You miss the way she looks at you, as you lean forward to read over everything she said while asleep. Honestly, the story is sweet and very original. To think it was something she came up while asleep is bonkers.

“Wow” you laugh as Wanda lunges forward, kissing every inch of your face.

“You’re so hot right now” she says against your neck and you sigh, pleased.

“Well, let me show you what other stuff we could do to lose some sleep” you propose, carrying her to the couch.

—

For the next day, while you’re at work, Wanda is focused on meeting with Laura and her publisher. You get a few texts here and there, but you know she’s in the middle of a creative storm and you’re happy she finally found the inspiration needed for her next book.

Still, it’s a tough shift as you lost sleep on your day off.

“Wild night?” Darcy says as you’re sprawled across the break room couch.

“Jealous?”

“Meh” she shrugs her shoulders. “I hear Fury is going to be lighting up the Christmas tree in the foyer. Wanna come see?”

“Oh, yeah!” you stand up, eager to check if it will go down the same as every year. Without fail, someone forgets to test the lights and as he plugs it in, nothing happens.

Darcy and you are leaning against the railway, chuckling while Fury screams.

“Every damn year! We run a hospital. Why can’t anyone check the lights?”

“It never gets old” you smile, feeling like the holidays are finally here. You’re about to suggest a trip to the cafeteria when Carol comes right behind you, borderline hysterical.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Uh… is there an emergency? Did you page me?” you check your device, Darcy frowning at Carol’s outburst.

“Yes, there’s an emergency! Come here, the both of you”

With surprising strenght, she pulls you to one of the meeting rooms, a couple of sample cakes in display.

“We’re tied”

“Who is?” you say, reading the flavors written in the small cards.

“Maria wants one flavor and I want another one. We need a tiebreak. You are my maid of honor. So, help me!”

“Ok, we’ll try them out. Jeez”

“I’ll be right back” Carol says, leaving the room in a hurry.

Grabbing a fork, you begin to take little bites of every cake, nodding approvingly.

“Chocolate ganache is to die for” you moan, feeling so happy that Carol is in the middle of this predicament.

“You should have red velvet for your wedding” Darcy points at the one she’s tasting.

“I’m not getting married”

“Yet”

“Darcy, come on” you roll your eyes.

“Oh, like you don’t have an idea on how to propose to Wanda already” she mocks, which shuts you up real fast. “I know you better than anyone. And I better be your maid of honor”

“I’m not getting married” you insist, this time  with less conviction.

You keep discussing the flavors and come to the conclusion that chocolate ganache is the winner.

“That’s the wrong answer! Carrot cake!” Carol huffs when you tell her your decision.

“Not everyone likes it. It’s just a weird choice” you say, while Darcy nods.

“Everyone likes chocolate” she points out.

“Fine, whatever! You win, Willy Wonka” Carol storms out of the room.

“Wow, you dodged a bullet there” Darcy says and you nudge her side.

“Don’t be mean. She wants her wedding to be perfect. That’s nice” in that precise moment, you get paged and you decide to take the rest of the chocolate cake to eat on the way. “See ya!”

“Thief!”

A couple of emergencies take your attention, making you go into the OR. Your phone is forgotten and by the time you check, there’s a single text from Wanda.

W: Are you coming for lunch? I want to tell you something important.

Your heart begins to race, and you remember a few days ago during the snow storm. She mentioned something but you distracted Wanda and you figured it wasn’t that important.

Y/N: Is everything ok?

Coming out of nowhere, Carol once agains blindsides you.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Go…”

“Dress fitting. Your bridesmaid dress”

“Now?” you look at your phone. Wanda hasn’t replied. But Carol looks ready to kill you and you won’t take your chances. “Sure, let’s go”

Y/N: Gotta take care of something, will try to be back for lunch. Love you.

There’s no reply and during the entire car ride, you look out the window, wondering if you messed up in any way.

“I’m sorry” Carol says, mistaking your silence with annoyance. “For snapping at you”

“Oh, that’s… well, not cool, but I don’t take offense. I just never thought you’d be the Bridezilla type, Danvers” you joke.

“It’s more about the holidays. Maria’s family and mine are coming over. They’ve met each other a few times, but you know… it just feels like whatever happens during Christmas will set the tone for the wedding. And marriage”

“Sounds like a lot of pressure” you agree.

“I admire you for setting boundaries with your mother”

“It’s not a boundary, it’s more like thousands of miles and avoidance” you reluctantly admit, which makes her laugh. “It’s all gonna be fine. You’re marrying the girl of your dreams, and I will be there as well, in a cool, not at all pink bridesmaid gown to help with whatever happens”

“Actually…”

“It’s pink?” you say, mouth wide open. Carol nods, avoiding your eyes and you huff. “You’re lucky I’m such a good friend”

—

Wanda’s buzzing with excitement as she stops by the cafeteria, ready for her second meeting of the week with Laura.

It seems as if this new book will be out fast, and if it’s as successful as her past stories, Wanda could finally have some free time to focus on a whole different thing: a trilogy for young adults.

Wanda leaves the cafeteria carrying a tray with two cups and scones, knowing that you’d be the first one to support her if it all works out.

She’s surprised to find you walking across the street, as your last message gave her the impression you still had work to do. Wanda is about to call for you, when someone else joins you in the sidewalk.

Carol says something that makes you smile, linking her arm with yours. Both of you walk in the opposite direction of Wanda, getting inside a store.

Wanda replays the moment where Carol opened the door for you over and over again.

“Ready for day two?” Laura says as soon as her friend walks to her office. “Wanda?”

It doesn’t take much for Wanda to tell her what she saw. Beyond that, she goes over your strange attitude recently, smoking compulsively and having trouble sleeping.

“Maybe she’s rethinking our relationship, maybe Carol is trying to win her back…”

“Wow, slow down. You said they were going inside a bridal shop?”

“Yes, I think it was”

“Well, what if… she’s thinking about… ya know” Laura says, wiggling her eyebrows excitedly.

“No, I don’t. What do you mean?” Wanda says, resisting the urge to drive back and get answers straight from you.

“Ok, so she’s been nervous, she visits a shop with all kinds of things for a wedding. Could it be that she’s working up the courage to propose?”

“No… I don’t think so. Do you think that could be it?” Wanda says.

“I think based on everything I’ve seen and heard about Y/N, that makes a lot more sense than her cheating on you” Laura shrugs her shoulders. “Look, just tell her you saw her. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation”

“But what if she is proposing and I ruin the surprise?” Wanda pouts, torn between what to do.

“Let’s get to work, I’m sure you’ll figure out what to do” Laura tries to divert the conversation, which works for a little while.

Except, she’s typing and Wanda is just doodling instead of creating sketches.

“Would you say yes?” Laura asks, amused at Wanda’s enamoured look.

The woman shrugs her shoulders, biting her lip as she imagines what it would be like to be married to you.

Needless to say, she doesn’t get much work done after that.

—

The flowers might be too much, but you rather be on the safe side. Wanda never replied to your text, so you drove straight home as soon as you came back from the dress fitting.

“Honey, I’m home” you joke, leaving your winter jacket and scarf at the coathanger. To your surprise, Wanda is sitting at the kitchen counter, looking conflicted.

“Hey” she says, letting you kiss her cheek. “What is this?”

“My favorite girl’s favorite flowers” you sit next to her, worried. “Is something wrong? I know you wanted to talk”

“Yes. I…” she takes a deep breath and turns to look at you. “Is something going on between you and Carol?”

“What? Is that what you wanted to talk about?” you say, confused. Where is this coming from?

“No. I was at the cafeteria around Bleeker Street and saw you with her” she admits, sighing.

“Wanda, I’m sorry. No, nothing’s going on. Carol and Maria are getting married and she asked me to be her bridesmaid. I said yes, before even thinking about consulting you. I guess I didn’t even know how to bring it up. I know our past… makes things weird”

You hesitate about reaching out for her hand, but then she lets out a laugh.

“I was about to ran over Danvers’ bike” she says, bringing her hand to her chest. “I’m sorry for not trusting you”

“No, I’m the only one who should be apoligizing. I should have told you. Can you please forgive me, love of my life?”

“There’s nothing to forgive”

“You know, you should play hard to get” you point out, your arms around her middle, placing a kiss against her temple. “Don’t forgive me so easily, I was planning on taking you out to a fancy place to earn it”

“Mmm, you’re right. I’m too forgiving” she jokes.

“Wait, you sent me the text before I left with Carol. So that wasn’t what you wanted to talk about” you suddenly remember.

Going back to face her, you lift Wanda’s chin with your hand, making her look at you. She seems suddenly nervous.

“I was thinking… you don’t have to answer right now. And also, with this new book, I might be too busy and the house will be a mess for a while and you don’t wanna be around for it, you want your own space… forget I even asked”

She’s rambling, so you craddle her face in your hands, making her stop with your lips on hers.

“You haven’t even asked anything” you nudge your nose against her, smiling lovingly at the way she melts against your touch.

“Move in with me. Us”

“What?”

Never in a million years would you have guessed this was coming.

“This is your home as much as it is ours. I want you here all the time, I want to make room for your stuff, look for my clothes in the closet and stumble upon your scrubs” Wanda says. “Either way, you spend more time here than at your own place. You could also save some rent money”

“You had me at this is your home, my love” you laugh, kissing her again. “And no worries, no wet towels in the bathroom, I promise”

“We have a deal” she smiles against your lips, heart beating faster at this new step you’re taking together.

—

You should have listened to that Kondo lady when she was all the rage. Your house is full of crap, and none of it brings joy. Only dust and boxes that get in the way of packing.

Good news, it’s gonna be an easy move. All you have are clothes, books, some records and pictures.

“Are you sure you wanna throw this stuff?” Wanda says, holding a couple of trophies from Science Fairs and other stuff.

“Yes, baby” you nod, handing over a box. “I don’t think that has any value to my career as a surgeon”

“I think they’re cute. You were a nerd”

“Yeah, that I was” you smile. You keep digging through old boxes, until you get to one you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“What is this?” Wanda kneels next to you. She sees the picture you’re holding. “Is that your dad? Oh my God, you look exactly like him”

“Yeah, two peas in a pod” you laugh, admiring your matching Halloween outfits. Ghostbusters, obviously. You flip through the album, grateful that you had the sense to take it with you after you left for college. You know your mother would have thrown it in the trash.

“Why isn’t this in a frame?” Wanda takes a lose photo of you two during Christmas.

“I guess I never got around to doing it” you shrug your shoulders. There’s a tin box, and you kinda wished you hadn’t opened it. A broken wrist watch is the only thing inside it. “He loved this watch. Was wearing it on the day of the accident” you mutter, suddenly feeling small.

Wanda let’s you sit in silence for a few minutes and then places her hand on your shoulder.

“We can take a break from all the packing, yes?”

“Yeah, ok” you nod, standing up. Wanda takes your hand and leads you back to her -and now your- place. There are already several boxes in the living room of your new home.

Home, that word fits so well with how you feel here.

The only other time where you felt like you belonged was in college, in the dorm you shared with Darcy and then at the hospital, which wasn’t strictly a home.

Without saying anything, Wanda pulls you to the couch, and you let her rest her head against your chest as you watch “Golden Girls”. She had you to thank for introducing her to a whole new obsession.

“Shouldn’t we go pick up the kids now?” you say after a while, looking at the hour.

“Sharon is driving them here”

“Now she’s your best friend”

“I’m sure she only offered to see you again and annoy me” Wanda chuckles, looking up at you. “Unfortunately for her, I don’t share”

“Mmhm” you smile against her lips, enjoying her possesiveness.

By the time Sharon drops off the kids, Wanda’s shown you how she really feels about sharing, making sure there’s a visible mark on your neck as you walk out of the house to greet Tommy and Billy.

“Hey, Y/N” Sharon says, playing with her sunglasses.

“H-hi, Sharon. How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know. Enjoying the cold days, wishing I had someone to warm me up”

“Yeah, it’s cold. Outside, and inside too if you don’t have any heating” you mumble, trying to end the conversation. “Stay hot. I mean, warm. And thanks for dropping off the kids”

“My pleasure”

Sprinting back home, you lock the door and lean against it, hoping you won’t have to talk to the woman in a very long time.

“I see that little mark on your collarbone wasn’t enough. Maybe I should leave more on your neck” Wanda taunts.

“Baby, I could tattoo your name across my forehead and that woman would still try to get in my pants” you sigh, hands resting on Wanda’s hips. “Are we telling the kids about me moving in?”

“Yeah, come on”

Billy and Tommy are in the backyard, throwing a ball that Sparky chases around. They both approach you as Wanda calls for them, and she kneels to be at eye level with them.

“Boys, we have news. Y/N is moving”

“What? Where? You’re not gonna have your house across the street?”

“Mama, we should all live together” Tommy says, pleading to his mother.

“Oh, my darling boys, Y/N is gonna move with us! We’ll all live here. What do you think about it?”

“Yaaay” they run towards you, talking as fast as they can.

“I’ll make room in my drawers for you!”

“You can take one of my shelves”

Each kid takes turns on ideas to make room for you, and you hug them closer.

“I’m sure we’ll find a place for all my stuff. Don’t worry about it, I’m just happy you want me to live here”

“We do” Billy says, and then he turns to his mother. “Can we please get pizza to celebrate, pleaaase?”

“Yes, can we?” you join, pouting.

Wanda rolls her eyes, laughing.

“I can’t believe I set myself up. Now it’s three children against one of me”

“You love us” you say, standing up and pulling her in for a kiss.

Wanda smiles against your lips.

“I do”

—

You’re buzzing with excitement to tell everyone the news, but you want Darcy to be the first to know.

While you sit in the cafeteria, the perfect oportunity presents itself.

“Ugh, one of your presents will arrive too late for me to wrap it up. I’ll send it but you have to promise you won’t open it”

“Yeah, yeah. Just send it home”

“No. I’ll send it to Wanda instead. She’ll keep it away from you”

“Same thing. Home for me, her. But I won’t open it” you smile as you take a bite of your sandwich, waiting for Darcy to understand what you mean.

“You? And her? Moving in together?” this is the first time that you see Darcy so excited over your relationship, and she hugs you. “You’re not gonna die alone”

“Oh, shut it”

“What are we celebrating?” Carol says, taking a seat next to you.

“Y/N and Wanda are moving in together” Darcy says, practically singing. “And now I have to rethink my second present”

“Why do you give her two Christmas presents?” Carol looks between you two and Darcy gasps.

“She saw you naked but didn’t tell her about your birthday?”

“Eh, what can I say? I have intimacy issues” you shrug your shoulders, laughing as Carol catches up with everything.

“Your birthday is on Christmas Eve”

“That’s correct” you nod. Eager to change the subject, you ask about the wedding. Lunch is cut short as they’re both paged and you walk back to the front desk, dropping off some paperwork about discharges and patient forms.

You’ve been talking for a bit with the nurses when you feel someone stand behind you.

A beautiful redhead with striking green eyes smiles at you, and it takes you a moment to notice you’re staring.

“Hi. How can we help you?” you say, pulling the charts close to your chest, pretending to be casual.

“I’m looking for an old friend”

“Sure thing, do you know his room number?”

“I know his name. Nick Fury” she says with a smirk and you laugh.

“Oh, the Chief. He should be in his office reviewing schedules right about now. Just go upstairs and turn rigt” you point behind her.

“Thank you, Doctor…” she leans forward to read the name on your badge. “Y/L/N”

You’re about to ask her name when you’re paged.

911.

“My pleasure. Enjoy your reunion with the Chief” you excuse yourself, going back to the ER.

As a group of people involved in a car crash arrive, everything that just happened becomes irrelevant.

You have no idea how crazy your day is about to get.

—

“Let me see if I understand” Fury says, the tips of his fingers aligning as Natasha looks from the other side of her desk, impassive.

She’s got a poker face that no one can break, not even someone as respected as Nicholas Fury.

“You want to teach us the new surgical method your mother invented"

Natasha nods.

“Why the sudden interest in sharing with us?”

“You’re a teaching hospital. Stark is on this quest to make everything accessible for everyone. It gives us good press, and will draw attention to your program”

“No ulterior motive?”

“The world is getting more complicated. The Starks and Romanoffs are the families with the greater research capabilities, I think it’s time to stop competing with each other and work together” Natasha says.

“Just like that?”

“Well…”

Natasha doesn’t get to complete her sentence, as Tony walks in the room without knocking.

“Chief” he says, a bit distressed. It takes him a minute to process the other presence in the room. “Romanoff?”

“Hey, Tony”

“What are you…? Ok, that’s for later. There was an avalanche in Silverton Mountain, several people are trapped and injured. They’re requesting aid”

“Let’s page Y/N and prepare the ER to receive them”

“Sorry for cutting your meeting short, I’m sure it wasn’t important” Tony winks at Natasha.

“I’ll be back later” she says. “Don’t be such a sore loser, Tony, not everyone can have a Nobel Prize”

“Your mother won that, not you” he says, trying to keep his cool.

“Well, let’s see if another Romanoff can beat you to it again” the woman says, smiling while Fury stands up.

“Children, not now. Call me tomorrow, Romanoff”

The two men leave his office, walking to the ER to find the head of Trauma.

“Is it a good idea to leave her alone there?”

“She’s not a spy, Stark”

“Her mother sent her for some nefarious purpose, I’m sure”

“That’s a talk for later. Y/L/N” Fury finally spots you.

“Chief, what’s up?”

“Avalanche in Silverton Mountain. I’m sending the chopper with you, Barton and another doctor of your choice”

“We’re only transporting critically injured patients, the rest will be taken by ambulance to local hospitals” Tony adds, while you walk back to prepare.

“Ok, I’m taking Bishop with me. Anything else I should know about?”

“Expect a long day” Tony pats your shoulder and you sigh.

Looking for the storage room, you find a three layered rescue suit, preparing for the cold and relentless weather of the mountains. Next are medical supplies, rope, thermic blankets, comms and avalanche probes.

Once you check everything’s set up, you change your sneakers for hiking boots and carry everything in a waterproof backpack. Just as you’re about to leave, Kate comes in. You show her the clothes she should change into, and what to put in her own backpack.

“I’ll meet you at the rooftop”

Wanda doesn’t pick up the phone when you call her, so you leave a voicemail explaining you won’t be reachable for a couple of hours.

As you walk to the elevator, you meet the mysterious woman again.

“Up or down?” you ask as you both reach for the button.

“Down. You?”

“All the way up”

“Going somewhere?” she teases.

“Just a helicopter ride. Care to join me?” you say, not knowing what makes you joke with a stranger.

“Perhaps next time. Take this one. I’ll wait for the other elevator” the woman says when the doors open. You nod your thanks and your eyes meet as you press the button. “I do hope we’ll see each other again, Y/N”

“I didn’t get your name”

“Natasha” the woman smiles, doors closing. The last thing you see is that cryptic smile as the elevator starts to go up.

The cold wind hits your face as soon as the doors open, Stark’s helicopter ready for the 15 minute flight to Silverton.

“Hey, Barton. Wilson?” you say, surprised. “Didn’t know you could fly these things”

“Hell, yeah. This is Redwing” he says, pointing at the helicopter.

“Stop calling it that” Stark grumbles.

Clint and you check for everything to be in its place and you nod as Kate joins you.

“I’m having everyone on standby, we’ll start preparing as soon as you call with more information on number of patients and status” Fury says. Then he turns to look at everyone else. “Stay safe and good luck”

The building becomes smaller as you fly away, and Barton chats with Sam for a bit about the weather and the rescue plan. You follow the conversation here and there, but instead look out the window and then to Kate, who seems to be deep in thought.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, just nervous” she admits and you nudge her knee with your hand.

“It’ll be fine, you’re gonna fly back with patients that need to be at Stark hospital. I’ll show you what to do”

“Ok”

As soon as you land on the area, a group of first responders run to greet you.

“Lee Jones” the team leader introduces himself. “There are six people still missing, we secured the area and will be starting a second round of search” he says, pointing at a nearby hill.

“Doctor Bishop, head to where the rescued people are to evaluate them” you say, and she walks back to an operations center with several stretchers. “Do we have a list of the people missing?”

“Here”

You take the paper, inspecting it. Two women, one children, four men. Your stomach drops as you get to the last name.

“Barton” you pull him to get his attention. He reads over your shoulder, alarmed as well.

“Is this accurate? Have you doble checked these people are not back in their hotel?” he says, knowing that information could get lost during rescue.

“Yes, sir”

“Crap” he says, looking at the hill.

The name at the bottom of the list is Pietro Maximoff.

“Come on, no time to waste” you say, sprinting. A couple of people follow you, and you have to remember the training you got.

The first 15 minutes are crucial. And now, the people who didn’t die instantly, will pass from asphyxia, hypothermia or critical injuries.

Except Pietro. He knows what to do to stay alive. You just gotta find him.

“We gotta let Wanda know” Clint shouts next to you, the cold wind hitting you straight in the face.

“There is nothing to tell her now”

“Y/N”

“Go back and call her if you want. I can’t waste time right now, Clint”

It looks like there’s a storm forming. If you’re lucky, you’ll get an hour of not so bad weather and then, it will be too risky for them to continue.

Not you, though. You’re not leaving until you find Pietro.

“Here!” two people shout at the same time. You turn to run where they are. One of the rescuers is digging through the snow, and a woman’s face is visible. You want to keep looking for Pietro, but you came here to help everyone.

“I’ll keep searching” Clint nods your way.

The second person they find is the woman’s child.

“Hypothermic, hard to say if they have other injuries. I’d recommend you take them back to Stark Hospital, call and ask for doctor Lewis and Rambeau. Wilson will fly them there” you instruct the rescuers.

“I found one, he’s dead” you hear through the radio and your heart drops. You race to where the rescuer is, praying that it’s not Pietro. “Male, approximately 50”

You take a minute, holding your side as the cold air makes it hard to breathe.

“Mark the spot so we can recover the body and alert his family” Lee instructs.

They keep using the avalanche probes, to no avail.

“You’re walking too far away and the wind is getting worse” Clint warns you, but you ignore him. Pietro has to be here.

“Come on, come on” you walk faster, the wind almost knocking you down.

“Y/L/N, come back” Clint says, this time through the radio so everyone can hear him. “Now”

You ignore him, looking around. Everything is white… except.

A spot of color. Bright yellow and green. Just like the gloves you gave Pietro.

“Pietro” you run towards it, heart beating out of your chest. There he is, you can see his face, and part of his hands, as he managed to dig through the snow to be able to breathe. “Clint, I found him”

Pietro’s vitals are weak, but he whines when you call his name. Everyone comes running to help you, digging him out.

“Can you hear me? Frosty, come on” you insist, inspecting every inch of his body. “He’s going back to Stark Hospital with us, now”

“As soon as Wilson comes back”

You nod, stabilizing his neck as the men carry him to the operation center. You hear through the comms that they found the last man, unfortunately deceased as well.

“It’s a miracle we found him alive” Clint comments.

You stay quiet, going over statistics and the list of injuries that could be life threatening and you won’t know about until you do imaging.

“I’m calling Laura, so Wanda’s not alone” Clint says. You should have brought your phone. He greets his wife, and a moment later his face falls. “Wanda’s there with you? Can you put her on the phone?”

Now it’s your turn to feel dread, taking the phone with shaky hands.

“Sweetheart” you say, feeling awful when you hear Wanda’s voice, knowing what you’re about to say will destroy her. “You might want to sit down”

—

“Male with helmet and airbag, was conscious during rescue and prior to boarding the helicopter. Heart rate weak, slow, irregular due to hypothermia; passive warming techniques started on the way to the hospital. No visible trauma, do a complete body scan” you say as soon as you land, Carol and Stark the first to greet you at the rooftop.

Wanda’s not here yet and you’re not ready to face her, especially since you have no idea on the extent of his internal injuries.

“Are you ok? You’re shivering” Darcy comments when you change into your scrubs, and all you can do is nod.

“Fine”

Thoracic spine fracture, comminuted knee fracture and intracranial hemorrhage. The room is silent as you look at the images, knowing it’s gonna be a long and challenging intervention.

“Wanda’s here” Kate says as soon as you take the elevator to the OR.

“Not now, Kate. Tell her we’ll keep her updated and then scrub in”

Carol gives you a curious glance, but keeps her comments to herself.

There’s silence in the OR as you work with Carol and Kate, while Stark and Parker deal with the hemorrhage.

“Doctor Y/L/N” Fury steps in.

“Not now”

“Miss Maximoff would like an update”

“I don’t have one for her” you let out an exasperated sigh when Fury insists, turning to look at Stark. “Do you have an update? How about you, Danvers? Alright then, when we know something other than his body is all kinds of fucked, we will give Miss Maximoff an update”

“You’re too close to this”

“No, I’m stabilizing his spine so he can teach his nephews how to ride a fucking bike and all you are is a distraction. Leave my OR, now”

You can feel Fury’s angry stare in the back of your head, but ignore it and keep working.

Stark is the first to break the silence, if only to ask for more suction.

“I’m done with the knee. If you want to update her” Carol says after a while.

“You heard her, Bishop”

“You should go. I’m sure Wanda will want to hear it from you”

“No” is all you say, voice shaking.

No, you can’t face Wanda now. You don’t know if Pietro is gonna make it and you won’t lie to her.

Beyond that, you can’t imagine what she’ll say to you if you can’t save him.

Why didn’t you find him faster? Why didn’t you help him?

This is your fault.

“BP’s dropping” the nurse alerts you.

“One minute” Tony says, eyes glued to his work.

“Stark, he’s crashing” you insist. He ignores you and you’re about to throw your scalpel and start CPR when Pietro’s vitals stabilize.

“You gotta let me work too” Tony says. “Peter, close here. Let’s see that spine now”

After three more hours of work, there’s nothing left to do but wait. While Pietro’s transferred to the ICU, you stay back, removing your facemask and surgical cap.

Carol stands next to you, without saying a word.

“If he doesn’t make it, Wanda’s never going to forgive me” you say, looking at the ground.

“You don’t believe that” Carol says.

“I don’t know. But I guess I’ll find out”

“It’s gonna be fine” she says, giving your arm a squeeze and you nod, leaving the scrub room.

Your hands shake as you press the elevator button that will take you to Wanda. The adrenaline is slowly leaving your body, but your muscles can’t relax, still waiting for an even bigger disaster to come.

Forcing yourself to step into the hallway, your eyes meet Wanda’s across the room. They are reddened by the tears, her hair a bit disheveled and all over the place.

Whatever you were about to say dies in your throat. She stands up, walking towards you, and you brace yourself for a myriad of insults and bitter words.

Instead, she throws herself in your arms, crying.

“You’re ok” she keeps saying. “I was so scared. I’m so sorry”

“It’s fine. I’m here” you hold her closer, kissing her head and shedding a couple of tears. “We did everything we could, Wanda, please believe me. Now we have to wait for him to recover. Please, please don’t hate me”

“You saved him. He’s alive because of you” she says, her arms still on your back. “I don’t know what I’d do without you”

“I’m here” you sigh against her temple. “It’s all going to be fine”

But you don’t know if that’s true.

—

Natasha answers the call as soon as she’s in her suite, knowing her mother only had a few minutes to chat.

“Hello, dear. How did it go?”

“It was cut short. An emergency” the redhead sighs, sitting in the bed and taking off her heels. “They used Tony’s helicopter and everything”

“The Stark boy, always wanting to be the center of attention” Melina tsks. “Did you get to see their ER?”

“Not yet. I did meet their Head of Trauma”

Natasha’s mind goes back to you. She was honestly surprised when she saw you waiting for the elevator in the rescue gear. You weren’t like any other of the Trauma surgeons she had met before.

“What did you think of them?”

“Very heroic. Jumped straight into the danger, no questions asked. And she yelled at Fury when he tried to keep her out of the OR”

Another pleasant surprise. It was hard to tell you had that fire in you, with those kind eyes and gentle smile.

“Do you want to hire her or date her?” Melina picks up on her daughter’s tone.

“Can’t I do both?”

“My darling girl, of course you can. When was the last time you didn’t get what you wanted?”

—

It’s cold and you can’t reach for whatever it is you’re looking for.

What were you trying to find in the middle of nowhere?

It’s dark, except for a circle around you, and there’s no way to tell up from down.

Except when you see something next to your feet, and you kneel down. As you pull from it, the snow moves and you can see Pietro’s face. You dig deeper, and then you see Wanda. Every time you remove snow, there’s another face, until you find your father, staring at you.

You try to reach for him, but the watch on your wrist reaches zero on its countdown, the beeping sound mocking you as you run out of time.

“Wait” you jump up, looking around.

On call room. You’re in the hospital. There’s solid ground beneath you, not layers and layers of snow.

The sound comes from your pager.

911.

Everything feels like an emergency these days. You’ve lost track of time, alternating between your shifts and the ICU, where Pietro is still recovering.

It’s been four days and he hasn’t woken up yet.

“What do we have?” you ask Kate, who begins to give you the overview.

It’s not something that requires surgery, which makes you sigh with relief. This is the end of your shift and you need to eat something before heading back to the ICU.

“When was the last time you left the hospital?” Darcy says and you shrug your shoulders, eating your sandwich and feeling ill the second you swallow.

You have to force yourself to eat lately.

“I don’t know”

“The day of the accident. Five days ago. You can’t keep going like this” your friend says, but you avoid her stare.

“Wanda is not allowed in the ICU and Pietro shouldn’t be alone in there”

“Pietro is unconscious. Wanda is the one that’s at home, alone and scared. I think her brother would appreciate you keeping her company” Darcy reasons with you.

You rub your temples, trying to not throw up.

Truth is, you’re scared that the other shoe will drop. That things between you and Wanda could turn sour if her brother doesn’t show any signs of improvement.

“You are carrying an immense responsibility and burden, that it’s not yours. Nor anyone’s. It was an accident. It’s life” your friend insists, knowing very well the meaning behind your silence.

You keep looking down, chin resting on your hand as a couple of tears run down your cheeks.

Darcy’s expression softens at that.

“I’ll stay with Pietro for a bit. Wanda is in the foyer, ready to take you home. Please, go with her”

You try to say something, but the words get stuck in your throat. It’s been like this for days. When it comes to work, you function even better than usual, accostumed to chaos and uncertainty. The minute the conversation pivots, your throat closes, making it hard to utter a single word.

In the end, you nod, throwing away your barely touched food to go meet your girlfriend.

Guilt overwhelms you as you notice the bags under Wanda’s eyes. It’s impossible to be everywhere and be everything to all the people that matter to you, but you still feel like a failure.

“He…” you prepare the update, but Wanda kisses you, stopping the words from leaving your mouth.

“I’m here to take care of you. I already know everything there is to know. Let’s go home”

Taking a breath, you nod and walk behind her towards the exit. The light hurts your eyes, and you have to look down, frowning. Wanda’s hand is on yours, leading you to the car.

The ride home is silent. There are still some boxes in the living room, pushed to the wall to make room for walking. It gives an eerie vibe, another reminder that your entire world stopped almost a week ago.

“Are you hungry?”

“Just tired” you say in a low voice. “I smell like hospital”

Wanda nods, closing the door and walking you upstairs. All you’ve done for the past days is take quick showers, with cheap shampoo that is in the hospital and leaves your hair dry.

For the first time, you don’t have to hurry and jump into a spray of cold water, rinsing as fast as you can. The warm temperature  and pressure on your muscles feels like a luxury.

“Feels good?” Wanda whispers against your ear and you nod. She places a kiss on your shoulder’s scar. You step back, trying to chase after her touch, and she laughs.

That sound is enough to make you feel ten times lighter.

As you step out of the shower, you admire the way Wanda places a towel around her, and without thinking you meet her in a slow and tender kiss.

“Missed you” you say against her lips.

“I missed you too, sweetheart”

There’s no rush as you change into comfortable clothes, and rest your head on Wanda’s lap while she reads a draft for Laura to review.

“How’s the book coming along?”

“Good, very fast thanks to your help”

“So, do I get credited on the cover or something?” you joke, looking up.

“I can pay you in other ways for your very valuable contribution”

“I’ll hold you to that” you joke, feeling sleepy as Wanda runs her hand through your hair. 

The next time you open your eyes, it’s past noon. You turn in bed, Wanda looking at you.

“Were you watching me sleep?”

“No” she answers way too fast. “Maybe. I… you looked upset. Like you were having a nightmare. I just wanted to make sure you were ok, that’s all”

“I’m ok” you promise, pulling her so she’s resting against your chest. “How are Billy and Tommy?”

“Quiet. I know they’re worried and they’ve been missing you too”

“We could go out to the movies today” you suggest.

“Actually, they have a surprise for you” she looks up and you smile.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And I promised them you are wearing an ugly Christmas sweater”

“Is that so?” you turn her in your arms, tickling her sides. “I don’t have any”

“I got you one” Wanda says between giggles and you pull her closer as she tries to get away from you. “Stop, please”

“Not until you show me that ugly sweater”

“Nu-uh, you’ll find a way to get rid of it”

“Then, you shall pay the consequences” you declare, laughing as she distracts you with a kiss.

—

“Is this absolutely necessary?” you say, walking towards the school auditorium. The sweater is not exactly ugly, it only has some paper figures hanging along the arms, which makes it uncomfortable to move around.

The biggest issue is that Wanda and everyone else is wearing normal clothes, which earns you a couple of funny looks.

“Babe, let me get changed, I have some scrubs in the car” you turn around, but Wanda catches you and pulls you back.

“I promise you, I’ll make it worth it” she says in a low voice against your ear. The little kiss Wanda gives behind your ear seals the deal.

“Are you gonna wear something slutty?” you whisper against her temple and she laughs.

“You’ll have to find out, detka”

“Detka?” you repeat, your pronunciation awful. “What does that mean?”

“I’ll tell you later. It’s part of your Christmas present” your girlfriend says, biting her lip.

She’s such a tease.

“Show’s starting, come on”

“Show?” you say, following her all the way to the front row. The lights go out but to your horror, your sweater glows in the dark. You struggle to take it off, but Wanda takes you by the wrists, laughing while you look around, embarrassed.

The first number is of really small children, who try to follow their teacher as they sing and dance, but looking adorably confused is enough to have all the parents clapping and cheering. After two or three more songs, you finally know why you’re there. Billy and Tommy are in the front of their class, singing Holly Jolly Christmas.

“Those are our boys!” you shout excitedly, looking around so everyone knows they’re your kids.

“Baby, I think they got it” Wanda smiles lovingly as you take out your phone and record, zooming in on the twins.

Once the song ends, you give them a standing ovation, and the only thing most people can see is a floating figure that glows in the dark.

The show goes on for another forty minutes, but you’re the first to go find the kids backstage. As soon as they see you, they jump into your arms.

“You were amazing! Next stop, Broadway!”

“Did you like the sweater we picked out for you?”

“Yes, it’s so original!” you say, hearing Wanda laugh behind you. “Come on, let’s get some pizza. Or burgers and milkshakes, whatever you want”

“Can we go to Burger Galaxy?" Billy says and you nod.

"Sure, let me check if it's open" you say, pulling out your phone. You frown at the missed calls from Darcy. She's still at the hospital and there's only one reason why she'd call. "Give me a second"

Walking away, you dial her number.

"He's awake"

"How is he...?"

"Just come to the hospital" she insists. Wanda is talking to the boys as you return, her face dropping when you lock eyes.

"We need to go to the hospital"

You take the keys from her shaking hands, smiling as she tries to control her breathing. The ride feels like an eternity, but it's only ten minutes. You're about to head to the ICU, when Darcy sees you.

"Over here"

"How is he...?" you catch up, aware that Wanda and the kids are right behind you.

"Awake and annoying. A bit confused as well, but all things considered, he'll be fine. Congrats, pal. You worked a Christmas miracle"

You stand by the door as Wanda walks past you, speaking in Sokovian and holding her brother's face between her hands. Tommy and Billy stand next to his bed, waiting for a chance to greet their uncle. Between all the fuss, Pietro looks at you, mouthing a thank you.

You can't help the tears from clouding your vision. After taking a breath to calm yourself, you wipe the corner of your eyes and smile at him.

"Welcome back, Frosty"

[ennn]

Unpacking the Deals of Ep 8: Why and What They Mean

So episode 8 is... let's say a bit of a mess. I know there's some confusion around why Agatha proposes her terms for the first deal, why Rio flipped into cackling villain mode, why Rio makes another deal, etc.

Here's my read that hopefully helps draw a line from point A to B to C.

Let's consider the context of the first deal: Agatha's not having a good day. Two coven members who Agatha never expected to care about have died trying to protect her – a thing that has never happened before. And Death happens to be a person she can blame.

Death, who is pressing on that bruise ("Your coven is shrinking") and making her shitty day worse because she wants the kid Agatha is hardcore projecting on (and also didn't plan to care about) to die. Just like Nicky.

But Agatha then realises she has leverage on Rio. For the first time in forever, she has an advantage she can exploit. She can be in control.

And it's almost instinctive for Agatha at this point: finding the best buttons to push, the best terms for her given the opportunity.

Agatha: If I deliver Billy, you let me go. Rio: You will eventually die, Agatha. Agatha: But I want you to stop pursuing me. I want you to stop making my life hell. And when I die, a long, long, long, long, long time from now, I don't want to see your face. Rio: ... Okay.

The terms that Agatha sets out seem cruel because they are. She says what she does because she wants it to hurt. Agatha's not only rejecting Rio's continued presence in her life, she's denying all the love that Rio's given her, building on what she's said before ("You gave me nothing.")

From Rio's POV, Agatha's cutting words aside, this entire deal sucks. Because the options are:

(a) Agatha doesn't hold up her end, which Rio knows might happen: Rio knows Agatha cares about Billy ("I know how you feel about him"). Rio's constantly reminding her he's not Nicky. She was already doubting Agatha would deliver her usual number of corpses. She saw how affected Agatha was after Alice's death.

If Agatha doesn't help, she'd be choosing a boy over everything Rio's done again – and this time another woman's.

And if Rio somehow manages to take Billy anyway, Agatha will end up hating her twice forever.

(b) Agatha does hold up her end, which might also happen: Rio knows Agatha's manipulative and smart and capable. More than that, she's well aware Agatha hates her. That Agatha still doesn't see what she's done for her ("No one in history has had special treatment like you").

That she knows Agatha does care about Billy but maybe hates her so much that she's willing to go through with this to cut her out from her life. Billy would be a dear price but one Agatha's maybe willing to pay.

Even if it was a 50:50 chance for these options, I think Rio realises her relationship with Agatha is doomed either way.

Either way she does her job, with or without Agatha's help, she's going to be rejected and lose. One's just a slower path than the other.

I think that's why Rio gives in to her rage and bitterness and spite. Agatha thinks Rio's been making her life hell? She'll show her hell.

And Agatha, well I think there's some merit to the thinking that she didn't expect Rio to fold that quickly and completely.

Now for the context of the second deal, it's not clear whether Rio knows what happened with Tommy. I assume Rio doesn't – not yet anyway – as she doesn't mention it at all and seems focused on squaring that one life Billy stole.

Now here's where it gets a little squirrely, to borrow Schaeffer's language. Because if you don't look too closely, it seems to make sense: Billy stole a life so to maintain the natural balance, Rio needs to take a life, the one Billy has now.

But how does Agatha's life work as a substitute for this imbalance (“This means you’re coming with me”)? Would any other person’s life work? Could Rio have swapped someone else's life to save Nicky then? Agatha would have been all too happy to arrange for that murder.

I doubt the show is ever going to explain this so I offer few possible theories to deal with this weirdness:

Billy Maximoff is a product of chaos magic, so his existence and everything he affects already throws off the natural order, just to different orders of magnitude. Agatha’s life works as a substitute because his life is now intertwined with hers e.g. his hex probably saved her life from the Salem Seven and has the potential for greater imbalance

Rio is aware of Agatha’s tendency towards chaos and defiance of the natural order. Rio bent the rules of the universe only for Agatha. Taking her life would protect the balance in the larger scheme of things – if only so Rio won’t be further tempted to give her special treatment.

When Rio’s torturing Agatha it’s before she presents the second deal. So she’s still intending to go after Billy, she’s just removing Agatha as an obstacle while lashing out in rage and heartbreak.

In this moment Rio probably thinks Billy's in the wind. She saw how upset Billy was with Agatha at the end of episode 5. And Rio knows the reputation Agatha keeps ("Why do you let them believe those things about you?"), Rio probably thinks Agatha deliberately drove him off to keep him safe.

Then Billy pops up and Rio sees that Billy and Agatha care about each other and they're both aware they care about each other.

Fuckin’ great. Rio's not bitter at all.

Looks like you two are finally on the same page. So I'll let you decide. One of you stays with me. The other walks free.

Agatha proposed a deal designed to hurt her? Now it’s her turn.

From Rio's POV, I think here are the possible outcomes:

(a) Agatha sacrifices herself for Billy: Not impossible I think. Rio knows Agatha cares about the boy but she also knows Agatha will do anything to survive. She thinks she's above death. But again, I think Rio also knows Agatha would have sacrificed herself for Nicky if she had that choice.

What did Lorna want from the Road? To save her daughter.

This isn't an ideal outcome for Rio but she’s already resigned herself to losing Agatha I think, one way or another. This way if Agatha wants Billy to live so badly, this is the price she has to pay. The high cost of living.

(b) Billy steps up and sacrifices himself: Very possible given that Billy’s a young heroic sort and already showed up, risking his life to power up Agatha. Rio gets to do her job. Agatha will probably hate her more given the Nicky trauma but Rio’s already resigned to this on some level already, which is why she's raging.

Either way Agatha's going to hurt, and Rio's going to hurt.

It's interesting that when Billy does volunteer himself and Agatha seizes the opportunity to remind Rio of their earlier deal, Rio just shakes her head and looks amused.

You can also see for a brief moment Agatha looking almost remorseful about doing this before slipping her theatrical villainous mask on, overcompensating for her true feelings.

Do you remember pain? It kinda tickles doesn't it?

By the letter (not the spirit or intent) of the first deal, Agatha did ultimately fulfil her part:

I can arrange that. I can get him to the finish line and deliver him to you.

This is an opportunity that's almost impossible to resist for someone as calculating and ruthless and selfish like Agatha. She has power (chaos magic no less), she can have Rio leave her alone forever (she knows Rio honours her word), she knows Billy cares about her but can she really trust him?

But Agatha ultimately decides to take a risk. A calculated one sure, but still a risk.

I think the beauty in the kiss and her sacrifice is how – despite her calculating the odds – Agatha is choosing to give in to what she feels and wants in that moment.

Because she does want to protect the boy in a way no one did for her when she was young. She wants to save Billy like she couldn't with Nicky. And she does want Rio so much despite everything that's happened.

[geneviveleocardius]

arthur morgan romantic headcanons

but you both had a baby at a young age:

baby girl version

arthur swears he’s a tough man, but the second his baby girl grabs his finger or giggles at him, he melts and says, “well, ain’t you somethin’ special.”

the moment anyone so much as looks at her wrong, arthur’s voice gets low as he growls, “you got somethin’ to say about my girl?”

he calls her sweet little names like “darlin’,” “sugar,” or “princess,” his voice always softer than you’ve ever heard it when he talks to her.

arthur clumsily tries to braid her hair, muttering curses under his breath when it doesn’t work, but he keeps at it because he knows how much she loves it when he tries.

he loves pointing out animals and flowers to her, kneeling down to explain, “that’s a deer, little one. quiet now, don’t wanna scare it off.”

arthur makes up bedtime stories about cowboys and adventures, always with a brave little girl as the hero who saves the day, grinning when she asks for “just one more.”

when she starts toddling around in tiny cowboy boots he bought for her, he can’t stop smiling and says, “look at that—already ready for the range.”

he sits with her and lets her scribble in his journal, pointing to her messy drawings and saying, “that’s the best-lookin’ horse i’ve ever seen.”

arthur makes sure she knows how to be strong, but he always says, “you don’t need to be tough all the time, darlin’. you just be you.”

he loves to pick her up and spin her around, both of them laughing as he says, “you’re the best dance partner i ever had, but don't tell your mommy I said that.”

whenever one of her toys breaks, arthur’s quick to sit down with it, mumbling, “don’t you worry, i’ll have it good as new in no time.”

he cheers louder than anyone when she does something small, like saying her first word or learning to run, clapping his hands and exclaiming, “that’s my girl!”

as soon as she’s big enough, arthur has her sitting in front of him on his horse, holding the reins and saying, “you’re a natural, kiddo.”

when she’s scared, he kneels down, holding her tiny hands and saying, “ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you, not while i’m around."

arthur often tells you, “she’s gonna have better than what i had. i’ll make damn sure of that,” his voice full of quiet determination.

whenever she gets into mischief, she runs to arthur, and he chuckles before saying, “alright, but don’t tell your ma i helped you out.”

he jokes about how she’s already trying to “protect” him when she toddles up to him with her tiny hands on her hips, scolding him in her baby voice.

arthur hums quiet lullabies while holding her close, and even if the tune’s rough, it’s the most soothing sound in the world to her.

when he watches her sleep, arthur softly mutters to himself, “wonder what kinda woman she’ll grow up to be. hope she knows how proud i’ll always be of her."

she always runs to him, climbing into his lap no matter what he’s doing, and arthur grins, wrapping his arms around her and saying, “this is the best seat in the house.”

[pennyserenade]

common people | jim o'mahony (the delinquent season) x reader

summary | old enough to know better, but too exhausted by life to really think about it, you have an affair with a man you met on the bus. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | explicit smut, questionable morals, age gap (reader is in her mid to late 20s, jim is in his early 40s), pinv, angst, infidelity, unprotected sex word count | 3.6k+ a/n | this is sadder than i intended it to be, and perhaps less sexy because of it because at the end of the day i fear i'm a thought daughter more than a thot daughter. one day we'll find the balance, girls. just not today. love ya

The line that drew you here – sitting on the bed in your shoddy three bedroom flat with your mouth wrapped around Jim’s fingers – is by no means a straight and narrow one.

It had begun with a glance. You had done it because you wanted to feel seen. Jim had sat on the opposite side of the bus, wearing a puffy winter jacket, his black hair peppered compelling with visible grays, and his face had been indifferent as he watched out the window of the bus. With his arms crossed over his chest and his lips pressed into a pout, he struck you as an interesting subject. You had allowed your eyes to roam over the sharp sculpt of his jaw, and to inspect the enticing dust of freckles along the bridge of his nose, which danced out to the hollow of his cheeks. Then you caught his eyes as he turned his head in your direction. The sweet thrill of being noticed itched up your spine, just the way you were used to it doing.

Jim hadn’t let his face of plain indifference shatter in the wake of being watched, but you knew that he was watching you too, and that was enough. That wasn’t to say he was special. There’d been other people - other men - whom you had engaged in this game of sorts with before. Before Jim, it really meant nothing. You did it with people you didn’t even find all that attractive, just to know you could. There was the power in the act of maintaining eye contact with these people, and you liked the ambiguity that resided in the length of your stares–what it could suggest, or what it could lead to, even though it never had. The only thing that separated Jim from all of them was that he looked back for longer, and in his eyes you saw something more potent.

Sometimes you wonder, the way you, as the other woman, are apt to do, about the way he is different for his wife. Does he gather her in his lap? Does she put her mouth around his fingers and does he hum in delight for her, too? Or is this yours, just as that first shared glance was on the bus?

His fingers sit heavy on your tongue now. They taste of nothing. You arch into his body and his lips form into a smirk that makes you bloom inside with an insidious warmth. This man is someone’s husband, and he is spending a Tuesday afternoon in your bedroom. He is the creature of adulthood that lurks in your barely post-graduation adobe, a shape of security who sometimes brings your flatmates bottles of inexpensive ale and dinner to keep them amiable when his wedding band gleams in their direction. To make matters worse, he is older than you – so much so that you wouldn’t like to tell your mother about it, even if he wasn’t married.

Drawing his wet fingers out of your mouth, Jim trails them down your body, bunching up the fabric of your sleep shorts between his fists like a greedy child. You reach between your bodies and pull the leather out of his belt buckle. The clack of it resounding through your stuffy room makes you feel obscene and naughty. He marvels at the way you take initiative, his blue eyes following the diligent movements of your fingers as they work the belt through the hoops in his pants.

He leans back on the bed for you, and with a soft sigh, he accepts the cold tips of your fingers dancing across the skin of his lower stomach. You linger there, tickling over the hair below his belly button, relishing in the warmth his body has trapped beneath his jumper.

Before you pull the sweater up any higher, he takes your eager hands in his palms. “I didn’t even ask you how your day was yet, you know?” he says, voice airy—too light for how earnest you feel about fucking him.

A coil of frustration winds up inside of you. It must be treason, these small intimacies of his. Not only is he a husband but a father, too: an island of his own; a man with a country to abandon, to betray.

You offer him a placid smile. “It was slow. I was waiting for you.” Your fingers escape his grasp and he winces when they race out to his warm skin again.

“Mine was fine too, thanks,” he laughs, his own fingers gripping onto your hips. You ignore him, in no mood for conversation.

Jim allows you to draw his shirt above his arms. He pulls you closer against him after you do, your body flat against his exposed chest. You can smell the tea you made him on his breath, and feel the lustful fascination he has with you poking against your hip. He may be the most interesting thing that has ever happened to you, and you might be his.

You snake your hand down the front of his jeans, measuring the width of his want, the strength of your appeal. “Fuck,” he hums against your mouth. The deep timbre of his voice runs through you, causing slick to gather between your legs.

Jim opens his mouth for you, licking his tongue against yours as his fingers slide down the slope of your stomach to your clothed cunt. When you draw out a surprised breath, Jim inhales, taking your air before pressing his lips harshly upon yours. One hand curls round the back of your neck, holding you there. There’s a primal aspect to this, some need that existed before the both of you being manifested. His other hand cups your cunt, and he watches with invested interest as you grind down into his palm, desperate for release of any kind.

After a few moments of you grinding above him, Jim retracts his hand from you. Smiling, he takes off your shirt as you undo your bra. It’s a dance you’ve practiced so many times together, and it happens without falter or failure this time. You fist a handful of his salt and pepper hair as his warm tongue traces circles around your freshly exposed nipple.

Moaning softly, you rut against his crotch, trying to relieve the ache that grows between your legs as the warmth of his mouth wets your pert nipple. His tongue begins to trail up, wetting the skin of your chest, and he guides you back on to the bed. Nibbing softly at the skin below your ear, Jim’s hands slip off your shorts. You help, raising up your hips.

He smiles down at you, a soft, gentle thing, and you feel like a co-conspirator–a shameful title, but oddly thrilling all the same.

“Oh, Jim,” you say softly, before he has even touched you. Caging your lip between your teeth, you watch him as he stands on his knees before you, making room between your legs. Your head feels full. He doesn’t even bother with taking off his slacks. With the tip of his cock leaking already, he strokes himself, showing you, allowing you to see what you wanted to all those months ago on that bus: how much he wants you, how much you can be wanted. It is an accident– an incredible error–that you throb at him looking at you lovingly as much as wantonly these days.

You’ve read the reddit forums: women, like you, who know better and do wrong anyway. You’ve read entire threads about the reasons why they do it, and how they cope with it, and most of all, you search out the women who have seen themselves all the way through it. It scares you to think of all the paths this could lead to, when it wasn’t ever meant to lead to anywhere. Will you be the jilted lover in the end? One of the women who talk about how liberating it is to be free from something so private and soul crushing? Or will you end up concocting a story with him like the women who marry their men do? The ones who say they met on vacations or in bars months after the divorces have been filed so as not to be treated cruelly by the public? And could you live being either of those things?

“Missed you so goddamn much,” Jim whispers against your mouth, bracketing your head between his hands. You take his bottom lip between your teeth, kissing him hard, pulling him more closely to your body, as if your desire will eradicate that you want more than just lust from him these days.

He lines himself up to your entrance, his intense eyes watching your face twist up as he inches inside of you slowly. Jim is thick, and a little bigger than the other men you’ve been with in the past. It takes a moment for you to adjust around him, but he gives you it, kissing you tenderly until he‘s bottomed out inside of you. “Gotta be quiet,” he whispers against your lips. He swallows harshly then, as if having to digest his own sounds.

You feel the ghost of his breath against your chest when he hangs it down, watching the way you connect together. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you allow him to go deeper, pleading with him inaudibly to stay inside for longer. His hand pushes strands of your hair away from your face. Sweat begins to gather between your bodies, and he moves inside of you with the care of someone who is used to being discreet.

When the bed begins to creak beneath the sway of his hips, something primal unfurls inside of you. It is evidence that this is real. Evidence he allows - that he encourages - his needy fingers moving down, griping the flesh of your thigh as his cock slides back inside of you with ease. He grunts against your shoulder. “Fuck. Fuck, you’re so wet, darling,” he says. “Wanted me badly?”

You nod, turning to your head to capture his lips. You slide your hand underneath the waistband of his slacks, gripping onto his ass, guiding the movements of his hips as they press into your own. You feel an overwhelming desire for him, a thing bigger than you would like. It is warm, and blinding, and makes you stupid. “Wish you could be inside of me all day,” you say, meaning it.

“Fuck,” he whines. “I want—I want that, too. You’re taking me so good.”

You can feel the increasing ease with which he settles deeper and deeper into your body. “You make me feel so good,” you tell him. Your voice feels like it’s coming from some place deep inside of you, another version, who wants everything and can say it.

“Do I?” he manages to say, eyebrows threading together. He’s not really paying attention to what’s coming out of his mouth no more than you are. His eyes drop, looking at you beneath him, and then his head does too. His mouth wraps around your pebbled nipple, tongue swiping against your chest. He hums: the same satisfied song he sang you when you put your mouth around his fingers.

“Do you fuck her like this?” something inside of you speaks, hungry, desperate, needy. “Your wife?”

Too turned on to stop, or perhaps prepared for this inevitable question of yours, Jim gives an abashed, crooked smile, but does not stop.

“I fuck you like this,” he whispers, his voice low and sultry. It is such a non-answer, clever and just right. His hand comes up and gropes at your breast.

For a moment you imagine it, let the whole idea take place. Some woman you do not know, a faceless but important woman, older and wiser. She wears a wedding band on her left ring finger, and is elegant and caring. He has told you that she likes to go to the theater, and that she is a good mother. She is not the type to cheat. In fact, she is hardly the type to have a husband that cheats, either, but then life can be impossibly cruel, and not what you imagined it might be. Jim pulses inside of her, telling her he loves her, meaning it, probably. When she says she loves his cock inside of her, it doesn’t sound needy or submissive but erotic, demanding, and he asks her for another child, maybe. The things you do to save a marriage.

A man can only have so much, and you’ve never been particularly demanding. You won’t win this. Even here, under him: you want to give him everything, to allow him to tell you what to be and when to be it. His hand curls around your mouth, his head burying in the hollow of your neck. There is the warmth of his tongue against your flushed skin, and the idea that he could leave whatever marks he might like on you, despite the fact that you can’t do the same to him. You’d let him, happily. This he knows.

He does not tell you that he loves you, but instead mutters, “I want to make you feel good.”

In some ways, you have more than his wife does. Maybe what he’s given you has more weight, more truth; maybe it will last indefinitely longer than marriage vows that have been said and broken. You grip onto one of his arms as he pushes inside of you. You tell him, “You are.”

His skin has grown damp and warm beneath your fingers. You run your hands down his back, becoming intimate with the muscle and sinew of his frame as it writhes above yours. He grunts as the movement of his hips become more frantic—shorter and steadier thrusts, the creak of the bed too loud as he settles himself deeply inside of you.

It doesn’t make you feel embarrassed. It doesn’t even make you ashamed. An overwhelming flame of desire engulfs your soul, and all you can focus on is the way he feels: hot, warm, the full length of him stretching you and yet still looking to go deeper and deeper still. His mouth finds your shoulder, and you listen as he pants against the flesh there, stalling an inevitable end. He slows down, and you relish the slow push and pull he does with his hips. You’re sure you’ve never been so wet in your life, and he seems to agree, moaning at the sound of your cunt taking him.

“I want to ride you,” you puff out, brushing your lips against his ear. He nods eagerly in agreement, and you assist in pulling down his slacks until they’re hanging around his ankles.

Deftly, he kicks them off into a dark corner of your room, and then looks up at you, light eyes clouded with lust. “I love when you tell me things like that,” he tells you softly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His hand finds your breast, his mouth sliding across the column of your throat. “You’re so fucking hot. You gonna cum on my cock?”

He twitches inside you and you kiss him hard on the mouth. “Yes,” you whisper back.

Jim pulls out of you slowly. He sits in the spot next to you on the bed, lifting himself up onto his elbows in anticipation. You straddle him, gripping onto his shoulder for balance. He offers you a tender smile as his fingers grip onto your hip in encouragement. “Take what you want, then,” he nods.

Your fingers wrap around his cock, slick and hot, and his eyes dart down to watch as you line him up to your entrance. As you slide down onto him, Jim closes his eyes, leaning his head back against his shoulder and moaning softly. He looks so beautiful like that: his jaw clenching just beneath the surface of his taut skin, his hair mussed from your hands running through it, his cheeks glowing red from desire.

You press your chest to his and kiss the middle of his throat. His fingers travel over the swell of your ass, and you begin to move your hips for him. “That’s it,” he hums, opening his eyes. You maintain eye contact as you draw up off of him. It is as if you are the only two people in the world, your hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, the head of his cock sitting at your entrance. He lets out a sigh in relief when you slide back onto him. One of his hands reaches up and splays out across the small of your back, guiding you as you move. Your breathing becomes more shallow, and the hazy sensation of an orgasm begins to grow in your pelvis as you grind down into him.

Sensing this, Jim’s lips twitch up into a smirk. “So tight for me,” he mutters. His lips brush against your warm chest. “Fuck, and you’re wet. Not gonna last much longer like this.”

You tuck your face into his neck, panting softly as your hips roll into his. You listen to the soft grunts that fall involuntarily from his lips, and think about him cumming inside of you. He’s done it once before, and you liked it more than you should—it’s another sign of his desire for you to devour.

The orgasm hits you in waves and you gasp, gripping helplessly at his shoulder for purchase. Every limb in your body seems to give into the sensation, until you are reduced to nothing but that warm glow spreading rapidly through you. He kisses along your shoulder, your collarbone, tucking an arm around your back to support you as you slump down onto him.

You feel him twitch dangerously inside of you, and know that if you go for a little longer, he’ll cum too. Gathering the last of your strength, you lift your hips, watching between your bodies as his cock plunges inside of you. His fingers brush against your stomach, and the air between you becomes little more than a shared moan.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns. He gives you the choice of what to do. You rest your head against his, your noses brushing against each other as you pick up the pace. He cums inside of you with a strangled gasp, and you smile when the hot spurts of his want fill you. His fingers press into your sides, his body stiff beneath you.

For a moment you sit like that, his cock buried impossibly deep inside of you, your fingers intertwined in his hair. Sweat mats his fringe to his forehead in places, and he swallows harshly, his breathing labored. You can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed that you don’t want to part from him as you brush his hair away from his eyes, smiling.

He smiles back, content. All the lust that once filled his eyes is replaced with an affection you consider infinitely more dangerous. You lay against his shoulder and close your eyes. His heart thuds against the cage of his chest and his fingers stroke your back softly.

“I’m sorry for what I asked,” you murmur. The shame finds its way to you.

“It’s s’alright.” His lips brush against your shoulder. “I haven’t fucked her in a long time. Not like that. I’m not saying that just to make you feel better.”

“It doesn’t make me feel any better.” You lift your head off of him, meeting his eyes. “None of this does.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“You’re still in me, for Christ’s sake,” you laugh. He laughs too, and you know that’ll probably be the end of the conversation. A part of you is happy to let it go. You’re not ready to end this, even though you know you should. You don’t feel like the other woman, after all. She was meant to be more clever than this, wasn’t she? You feel like you’ve fallen into something you can’t get out of, something you’re terrified to even approach for what it might say about you.

“Hey,” he nudges his nose along your jaw. “You alright, then?”

“Sure,” you nod. “Stay a little while longer?”

“Yeah, of course.” He pats the hair on your head down, laying back on the pillow behind him. You rise up off of him, but still straddle his thighs. He holds you close, wrapping his arms around your torso. You can feel his cum trickle out of you.

“I like you a lot, if that’s any consolation. More than I should,” he tells you. “Enough to frighten me, really. I never thought I’d be this guy, you know? The cheater, especially with a younger woman. I don’t—you were the first I’ve ever felt anything for, you know?”

You lay your head on his chest again, and let out an amused laugh — though nothing feels particularly amusing. “Jim?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to convince me of anything.”

“Right.” He kisses your temple, staying there for a moment before pulling back and saying, “I’m just saying. I don’t want you to look back on this and think I thought of this as meaning nothing. It’s a big thing for me, too.”

You let out of a soft sigh, tracing up his freckled arms with your finger. “Jim?”

“Yes?”

“Will you fuck me again? I don’t want to talk about this anymore. ”

He laughs softly, kissing below your ear. “Of course,” he responds, his hot breath cascading across your sensitive neck. “Only this time, tell me what you want, love. I want to hear you say it.”

[lovelybucky1]

warnings: manipulation, cheating, pregnancy, loss of virginity

coriolanus snow is not a good man. he lies, he cheats, he steals, he manipulates, and he kills. but you don’t know any of that. all you can see is his porcelain smooth skin and glossy blonde hair.

you’re star struck that the youngest gamemaker in history has any interest in you. sure, you live in the capitol which means you’re better off than most of the country, but you’re no one special.

to coriolanus, however, you’re perfect. you’re pretty, dumb, and you’d make the perfect trophy wife to hang off his arm during his presidential campaign. you look at him with hearts in your eyes and he can tell even after your first meeting that you’re obsessed.

it’s not love, you’ve just met him. but he’s fine with that, because he won’t love you either. he knows you’ll grow to love him and he will grow indifferent about you, but you’d fit the part for now. once he gets elected, he’d be able to have any woman he wants. he’d have his pick of the draw, whether they were willing or not.

he asked you to marry him after two months, and by that time he was already becoming bored of you, but he was looking forward to your honeymoon. you wed a week later and that night, he took your virginity in his bed.

you were waiting for marriage and coriolanus told you he was too, but if you had any experience, you’d realize that the movement of his hips were too practiced for this to he his first time.

he insisted on waiting to get you pregnant until after he’s elected so he could parade his young family around the capitol like you’re royalty.

what you don’t know is he’s fucking his secretary over his desk at work and covers up the scent of her perfume with a bouquet of fresh roses. he brings them to you every day and delivers them with a kiss to your forehead.

you’re his good, stupid, doormat wife and he loves you.

[hypewinter]

Bruce carefully approached the child playing by himself in the park. The child giggled as they played with chalk, the sidewalk illuminated by a single street lamp.

"What are you drawing?" he said softly, not wanting to alarm them.

The child turned, revealing themself to be a little boy, no older than 5. He had raven black hair and icy blue eyes. Bruce could practically already hear Oracle snickering on the other end of the comms. She had probably already taken a snapshot of the boy through his visor and posted to the batkids group chat which contrary to popular belief, he did know about. Bruce sighed internally. He'd never hear the end of it when he got home. Especially if he had the kid in tow. Let's hope that didn't happen.

"Hello Batman!" a cheery voice broke him out of his thoughts. "I'm drawing a gargaggle!"

Bruce refocused on the boy who showed no signs of fear. He didn't even look surprised which was strange to say the least. "A gargaggle? Do you mean gargoyle?"

The boy furrowed his brows for a bit before piping up again. "I do! It's such a funny word. I can never get it right."

"I know the feeling," Bruce said, crouching down next to the boy. "Sometimes I struggle with words too."

The boy's eyes went wide as if he couldn't believe the Batman struggled with words. "Say-" Bruce started, "-it's pretty late out are your parents nearby?"

The boy shook his head. "No, I don't have parents," he said as he went back to doodling.

Ok Bruce don't freak out just yet. "Oh, then do you have a guardian of sorts? Like an older sibling, or another family member? Like an aunt or grandparent?"

The boy shook his head again. "Nope. Oh! But I do have a friend. She's very nice and gives me lots of gifts and special things."

Alright, he could work with that. Maybe this 'friend' was the kid's guardian and he just didn't realize it yet. That could happen if he was put in their care recently. Bruce cleared his throat to get the boy to look up at him again. "Do you know where your friend is right now?" he asked.

The boy smiled wide. " 'course I do! She's right over there!" As he spoke, he pointed to a clutter of trees, just to his left. "She really loves you and your family," he said. "She's shy though, so she hid when she saw you coming."

"I see," Bruce replied as he got up. "Well maybe I can convince her to come out." He walked over to where the boy had pointed and pulled apart the bushes, hoping to find a woman who he could talk to about the dangers of wandering around at night. Instead he found nothing.

Bruce heard a giggle from behind him. "That's not where she is silly," he said.

"But that's what you-"

"She's not in the bushes, she's in the shadows. She's really good at hide and seek you know. Once we were playing and she hid in the shadows. Then she snuck up behind me from another shadow. It was really unfair! I never win hide and seek or tag against her," the boy said, starting to pout.

She's in the shadows? A meta? And one with a similar power set to Signal no less. Hmmmm.

Bruce began making his way back to the boy. "Then where is she right now?" he asked.

The boy shrugged, as he returned to his drawing once again. "I don't know. Sometimes she leaves and doesn't return for days. Since you're around, I don't think she's coming back for a while."

Great, just great. He had managed to scare off a little boy's only guardian in the middle of the night. Good going Bruce. he chided himself. He crouched down next to the boy again. "Do you know how to get home? Maybe we can wait for your friend there."

The boy turned to Bruce again. "Sure do!" he said, puffing out his chest. " 'cause I'm a big boy and big boys know how to get home on their own." he recited.

That was another point for the growing concerning information checklist. "Okay let's go wait for her then."

The boy's face dropped as he looked longingly at his gargoyle drawing. For a moment, Bruce thought he would have to bribe the kid with a lollipop but instead he held up his arms to be carried. "Okay," he said solemnly.

Bruce exhaled in relief as he picked up the boy. After pulling out his grappling gun he turned to the boy. "Where to...." Shit. Had he really forgotten to ask for the kid's name?

The boy in question didn't seem all too bothered by that fact. "Danny," he answered seamlessly. "And it's that way." Bruce aimed his grappling gun and off they went.

----

It took Danny all of two directions before he was out like a light. Bruce sighed, switching directions. Yep, he would truly never hear the end of it.

Next

[moonieandi]

corners and walls | silco x f!reader  

Summary: the grief of loss shakes apart the friends of four, leaving silco and her to pick up the pieces of the complex affliction between them

warnings (TW): slight spoilers for arcane season ii//act ii, swearing, mentions of death, alcohol mentioned, general trauma, violence (implied)

tags: established relationship, honestly for once NOT dumbasses, angst… comfort?, affection

notes: i think this is a oneshot. Im not completely sure (im kinda maybe sure) that this is a oneshot… im allowed to write about my interests! (pt 11 of snapshots in my drafts rn its a complicated ch im wrestling w myself about posting)--- but im in arcane brainrot…. I love dissecting it and unfortunately for all of u i LOVE silco……… hes a questionable character…… but the way the action of season ii is going i need something familiar in my life while looking at (doomed) victor/jayce (heavy sighs) — if u don’t wanna read i understand this is a moonie want (and need) — love youuuuuu <3 

word count: 2.6k

| masterlist | 

There were corners of her he did not know. 

Folds of her linens and clothes he moved to uncover in the past months. She was quiet, silent in the visage he had drawn of her, but stubborn (something familiar) and something of great consistency to him. 

It was hard to quantify her, easier to dismiss. She was not special. Of common stature and of common shape. Plain colors adorned her closet, plain and even temperament, plain tone, and of plain face. 

That is what they would say when uncovering her past. Now that she was part of this mess, part of the mess he had sheltered her into (part of the mess Vander had shepherded her into). The dream of a larger nation, of overarching architecture and structure and reasoning. A voice, they figured between the four of them, a voice that would listen and learn and speak loudly in the face of the injustices they had survived and crawled through. 

But he figured they would only comment on her appearance, perhaps. Of her coal stained shoes and the dirt under her picked nails. 

They would not know the woman behind it all. Would not know of Felicia either (now). Not with the violence inflicted on the bridge. Not with the weapon staining his hand (an accident he had sworn to them both). 

He knew of the woman before him though, knew of her mind and spite and grit. Knew of her work and the lengths and dredges she had come from. Knew of her grief. Something he sequestered in the back of his mind. Survive survive survive. She had once compared Zaun’s residents to roaches. Unkillable, dirty, and strikingly annoying. She meant it in an endearing way, she had to. She was a roach too. 

It was a different kind of insect, a different animal, that drove him to draw a gun on the woman he loved so dearly. He wouldn’t have thought to wrap a finger around the trigger if it weren’t for the feral instinct of preservation. He could discern danger like a sense, it came as easily as smell, as sight, as breathing. But it had him stuttering now, seeing her on the other end of his warranted violence (was it warranted?). 

She was a structure of poise, like usual. Another reason to keep the gun drawn to her. The silence in her acceptance of his decision. He knew though, that if they both survived the grief of his mistake she wouldn’t forgive him- never forgive him for registering her as a threat. How could she be? 

He had been waiting for the retaliation. He hid away in corners and along dark walls in wait. He waited for Vander to seek a sort of violence in him, the last violence the large man would ever do. Seek blood in the name of their shared friend, for the orphans he made. He was sick, sick with the thought of it most days. But composed, up until this point. Up until Vander used his last facilities to shake his roach of a mind from the corners of the nation they once dreamed of in the depth of caves and between stone-cold walls. She was it, was that thing that would make him waver, and he knew that. 

She had her palms raised, hands shaking. But composed, as usual. It was hard to shake the structure of her. She was rarely surprised by violence, much less the plights of men. She wasn’t quick to anger, wasn’t weepy at the thought of destruction, and stood as strong as cavernous walls, sturdy against the infrastructure of the Undercity. He admired that, he loved that. 

She had only shaken a total of three times, in front of him. Only bent her head and neck and bowed before him in emotion all of three times. Imprinted in his mind, the cascade of her hair, the shaking of her shoulders, and the sightless grief in her eyes. 

The first was the first time he truly saw her. She consumed herself with work. Whether it be their laborious job in the mines or the turmoil of finding justice in an unjustified upbringing. She had broken one day, that very first day. 

She was a sightless, unknowing girl in the crowd. But something about her hunched structure had struck him differently that day. He was younger then, only twelve. He knew of empathy but had yet to experience it. But he was shackled by it then, that day, when he first saw her. Hands bloody through her miners' gloves, shoes holey from the trek to and fro. She was younger, by a year or two. It was not unusual to find distressed children in the Undercity, perhaps more common than people would like to comment. Children, like they were, grew along the walls and innards of the city, meshed into stony hallways and bridges, faded into noise and paint of the background. It should go unnoticed by most, a crying child. But it struck him differently, then. 

The second, the day she confessed unfounded feelings. Years in the making, the dredges of the relationship between them. Even now, he could not comprehend the strings that were strapped between them. It was more than stuttered words and whispered confessions. It felt undying between them, an acceptance. 

She had been confused at the progression of their relationship, as was he. No reference to be found between them of a structure to hold their relationship. They took it in stride, took and molded their wants between them to breathe easily. Wind through a metal chime, ultimately peaceful, but prone to knots. Their strings overlaying, knotting, tightening. He had never thought to unweave them when he fled. The tug of knots and her heart led her back to him anyway. 

The third time would be now. The shake of her hands and the draw of her legs. The shimmering tears rounding along her chin. She was beautiful. She never liked when he said so, but she was captivating. He didn’t enjoy seeing her cry, it unsettled a deep dark part of him. One he would crush and stamp down, that domineering possessive part of him. He thinks of drawing the gun to his foot, squeezing the trigger at his incompetence and attitude to make her cry (this was the second time now, he swore, two strikes in the threads between them). 

“Please.” She never pleaded. “Please Silco, come home.” The grit of her teeth against a stutter, the shuddering of her breath in the cavities of her chest. Grief, unfounded. 

“You know I can’t, dear.” Too quick for his liking, he responded. He had backed himself into a dark corner, grown leaves into walls, and hid in shadows of the Undercity bridges now. It would have to be without her though, he grieved again. He had sunk so far into the stones, in the murky water of the Undercity, it wouldn’t be safe for her to follow. 

“I’m sorry.” An afterthought. A forethought. What he apologized for was lost between the notch of string on his belt and the thread leading back to her shirt. Was it for Felicia? His grief? Or was it for leaving her? (Was it for the children? For the young girls that remember his visage in Felicia’s home? For the blue-haired pixy girl that asked for him between shattered bombed dreams? The girls she shushed and rocked and cried to sleep?) 

She liked to think it was for all of it. Her stupid heart forgave him anyway. 

She was far from naive, far from gullible. 

She knew of men and violence and dark waters by the ripe age of nine. Something she would teach Felicia’s daughters now too. It was why she lived, why she breathed still, her unwillingness to bend and snap her neck in the face of shadows and men. But she had forsaken that for him, craved a subjugation in his waters, and wished to follow him up ivy walls and read the ink scrawled on his stupid notebooks. Wanted to breathe life into his ideas and into Zaun. She’d follow him into the dark, knowingly leaving the unsaught dawn behind her. 

She only bent because she knew the power between them was equal though. She was sure of exactly three things when it came to Silco. 

The first being that he was flippantly deep. That he thought not in breaths but in paragraphs. That he could not speak but write for hours on end, that he could comprehend and listen and swallow and accept, and that he did not react in haste. He was full of purpose and determination. It was more than endearing, almost blindingly inspiring that he wished for not better but only ever the best. 

The second being that he was a perfectionist. That his scripture was scrawling and hard to read, but comprehensive. That he enjoyed messes only because he enjoyed the meticulousness of planning and cleaning up. That he loved the structure of homes and corners of houses and the craft of cleaning something that was truly his. 

The third being that he loved of equal measure, that she was most sure of, could recognize in the dead of the night, in the depth of caves. That he was severely serious when it came to the strings strung between them, and not because of the disorder of them. He would have color-coded, would have untwisted knots, and lengthened rope if he wanted to. But that was the truth of it, that he was the farthest from a perfectionist when it came to love. That he didn’t measure distances and didn’t note words between them, because he threw away the scale of them long ago. Pulled her close, twisted words between them, and sang and hummed to her in crooks of her neck. That he wished for her continued safety above anything, and far above his own. She knew for a fact, was sure of it as she was of the red-pitched brick outside the bar. It was as cumbersome as the smoggy sky, but as easy to swallow as any dark liquor. That he loved her in dark corners that made him. 

But there were dark corners of her he did not know of yet. 

That the consuming grief of her long-time friend sent her into a rage, that the stabilization and measurements between them fell and broke when he was not there for her to confide in. She wished above all else that he had stayed, that he had faced Vander’s anger. She had stayed, breathed, and swam the storm of their mutual friends' grief. Stayed for the children and for their grief also. Did that make him a coward?

“For what.” She asks, the caverns of her lungs shaking now. Her hands weak, falling to her side. “Don’t say that, don’t say that if you don’t know what for.” It was senseless and miscalculated of him to say sorry. He is so purposeful, so full of preserverations. She just wished he did not feel he had to preserve himself in the face of her. 

The gun shakes now, dropping to his side, his finger poised along the trigger still. The depth of the scarcity of her image still shook him. It had been weeks, what felt like months since he’d seen her face. 

He had seen her in crowds, seen the children marking her frame and clutched in her arms. It shook him to not wake up to her face anymore, much less her smell or her frame or her voice. Her face though, the visage of tears and the weakness of her arms, awoke something in him. 

He had to remember himself, why he left. To build a nation, to structure a future for her. For the new shadows of Felicia that followed in her wake now. 

“Everything.” He meant. “For everything, my love.” 

She sighs deeply, tired. Her head tilting to the left on instinct. Powder made a home in the crook of her neck most nights now. 

It was striking to see him. She dreamed of him between nightmares and dreamless sleep. Dreamed of waking up to him, of the quirk of his lips and the crook of his nose. The smell of him and the warmth of his embrace. The fold of his jacket around her shoulders and the breath of a kiss along her brow. When she woke she could not decide the ups and downs of walls, couldn’t decide if it was a tortuous nightmare to be awake or to be asleep. 

It strikes her when he steps forward from the shadowed corner she had backed him into. His hair is longer, his eyes deeper and darker, his clothes caked with dirt. She thinks to be insistent again. Thinks of bringing him home despite Vanders’ anger, despite the grief they shared between them. But wasn’t Silco grieving also? 

He approaches with stuttering steps. Unsure of the length of strings between them, grasping her to tie her tight again to him, when he reaches for the curve of her cheek and jaw. 

“Don’t cry.” He commands for the third time in her life, sweeping his thumb and fingers along her wet cheeks. She shutters around it, breathing between the mess of string and space between them. 

“Good.” He hums, bringing his fingers to the nape of her neck, curving her neck up in revelation. He bends his own in subjugation to her, curving his shoulders and bowing to her visage to meet familiarly between them. Curving his slight frame and lips against her own warmth, the common parts of her beat faster at the affection. It burst between them, the movement of endearment and familiarity. She forgot about this above all, missing the plainer parts of life you don’t know to miss until they are gone. 

She’d miss him again and again, would string along strings and set fires in dark paths and along walls searching for him. They’d say goodbye now, and say goodbye again once she traced him back down to the cobblestone he had slid into and out of. She’d look for him in architecture and in the children of the Undercity, she’d swear and kiss away it all now, though. Anything to push off the knots between them, anything to stop a stuttering goodbye between them that was as inevitable as her own death. A thousand of them, these tiny goodbyes, she’d take though, if it meant he lived. 

Lived farther down below than she’s ever been. But then again, there were corners and foothills in her mind he did not know of, yet.