#maybe if you explain why she’s toxic i’ll understand why

[monzabee]

the smallest man who ever lived - cl16

masterlist || part 2 || part 3 ||

Summary: The one where you’re thrown into a conundrum when you learn the news of your husband, Charles’, infidelity.

Pairing: charles leclerc x wife!reader; carlos sainz x reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, cheating, crying, manipulation(?), charles is an absolute asshole (but so is the reader) (but she’s kinda also badass?) (toxic relationship?), even more assholish carlos (gasp), blackmail, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation (literally just pushing someone off but still)

Request: “Hey girl can I request something angsty with Charles? Maybe Charles cheating on Y/N (we’re already famous and have been married to Charles for years) and the fighting, the finding out, his guilt, angst, etc.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! thank you to the anon who requested this because i had the time of my life working on it, and it might be the first fic i wrote in one go for the last six months or so!! also thank you to the getting cheated on playlists i found on spotify and amy dunne for giving me the inspiration to make the reader as toxic as i could. special thanks to @norrisleclercf1 and @percervall who had to listen to me talk about this fic NONSTOP. this is definitely something very different to what i usually write, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

There are moments in life where you feel like a complete and utter idiot. Although it could be for no apparent reason at all, there is a perfectly explainable reason why you feel like that right now, in the middle of your trailer on the set, with your manager and publicist both looking at you like you could explode at any given moment. It took you a good amount of time to wrap your head around the news, the news that wrecked you into a million of pieces which left you as the only person who can put them back together.  

“Let me get this straight,” you start, still trying to wrap your head around the news, “they were photographed leaving the club, and there’s a–?” 

“Sex tape, yes.” Your manager mumbles, earning himself a side-eye from your publicist. “It was so kindly attached to the email.”  

“And it is anonymous?” You ask, earning curt nods from both. “Well,” you manage to get out, pressing your lips together not to let out a sob, or a laugh, both? “That is very ambitious of him.” 

Your publicist shares a concerned look with your manager, then turns to you, “I guess so? How would you want us to handle this? I can buy us some time until these are released to public, but I think getting a statement ready just in case is essential given the fact that both of you are public figues. We can say that you’ll attend marriage councelling–” 

Your loud laugter cuts her off in the middle of her sentence. “And just why would we do that?” 

“I–” She gives you another concerned look as she softens her voice, which is quite uncharacteristic for her, you realise. “How would you want us to approach it then?” 

“I don’t want you to approach it at all.” You voice cuts through the tension, your gaze fixed on her. “I’ll handle it.”  

“But Charles–” She tries to reason, but you cut her off again.  

“Decided to get his dick wet where it certainly didn’t belong, he’s a big boy – he’ll survive.” Fixing her with a final look, you turn to your manager instead. “I don’t want this going to Charles or his team’s ears, that’s what the email said, and we should honour it, no?”  

His expression turns into a smirk, matching the one playing on your lips as he nods in thougt, “Would you like us to do anything else? We can talk with the production if you need a couple of days to… well, recuperate. Greta would understand.” 

“No.” Your answer is final as you shake your head. “She thinks this is an Oscar worthy project, I’m not throwing it away because my husband decided to think with his dick and not his brain. Just call my lawyers and tell them to be on stand by.” 

“Should I also book you tickets to Monaco still?” He asks in a monotone tone. 

“Well of course,” you reply in a sweet voice, widening your eyes for dramatic effect, “it’s a family event.” 

Your publicist eyes the both of you, “Okay,” as she drags the word out, “are you sure you don’t want to take a couple of days off?” 

“Positive. I have an EGOT to win.” Raising the script you have in your hands in the air, you announce, “I have lines I need to go over, is that all?”  

And as they leave your trailer to give you some space to ‘go over your lines’, you let a few tears escape your eyes, promising yourself that you would make Charles feel a thousand worse what he made you feel in the moment. 

It is not surprising or a sudden revelation that Monte Carlo has good weather all year around. But as it happens with the last few weeks following you learning about your husband’s infidelity, all you feel is cold – and no amount of warm weather is enough to make your heart feel warmer again. As you stand at the terrace of Café de Paris, overlooking the cityscape of Monte Carlo, all you can think about is how you just want to get this part of you plan over with as fast as possible.  

“Chérie!” The voice you hear makes a lump perpetually situate itself in the middle of your throat, but you brace yourself for the worst as you turn on your heels to face the person you’re most scared of facing in this whole situation. “Look at you, you look incroyable! You had me scared when you told me you were catching the redeye, and that we just had to talk!” 

“Pascale,” you breathe out as the woman pulls you into her arms with the warmness of any mother would do, and for that brief moment, you feel better than you have in weeks. “It’s so nice to see you again,” giving her the warmest smile you can muster up in the circumstances as you pull back, fixing your gaze at the figure behind her as you nod your head in acknowledgement, “Arthur.” 

“Maman is right,” Arthur says as he opens his arms, “you do look good.”  

“Well, thank you.” You reply as you give him a quick hug, and motion the table as you pull back. “Shall we?” Call it common curtesy, or cowardice, the fact that you don’t directly get to the point. Either way, you talk about what you’ve missed in the couple of months in which you’ve been away filming. You’re not necessarily paying attention, though the endtail of Pascale’s sentence catch your attention. “Excuse me, can you repeat that?” 

“Well, I was just telling how sad I was that Charles doesn’t come home as often this season. Though I understand he’s coming out to see you on set, distance can be so hard even for–” 

“He’s not coming out to see me, Pascale.” You voice is softer, and appears more broken than you would want it to be, but your words convey the message enough. It takes you a couple of moments to organise your thoughts, and Arthur calling out your name, to get you back into the moment. “There’s something I need to talk with the both of you, something I’ve already talked with Lorenzo, but I thought it would be better for you to hear it from me.”  

“Okay?” Arthur mumbles, then gives you a supportive smile, “You can tell us anything. Though don’t tell me I’m about to be an uncle because I don’t think my ego can take it at the–” 

You attempt to swallow the lump in your throat as you direct your words to the woman sitting across from you. “I’m divorcing your son, and I thought you should hear it from me and not him.”  

It takes a few minutes for both Pascale and Arthur to say something, and it concerns you that you somehow managed to give your mother in law a brain aneurism, but eventually, she manages to get out, “What? How? Why? Are you okay?”  

“I’m… fine.” You reply, albeit it comes off calculated. “I found a couple of weeks ago that he was cheating on me, I’ve came back to give him the papers myself.”  

“He what?” Arthur exclaims, then realises the level of his voice, and lowers it down as he asks, “Are you sure this is not a misunderstanding? The guy has been in love with you for over a decade, he wouldn’t do this.” With a resigning sigh, you find what you’re looking for in your phone and hand it over to Arthur. Who then, upon seeing what you have pulled up, immediately hands it back to you and turns to his mother, “Trust me you don’t want to see it.” 

“I’ve came to tell you the news, and well, to apologise.” You turn to face Pascale again.  

“Apologise?” She repeats, “Why on earth would you apologise to me when my son cheated on you?” 

“You’ve been nothing but kind to me ever since we’ve met, both of you.” You acknowledge Arthur with a look, and then focus your attention back on the woman, “Though I will make sure you don’t get caught in the crossfire in any way, I wanted to apologise for what I’m about to put your son through.”  

You honestly don’t know how you manage to act as if everything has been going fine in your life during race day. Given the fact that your husband doesn’t expect you to be at his race due to your rigorous filming schedule, and his family members being willing to hide your existence from him, you have no obstacles in your way to carry out the rest of your plan in motion. Which is exactly why you’re sat in the dark, waiting for your husband to walk through the doors of your apartment overlooking the city. With you seemingly being absent for the weekend, he has no reason to not believe that he is coming to an empty house.  

So, imagine his surprise when he enters his home; with his girlfriend in his arm, no less, and sees his wife sitting on the couch with her legs crossed and a drink in her hand. The look on his face is priceless, and despite all the pain and frustration you’re feeling, it manages to bring you some semblance of joy, knowing that it’s going to hurt him just as much as it hurt you.  

“Ma chérie,” Charles stammers, eye wide as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights, “I – I didn’t know y–you were coming back this weekend.” 

“Well obviously,” you scoff, taking a generous sip from the drink in the glass tumbler in your hand, “otherwise you wouldn’t bring your little girlfriend into my house to fuck her.” You hear a gasp from the scaredy brunette wedging herself closer to your husband’s side, and for the first time you take a good look at her – young, much younger than you, tall, leggy; all the telltale signs that she is exactly your husband’s type. Tilting your head to the side, you rest the glass on the arm of the armchair you’re sitting in, “If you could leave now, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

You hear Charles whisper something in her ear, probably telling her to leave and that he’ll contact her tomorrow, and watch as she gives him a scowl, screeching, “You’re just going to let her throw me out?” 

“Well, considering the fact that this is my house, yes.” You give her a look of pity, watching her face light up with anger.  

“Listen to me, you bitch–” She starts, but your husband quickly cuts her off.  

“Mon cœur!” He exclaims, “S'il te plaît!” 

“Yes, listen to him, like a good little girl,” you egg her on, a smirk widening on your lips as you start swinging the leg resting on your lower one, choosing to focus on your nails instead of your husband trying to soothe his lover. 

You hear her scoff, take a few steps as her heels click on the marble floor of the entrance, “I wouldn’t be so calm if I were you, I’m not someone you want to be on bad terms with, considering the fact that he’s going to leave you for me!” 

“Oh, honey,” you coo, focusing your attention back on her and seeing the look of concern in your husband’s face through the corner of your eye, “and when did he tell you that, like a year ago? Two? Three?” A realisation dawns on her face as the smug expression starts to fade. “Don’t worry, though, you can have him when I’m done with him.” Pushing yourself off the armchair, you down the rest of the drink in the glass before slamming it down onto the glass coffee table. “And not only do I not care if you think I'm a bitch, but I hugely prefer it. Now get the fuck out of my house before I call security and get your ass thrown out.”  

You watch as she looks at Charles with indignation, lets out another screeching sound and slams the door behind her as she stomps out of your apartment. Only then you turn your gaze back to your husband, who has the guts to look at you with a worried look on his face. “How long have you known?” Is the first thing he asks you, taking a few steps closer.  

“A couple of weeks, a month, maybe?” You answer him, leaving your place to get to the small bar in the corner of your living room to get another refill of your drink. “There’s a video of the two, it somehow got into my hands, and it has very graphic details of the two of you having sex.” Popping a lemon into your cup, you make your way back to the armchair and sit down, “Are you stupid enough to cheat on me and make a fucking sex tape, Charles?” 

“I-I didn’t mean to–” He tries to plead, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.  

“You didn’t mean to what?” You ask him; your voice soothing, almost understanding, and it does the job of fooling him. “Cheat on me? Fuck another woman in my bed? Break the vows you’ve made?”  

“Ma chérie,” he whispers, “please.” 

“No.” Your voice is colder all of a sudden. “Tell me how long this has been going on for. Was I right? How many years?” 

“It started five years ago,” his voice is soft, somber and he tries to appear as genuine as he can in the situation, you suppose, “but I knew her, from before...” 

“Before what?” You’re seething now, the complete opposite of his calmness, “Did you fucking cheat me when we were dating, Charles?” 

“Ma chérie,” he gives you another pleading look, “please, I can change. I’ll go to therapy.”  

Now that, manages to get a bark of laughter from you. It’s ripped from the back of your throat, making you throw your head back as you lose yourself in the laughter to the point that there are tears in your eyes when you finally manage to calm yourself down. Putting the glass down on the coffee table once again, you wipe them off, mindful of your mascara, as you shift your attention back onto your husband. “Are fucking kidding me right now?” He gives you a concerned look, hands on his hips as he opens his mouth to answer you, but you quickly shut him down again. “You were bringing her into my house to fuck her, I caught you, I have your fucking sex tape – which is going to be streamlined for the world to see within twenty-four hours, do you honestly think I would go back to you?”  

“Wait, what?” He exclaims, looking at you with wide eyes and a shocked expression. “What do you mean they are going to streamline it, why didn’t you go to the lawyers? 

“I did go to the lawyers,” you shrug, innocently, “my lawyers,” you point out. “Why would I cover up your mistakes after everything you’ve done?” 

“Because I’m your fucking husband!” He barks, his arms widening to his sides as he finally loses his mask and his composure.  

His little tantrum only makes you let out another laugh, “Now, you’re my husband? Not when you’re cheating on me when I’m away shooting, but when you need me to clean up after your mistakes?” 

“How did you even get the video?” He asks, eyes narrowing down, “Who- who– who?” 

“Who? Who? Hoo? What are you, a fucking owl?” You exclaim, this time raising your voice. “You’re honestly more concerned about where I got it and not about the fact that the entire world is about to see you fucking someone other than your wife?” 

“What are we doing to do?” He asks, “Fuck, I have a race tomorrow.” 

“We’re not going to do anything.” You shrug, leaning forward to grab the glass and take another sip, “Or scratch that, we’re actually going to do something.” You stand up from the armchair, walk towards the table and hand him the file. “Congratulations, we’re getting a divorce.” 

“That is not happening.” He scoffs, not even bothering to look at the papers.  

“I don’t think you’re in the position to bargain with me, Charles.” You seethe, “You’re going to sign the damn papers, and you’re also going to sign away your rights to the baby.”  

“What the–?” He looks at you in disbelief, “You’re pregnant?” 

“Congratulations, it’s a boy.” You bite out, “Like you wanted.” 

“You’ve been drinking the entire night.” He points to the glass, “Do you expect me to believe you’re pregnant?” 

Offering him a sweet smile you hand him the glass, tipping it towards him, “It’s soda water, would you like a sip?” 

“Don’t make me do this,” he pleads, “give me another chance.” 

“I would’ve, if you were honest with me from the start.” You resign, a sincere look in your eyes. “I’ll give you a choice: us, or her.”  

He rears back with the offer, looking at you in disbelief. “What?” 

“You either choose me and the baby or you choose to be with her, and in that case, I will never let you near my baby, Charles.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around your stomach protectively.  

For a second, his eyes linger around your stomach.   But you know his choice when he meets your eyes again.  

“What have we done to each other?” He whispers, and you can barely see the tears in his eyes.  

“We didn’t do anything, Charles. I gave up everything for you, but you just took me for granted.” Walking back to the dining table, you grab your coat and bag, and when you come face to face with him again, your voice is soft despite all the anger you still feel towards him. “You, Charles Leclerc, are truly the smallest man who ever lived.”  

The hotel lobby is calm and empty as you sit at the bar, and it’s surprising when you consider that fact that it is the weekend of the Monaco Grand Prix, meaning that there must be hundreds and thousands of motorsports fans visiting. Not that you’re complaining about the silence, of course. After the night you’ve had, silence and calmness are all you could ask for.  

“I’ll get a whiskey, please, whatever top shelf stuff you’ve got.” A voice cuts through the moment you are having, and you instantly recognise the distinct accent of the stranger sitting next to you. “Thought you were in the States, finishing off filming.” This time, the comment is directed to you, and you roll your eyes as you push the empty glass towards the bartender on duty.  

With a sigh, you turn to the man on your right, “What do you want, Carlos?” Your voice conveys your lack of energy, and Carlos is not dumb enough not to notice the dark circles under your eyes beneath your makeup.  

“I came to check on you.” Is his answer. Simple, curt and to the point. You’d certainly appreciate it more if you had the patience for his antics.  

“Well, you did, have a good night.” Slamming down a hundred-Euro bill onto the counter, you make a move to get up from your place, but a gentle hand on your wrist stops you. “Let me go.”  

Though there is no venom to your voice, Carlos knows that it is not the time, nor the place, to test your patience. “I’m sorry,” he starts and when you take a good look at him, you can tell that he’s being sincere, “I really did want to check up on you, and considering the fact that you have a perfectly good penthouse but instead in a hotel, I think I was right to do so.”  

Crossing your arms across your chest as you get back onto the barstool with a huff, you glare at him lightheartedly, “I didn’t want to stay in the same house as him,” raising your eyebrows, you continue with a lower voice, “thanks to chilisade5594@gmail.com, but I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.” The way his cheeks redden under the dim lights of the lobby bar would make you chuckle under normal circumstances, but you push the thought aside, “Honestly, what were you thinking? You’re lucky it was me who realised it was you, if it was my agent or publicist, we’d have another scandal to deal with.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes you off with a swat of his hand, “I’m sorry I put you into that position.” 

“Don’t be,” you mumble, tilting your head to the side, “I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t sent me the video. Just tell me why you did it.” 

“What?” He turns you with a confused look on his face.  

“Why, Carlos?” You ask, voice encouraging yet soft, “Why did you send it? Why now?” 

He keeps quiet for a while, not answering your questions but not taking his gaze off you either. Eventually, he exhales a deep sigh as he gives you a sheepish shrug, “I didn’t like the way he treated you. And I didn’t want to make you worry about it without concrete proof, so I guess everything just... worked out.”  

“Huh,” you let out a small hum in agreement, “I guess you’re right.”  

Expecting more than the words you chose to answer him with, he raises an eyebrow as he takes a big gulp of whiskey from his glass. “That’s it?” 

“Well, what more is it there to say?” You ask, sheepishly shrugging. “We’re getting a divorce; he’s going to move out and I’m gonna make sure the entire world knows just why.” 

Carlos flags down the bartender as he mumbles, “I feel like you need a stronger drink if we’re going to talk about your impending divorce, cariño.” 

Taking a deep breath and exhaling an even deeper sigh, you shake your head. “I can’t.” Thank God Carlos is one of the people who is the proud owner of a braincell around you, because he catches your insinuation quickly.  

With widened eyes, he quickly turns towards you, eyes softening as you offer him a sad smile. “Dios mío,” he murmurs, eyes running over you worriedly, “are you okay?” 

“Well... no.” You let out an unexpected laugh at his expression, patting him on the shoulder lightheartedly. “I’ll be fine, Carlos, I’m a big girl. I can handle this.” 

“I know you will,” he assures you, “but does Charles know?” 

Now that manages to bring a grimace to your face. “He signed his parental rights away along with the divorce papers.” The look he gives you after hearing your words has you worried that his eyes are going to pop out of their sockets, but you try to calm him down as best as you can. “Carlos, it’s fine.” 

“It’s most certainly not!” He exclaims, his voice echoing in the almost empty hotel lobby. “Is he out of his mind?”  

You give him an awkward smile and another shrug of your shoulders. "I... feel like whatever I’m going to say is going to be wrong. So... yes?”

“Cariño,” he says, exasperated, “how are you so normal about this?” 

“Lots of women raise their kids as single mothers while working, Carlos.” Your expression quickly taking the form of a frown, “I can handle this, I don’t need Charles or anyone else to hold my hand and tell me I’m doing such a good job.” 

“I know you can do this alone, tonta,” he rolls his eyes as the endearment making you roll your eyes, “but you’re not going to be alone. Because I’m here.” There’s a certain finality to his words. And just as you’re about to object to his words, he quickly shuts you down. “I know you can do this on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”  

“What if I need waffles in the middle of the night?” You ask, your eyebrow raised in a skeptical way.  

“I’ll adjust my pancake recipe.” His reply his immediate, and he shrugs lightly as he adds, “Pancakes are better, anyway.”  

Rolling your eyes you continue, “What if I need someone to hold my hand in the delivery room? It can get quite gruesome, you know?” 

He provides you with another nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve never really been affected by it.”  

“Okay, this is ridiculous, Carlos!” You exclaim, pushing yourself off your seat as you turn your body to face him. “I don’t need you to bail me out, I don’t need your help!” 

“I know you don’t,” he nods.  

“I am capable of doing this on my own!” You shriek, and the fact that your face is starting to get progressively redder worries Carlos.  

“I know you are, but–” he tries to reason.  

“No buts! I’m going to be a good mother, okay?” You point an accusatory finger towards him. “I’m going to choose him!” 

The way your voice breaks at the end of your sentence has Carlos instinctively pull you into his arms, which is not that hard given the fact that you are almost the same height as him as you stand in front of the bar stool he’s sitting on, and he doesn’t say a word as you sob into his chest – letting out all the emotion you’ve bottled up over the past few weeks, no less. He doesn’t you offer you empty promises or tries to soothe you with cliché phrases. Instead, he stands still, holding you between his arms as you sob continuously into his chest. Giving the bar tender an awkward smile over your shoulder, he hands him his card to close out your tabs.  

He only starts talking again once you’ve pulled away and trying to wipe the remnants of your tears from under your eyes. “Do you feel better now?” He asks, handing you a napkin.  

“Yeah,” you mumble, sniffing as you play with the corners of the napkin. Then, you flip your eyes toward his, and fix him with a glare. “You are not becoming my kid’s stepdad.” 

“Of course not, cariño,” he assures you, “I’ll be the dad that stepped up instead.” 

You let out a teary chuckle as you slap him lightly on his chest. “I’m serious, Carlos.” 

“So am I.” He replies softly, and you can see the genuine look on his face. “You’re not alone anymore, I’m choosing you.” Tentatively, he presses his hand softly against your stomach as he maintains your gaze. “Both of you.” 

And though the last thing you want is a promise, this one seems like a real one. So, you let yourself believe that he might just keep it up. 

[starkwlkr]

fever dream | sebastian vettel

part 2 part 3

warnings: toxic soon to be ex husband who cheats on reader (if i miss anything, let me know!!)

update: i decided to make this into a series, thanks for reading!! you can read it here!

AN: THIS SAYS THAT SEB AND THE READER WERE TEAM MATES FOR 2014 AND 2015 THATS A MISTAKE SORRY I ONLY MEANT TO PUT 2014 😭

INSTAGRAM (private account)

liked by lewishamilton, yoursistersaccount and 24 others

yourusername a short trip back home 🤍

lewishamilton enjoy it!

yourusername thanks lew! miss you and roscoe 🤍

lewishamilton roscoe and i miss you more

yoursistersaccount it’s great to have you home

yourusername 🤍 love you

view all 13 comments

“luke, alison! your aunt y/n is here!” your sister yelled as she opened the door to her home. in a matter of seconds, loud footsteps were heard running down the stairs. “no running!”

but still the kids didn’t listen, they were excited to see their aunt. “hey, my babies! oh my god, you two have grown so much. stop growing!” you hugged your niece and nephew.

“i’m almost as tall as mom!” alison, the younger sister, said.

“liar, that’s just what dad says to make you feel better. i’m going to grow more than you and then i’ll be taller than you.” luke teased.

“you both can be tall, but never as tall as me.” you joked as you placed a kiss on their cheeks.

“are you going to stay with us forever?” alison asked innocently. “dad said that you don’t want to stay with your husband anymore and you’re going to stay with us.”

“alison!”

the truth was hard for little kids to understand. yes, you were going to stay with your sister for a few days and yes, you didn’t want to stay with your husband anymore, but it was a bit more complicated than that. your husband had cheated, lied, manipulated you and you had enough. he was the reason you couldn’t come back to the sport you loved and worked your whole life for.

“well i am going to be staying here, but not forever. i just needed a break from him, it’s normal.” you tried to explain to the girl.

“but my mom and dad don’t take breaks?”

“alison, just go to your room, you too luke, please. dinner is going to be ready in an hour.” your sister said, feeling embarrassed that alison would ask those questions.

“what did i do?” the older boy whines as he and his sister walked up to their rooms.

“i’m sorry. i spoke to jack the night you called. we were cleaning up the table after dinner, i assume she heard.” your sister explained.

“it’s okay, they’ll understand when they’re older. not everyone is cut out to be loved . . .”

or a mother.

only a few people had known about your issues with infertility, your sister and lewis being two of them. after you retired from f1, you were sure that in a couple months, you were going to be busy with doctor’s appointments, buying baby clothes and building a crib, but none of that happened. after a year of trying, you were convinced you weren’t meant to be a mom.

you thought about returning to the track, after all many drivers returned after saying they were retiring, why couldn’t you? but that plan was spoiled by the man you thought loved you.

“you can’t go back, you don’t belong there. it’s a man’s sport. you’re probably going to crash in the first lap anyways.”

you didn’t know why you stayed with him, but you did. maybe it was the promises he kept telling you about or the hopefulness that one day you would become parents and maybe he would change. but again, none of that happened.

“um, i have to call someone. i’ll be right back. excuse me.” you told your sister as you walked to the patio door and exited the house. without hesitating, you clicked on a familiar contact. you held your phone against your ear and waited for the person on the other end to pick up. it felt like forever, but eventually they picked up the call.

“hello?”

[elleluvsjurin]

run for the hills

requested

synopsis: kiss and make up with back shots ofc!

pairings: daniela avanzeni x fem!reader

cw: smut, strap usage, toxic relationship, bottom!reader, Dani refers to the strap as her cock

MEN DNI!!

once again, you and daniela are arguing over the fact that last night she stood you up..again. it always goes in one ear and out the other.

“i dont understand why you keep bitching at me, i told you that i was sorry and that they kept us over for practice.” daniela explains

“why say sorry if you’re just going to keep doing the same shit?” you state

“well maybe if my girlfriend wasn’t up my ass all day, we wouldn’t have to be dealing with this.” she says

“if that’s how you really feel daniela, then leave.” you say, catching her off guard.

“what?” she has the look of fear in her eyes but she doesn’t back down.

“you want to invalidate my feelings and make it seem like im bitching for no reason so leave.” you say

“im not leaving, y/n. you think just because we get into a couple of arguments that im going to let you go?” she crosses her arms over her chest

“it wasn’t like that.” you mumble, getting slightly intimidated even though she’s slightly shorter than you. she softly grips your chin, looking you in the eye.

“no? then what is it like?” she asks innocently

“dani-” “hm?” she asks, testing your limits

“i don’t like this.” you admit and she smiles, giving you a soft chuckle even

“you’re lucky you’re cute.” she cups your face and kisses you. you being the person you are, obviously you melt into the kiss. her arms wrap around your waist, pulling you.

“dani..” you mumble

“yes?” she asks before pulling away

“what are we doing?” you mention. she presses her forehead up against yours and holds your face.

“listen, im sorry, ok? i know i might’ve sucked as a girlfriend for the past month or two but im apologizing. I’ll try to get better, I’ve just been practicing a lot and that affects us but im willing to do whatever I can to make it up to you.” she says

“ok.” you softly mumble, pressing your lips up against hers. you two fight for dominance, daniela obviously winning. she pulls you closer so her hands can find your plump ass.

“need you.” she muttered as it has been a while since you two have done anything.

“i-i need you too…” you trail off as she leads you to the shared bedroom.

daniela gets on top of you, pulling your shirt over your head and throwing it across the room, along with your bra. her tongue flicks your nipple.

“fuck dani..” you whimper as she grabs onto your other breast.

“God i love your tits.” daniela whispers as she sucks on your other nipple, before she pulls away.

“need that pussy.” you instantly pull off your pants and take off your underwear before you spread your legs. Daniela mirrors your actions by taking off her own clothes

“you wanna eat it or?-” she walks into the shared closet between you two and pulls out a strap on. She lines to harness up to her hips, putting it into place, tightly around her hips.

“i know what i want to do. bend over.” she mutters and you follow her orders, arching your back for her. she pulls out a bottle of lube, rubbing it all over the silicone cock.

“you ready, babe?” she asks and you shiver at her tone

“y-yes..” you mumble. she grabs your hips before lining her cock up to your slit. she pushes her hips forward, sliding herself into your cunt and you groan out.

“oh shit.” you mumble as you grip onto the sheets. daniela pulls her hips back before harshly pushing her hips forward, thrusting inside of you.

“you’re so fucking perfect.” she whispers into your ear as she digs you out with her cock, smacking your ass in the process making you wince.

“god damn..you’re so rough dani.” you whimper out. she places her leg on the bed, holding herself up as she grabs you by the hair to pull you up as she fucks into you.

“this is what you wanted so take this fucking dick.” she says, speeding up her thrusts. her hips collide with your ass creating loud claps that fill the room between you two.

“a-ah..fuck.” you cry out, rolling your eyes to the back of your head while your juices coat her strap.

“give it to me baby.” she whispers while she looks down, her cock starts to slide in and out, slipping because of how wet you are. she reaches down to rub your aching bud and your body spasms.

“mommy…im almost there!” you moan out and she smirks at the newfound name that you called her, encouraging her to go faster.

“cum on mommy’s cock.” she says as she rubs faster, your body slightly twitches before you come undone. you body shakes as you start to cream all over her cock.

“Jesus…f-fuck!” you moan out loud before she pulls out. she sticks one of her fingers inside of your soaked cunt.

“look at this messy pussy…” she mumbles, pulling her finger out, softly sucking on it.

“ugh you’re such a freak.” you say, falling onto the bed face first and she smacks your ass, she giggles before taking off the harness from around her hips.

“you should know that by now.” she lays on the bed next to you, kissing your cheek.

“crazy girl.” you mumble. daniela turns on the tv and you guys end the night by watching television and laughing about things together.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Real Man

Jay Halstead x Reader

Your ex pushes Jay too far

Warnings: Suggestive?

“So I was thinking” you cut your eyes up from your computer to your boyfriend who was currently sitting on the edge of your desk giving you one of those smiles he knew could get you to agree to damn near anything. “Thinking what honey?” he shrugged “Will’s birthday is tonight. Wanna go out to Mollys with him and Nat? Get a couple beers? Maybe we can go get dinner or catch a movie after?”

You felt a smile slip onto your face “Date night after we ditch your brother so him and his girl can go home to her kid?” he nodded “Exactly” you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth like you were having to think about it for a second and laughed when his eyes widened “I’m kidding Jay! Pick me up at seven” he shook his head “That was mean baby”

You turned in front of the mirror to check your reflection once more. The dress you picked was one of Jay’s favorites on you, along with the boots. You heard a knock at your door and checked the time, six fifty five. Damn.

You walked over to the door and opened it to find Jay on the other side. He turned when the door opened like he was about to say something but when he saw you his mouth snapped shut. “What?” you asked, suddenly double thinking about your outfit. He shook his head “Are you trying to not go out? Because that dress makes me want to stay in” you felt your face warm along with pretty much the rest of your body at his comment.

“C’mon baby, Will is waiting. You’ve got plenty of time later to do with me as you please” one his eyebrows raised and you winked at him then grabbed your jacket “Let’s go” you felt his hand on your lower back as you locked your door and then on the way to his truck it slid lower to gently squeeze your ass. When you gasped lightly he leaned closer, letting his teeth graze the soft skin of your neck “I’m gonna take my take with you later”

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words. Maybe Will would understand? No no no. You had to meet him.

Jay had his arms around your waist and you were leaning back against his chest. Him and Will were playing darts and while you could have sat down you didn’t exactly mind an opportunity to be in his arms. His lips brushed your neck before he stepped away just long enough to throw his dart and it landed on another bullseye. You laughed at the look on Will’s face “Why are you playing darts with someone who was in the rangers that we consistently use as the help from above and expecting to win” Will cut his eyes at Jay who explained “Her idea of help from above is a sniper on the roof”

Will nodded “That’s a good point” Jay laughed and squeezed your hips “Damn sweetheart I already beat him in four games” you nodded turning your head to look back at him “It was getting sad” “Oh was it?” Jay laughed, leaning down to catch your lips in a quick kiss.

________

“Well if it isn’t my leftovers and the sad sap who got em” You immediately stiffened at the voice. Your ex Lee Richards.  A narcissist, toxic, insecure asshole. The complete opposite of the man whose arms you were currently in and who must be very drunk to think this was a good idea.

Jay turned, pushing you behind him as he did so “Walk away Richards. I’ll give you one chance” You cut your eyes at Will, silently begging for help when Lee had the nerve to say “Ya know that first time you fucked her we hadn’t been broken up but what? Three weeks? She was probably thinking about me”

Jay laughed and it was anything but a humorous sound “And yet the entire time I was between her legs she damn sure wasn’t screaming your name when she was begging me for it.  Maybe she was just tired of little boys playing grown up and needed a real man to show her how a woman should be treated. Now get the fuck out of my face before I break your jaw”

Lee ever the idiot swung on Jay who easily blocked the punch with his left hand and threw a punch with his right that connected solidly with a sickening crunch. He dropped onto the floor, holding his face. “I’ll press charges” he threatened around the swelling but Nat, Cruz and about half a dozen other people all piped up saying it was self defense. Jay winked at him “My word against yours. You work for a nobody I work for Hank Voight. Get up” 

Lee scrambled to his feet and made a beeline for the door. You reached for Jay’s hand and he let you turn it over “I’m fine baby, his face isn’t hard enough to hurt me” you kissed his hand then whispered in his ear “That was the absolute sexiest thing I have ever seen” he cut his eyes at you and a smirk slipped onto his face “Happy birthday Will, I’ll catch you later” then grabbed your hand.

“Where are you two going?” Will called as Jay tugged you behind him through the bar and out the door.

__________

Your back was against Jay’s truck while he worked the sensitive flesh right below your ear with his teeth. A low moan of his name slipped out of your lips, your fingers finding their way into his hair. He moved back up to your mouth, leaving a bruising kiss against your lips “Did it turn you on that much? Me defending you?” one of his hands slipped under the hem of your dress and when you didn’t protest that the two of you were outside, visible to anyone and instead just left your legs fall apart wider he laughed against your lips “Damn, remind me to knock idiots on their asses more often”

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (6/?)

Chapter summary: The relationship between you and Wanda reaches a critical juncture.

Chapter word count: 10,500 words

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader (heavy on this chapter), Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader

Trigger Warnings: mildly dubious consent, alcohol abuse, smut, toxic relationships

Author's note: Yup.

AO3 | Masterlist

Next chapter: Seven

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta | @secretbackrooms | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez

-

Part VI

Wanda hasn’t heard from you in exactly a week. 

After you dropped off Sparky at her apartment, she attempted to invite you in for a chance to explain herself, but you firmly declined and hastily departed without uttering a single word or even casting a glance in her direction. Somehow, the situation has deteriorated further than where it’s been months ago.

As before, Wanda made numerous attempts to call you and sent lengthy messages, earnestly explaining that she never intended to offend you and expressing profuse apologies. Over time, her messages grew increasingly desperate, pleading with you to at least inform her if you no longer wished to see her again. However, you remained silent, leaving her messages unanswered. Eventually, her calls ceased to connect, and a warning symbol appeared next to her texts, indicating delivery failure.

The implications were clear.

You’ve finally blocked her.

She couldn’t understand why the topic of children affected you to the point that you’re hell-bent on writing her off this time. Your discussions about having them never went beyond who’s carrying (Wanda) and how many (two); it was more of wishful thinking that didn’t make the priority list in the five years you’ve been married. 

It’s why she didn’t think twice to open up about her regrets of not having them, contemplating whether things would have turned out differently–if she would have turned out differently. Maybe, she would have been someone who didn't prioritize her own needs above all else. 

In a roundabout manner, it was her attempt to convey that she felt flawed and tainted.

There’s no excuse for her cheating. But she wanted you to understand anyway, that if she could have prevented it somehow, she’d give everything she has to seize that opportunity.

But as it turned out, it was foolish of her to think like you were still partners in the old days; where she didn’t need to filter out her thoughts because they were safest with you. You were her best friend, after all.  It became challenging for her to strike a balance between being true to herself and expressing her thoughts with unwavering honesty. Ironically, her sincerity and openness only served to push you further away. Clearly, her efforts to do the right thing have only resulted in diminishing her chances of reconciliation.

Over the last few days, Wanda’s thought a lot about showing up at your door, but seeing how unpredictable you’ve become to her, the prospect of being turned away like a beggar frightens her more than anything. And worse, it might just prompt you to move out of Natasha’s apartment and consequently, out of her life for good. 

Wanda couldn’t take that risk. She’s lost you for the third time now; and each of them has hurt more than the previous one. How many more times does she have to lose you in order for her to learn how to keep you? 

-

“This isn’t what I ordered.” 

Wanda blinks at the customer with a vacant expression. He took one sip and arbitrarily dismissed the drink before turning his attention back to the tablet in front of him.

“You ordered an Iced Americano with oat milk, two pumps of sugar free vanilla and one pump of hazelnut syrup.” Wanda recites his order from memory. 

“No water.” he replies in a monotone, rigidly unbothered in his pristine suit.

Wanda swallows dryly; that detail she forgot about.

“My apologies. I’ll be back with your drink in a few.”

Wanda hurries to the coffee bar to make another. In autopilot, she redoes it from scratch, putting together the ingredients with preciseness that could only be perfected by hours of preparing complex orders alike. She mixes them all together, before filling the cup with ice to the brim. However, right before she can serve it, another customer comes up to the counter, with a mild complaint about their paninis. 

It takes less than a minute for Wanda to deal with the problem, and then she returns to the businessman with the replacement drink. Wanda quietly places the cup in front of him. His dull eyes flicker to her as he tentatively takes a small sip. Grimacing, he sets his cup down and then flashes Wanda an impatient look as he says, “How many times do I have to spell it out for you? I said no water.”

Wanda’s nostrils flared. “The hot espresso would melt the ice somehow,” she snaps with a tight smile, and then she openly leers at a specific area below his waist. “Or is your brain too small to understand that’s just basic science?” 

Her voice is loud and sharp enough for two other customers to hear, and for Agatha to come rushing to her side to help with the situation.

The man rises abruptly in a fury, and stretches his spine to look taller than his height.

“You’ll be hearing from me in your Yelp reviews later.” With that, he leaves, making sure to slam the door on his way out. Everyone cringes in chorus at the clashing sound of metal chimes. 

Wanda tacitly apologizes to the customers bothered by the commotion, before cleaning up the table of the one who just left.

When she returns to the kitchen, Agatha studies her in concern.

“You alright, dear?” she whispers to Wanda, depositing a tray of dirty plates and utensils on the sink. Wanda works her jaw as she starts putting those in the dishwasher. 

“Wanda, dear?” Agatha tries again. “Wanda.” she repeats in a hushed tone. That’s when she notices Wanda’s hands gripping the edge of the sink hard, her knuckles turn white. The brunette is shaking, breaths becoming shallower and shallower until she’s gasping uncontrollably. Agatha grabs Wanda by the shoulders and starts to lead her outside from some fresh air.

“N-No,” Wanda protests in between pants. “J-Just wait it out.” Then she falls to the floor and hugs her knees, willing for her panic attack to pass. In the background, she hears the remaining customers leave, murmuring to themselves about the “unpleasant vibe” the cafe is giving off. 

Agatha is on the phone, calling Pietro.

Make it stop. Wanda thinks to herself, trying to gain control of her breathing. Please, make it stop.

An image of you appears in her head. With her eyes closed, she can see every crease, every pore, every detail of your beautiful face. 

“Y/N…” she utters your name like a prayer. 

Gradually, the tremors subside. Her heart rate returns to normal. Wanda feels herself reconnect to her body. The episode is over just in time for Agatha to return with tears in her eyes.

“Oh, thank God, you’re alright!” she cries, before dropping to her knees and enveloping Wanda into a stiff hug. “You scared me! I thought you were having a seizure.”

“Panic attack.” Wanda corrects her evenly. “I get them sometimes. Sorry, I should’ve told you.”

“It’s okay,” Agatha rubs her shoulder soothingly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

The warm feeling of comfort is what finally breaks Wanda. She covers her face with both of her hands and sobs into them. 

“Oh, Wanda…” Agatha takes her back into her arms and rocks her back and forth. “What’s happening to you?”

When her crying subsides, Wanda tells Agatha everything; from the night she found you again at the club, to the short-lived friendship that ended in a misunderstanding about imaginary kids.

“Honey, don’t you think it’s unhealthy to be in-touch with your ex-wife in the first place?” Agatha says in the best way she wouldn’t sound too critical of Wanda’s predicament. 

Wanda hastily brushes away the lingering tears that continue to trickle down her cheeks.

“I never wanted to be divorced from her. I never wanted us to end.” Wanda swallows back a whimper, feeling another dam within her threatening to burst at any second.

Agatha tries to sympathetically put some sense into her. “But you agreed. You signed those papers–”

“It’s what she wanted. And after what I did, I was in no position to deny her anything.”

“And what were you expecting to happen after you gave her what she wanted?

“I…” Wanda trails off, feeling like the biggest idiot now that she’s realizing how naive she’d really been for the past several weeks. So deluded into thinking that she’ll eventually worm her way back into your heart. “I don’t know.”

Divorcing didn’t feel so permanent when she agreed to it. To her, marriage was a legal binding that came with spousal benefits. Even without it, she already knew she was spending the rest of her life with you. When you divorced her, it didn’t change the fact that she was yours for good. 

Agatha sighs and puts her hand on top of Wanda’s, squeezing it lightly. “You know, we’ve never really talked about our personal lives. Most probably because I was your boss.” she says with a light chuckle. “But have I told you that I never married?”

Wanda shakes her head. “Someone from the gallery mentioned it in passing. I forgot who.” 

“I bet it’s Dottie. That bitch,” Agatha mumbles, glaring at the empty space in front of her. “Anyway… What was I saying?”

“You never married.”

“Ah, yes,” Agatha’s face twists into something wistful and sullen. “But it’s not because it wasn’t for me. To be honest, I love the idea of it. I guess you could say I missed the opportunity to be married.”

Dottie never delved into the reasons why Agatha stayed single all this time; likely because no one had gotten close enough to uncover the complete story.

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks, recognizing that Agatha is sharing this narrative as a diversion, and she feels a sense of gratitude for it. 

“The love of my life wanted to marry me before I was ready. I was, oh god, eighteen? A country girl, fresh out of highschool and ready to show the world what she’s made of.”

Wanda smiles softly as she imagines a young, vivacious Agatha Harkness. 

“He’s a junior police officer in our town and three years my senior,” Agatha tilts her head, the back of her head pressing against the kitchen cabinet. Wanda observes how engrossed she is in her own trip down memory lane. 

“I remember it like it was yesterday. I hadn’t known he’d been planning a proposal at the festival that was going to be held the night of my graduation day,” Agatha recalls. “So, when he got down on one knee with a ring in front of everyone we knew–our friends, our family, and practically the whole town–I had wanted to be struck by lightning and just…fall dead on the spot. That would’ve been the best thing to happen that night.”

Wanda’s brows are knitted together as she asks, “What did you do?”

Agatha starts laughing–a cackling humorless sound–nothing short of unhinged if Wanda hadn’t heard it before. “I ran. I literally ran for my life.” she tells Wanda.

“He was so humiliated by my reaction, he wouldn’t see me at all. I didn’t reach out either. I don’t think we ever broke up. We just stopped talking to each other. And then my career took off and I landed in New York.”

“Did you ever find out what happened to him after?”

Agatha smiles sadly at that, and says, “Oh, yes. I kept tabs on him for years. He got married to someone else the following year, just before I could muster up the courage to fix things.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago. And I’ve moved past it.” Agatha’s eyes are wet when they meet Wanda’s.

"So... you never got married because you've been in love with him all this time?" Wanda asks, curiosity and surprise lingering in her words.

The question sends Agatha into a fit of giggles. “Don’t be silly, Wanda. I’m not a martyr. I fell in love so many times after him.”

Wanda laughs along though self-deprecatingly. “Yeah, I guess that was a stupid take.”

As the silence settles between them, Agatha proceeds, her voice softening. "There was a time when I truly believed I would never move on. I was fixated on him for years. It may sound petty, but I even started curating my social media profiles to project an image of living my best life—well, in a way—just in case he ever stumbled upon them."

She takes a breath before continuing. "But then, one day, I woke up and he didn't consume my thoughts anymore. As my heart let go of him, it also released the notion of marriage."

“Oh,” Wanda looks down at her lap, not really knowing what to make sense of it all. “Those men that came after your ex, you never saw yourself marrying any of them?”

“I already had my one, great love, Wanda. He’s the only boy I was sure I could love forever. Yes, I can fall in love with other people again and again, but I’ve come to realize that it will never measure up to what I felt for him. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

"I do, actually," Wanda responds with unwavering determination. She isn't entirely certain of Agatha's intentions in sharing her story, but it only solidifies Wanda's resolve to win you back. "If I have to go to great lengths to prove myself to Y/N, then I'm prepared to do so. I won't give up without a fight."

"No, no," Agatha shakes her head, a little dismayed that her true message didn't come across as intended. "You're supposed to do the opposite. Let. Him. Go. One day, you're going to wake up, and it will all be nothing but a precious chapter in your life."

“I’m sorry, but I think you’re lying when you say it’s “nothing” to you. The fact that this memory has stayed with you all these years means something.”

“Excuse me?”

“I think you regret that you acted a little too late. Don’t worry, I’m not going to make the same mistake.” Wanda says, getting to her feet. 

"I have no regrets," Agatha asserts, looking up at Wanda with staunch confidence. "And you have no right to judge me for choosing to prioritize myself over catering to his wounded ego."

"I wasn't judging you," Wanda soothes softly. "And I apologize if I'm not hearing what you want me to hear, but Y/N was open to maintaining a connection with me. And as far as I can tell, she isn't involved with anyone else yet, which means I-"

"How certain are you?" Agatha interrupts, a hint of challenge in her voice. "How certain are you that she isn't currently planning her future with someone new?"

"I just am," Wanda responds with full conviction.

“That’s not good enough, Wanda.”

“Well, unless I see her say ‘I fucking do’ to someone else at the altar, then the only option for me is her.”

Agatha drops her chin in defeat. She takes a long, deep breath before pulling herself off the ground so that she can address Wanda on eye-level. 

“I can’t tell you what to do because clearly, your mind’s made up. It seems made up long before you and Y/N got yourselves into this mess.”

Wanda is quiet as she stares at the floor, not denying nor confirming anything.

Agatha's expression softens as she reaches out to lift Wanda's chin gently, making her meet her eyes. "I'm here to support you, my dear. And I genuinely wish you the best."

Wanda struggles to swallow the lump in her throat. "Agatha, I... I apologize for what I said earlier about-"

“I’m not hurt,” Agatha says, but it doesn’t make Wanda feel any less guilty. “Believe me, I’ve said and done worse things when I was in your position.”

Wanda nods solemnly. “Can I ask you a favor though?”

“Sure, honey. What is it?”

“Please don’t tell Pietro. He’s doing well, I think. I don’t want him to worry about me. He’s been here long enough already.”

“You have my word.”

-

Later, after Wanda closes up shop for the day, she goes straight to your place. She loafs around a corner across your building, deliberating if she should come up to your unit and hash it out. The lights are open where your living room would be on the third floor, indicating that you’re home. But just as she makes the decision to see you, a figure of a woman approaches your window to draw the curtains. 

Wanda narrows her eyes, and as she looks closely, instantly recognizing that she’s the same woman from the club. The woman you danced with, seemingly without a care in the world.

Wanda’s step falters, almost losing her balance. She lingers for a bit, gazing up helplessly at your window. As people pass by her motionless figure on the streets, their expressions turn to suspicion, their eyes drawn to the direction that has captured her attention so completely.

She pays them no attention, but when it becomes apparent that this woman wasn’t going to leave anytime soon, she decides to go home.

As Wanda catches the last train to her borough, she tries not to think about what it means. 

Wanda’s never been one to reel in her jealousy; no matter the fact that she no longer has any business of feeling that way in the first place.

-

“Y/N?”

“Maybe it would have stopped me.”

Your mind keeps rewinding the same scene from a week ago. Over and over again, you see green eyes, large and imploring. 

“Y/N.”

Maybe it would have stopped me.

You see Wanda standing by the doorway, terrified and confused. It’s haunting in a way that you kind of wished you didn’t agree to this friendship thing in the first place. 

“Y/N!”

Yelena's voice calling your name startles you, snapping you back to the present moment. You blink and refocus your attention on her. "Sorry, what's up?"

Yelena had arrived unexpectedly an hour ago, holding a bag of Shake Shack takeout and mentioning something about being in the area for an event. It hadn't occurred to you that you hadn't been in contact since the night you shared a kiss at her doorstep. In fairness, she hadn't reached out to you either.

She had set up the food spread of burgers and fries on the table in front of the TV while you searched for a horror movie that neither of you had seen. However, in the midst of dinner, she had to take an important work call, and your thoughts immediately drifted back to the events of the previous week, those green eyes that were dark pools of fear and rejection. 

Yelena bites her lip, finally noticing the disconnect and distance you've been exhibiting.

“Are we ever going to talk about it?” she asks. 

You tilt your head at her curiously. “Talk about what?”

Yelena rubs her temples as her mouth twists in a wry smile. “Oh my god, you can be such an asshole sometimes.” 

As you grab Yelena's hand, a surge of determination courses through you, preventing her from fully retreating. "Lena," you say, using her childhood nickname, a name that holds a special significance between the two of you. 

It's a subtle way of easing the tension that has filled the room. With a mix of relief and vulnerability, Yelena allows herself to be pulled back towards the couch, and she plops back down beside you.

“Look, I know I didn’t call you either after we… after that night. But I’m here now, and I’m ready to figure things out with you.” she says.

You sigh, letting go of her hand. “Frankly, I don’t know where to begin.”

“How about this,” Yelena proposes. “I’ll start with a question and we’ll see where it goes from there.”

“You’ve thought this through.” you say.

“I have.”

“Alright.”

Yelena nods. “Here it goes,” she blows out her cheeks. “Why did you kiss me?”

“I–”

“I don’t need a quick answer,” Yelena interrupts. “I need an honest one.”

The truth is, from the moment it happened until Wanda showed up the following day, it consumed your thoughts entirely. You recall lying awake in bed, unable to shake the desire to experience it again—the softness of Yelena's lips, the subtle differences in her kisses compared to those you had shared before.

You kissed her simply because it was unthinkable to do anything otherwise in that moment.

You give her this answer, and Yelena’s expression remains eerily neutral. Not that you were expecting some kind of reaction, but still–

“So if it had gone beyond a kiss, you’re saying you just wanted to hook up?”

You shake your head at her incredulously. “Not at all!”

“Oh, so you didn’t want to have sex with me at all…”

“I do! I mean–of course I’m attracted to you. But I didn’t kiss you just because I wanted to sleep with someone,” you say, feeling a pressure at the back of your neck. “I kissed you because I just… wanted to kiss you.” you wince at hearing yourself repeat the same thing like a broken record.

Yelena studies you for a moment, before she says, “Does that mean anything?”

“It means being close to you like that brought a decade-old feeling to the surface.” you reply, the volume of your voice considerably fading towards the end of your sentence. 

Yelena plays with the necklace around her neck. “Yeah? What sort of feelings?”

You prop your chin on one hand. All things considered, what you once had with Yelena had every potential to be one of your greatest loves. But you don’t want to mistake love with feelings of nostalgia. 

“You don’t have to answer that one,” Yelena says after a long, heavy moment. “Actually, I’d prefer it if you don’t. I’ve been thinking a lot this past week. About the possibility of us. About you, as a person… about me, as a person. And we’ve… changed. I just didn’t realize it before because you feel like home to me. I think no matter how long or far we’re apart, I’ll always feel that way about you.”

“Me too,” you say with a soft smile. “Your presence in my life has been nothing but comforting. Safe. Like I can always be me, even at my worst.”

“But it’s not enough for me, Y/N. I never thought the window would open again when Nat told me you got married. So, I’ll be damned if I miss my chance again.”

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that we give this a real chance," she says.

"I... I don't think I'm ready," you hesitate.

Yelena can't help but let a smirk creep onto her lips. "Says the girl who kissed me."

You blush at that, wishing you carried the same courage you had that night at this very moment.

When you fail to respond, Yelena prods you with a question. 

“You’re not ready or you’re scared you’d hurt me?” she asks.

With love, you have always been ready. It has always been a natural and instinctive part of your being. You embraced love in all its complexities; with its joys and sorrows, without fear or reservation. But now, you cower in the shadow of betrayal–as if it was love itself that betrayed you, rather than Wanda.

“I’m scared I’d hurt you,” you choke out, barely able to contain the tremor in your voice. “... And I’m scared to be hurt again.”

Yelena’s heart breaks at your words. “Come here.” she whispers.  

She doesn’t really wait for you to act. Before you know it, Yelena has closed the distance to encircle her arms around your waist and pull you into a tight embrace. You hug her back and bury your face into her neck. It’s only when you feel Yelena’s soaked shirt against your cheek, that you realize you’ve been crying.

You remain intertwined in each other's arms for a while, finding solace in the connection you share, until Yelena’s phone rings and it’s Kate urgently asking her to work with her on a story that’s about to erupt. Understanding the importance of her work, you reluctantly send her off, promising to continue the conversation at a later time.

Just as Yelena is about to leave, she suddenly pauses and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you into a brief yet intense kiss. The passion and longing in that moment leave you breathless. Before parting, she whispers, "Something more for you to think about. Now, we're even."

With those words lingering in the air, she releases your bottom lip with a wet sound and leaves you with a swirl of emotions and thoughts to ponder.

-

That same night, on the rooftop of her apartment building, Wanda sits alone, surrounded by the night sky and the faint smell of tobacco after doubling her dosage of tranquilizers again.

The half-empty pack of cigarettes lies beside her, a testament to her struggle to cope with the turmoil in her heart. She takes a long drag from her cigarette, feeling the burn in her lungs, and exhales a cloud of smoke into the air. Beside the pack of cigarettes, a bottle of tequila rosé stands, its contents diminishing with every sip Wanda takes. 

Wanda's mind drifts back to her college days, remembering how smoking was once a non-negotiable deal-breaker for you. She had forced herself to quit back then, eager to align herself with your preferences and expectations. But now, in this moment of heartache and confusion, she finds herself returning to this old habit, seeking comfort and familiarity in the act of lighting a cigarette.

She recalls the day you moved out of your home in Westview, the day her world began to unravel. It was then that she picked up smoking again, a way to cope with the pain of your absence. And even when she found you again, she attempted to quit for the second time, hoping to present a version of herself again that you would approve of. 

But tonight, with her heart heavy and her emotions overwhelming, Wanda allows herself to surrender to the temptation of smoking. Each inhale brings a momentary respite from her thoughts, even if it comes at the cost of her health and well-being. She remembers how you used to despise the smell of tobacco on her breath, how you would express your concern about the impact it had on her life expectancy.

“As much as eleven minutes per stick.” You had told her so many times, back when you were just friends.

Yet in this moment, Wanda finds solace in the cigarettes, even if it's just for those fleeting minutes that they shorten her life. It's a small act of rebellion, a way to reclaim a fragment of control in the uncertainty of it all. 

“Ever wonder who will die first in our old age?” Wanda asks you one night after a particularly intense make-up sex. Lying in bed, you’re exhausted and seconds away from sleep, while Wanda’s energy hasn’t dissipated at all–rather, it increased even more after two orgasms.

You’ve been married for two years, and fought over a random encounter with Carol; a fellow NYU who was crazy about you for the entirety of your sophomore year. The aforementioned encounter was an annual work meeting with your company’s outside partners, and it led to Carol asking you to catch up over coffee after work.

“I hope it’s me.” you say, snuggling close to Wanda’s side. Tenderly, you place an arm over her exposed abdomen and affectionately squeeze a small fold on her belly.

“Can’t be you. I used to smoke three to four cigarettes a day for years before you made me quit.” Wanda says, laughing a little when you accidentally pinch a ticklish spot. 

“For the record, I didn’t make you quit.” 

“Fine,” Wanda rolls her eyes. “But going back to the topic: I think it’s going to be me.”

You’re quiet for a long period with Wanda thinking you’ve already fallen asleep, when you say, “I just did the math. As far as I know, you were a smoker for seven years, so that would amount to… about 10,200 cigarettes. Or 2.5 months lost.” 

Wanda looks down at you in confusion. “What are you on about?”

Your smile is mysterious as you close your eyes using Wanda’s breast as your pillow. 

“Don’t you dare start smoking now.” Wanda threatens softly, but you hear the fear in her voice anyway.

She feels your smile widen against her damp skin as you repeat, “I hope it’s me.” 

Wanda takes a satisfying puff from her last stick and wonders what’s one more thing for you to hate about her. 

Love is watching someone die. She heard that from a song that seems like a lifetime ago. Yet, she never truly understood its implications, given the typically grim connotations associated with death.

It was not until she revisited that casual conversation with you that she grasped the profound reality: by choosing to spend the rest of her life with you, she had essentially volunteered to bear witness to your eventual passing. Death, an inescapable and inevitable anguish, is a burden one willingly embraces solely out of genuine love for another.

Wanda shuts her eyes, recognizing the pressing need to halt her mind's meandering towards these thoughts, or she’ll never stop grieving. 

The cigarette's smoldering remnants fall from her lips as Wanda crushes it beneath her heel. She turns her attention to the bottle of rosé, swiftly uncapping it and taking a lengthy swig. No, she is not harboring suicidal thoughts. However, she remains unfazed by the potential perils arising from the harmful combination of her vices.

-

It’s almost midnight and you have only just been half-unconscious in your bed, when your phone rings for what feels like forever.

An unknown, overseas number appears on your vibrating screen and you stare at it for while before answering.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Natasha’s raspy voice comes through. The line is murky, and you can hear a foreign language being spoken in the background. “Sorry for calling you so late.”

You sit up on your bed, waking up quickly from your shallow sleep. “Where are you calling from?”

“Somewhere in Asia.” 

“Oh, I thought you’re in–”

“No. The mission took me here a day ago. Listen, I only have about five minutes.” Natasha says, not bothering to hide the impatience in her tone. 

You sit up straight on the bed, the last vestiges of sleep leaving your senses. “I’m listening.”

“Yelena and I talked some five minutes ago,” Natasha starts and your heart starts pounding in your ears. You hear a deep sigh coming from the other end–can feel Natasha’s apparent hesitation. But then–

“She didn’t exactly say that she’s still in love with you, but… But that’s how it sounded to me. And then she basically told me to fuck off and not act like an ‘overprotective asshole’–her words not mine.”

“We kissed.” The confession frees itself before you can stop it. 

“She did not disclose that detail.” Natasha says through gritted teeth from what you can hear.

“I should’ve told you but I don’t really know how to reach you, so–”

“I get it. I’m not mad,” Natasha says. “Not saying I’m okay with it either. Actually, I’m being ridiculous because you’re both adults.”

Growing up as an only child, you think it’s endearing how zealous she can be when it comes to looking out for Yelena. It’s something you’ll never dismiss as absurd in any way, especially since both were adopted and shortly abandoned by their parents before Natasha turned thirteen. Apart from you, Yelena is Natasha’s only family. And you hate being the cause of conflict between the two.  

“I just need to know one thing. Do you still love her?” Natasha asks. 

It’s instantly obvious that there’s a right and wrong answer to this. At the same time, you hear someone frantically knock on your door.

“Wait, Nat,” you mutter distractedly, putting on a pair of shorts. “There’s someone at the door.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Natasha mumbles. “Are you avoiding the question?”

“Wait a sec,” you say. The knocking remains persistent and demanding. You yell out, “Who is it?” as you pad towards the door. 

You don’t concern yourself with waiting for an answer. You hurriedly work the locks of the apartment and a certain brunette comes tumbling forwards the moment the door swings open. 

“Wanda?”

She’s wearing a mustard cardigan with liquid stains on the chest. And beneath the cardigan, a pair of pajamas that doesn’t match. From the looks of her, this visit was planned on a whim. 

For a while, you forget that your best friend is still on the call, until you hear Natasha say, “Yes, Wanda. Who else?”

“I… I’ll have to call you back.” you say to Natasha and simultaneously end the call before she can even protest. 

“Is she still here?” Wanda slurs and then lets out a small hiccup that you’d normally find adorable, except that you’re not supposed to feel that way towards her in light of being no longer married. 

And also the fact that there’s nothing adorable about seeing her so plastered to the point of being unable to focus her eyes on anything for longer than a second. 

“Who?” you feign ignorance, clueless as to how Wanda knew Yelena was at your apartment. 

As Wanda tries to approach you, her intoxicated state causes her to stumble, requiring you to swiftly grasp her by the waist to prevent her from falling. She lets out a laugh, but it rings hollow.

“You smell like baby powder.” Wanda comments quietly, her nose bumping the side of your neck. The contact sends a shiver cascading down your spine, awakening sensations you'd prefer to suppress, especially when it concerns Wanda. Feeling how dangerous having Wanda this close is, you gently push at her shoulders. Wanda relents with little resistance and when she looks at you through heavy-lidded eyes, asks the same question, “Is she still here?”

You decide to answer her truthfully this time. “She went home.” 

Wanda nods in understanding and you watch her eyes fall shut, a solitary tear escaping her closed lids.

“Okay,” she whispers solemnly, leaning heavily against the doorframe. “Thank you, that’s… All I… yeah.”

You rub your hands over your face in a feeble attempt to wake yourself up in case you’re dreaming, but before you can reckon what to do next, Wanda’s already turning on her wobbly legs towards the elevator. 

“Wanda, wait–” You reach out to tug at her wrist, and the slight force from it whirls her back around. She faces you with her eyes still closed, but her quivering lashes are brimming with more tears that are so close to spill.

When Wanda does open her eyes, they do spill. And it takes everything in you not to pull her into a hug and just make it all go away.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Wanda sniffs, brushing at her face but it’s no use–it’s like a dam has burst and it’s apparent that the steady stream flowing through her cheeks isn't letting up soon. “I don’t know why–I just wanted to see you. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. For everything.”

Drunk Wanda never cried, particularly not on account of you. She was, at best, silly and clumsy–tripping over things and waking up to minor injuries she doesn’t remember getting.

Instead of replying, you lead her inside and Wanda dutifully allows herself to be led. She curls into herself on the couch, feet tucked under her. 

“I’ll go get you some water.” you say, padding towards the kitchen. It’s only when you’re sure Wanda can’t hear you that you release the breath you’ve been holding since her arrival.

A clean slate is what you yearn for, what seems rational in your current circumstances. The logical part of your mind insists on starting anew, devoid of bitterness, guilt, and the weight of unanswered questions. Free from the presence of Wanda Maximoff, who acts as the catalyst for all those emotions.

But wanting to want something and actually wanting something are two entirely different things. 

The question lingers.

Do you still love her? At first it’s Natasha’s face you imagine while the question is being asked. And then she morphs into Yelena, looking absolutely beautiful in the moonlight just right before you had kissed her. 

And then, it’s you. Do I still love her?

Would you have kept her at arm’s length if you knew the answer to this?

Just as you find yourself confronting the inevitability of needing an answer, you feel lithe arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you tightly against a body that would never not be familiar to you.

You tense automatically, but can’t find the will to step out of her embrace. It’s an understatement to say that Wanda Maximoff is your weakness. Without the raw and immediate feelings of anger and betrayal, without the sickening rush of having blood on your hands, and without the concrete reminders of how she threw away a decade worth of love and trust for a fling she claimed wasn’t even that important to her, is just–

It’s the kind of weakness that could annihilate all sense and reason; that could forgive the unforgivable, forget the unforgettable, even learn what has been unlearned. 

It’s a weakness that scares you if Wanda wields it to her favor. You’ve appreciated how she was very conscious of giving you as much space as you need for the past few weeks. You noticed how much she held back every time you were together. But right now, at her current state, you don’t know what Wanda would do. And she probably doesn’t know as well how much power she has in her hands despite her susceptibility to seeing you with another woman. 

“Remember when we talked about who’s probably going to die first when we’re old and don't have many years left in us?” you feel more than hear Wanda murmur against your shoulder, hating the way you slacken in her hold. 

In that moment, memories flood your mind, and although you recall vividly, you opt to remain still and silent.

“I hope it’s me,” Wanda whispers, echoing the exact words you had said to her that night. “I don’t ever want to go through the pain of watching you slip away again.”

Your heart crashes to the floor, breaking into a million tiny pieces that would never be a hundred percent whole again. 

“Wands,” you say breathlessly, then as you turn to face her, a cold hand softly cups your cheek and before you know it, she’s kissing you.

A fresh wave of tears sting at Wanda’s eyes because she can’t remember the last time she felt this happy. She’s hot all over and feeling the onset of a migraine from the alcohol and the pills, but they don’t diminish the pleasure of being surrounded by your smell and the feel of your unmoving lips.

As for you, all you could taste was the combination of bad choices she made just a while ago.

Regrettably, the fleeting moment ends sooner than Wanda desired, as you firmly grasp her shoulders with both hands and apply enough force to cause her to stagger momentarily before regaining her balance.

You barely managed to hang on to what’s left of your control. 

“Please, stop,” you don’t mean for it to come out as vulnerable as it sounds, but it’s hard to keep the firmness in your voice when Wanda’s looking at you like that.

“I love you,” Wanda insists so brokenly, she almost delivers it with a whine. 

“I love you, Y/N.” she repeats, as if there’s a threshold for the number of times she has to say it until you believe her–which, still, you don’t.

“It’s just the alcohol and maybe nostalgia talking.” you say. 

“You’re wrong. I love you. I want you.”

It’s pointless and childish to argue with a drunk person, but you can’t help but seethe in Wanda’s unwavering belief in her own lies. 

You take a couple of calculated steps towards her until you’ve effectively backed her against the fridge. 

“You know what I think?” you say menacingly, and it appeases you to see how she slightly trembles beneath your gaze. “I think you just want to fuck me. And it’s driving you crazy because you don’t own me anymore.”

You say it because it’s something you’ve been wondering about for a while now. It’s difficult for you to tell what she’s after–what she gets out of coming after you and wrecking herself like this in the process. You’re aware of Wanda’s tunnel vision when it comes to getting what she wants–specifically ones that don’t come easy–and you’ve seen it firsthand numerous times over the years. She never backs down from a challenge. 

You can’t help but think–is that what this is? A challenge to win back what she had so carelessly tossed aside?

Wanda, on the other hand, is far incapable of digesting your words properly. And yet, it just becomes clear to her how deep your resentment really goes. 

“That’s perhaps the ugliest thing you’ve ever said to me.” she whispers. 

You shake your head, backing away. It’s not quite as biting as you intend it to be when you say, “Oh? Well, it doesn’t compare to the ugliest thing you’ve ever done to me.”

Tense silence stretches out between the two of you, with only the sound of your breaths and your pounding hearts filling the void. By this time, Wanda’s eyes are dry. All that’s left are tear tracks that run through the edges of her jaw. She looks diminished and soulless, and somehow, it’s a worse sight. 

Wanda promptly hisses at the sharp pain that pulses on one side of her head, her fingers coming up to her temples to massage them.

Your shoulders slump, feeling exhausted–physically and mentally–all of a sudden. 

“Wanda–” you start, her well-being taking priority over your pique. “Please just lie down on the couch. I’ll get you some blankets.”

“I think I’m gonna go.” she says, even as she struggles to walk in a straight line.

“You’re drunk and you’re staying here. This is not a negotiation.”

A beat of silence, and then managing a scoff, she says, “Fine.”

Proceeding into Natasha's bedroom, you retrieve a pillow and a thin comforter, uncertain of where she keeps the actual spare bedding for guests. Returning to the living room, you find Wanda lying on her stomach, already in a deep slumber on the couch. Her face is turned away, mouth slightly open, accompanied by gentle snores. Glancing at the kitchen, you notice the untouched glass of water you had prepared for her. There’s no doubt the headache that awaits her when she wakes up. With utmost care, you drape the comforter over her body, ensuring her bare feet are covered, and place the pillow beneath her outstretched arm.

Creating an ambiance of dimness, you switch off all the lights, allowing only the moon's gentle glow and the radiant lights of the ever-awake city to seep through the window. Your gaze lingers on the shadowed outline of your ex-wife's peaceful form for a few fleeting moments before you withdraw to your own bedroom.

With the reassurance of Wanda being safe and sound in such close proximity, you swiftly succumb to a deep, dreamless slumber.

It’s still dark outside when you stir awake, with the sun peeking just outside the horizon. Last night’s sequence of events return to you in deliberate fragments, and you immediately get up and walk over the living room.

No sign of Wanda. 

The blanket you gave her is neatly folded on the armrest together with Natasha’s pillow. Circling the couch, you spot her cardigan discarded on the floor. She must have ridden herself of it, somewhere during the night. 

Bending down to pick up the article of clothing, and you’re unprepared for the smell of Wanda that wafts to your nose.

You’ve said some things. Appaling things. Reflecting on what was said, you're overcome with remorse, realizing the depth of the vilification you subjected her to.

You wouldn’t have loved her for so long if she was horrible enough to harbor such ill intentions.

Maybe the least you could do is put her cardigan in the laundry. Returning it to her in a fresh and clean state would be a small gesture of consideration and apology.

-

A throbbing pain is what woke Wanda about an hour before sunrise. Dread overcame her right when she opened her eyes to the familiar gray of your flat. She can’t recall much of what happened last night; only an inkling that she fucked up every step of the way following the moment she showed up at your door. Deeply ashamed of barging in and probably forcing you to shelter her for a night, Wanda left your building in a hurry. On top of the humiliation, she’s also already late for her cafe’s pre-opening ceremonies. 

It’s an unusually busy Tuesday, and she failed to get Pietro to come over and lend a helping hand. People are growing agitated by the slow service, ignoring the obvious reason that their server is wearing all the hats today–cashier, barista, waitress and maintenance. She’s tending to the cafe alone, except for Sparky–and she can’t really ask a dog to serve food and drinks… or can she?

Though if there’s one thing Wanda Maximoff is, it’s that she’s a professional multitasker.

“Can I follow up on that upside down mocha latte, miss?” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll be right with you.”

“This needs more sugar.”

“We have packets of sugar, sugar-replacement, creamer, cinnamon and so much more over that corner.”

“Excuse me, how much for two dozens of matcha peanut butter cookies? And do you take advance orders?”

“That’s, uh, you know what let me check. And yes we do take advance orders and provide catering services.”

“Your dog is licking the spilled coffee on the floor, in case you didn’t know.”

“Oh, shit–Sparky, get away from that!” Wanda temporarily sets her tray down on the table of one of her customers to get a mop.

“Miss, I think you swapped my order with–”

She’s not going to freak out. There’s no way she’s going to freak out. 

Wanda’s on her way to cleaning up the spill when someone jerks the mop out of her grip. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Vision mumbles without looking directly at Wanda. “You should attend to that asshole by the window. I think he’s about to lose it.”

Wanda’s at a loss for words, conflicted between carrying on with her duties and thinking whether or not she should confront her former student about why he’s here. In the end, she really has no choice but to charge through the pending orders and appease the snappy customers or else she risks losing this business. 

Little by little, the demands die down. And then finally, Wanda’s left to deal with Vision who’s seated near the back room, hunched over Sparky while her dog laps at his bony fingers.

“You shouldn’t have come here.” Wanda says as she approaches his table.

Vision jolts upright and she uses the opportunity to take a proper look at him. He looks a great deal better than the last time they saw each other. Wanda’s sincerely happy for him. Still, he cannot be here.

“Thank you for helping earlier, but I believe it’s best if you leave now.” Wanda asserts, her irritation palpable.

“I wasn’t stalking you or anything,” Vision says, unfazed by Wanda’s animosity. “I didn’t know you work here.”

Wanda snorts in amusement. “I don’t simply work here. I own this place.”

Vision looks embarrassed for making the wrong assumption. “Sorry, I… Congratulations, Wanda. This is truly remarkable..”

“Thanks,” she says, and then gestures at the door. “Now could you please…?”

“Can’t I at least order a coffee to-go?” Vision interjects.

“Fair enough,” Wanda concedes. 

“What would you recommend?” he asks, studying the menu with rapt concentration.

“Our bestseller is the Spanish latte.”

“Got anything Keto?”

Wanda casts him a dumbfounded look. But Vision seems serious with his request. The pieces of their affair now seem like a perplexing puzzle; and now she’s exploring the possibility that their affair could have been her having a mental break. Not for the first time she wonders, what the fuck was I thinking?

“Fine. Would you like it hot or cold? Medium or large?” Wanda asks.

“Uh, iced. Large.” he says.

Wanda works the register. “Large iced americano with two shots of heavy cream and a Splenda, coming right up.” 

Vision pays for his drink and thanks her. He waits by the counter as Wanda prepares his coffee.

The bells-like sound of the door chime rings, and Wanda mechanically welcomes the newcomer without looking up.

“Hi,” you say, not noticing Vision at all. It’s Sparky who greets you, excitedly wagging his tail as he sniffs you all over. 

Wanda flinches at the sound of your voice. Her eyes widen in panic, and they dart erratically from you to Vision, and then you again. It’s only when you absorb the horrified look on Wanda’s face that you catch sight of a taller figure from the corner of your eyes.

"You..." The word escapes your lips, unintentionally carrying a tinge of disdain. It's the first time you witness Wanda and Vision in the same room, and a rush of emotions floods over you, resurfacing all the pain you have been attempting to overcome during the past several months.

A flurry of questions swirls within your mind, leaving you feeling overwhelmed. Didn’t Natasha say he doesn’t remember? Or has he been aware of everything all along? And what about Wanda? Was she seeing Vision behind your back throughout this entire time? The uncertainty and confusion gnaw at your thoughts, leaving you grappling for answers.

Your first realization is this: no–you have not forgiven them. And if they’re fucking or trying a relationship with each other, you won’t find it in yourself to be genuinely happy for them.

The second thing is that you’ve been fooled once again; she had you believing that she regretted ever throwing away what you two had to fuck this kid. 

All this time, they were continuing where they left off. You don’t care why it bothers you so much–it just does and it makes you livid.

Vision cowers at the sight of you. It confirms your suspicions–he does remember. You watch him carefully as he mumbles a shaky goodbye to Wanda before rushing towards the exit, not caring at all about the drink he had ordered and already paid for. You don’t try to step out of his way, holding your ground as an act of intimidation. 

Neither you nor Wanda move an inch as Vision takes his leave.

"Y/N," she breathes, desperately attempting to convey that things are not as they may appear. “It’s not what you think.”

You scrunch up Wanda’s cardigan tightly in your hand before tossing it to the floor. “Doesn’t seem that way to me.” you say in a low whisper. 

A few nosy customers observe you with intrigue, murmuring to themselves and pretending to be busy with their phones. It makes your mouth twist in a nearly lunatic grin.

Just before you leave the cafe, you make sure that Wanda’s looking you right in the eye as you say, “I never want to see your lying face ever again.”

The finality of your words, coupled with the piercing intensity of your gaze, knocks the wind out of her.

“Y/N!” Wanda screams out your name desperately, throwing caution to the wind. She quickly unties her apron and dashes outside to run after you. 

Frantically scouring the nearby alleyways, her search proves fruitless as you have already disappeared, leaving her to confront the empty streets alone.

-

Wanda tries several ways to reach you. First, she tries calling you from her number, but she discovers you still have her blocked. Next, she asks Agatha to call you, but you refuse to pick up, until your phone becomes unreachable altogether. Whether it’s the reception or your phone being turned off, it’s clear that any effort to get a hold of you through a call is moot.

Pietro eventually accedes to Wanda’s begging and covers the final two hours of her shift. She has to lie to him with a fake emergency, which was very upsetting for her to do considering how passionately you called her a liar just earlier. She goes straight to your place when she’s free of her responsibilities. Her frustration fuels her actions as she pounds on your door with an intensity, demanding that you give her the opportunity to explain herself.

She keeps at it for some time, until the security comes up to your floor to inform her that you haven’t returned all day.

Out of options, Wanda goes home, defeated. More than her yearning to give you an explanation, she worries about where you could have gone to. She’s not a religious person, but when it comes to your safety, she prays to every god there is for you to be okay. 

It’s half past midnight when Wanda’s awoken by a loud, angry knock at her door. 

Her sleep riddled brain fails to notice how unusual it is for Sparky not to emerge from his dog house and start barking at the unexpected visitor. Her gut tells her it’s you, but just to be safe, she takes Sparky to the guest room, knowing how wary he is of strangers. 

“Who’s there?” Wanda’s voice echoes through the empty hall, voice hoarse from sleep and from yelling your name all over Queens.

There’s no response, and yet, each thud against the door reverberates through the room, filling it with a sense of urgency and unease.

Startled and growing increasingly concerned, Wanda opens the door and–

It’s the smell of beer that welcomes her first. 

Less than twenty-four hours ago, you were both entangled in a similar situation, albeit in reversed roles. The irony of the circumstances isn't lost on Wanda as she observes the unwavering and intense gaze you fix upon her. It's unclear to her how much you've had to drink to be able to find your way to her, but the determination in your eyes speaks volumes.

“Y/N, thank god you’re here. I was so worried–” Wanda tries to say, but the rest of her sentence dies on your lips. With one hand on the slope where her neck meets her shoulder, you push her roughly back inside her apartment, slamming and locking the door behind you with the other. 

You harshly nip at her lower lip before releasing it and growling, “This is what you want right? This is what you’ve been chasing me for all along?” 

Pinning her with a disdainful look, Wanda feels powerless to refute your allegations. Is that how you perceived this to be all along? How lowly your opinion of her has become? When she finds the courage to put the tiniest bit of space between you and her, you pull her flushed against your body to capture her swollen lips into another bruising kiss. The moan that escapes you both this time is irrefutable. Something tells Wanda that whatever she says between now and what’s going to happen next, will just be sucked into the abyss of retribution. And so, she gives in to the storm that is your feverish kisses and your hatred punctuating your every touch.

If she were being honest, she just wants to feel you. Logic and reason be damned. 

“Y/N!” Wanda mewls when you clumsily rub her through the fabric of her nightwear, pinching her clit as soon as you find it.

There’s no trace of tenderness in the way you maneuver Wanda and deposit her to the carpeted floor of her living room. 

There’s nothing gentle in the way you pull down her shorts to her ankles, and lift her shirt just enough to expose her tits. 

There’s only lust, and instinct, and vengeance in the painful entrapment of her hard nipple between your bared teeth. 

And Wanda loves it. 

It’s the punishment she didn’t know she had been craving for since the moment she invited Vision to her bed. If you needed to ruin her, Wanda would let you. She’d gladly take the beating if it means she gets to have even just a tiny fraction of you back–no matter how cruel this fraction of you might be. 

The throbbing in her clit matches the rhythm of her heartbeat, as you continue to tongue her nipple in broad laps. It’s visually lewd enough for her to avert her eyes in embarrassment, but suddenly, you grip her jaw and force her to look at what you’re doing to her, pausing just long enough to say, “Don’t you fucking look away.” before turning your attention to her other nipple and giving it the same treatment. Wanda feels her wetness soak the rug below her ass, and all the blood rushes to her core, already begging for release. 

Wanda gasps when you slide back up abruptly, the rough friction of your shirt rubbing against her tender peaks. She smells the alcohol on your breath before she tastes it, as you pull her in for a dizzying kiss. You’re uncommonly disoriented in your movements, as if you keep deciding and then changing your mind on how you want her. 

Wanda's fingers tentatively approach the button of your jeans, but you swiftly swat them aside. Instead, you seize her hands, lifting them above her head and securing her wrists together.

You rarely make love to her when you’re drunk. You never liked the idea of being unfocused and uncoordinated when you touch her, and you were always afraid you’d accidentally do something that might make her uncomfortable or even hurt her. And now, as your fingers skim through her wetness, not caring if your nails scrape against her sensitive skin, Wanda understands. She understands what you’re capable of when you give up control and let pure instinct take over.

She understands how perfectly capable you are of hurting her–in all aspects. 

Wanda feels she’s wet enough, but it’s still painful when you enter her unceremoniously with two fingers. 

“Y/N, wait–” Wanda gasps as you start to quicken your thrusts before she’s fully adjusted. “S-Slow down.”

But it’s like you can't hear her, seemingly entranced by your own fingers going in and out of your ex-wife’s cunt. The pleasure eventually overtakes the pain, and Wanda doesn’t have anything to hold onto as the heel of your palm grinds against her nub in a slow, circling motion. 

Wanda’s mouth falls open, warm puffs of air brushing so intimately against your chin. “Fuck, yes, right there–”

You pant against Wanda’s sternum, bitterly thinking that she will always be beautiful whether you’re seeing her through the lens of affection or loathing. 

Feeling how close she is, you add another finger into her. The fullness does nothing to abate the tightening in Wanda’s stomach. She writhes uncontrollably beneath you, overwhelmed by the intensity of pleasure, attempting to halt the motion of your fingers by pressing her knees against your lower body. But you keep her where she is, with her legs wide apart. You angle your hand a certain way, so you’re pummeling the spongy area inside of her every time you push inside.

“Kiss me, please,” Wanda whispers shakily against your sweaty forehead. Ignoring her plea, you lick into her ear instead, and then curl your fingers the only way you know how, propelling her over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck! I’m coming!” Wanda cries, her hips bucking uncontrollably. Her trembling arms wrap around your neck as you continue to fuck her through her orgasm. You silently observe Wanda as she regains her breath, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern. Her brown hair cascades over the floor, resembling a fallen angel consumed by the depths of the earth.

Wanda's face is stained with tears. However, it is only when she becomes conscious of a droplet landing on her nose that she realizes she is not the one shedding them. Cautiously, as if she’s afraid of what she might see, she opens her eyes and looks up at you.

It’s the only picture of vulnerability in you that she’ll see for the rest of the night, and her own eyes well up, struck by the realization that you can never hurt her the way she’s hurt you. You interpret the look on her face as pity and angrily wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.

“This doesn’t mean anything to me.” you mutter scathingly, even as your lips quiver from the struggle of detaching yourself from your emotions. 

Wanda’s hands reach out to cradle your face. “I know.” she whispers.

“Then why are you agreeing to this?”

“I never stopped being yours,” Wanda whispers with a voice filled with fractures, and it's only your warm and solid presence that keeps her from falling apart. “It’s just how it is.”

You taste the bitterness in your tears, mixed with the metallic tang of blood from your lip from how harshly you’ve been biting down on it. How could she utter those words to you, knowing that someone else had gotten to know her so intimately in this manner? 

Whatever Wanda thought she did, no matter how many times she claimed it didn’t mean anything, however briefly it was–she gave bits of herself to Vision; her body, her mind, her words, her time. Those are the things that you can’t get back. Things you can’t replace. Things you can’t account for. 

Lies after lies, you think bitterly. 

And yet, it only intensifies your desire to claim her one more time. To remind her what she had traded away for illicit pleasure. To ruin her for everyone else.

“Again.” you demand, the mask of indifference returning to replace the face that Wanda loves the most. 

And that seals it–whatever this is. Wanda knows that this can’t end well.

But she couldn’t find it in her heart to care.

"Okay," she mumbles, her voice carrying weariness and resignation.

You wrap her shaking legs around your waist while your arms provide a secure embrace around her back. And then, with her clinging to you like a mindless puppet, you push yourself off the ground and onto your feet, Wanda along with a strength that astonishes both of you.

Wanda buries her head into the crook of your neck, hot tears slipping from her eyes as you carry her to the bedroom.

[toppersjeep]

Chapter 4 - I’ll Take Him( Charles Leclerc X Carlos Sainz X Reader)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Masterlist ( tags @landologg @cmleitora @janeholt3 @gracielukey )

Chapter 5

(tea time and it’s boiling)- an

___

Your POV

“Great now all of twitter knows” Carlos said. “I could care less” I said. “Of course you don’t care about this” Carlos said. “Why should she you cheated on her” Charles said. “So you can slide on in huh” Carlos said. “It’s not like that” Charles said.

“Really then what’s it like explain it to me” Carlos said. “It’s none of your business” I said. “Go to work” Charles said. Carlos walked off. “Maybe I should just take that job with Mercedes” I said. “Why” Charles said. “I don’t wanna be around him it’s always drama” I said walking away.

Charles followed me. “You can’t just leave the team needs you” Charles said. “Charles it’s toxic with him here” I said. “But” Charles said. “No buts I should go tell Toto I’m taking it” I said. Charles grabbed my hand. “Don’t” Charles said.

“It’s my choice” I said. “But without you I’m nothing” Charles said. “You have a great car otherwise” I said. “Yeah but you’re a part of my team I need you” Charles said. “I’m sorry” I said. “Please don’t let his actions force you into something” Charles said.

“Charles I really don’t know what to do” I said. “Stay in Ferrari” Charles said looking at me. “Why” I said. “Because I…really do need you here” Charles said looking at me. “You don’t understand how important you are to me” Charles added.

“What about what’s best for me” I said. “Forget I said anything” Charles said walking over to his car. “Charlie” I said. “I just want you to make the right decisions” Charles said. “I know you do” I said.

After the race…

We were out at dinner celebrating a double podium. I stayed with Charles. I couldn’t bare to see Carlos. And of course he brought his new girl. I took a sip of my wine.

“Slow down killer” Lando said. “I just need to forget about him” I said. “Girl you need to get revenge on him” Kika said. “By doing what slashing his tires” I said. “Easy” Lando said. “Get with someone else” Kika said.

“I just can’t move on that fast” I said. “Why not he did” Lando said. “Sorry” Lando added. “Girl just a hook up or something” Lily said. “With who” I said. “Well who’s single on the grid” Lando said. “Hmmm” I said. “Logan, Lando, Charles” Kika said. “Lando is my friend first of all” I said.

“Charles” Lando said. “Yeah you two would be really good together” Lily said. “He’s my best friend” I said. “Exactly” Kika said. “I know you’re practically obsessed with him” Lando said. “Oh my I’m not listening to this” I said.

I then went to get a refill on my drink. Charles was at the bar.

“You look really beautiful” Charles said. “Oh this thing” I said looking at my dress. “Red suits you” Charles said. “You clean up good” I said he smiled. “Wanna dance” Charles said. “Oh come on I don’t dance you know this” I said. He took my drink setting it on the bar. Then took my hand.

He lead me to the dance floor. He was respectful and put his hands on my waist. “I don’t bite” he said I circled my arms around his neck. “I told you I don’t dance” I said. “Then what are you doing” Charles said slow dancing with me. “I don’t know” I said. “You really do look stunning” he said I blushed.

“I hate when you say things like that” I said. “Why it’s true you are so beautiful” he whispered in my ear. “Everything about you is beautiful” Charles said I smiled. “You know how to flatter people don’t you” I said. “I only intend on flattering you tonight” he said looking into my eyes.

“Char” I said. “What” he said moving closer. I walked away. I then went outside to the balcony away from the party. “What’s wrong” Charles said running out after me. “I can’t” I said. “Can’t wait dance with someone” Charles said.

“No you know exactly what Charles” I said. “It was just dancing” Charles said. “Sure it was Charles all the flirting and the way you look at me” I said. “It’s not just anything like the flower” I said. “You may think it doesn’t mean anything to you but it does to me” I said teary eyed.

“How do you know what I think” Charles said. “You keep doing these things Charles” I said. “And then you brush it off and suddenly we are friends again” I said. “What are you trying to say” Charles said. “So you didn’t just try to kiss me in there” I said. He didn’t say anything.

“You know what I should just go home” I said. He grabbed my hand before I could walk away. He then pulled me into a kiss. “When I wanna kiss you I’ll just kiss you” Charles said. I looked into his eyes. “Char” I said he kissed me. Wrapping his arms around my waist. I had never felt anything like this in my life.

We probably stood there for a minute before he stopped kissing me. “Sorry I just” he said cupping my cheeks. “Don’t apologize” I said he smiled. “Are you cold” Charles said putting his jacket on me. “Do you wanna ditch this whole thing” I said.

“And do what” Charles said. “How about we just go grab a bite to eat or something” I said. “I like that idea” Charles said. “Well I guess I was right” Carlos said walking out on the balcony. “What is your problem” Charles said.

“That little move was cute Charles real cute” Carlos said. “News flash she’s a grown adult Carlos” Charles said. “Yeah but don’t lie to me you’ve wanted her for years” Carlos said. Charles didn’t say anything. “You were just waiting for the perfect moment then I got her” Carlos said.

“And you cheated on me remember so if I wanna make out with a guy a can” I said. “Don’t act like you didn’t want him the entire time we were together” Carlos said. “Shut up” I said. “I know you did” Carlos said. “So what if she did you never deserved her” Charles said. “And you do” Carlos said.

“Yeah I do” Charles said. “Just leave me alone” I said walking away bumping into Carlos. I then went to my car. “You aren’t driving anywhere you’re drunk” Charles said. “So” I said. “I have your keys” Charles said holding them up. “Why do you have to be so nice to me” I said.

“I just care about you okay” Charles said. “Yeah like every other guy what makes you different from them” I said. “I mean every word I say Y/N” Charles said looking at me.

[jpitha]

You can have a little lye as a treat

“I want to make Maya her favorite food, can you help?” Limmie looks over the table in the canteen at Peggy, the only other human she knows here.

“Uh, maybe Lim, what’s her favorite food? Also, you know that most human foods…”’

“Are toxic to me, yes I know. This one doesn’t seem to bad though? It’s mostly wheat. I can eat wheat, though I shouldn’t eat too much. It’s just wheat and water, some sugar, yeast and salt.”

Peggy thinks a moment. “Some kind of bread?”

Limmie’s nod is so vigorous her ears flutter. “Yeah, something called a pretzel”

“So… that’s not all that’s involved in pretzels.” Peggy stands. “But, I think we can work something out. Come on, let’s sign out a kitchenette.”

A few days later, Limmie comes to the kitchenette that Peggy signed out. They get it for a whole day, which surprised Limmie. “It’s just bread right? Why do we need it for a whole day?”

“Well, we have to give time for the yeast to work.” Peggy is wearing an apron that says “Let’s Get Baked!” And has a cartoon of a bread loaf with bloodshot eyes. She’s getting bowls out and arranging things on the steel table in front of her. “Her favorite is German pretzels?”

“That’s right. She said that she misses them because only her Grandmother makes them right. She sounded so wistful.” Limmie washes her hands, and as she dries them, Peggy hands her a smaller apron. On the front is written “Made from Scratch!” And has a cartoon K’laxi showing their claws. Limmie looks at Peggy who is trying very hard not to laugh. She puts the apron on and flicks her ears in a grin.

Peggy spend the time showing Limmie what to do to make the dough, but she doesn’t do it. It’s for Limmie’s girlfriend, so she does the work. She mixes the flour and the water and the yeast and while is proofs, Peggy explains how the yeast works and what it’s doing. Limmie leans in close and smells the yeasty smell and is amazed that human foods can get this… complicated.

Soon enough the bread has risen and been punched down and shaped and… Peggy is putting on a large rubber apron, heavy gloves and a face shield. Limmie stands back “Uh, Peggy, what are you doing?”

“Oh, the pretzels aren’t done yet, they need a Lye bath.”

“What’s that?”

Peggy’s voice is slightly muffled from the shield. “Oh, Lye is a human word for Sodium Hydroxide, a very strong alkaline chemical. It is quite caustic to organic tissue.”

Limmie takes an unconscious step back. “But, what are you doing then? You’re going to ruin our bread!”

“No no, this is an important step. The pretzels won’t look or smell or taste right unless we dip them in lye.”

“You’re going to DIP the pretzels into a strong alkaline solution?”

Peggy turns, holding another rubber apron, gloves, and face shield. “No. You’re going to.”

“This isnt’ a joke? You’re not trying to make fun of me for not understanding human cookery? You really have to dip the pretzels in that caustic chemical?”

Peggy lifts up her face shield. Her eyes are kind. “Limmie, I would never do that to you. I promise, this will make the pretzels just like how Maya remembers them.”

Tail flicking, Limmie takes the PPE from Peggy. “How do I put this on?”

“I’ll show you, come here.”

****

“Oh gosh Limmie, these are perfect! Where did you get them?” Maya’s eyes are squeezed shut in bliss as she chews the warm pretzels. “They taste just like the ones Nana made!”

“Peggy helped me make them. She showed me exactly what to do, but I did the work.”

Maya swallows and looks at Limmie, eyes wide. “You made these? You made German Pretzels with the lye bath and everything?”

Limmie falls into Maya’s arms and snuggles down into her chest. “Of course I did. I had to wear some personal protective equipment, but Peggy showed me how to be careful and she explained we needed the lye to get it just right. I wanted to make something just for you that I knew you’d love.”

Maya squeezes Limmie and strokes her ears. “They’re wonderful hon. Thank you.”

[lilacxquartz]

Those Late Summer Nights | Chapter 4

satoru gojo x f!reader × suguru geto

plot: you moved to tokyo over the summer to take a teaching job. as you get settled in, you find yourself entangled in a toxic dynamic.

chapter summary: suguru has an unavoidable family event to go to, shoko is needed for inner city training and satoru was busy with clan related activities. As a result, you’re the next in line.

warnings: boundaries get pushed

< Previous Chapter • Next Chapter >

4. Plus One

You blinked as you stared at Suguru.

He wanted to meet up with you today while everyone else was busy, not explaining much over the phone call prior. This was the first time you had been to anyone else’s apartment that wasn’t Shoko’s and his place seemed oddly fitting for someone like him. Minimally yet tastefully decorated and tidy with warm accents.

“A platonic date…?” you repeated it, hoping that it would sound less absurd the second time around but it only became weirder the more you processed it—especially when you were the one who said it.

He explained that he wanted you to be his plus one for a family event because nobody else was available for night. He could have taken someone random he said, but he wanted to be around someone he could both tolerate and trust not to embarrass him in front of his family.

So that’s why he couldn’t just find someone random, he claimed.

You weren’t sure if this type of request was common among friends but you tried your best to be understanding about it. Friends did favours for friends, right? So maybe this was normal.

“For a family gathering type of event, yeah,” he nodded along, throwing you a piece of black clothing, “you can wear this, Shoko wore it the last time she stood in for this sort of thing.”

You scrambled as you looked at the dress in its entirety; a midi length black dress in a soft and breathable fabric with a slit down the skirting, sporting a square neckline.

You could see this looking great on her but you couldn’t imagine it on you. Maybe it would? Who really knows.

“It’s nothing serious, I promise,” he said once again, talking you into it, his voice melodic and yet so casual, “it’s just some family thing I can’t avoid so I would rather not go alone, you know? It’s regular people so you won’t have to talk about sorcerer stuff, if that makes it less scary for you.”

It did make the prospect less scary, he was correct about that much. His eyes focused on the dress as you seemed to consider it and then a little on you, something in his face lighting up just a little bit as the seconds passed but whatever it was, he didn’t comment on it out loud.

“I suppose I could…” you considered, feeling just a bit pressured. You knew already that you wouldn’t do too well in new social situations, but you also wanted to be someone that your new friend group could rely on.

Or would that only make you into a pushover?

Was that why he asked you to begin with, so early on into knowing you? To see if that’s what you potentially were?

Your mind stirred at the thought.

It certainly felt that way at least, the longer he continued to stare at you with those almost knowing eyes. There was something about him that you couldn’t quite read too well.

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up from the halls at let’s say… 6 in the evening tomorrow?” Suguru replied as he walked you out of the front door. “Wear something comfortable on your feet though, there’s a lot of standing involved.”

You stared at the now closed door with some further disbelief, sighing at the idea. You spent an extra half hour getting lost on your way here and you were already being turned away so soon.

You didn’t really want to do this but you didn’t want to be a disappointment either.

You texted Shoko on your way back to the campus as had to take the bus to get back there as it was quite out of the way of the city. You wondered if it would just be easier to live in the city, the commute be damned but you’d be closer to everyone else.

You asked her how to possibly get through this thing, how to interact with his family and why it had to involve wearing something so formal.

Her texts came back as a chaotic stream of broken down replies but you were able to piece them together bit by bit. As far as you understood it, all you needed to do was smile and nod, laugh at the jokes told by his family no matter how bad they are and to help yourself to the complimentary booze provided in the kitchen.

Maybe you could get through this after all.

You surrendered to this sort of idea as you texted back and forth what you actually needed to be doing and by the time you were back on the campus, the idea didn’t seem too bad after all.

This was just something he did with friends, just as you suspected.

He just didn’t want to be alone for something potentially boring, maybe even daunting and that was something you could understand.

***

You were ready by 6 the next day just as you had promised you would be. You slipped into the dress relatively quickly and styled your hair to rest a little better on your shoulders. You decided to accessorise the dress with a simple silver necklace to make it look less plain and wore some flat black sandals to finish off the look, figuring they would be comfortable enough.

There was then a knock on the front door not too long after and you opened it up, revealing a slightly more dressed up Suguru who looked good in what he wore.

You could admit that much, but you didn’t dare tell him. Would it be weird if you did?

You both eyed each other up before anything was said. He wore black slacks and a form fitting black jumper with his hair pulled back. It all looked a little too much for the weather, but his sleeves were rolled up and he didn’t seem to be dying from the heat.

He took a good look at you but didn’t say anything, leaving you both thankful that he didn’t comment on your appearance but also a little nervous all at the same time.

“Don’t you get scared living in a place like this all alone?” he asked after a moment as he took a look around, his eyes scanning the halls with some familiarity in this gaze.

“It’s not that bad,” you shrugged, unsure how to reply. Your expression slowly grew nervous, overthinking his comment.

“You know, Shoko might be quiet about it, but she is looking for a roommate,” he said after a strained moment of silence.

You liked that idea though. You wanted to live with someone in a way, both for reassurance but also because you genuinely wanted to be her good friend.

“I can think about it…” you added after another moment of pause, realising that you didn’t quite reply immediately. You were too lost in thought.

In fact, the silence between the two of you only continued to brew. You were both too reserved without the two other people who would otherwise fill in the gaps that were vacant from your presence.

“Anyway,” he spoke up at last, clearing his throat as he did so, avoiding staring at your body as his eyes couldn’t help but trail over to the way you wore the dress again and again, “I’ll be driving us there, so just follow me.”

He let you into his car which was conveniently to his style as well, a sleek black car that seemed to be a semi recent model. The drive happened in relative silence aside from what played in the background as the road gradually grew slowly darker, but not quite night as the sun began to set. He listened to chill house music that idly played, not seeming too bothered by the mutual quietness.

You felt his eyes wander back and forth to your body as you tried to pay attention to the outside, catching a glimpse of him staring in the reflection every now and then. Such a feeling left you feeling just a little uncomfortable whenever he would do so and the fact that he never once said anything only added to the tension that you didn’t even know was there.

At some point, he pulled over to a less travelled spot where the cars didn’t pass by as much, right beside some trees. He fanned his fingers and his palms over the steering wheel before taking a deep, sharp breath before exhaling through his mouth in a controlled manner.

His closest hand drifted away from the wheel as if by pure impulse and off towards you, balling into a fist as he seemed internally conflicted with something before returning his hands back to where they were supposed to be.

You kept incredibly quiet throughout this encounter, unsure where it was going and not feeling too safe as it happened.

“Sorry about that,” he said after a while of sitting in silence with you. His eyes didn’t dare move to look at you as he took a few more deep breaths to calm himself down from whatever it was that was bothering him before driving off again.

“I just had a thought that I shouldn’t have had,” he muttered to himself, just loud enough so that you could hear him too.

You didn’t reply anything to him, but you did gulp somehow absurdly loud as the discomfort on your end finally made a more noticeable appearance.

What was that?

For your own sanity, you chose to ignore it for the rest of the ride, (but you knew that you shouldn’t have).

***

He finally pulled up to a house in the countryside off of a more beaten road. Many other cars were parked in a array of chaotic ways around each other, some cars locking others in. The house reminded you a little bit of home, but that sort of design wasn’t really that uncommon in areas like these and especially with older builds.

“You’ll be fine,” he spoke up, his voice finally normal again, “most people are from a bit further out into the country.”

He was glad in a way that he didn’t have to educate you on the correct mannerisms the same way he had to do with Shoko, but he didn’t say it to you directly.

He led you out of the car instead and introduced you to the people inside. You tried your best to follow Shoko’s guidance rather seriously, smiling and laughing and nodding, subconsciously drifting to the table that had refreshments as you sought out liquid courage to ease the social pressure.

You weren’t doing too badly you thought, but your heart raced the entire time, gradually being replaced with a heavier sort of feeling as the wine settled in your system and relaxed you.

Slowly but surely, you could get through this.

Suguru stuck closely by you to your surprise, you were expecting him to do his own thing for some reason.

The reality was that he was still feeling what he did back in the car when things got a little too heated for him and he didn’t like that sensation nor what it did to him. There was something about you in that dress and the way that it sat just a little tighter on you than it did on Shoko; your body filling it out in all of the right ways that made him see you in a way he shouldn’t be looking at you.

At least not if he wanted to keep your friendship.

You didn’t notice the male attention on you like he did, so he was just being protective of his friend in a new setting, that was it. Nothing more. But with the way his own relatives looked at you, he couldn’t help but just feel a little jealous—not that he had any right to feel that way, of course, but it did trouble him all the same.

You, on the other hand, didn’t notice a thing aside from the fact that you were just being closely watched though, thinking that this was all just a part of his intense personality. You didn’t know that he was actually quite a relaxed person, not too far off from Satoru when he was around his friends, that he was equally casual and non-caring, but that wasn’t the side of him that you were getting to know.

And as the gathering seemed to eventually thin out, he didn’t quite know why he took off with you in such a hurry either, without as much as saying a single goodbye to the rest of his family. It was just you and him, straight into the car with even more silence that followed you both on the way back.

This time though, he drove faster down the road once he got onto the freeway, not quite caring about the speed. The veins on his forearms were beginning to tighten as his knuckles that firmly gripped onto the wheel grew pale, driving off somewhere that didn’t quite seem like you were going home before he pulled over once again to the side.

The same sort of thing repeated as before; the breathing exercises and the internal struggle and the tension to top it all off. He really tried his best to talk himself out of it but surrendered this time to crossing the barrier of where you two sat, his hand spilling into your half of the car and his hand meeting your knee, wrapping around your leg where the dress didn’t reach.

His grip around you continued to tighten as he enjoyed the sensation of your soft, smooth skin as he slowly brushed it up, reaching just the edge of the skirting to your dress, so close to your thighs, so close to your—your—wait.

“Please stop,” you interrupted him, causing him to freeze in place.

His eyes widened as he realised what he was doing and he kept frozen in place for about ten painful seconds or so before lifting his hand away in a sudden hurry—quickly gulping down what he actually wanted to say.

From your peripheral vision, it seemed that he was acting based on a different type of thinking entirely as he stayed silent, his hand drifting over to his trousers as his legs pushed him up a little, quickly adjusting what was going on in his pants to ease the problem he had.

Luckily for him though, you didn’t notice that part too well, your eyes instead pointed directly at your legs instead as you tried to process your own discomfort.

The rest of the drive continued on in pained silence until you both got out at the campus and much to your building up concern, he followed you right to the door, but he didn’t seem to be pressuring you anymore. In fact, he seemed normal again.

“Hey, so, I’m really tired, I don’t think I can drive again,” he spoke, stretching his arms out as he yawned, “think I can take the hall sofa? I’ll be out of your way right where you can see me, I promise I won’t do anything again. I don’t know what I was even thinking.”

Your judgement was a little off but you could still feel the buzz from the drinks before at the event cloud your judgement. You sighed and allowed it before heading off to your room to process everything that had happened today.

If you could both simply forget what happened, then that would be great.

Something told you that it wasn’t quite the end of that, though.

And with the way his eyes couldn’t keep off of you as he followed you inside, your hunch was about to be proven correct—not that he’d let you catch on, though.

He was going to be subtle about it, if he could help it.

Just for you.

[bambimeadows]

Black OPs 6 campaign review/analysis, obvious spoilers under the cut. This is long, so thank you if you indulge me 🙂‍↕️ I speak about Adler towards the end

Honestly where to start, I think I’ll need to play it through again because it was kind of a whirlwind, I think I was too caught up in the excitement of having Adler back. But here are my initial thoughts

I’ll start with some positives. The new characters, Marshall, Sevati and Felix. Love. Love all three of them, they’re brilliant. They’re well written and actually have some strong, unique and discernible personalities. They’re fleshed out and seem very much human, the absence of that has been an issue with call of duty characters in the past so I’m glad to see they’re pulling us in a new direction and understand they need characters like this to carry out effective story telling. If I had to pick a favourite it would be Marshall. He’s a strong and determined leader, but still fresh enough to not be completely war hardened and I like that. Felix and his perpetual anxiousness, melancholy hidden by a bright personality and aversion to being violent is intriguing (side note, he in particular conveyed so much with his facial expressions, especially when speaking with him in the safehouse amazing work there) Sevati’s back story is a little cliche but I still became very fond of her and her sharpness and her wit. I do ultimately enjoy the three more than park, sims and that other one (can’t remember his name don’t care lol) as a team. Jane was a somewhat adequate antagonist, I guess, but maybe just a bit cookie cutter and cliche - the unusually elaborate and unnecessarily long sequence surrounding her back story didn’t do much to change that I’m afraid. But more on that later.

Some of the missions were quite good, I’m not that good at critiquing actual gameplay but all I know is for the most part they were genuinely exciting and introduced us to a diverse range of environments. They’ve gone in quite a different direction, giving us quite a few actual spy missions with the gunslinging. It’s a funny juxtaposition to be in a war torn battle ground with tanks and helicopters and boom boom boom one minute and then in a swanky casino playing poker the next. I can imagine some who are looking for a hard hitting action game might have an issue with this and even I raised an eyebrow at first, but in all truth it stops things getting repetitive and gives us a chance to experience new aspects of the black ops universe.

Now I’m aware COD campaigns have a very limited amount of hours, and yet some of the missions were frustratingly time consuming and made no sense, nor added anything to the story or fit in smoothly. I’m so conscious of time ticking by as I play through COD campaigns, knowing the ending is always near. They implicated zombie mode into the main campaign in a very lengthy and out of place mission and I can’t say I appreciated it. They obviously kept the continuity by not actually inserting zombies into the canonical world of black Ops, but rather telling us we were hallucinating off some toxic gas and that’s why we were seeing zombies. Lord give me strength, THAT is lazy and forced. We have a whole mode to fuck up some zombies. I found it pointless, wasting precious time on what should have been spent on something else. It’s the same with the mission towards the end where they inject Jane with the drug and have us travel through her psyche. Look it was somewhat interesting, but why do we have to have like an hour worth of gameplay (depending on your speed) doing an in-depth deep dive into this woman’s background when we don’t actually really care about her? (Maybe some of you do I’m not sure) And all of that, just to kill her off so unceremoniously? why invest so much time into her then? why couldn’t her motives be explained in a more cohesive and less time consuming way that doesn’t just completely take us out of the game? And it left a glaring plot hole. She believed Adler killed her parents for YEARS and obviously had good intel to believe this. This provoked her into enacting her big diabolical plan against the CIA, and then when she was injected with the drug she suddenly realised it wasn’t him? What do you mean??? Did he do it or didn’t he? And what’s more, if Adler and Jane had some sort of past, where he “took her under his wing” why do we not get to see them interact or even acknowledge each other once? Why were her parents attacked from the inside? What’s with the weird alter ego shtick? Are they implying she’s suffering from some sort of personality disorder and she’s not actually responsible for any of her own actions? This section of the campaign was put in place to answer all the questions but it just left me with more. Idk, Overall that whole part was messy. It had me rolling my eyes. It seems the writers are being a lot more experimental but sometimes it just falls flats.

The ending was awful to me to the point I don’t even have the need to feel angry about it, just indifferent. I don’t have much to say about it. Anti-climatic is the optimal word here. They stopped the bombs, Case promptly kills Jane. Yaddah yaddah yaddah who cares. And obviously we have the end scene setting up the next campaign and that’s just kind of whatever, see you in four or more years I guess. OR, it will just be material for half assed plot lines for multiplayer and warzone with the new seasons, that’s something that recently occurred to me. I really hope that’s not the case.

Now onto Adler. I don’t think the campaign was Adler centric in the way we wanted it to be, but to be honest I think his side character role was generous and fair enough, it made sense and he fit in with the story very smoothly. I can totally see why he took a minor backseat. But with the time he did have in the campaign, I think they’ve done a good job with him. He’s completely different and I’m not exaggerating, this is not the Adler I know, this is not the Adler I struggled to write a semblance of personality for and still felt he was out of character when I did. I noticed a hint of change the moment I met him at the beginning of the game, and then realised he’s had somewhat of a personality transplant. He’s no longer completely cold, mysterious and closed off, he’s even dare I say kind of nicer, sometimes? if not much more charismatic. Don’t get me wrong, obviously he’s not the life and soul of the party and still a complete asshole and very veryyyy much lacking in morals and empathy, but this Adler is more receptive, animated, lighthearted, playful, constantly cracking jokes? It’s crazy. I know many of us have already realised that he likely acted so robotic in Cold War due to Bell, consequently he seems much more at ease with Case who is sort of the Bell of this game, they share quite a few parallels. We still didn’t really learn that much about Adler (apart from him being born in San Diego oooh) but he does show some weakness, a smidge of humility and human errors if you squint, and glimmers of emotions, primarily towards Woods. They both hint at their bond, friendship and respect for each other throughout the campaign, which is a nice touch. For example, the subtle genuine concern in his voice when he stays behind to be with Woods when he’s wounded is groundbreaking for him, a small little thing that somehow speaks volumes due to how little he’s previously shown us. This is already too long and I’m not going to speak about every single thing, but I’ll say Woods is perfect in this as a supporting character, but he’s always been one of the best things about black ops, he’s an icon. They’ve been tactful and realistic in writing him adjusting to his life out of the field and becoming disabled while still keeping his trademark funny and snarky attitude. I’m really glad he was with us!

And as for Case? Meh. We didn’t get much in regards to him. He’s no Bell that’s for sure and I’m more than ready to write him off.

All in all I’ll give the campaign 2.8/5 stars. Somewhat refreshing, great characters both new and old, cool settings (that safehouse was a LOT nicer to explore than the Cold War one huh?) average plot tarnished by a terrible ending, it was certainly an interesting concept but not executed as well as it could have been and somehow not really explored enough? Everything was kind of vague in a way that didn’t seem to be an issue that Cold War had. All in all they could have done more, could have utilised the runtime of the campaign more effectively. Stuff should have been added, a lot of stuff should have been cut.

[mxcnliight]

ways to get a little more cash (sjy) | m

Jang Wonyoung the most popular girl in your class asked you to fuck your tutor Sim Jake. In return you would get $100 bucks, simple right? 

Paring: Tutor!Jake x Fem!Reader

Theme: One shot; SMUT, PWP, fluff

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: sexual tension; use of the word slut and whore; they are both kinda toxic; dirty talk; swearing; teasing; oral sex (f receiving); p in v penetration; unprotected sex (he pulls out)

next

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

Your hand rested on your chin, and you sighed in boredom. It was in the middle of your physics class. Your teacher threw your class a party for getting high scores on your exam. 

Everybody was talking among themselves while you were left all alone. Just staring at the table below you, daydreaming to keep yourself entertained. You then hear a group of girls giggling as they approach you. 

It was the populars, and you saw Wonyoung sit next to you as Danielle sat behind you. Wonyoung then smirked as she put her head in her hands, copying you. "So Y/N, whatcha doing?" She asked, "Nothing really, just waiting for this period to be done" you replied. 

She hums before eyeing you up and down. "How’s things with Jake?" She asked as your eyes widened. Jake was your tutor; he has been the person who has helped you not fail physics. 

The first marking period you did horrible with a 65 average. Ever since you got tutoring your grade is now a high 90. It has to do with the way he teaches you; it makes so much sense compared to your teacher. 

Maybe it’s how nice he is and how he always goes slowly when explaining things to you, making sure you understand everything. Though there is one thing about Jake: he’s the school’s fuckboy. 

He hasn’t made a move on you, but you have heard rumors from the girls in your class about his antics. The rumors are that after he gets done tutoring you, he "rewards you," which is why all of the girls try to get tutoring lessons from him. 

This rumor was the reason why you were so conflicted on whether or not to let him tutor you, but when you asked him, he was like an angel. He was so sweet, and even after your first lesson, nothing happened, so maybe it was just you, but you were okay with it. 

You wanted Jake to help you with physics, not to fuck you. Even though he is extremely attractive. You get out of your thoughts and look back at Wonyoung. "Good. If he hadn’t tutored me, I wouldn’t have gotten a 100 on this test". 

She nods as she twirls a strand of her hair with her finger and asks, "Was that because he fucked you?" She asked as your eyes widened. "Wonyoung, please be quiet; people could hear!" You whispered as she smirked. 

You shake your head and say, "No, he has never fucked me before." Her and Danielle gasped, "What? I thought you guys did because of how long he has been tutoring you for". "No, he’s not like the rumors, at least for me." 

You say as Wonyoung nods. Her nails then begin to tap on the desk. "Can you do something for me? If you do it, I will give you something in return". Confused, you scrunch your nose. 

"What is it?" "My friend really wants to fuck Jake, like really bad, so... could you get him to fuck you? I mean, if he fucks you, then he’s done with you. Plus, he’s only tutoring you right now, so I think it’s fair to let my friend have a chance. Don’t you think so too?" She asked, batting her eyelashes innocently. 

Your breath hitches. "What do I get in return?" You ask as she smirks, "100 bucks, from me of course". Your eyes widened; you could buy that camera that you have been wanting. You bite your lip and turn your head to look at Jake. 

He was just talking among his friends; do you really want to fuck him? Just then, Jake’s head turns to meet your gaze. He smirks before looking away as you look back at Wonyoung. "I’ll do it".

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

Tonight was the night that you were going to fuck Jake, or the other way around. You sigh, looking down at your phone. You were waiting for his response. 

You said that you got a bad score on the test, so you asked him if he could help you with test corrections. That wasn’t actually the case, so you got your friend's test, who scored lower than you did. You said you would do test corrections for them. You hear a ding from your phone and go to your messages.

Jake: sure! I’ll be there in 5

                                          You: alright, thank you Jake :)

Jake: No problem :)

You then get up from your bed, walking into your bathroom. You brush your teeth and floss, and then you do your makeup. You then grab your deodorant and put some on. 

Once you got home from school, you took a shower and shaved. You also made sure to drink lots of water and have some healthy snacks. You look at yourself in the mirror; you're wearing a white tank top with some black sweatpants and a gray flannel. 

It was an easy outfit to take off during sex. You also made sure to wear your best lingerie as well. You then grab your perfume and spray some on yourself before putting it away. You get a notification from Jake saying that he is here. 

You huff, putting your phone into your pocket before walking downstairs. You reach the front door and turn the knob. The door opened, and it revealed Jake Sim. 

He wore a blue jean jacket with a white shirt underneath it, black pants with a black belt, and some black boots. He looked so nice compared to you. "Hey Y/N" He said, smiling at you, "Hey Jake! Please come in." 

You move so that he could come in. He then took off his boots, and you say, "I’m sorry if I’m a bit underdressed, I was just planning for us to study." "Oh no, you’re fine! Me and my mates just went out for a while" he said, reassuring you.

"You look great, though" he said, smiling at you. You smile back at him before leading him to your room. Once he gets in, you close the door. "Where are your parents?" He asked, looking around your room, "Oh, they went out for dinner, they probably won’t be home until late tonight." 

He nods and takes off his jean jacket and hangs it on the back of his chair. You sit next to him at your desk. You then grab your papers and begin to write your name on a blank piece of paper. 

"So what did you get?" He asked, looking at you. "A 75" you said. He gasps, "What? That can’t be right, we studied a bunch before the exam!" "I know, I’m sorry Jake. I guess I just got a bit of test anxiety". 

"That’s okay, I understand. So what question are we starting off with?" "This one". You point to question #6, and he reads the question before looking back at you. 

"We did something similar to this in our review before the exam, do you remember?" He asks as you pretend to think. "Maybe?" "You do it first, and then I’ll check to see if you’re correct". You nod and begin to solve the problem.

Once you are done, you show it to Jake. He scans your paper and smiles, "That’s correct! Good job". You write down the answer on the blank piece of paper: "What’s the next one?" You point to question #13. 

He hums, "This is really easy, you just have to remember what we learned in class". You nod and pretend to think of the answer. You write down your answer and show it to him. 

"Yes! Are you sure you didn’t understand the martial?" He asks as you chuckle, "I promise I didn't," you say, writing down the answer on the piece of paper. "Okay, what’s next?" You purposely skip to the hardest problem on the test. 

Jake sighs. "Alright, this was the hardest problem on the exam. Do you want me to go over it with you?". You nod as he pulls your chair closer to him. "Alright, so…" You start to tune out his words as your heartbeat gets faster. 

If there is any chance for you to do it, it would be now. You look up at Jake, who is still explaining the problem to you. He then stops and looks at you, asking, "What’s wrong, Y/N?" He asked, confused. 

You huff out, "Jake, this isn’t working" "What isn’t?" "I’m not focused." "What are you thinking about?" He asked, looking at you. You slightly smirked. "Thinking about my reward," you say, looking back at him. 

"Oh, what do you want? What will get you motivated?" He asks, and you turn to face him as your fingers run along the collar of his shirt. "You" you say biting your lip, "Me?" He asked, confused. 

"You know about those rumors about you... I wondered what it would be like". You look up at him with innocent eyes as he smirks. He then comes close to your ear and whispers, "Do you want to be my slut, Y/N?” You gasp at his words. 

"Because all of those girls that want me are whores or sluts, so... which one are you going to be?" He asks, looking into your eyes. Your breath hitches. "Your slut". Silence fills the room for a split second. "I knew it," he says before his lips crash into yours.

You moan into the kiss and grab at his black locks. Jake pulls you closer to him as his hands meet your lower back. Your lips intertwine with one another as Jake taps your thigh. You get his signal and wrap your legs around his waist. 

He gets up from his chair and lays you down on your bed. He then breaks the kiss, saying, "I knew something was up when you wore this tank top" He says before kissing you again. His fingers meet your flannel as he breaks the kiss. 

He then strips your clothes off your body so that only your white lingerie is left. Jake then groans and his hand meets one of your breasts. You softly gasp as he lightly massages it; he then lowers his head to meet your neck. 

He leaves soft kisses along it: "You look so pretty". "Thank you," you weakly reply, playing with the back of his hair. He then leaves your neck to take off his shirt. You gasp at his toned chest. 

"Come here," he says as he comes back down to you, arms on either side of you. He then groans, "Let me feel the lace against my body". He gasps at the feeling of your bra against his chest, then groans once more before kissing you.

He continues to kiss you passionately as you whimper through the kiss. He then breaks the kiss as one of his hands moves to the back of your bra and unclips it. 

The straps then fall to your shoulders as you take it off, leaving you bare chested. Jake says, "Oh, your nipples are so hard". He wraps his mouth around one of your breasts. He proceeds to kiss at your soft bud as you whimper. 

You grab a fistful of his hair, and his tongue flicks on it. Your back slowly arches at the feeling as you moan out. Jake then moves his head towards your other nipple and gives it the same treatment he gave the other. 

He then moves up to your lips to give you a kiss before saying "I want to taste you, can I taste you?". His lustful gaze meets yours as you nod your head, and he says, "Oh, yeah?". He then moves down to your legs. 

"Pull that up," he says, smirking. He moves your panties to the side as he gasps, "Oh my god, baby, your pussy's so beautiful". You whimper at his words as his head moves down to be eye-to-eye with your pussy. 

He then kisses your clit as you whimper. "I just want to kiss it" he says as he proceeds to kiss your clit "Kiss it all over" he says as his hands meet your thighs, holding them in place. 

He kisses your clit again and says, "Do you want my tongue?" He asks, looking up at you as you nod. "Yeah?" He says before his tongue meets your clit. He went back and forth, switching kisses and using his tongue. 

"You feel the tip of it on your clit?" He asks as you nod, and his tongue flicks around at your clit as you whimper out. He continues to make out with it. "Oh baby," he says before he dives back in. 

His tongue movements increase and get faster as you cry out his name. He gives your clit one last kiss before saying, "Come here". He comes back up to you, giving you a kiss. 

"Feel your body against mine" he says as you run your hands up and down his arms. "You feel so good, baby". He says before he tongue-kisses you, you can taste your juices on his tongue. "Yeah, I wanna be inside you, honey" he says as he moves back to take off his pants along with his boxers.

He then climbs back up to you and spreads your legs. He pumps his cock in his hand a little bit before lining it up with your hole and saying, "Let me watch". He teases your hole with the head of his cock as you whimper. 

"Please Jake, please put your cock in me," you say, looking up at him with doe eyes. "Since you asked so nicely—" His cock enters you slowly as you moan out and Jake groans. 

"Oh, that feels so fucking good, you feel so good" he says as his cock soon bottoms you out, "Come here, baby". He says as your arms meet his back, pulling him in. He starts to thrust in slowly as you whimper. 

"Oh, just like that," he growls, continuing to thrust into you, this time a bit faster. "Yes, all the way, baby, fuck." He pants out and stops when he feels you holding him inside you. 

He then passionately kisses you before thrusting into you again. "It’s so fucking good," he says, kissing your lips again. "Yeah, you feel so good, I wanna be so close to you, honey," he says as his thrusts get deeper and faster. 

"Pull me in," he says as your legs wrap around his waist. "Oh my god, honey," he growls. His thrusts increase, going at an inhuman speed, "Fuck Jake!" You cry out, throwing your head back onto your pillow. 

"You close?" He asked you as you nodded, closing your eyes. You feel Jake's thumb on your clit as you loudly whimper. "Come with me, baby," he whispers in your ear as your orgasm reaches its peak. 

"Fuck baby!" You heard Jake growl as he pulled out, and his cum spilled onto your stomach. You both are breathing heavily as Jake collapses next to you on your bed. "What time is it?" He asks, still breathing hard. 

You turn to your nightstand and grab your phone. "7:46" you say as Jake sighs. "It’s okay, you can stay the night. I don’t mind." You mentioned, as you turned to look at his face. He smirks. "Bet,” he says. He gets up to put his boxers on.

He then walks into your bathroom as you pull up Wonyoung’s phone number. Jake comes back with a towel and cleans his cum off your stomach before giving you a quick peck. 

He then goes to put the towel away, and you feel something being thrown at your back. You turn around and see Jake’s shirt. "Wear that". He says as he climbs to your bed, you pout; he’s so sweet. 

You put on his shirt, and it smells just like him. You then feel Jake’s arms wrap around your waist as he snuggles into your back. You feel really bad because you basically used Jake for money, but it was worth it in the end.

                                                                                                              You: I did it

Wonyoung: Send me a pic for proof

You roll your eyes in disgust as you turn your flash off and take a picture of you and Jake together, which you then send to Wonyoung.

*Notification: Jang Wonyoung paid you $100. - 💸 💸 - Your Venmo balance is now $100.

[evansbby]

POYT 5 - My thoughts & commentary

MAJOR SPOILERS below the cut! Only proceed if you've read POYT 5.

Also, I will be answering all feedback this weekend! I wanted to give it a week so that more people would read it and because the feedback will contain spoilers.

Anyways, here are my thoughts (warning, this is long lmao)

Hey everyone

First off, I just want to say how thankful I am for the support for this fic. I never thought I’d finish it and to see it finished more than a year after the first chapter was posted and to see how many of you stuck around and didn’t give up on it is truly heartwarming! Thank you for letting me tell my story, thank you for supporting me, thank you for egging me on to finish it, thank you for sharing your thoughts and words of encouragement, thank you, thank you, thank you! I know sometimes I may come across as unthankful. And I’ll be so honest with you guys, a few days following the posting of POYT 5, I was so, so emotional and on edge and kind of upset because I thought the fic was not getting as much feedback as I thought it would. Which is crazy to think since we got it to 1000 notes in 24 hours!!

But I understand that people take time to read something so long, and it’s so much content that people need time to gather their thoughts. I get that. I’m just a very emotional person, which is why it may have seemed like I got upset. I poured my heart and soul into this fic for the past six months, so I will be emotional about it. That being said, I really want to stress on the fact that I AM super thankful towards the people who supported me and sent in amazing feedback, or reblogged and wrote their feedback down! I’ve read every single feedback so far maybe about three times!! I can’t wait to answer it so we can fully have an in-depth discussion about the story!

ALSO. And this is so important. POYT IS A DARK FIC. Steve, no matter what redemption I gave him, is a whole ass red flag in real life. He’s still a dark character, he is still someone that would totally be a villain in real life. POYT is a work of complete fiction, so please don’t think that because she ended up living happily ever after with Steve, that I condone that in real life. I think we are all old enough to understand that this is just me exploring a dark relationship in FICTION. In real life, this would be considered toxic and abusive. PLEASE remember that. Do not be with a poyt!Steve in real life. Please.

Now, to the fic itself. I’ll explain more when I answer the asks but let me just share my main thought-process behind it. I know a lot of people expected Peter to take Omega away and for Omega and Steve to be apart for a chunk of the story. I NEVER wanted to do anything like that. I believe I’ve mentioned it a few times but I don’t really love it when this happens in stories I read, and I always skip to the part where the reader and her man are back together. So I knew I didn’t want to do this.

There WAS an early iteration of the story where Peter takes Omega back to his apartment and she spends the night in his guest-room (she doesn’t want to sleep in the same room as him, she doesn’t hate him or anything but it feels wrong to her). Peter would have made her block Steve’s number and told her to just sleep on it. But she would’ve cried all night and missed Steve so much that she would’ve unblocked him. Of course, her phone would be flooded with calls and texts from Steve, ranging from angry to sad to demanding to know where she is to blaming Peter to blaming Omega. Really erratic texts like  “I told you I loved you and you left me,” to “fuck you, I will never forgive you,” to “sorry I didn’t mean that please come back, baby, I miss you.” And she would have called him back but hung up quickly before he could alpha-command her into telling him where she is (she wouldn’t want to endanger Peter). And then Omega herself would’ve left and gone back to Steve.

I didn’t do this because, honestly, Peter would never “kidnap” Omega. I know a lot of people used the word kidnap but honestly that’s not what was going on. Peter thought he was saving her, but she had already decided in Part 4 that it was Steve she couldn’t live without. In Part 4, she says she could live without her mom and without Peter, but not without Steve. She’s already said yes to his proposal, there was no doubt she was going to stay with Steve. Maybe a little bit because Steve had only promised to be better at that point, and he had not proven it. But we all know Omega always saw the best in Steve, always wanted him to be better, always wanted him deep down. It wouldn’t make sense for her to stay quiet and let Peter take her all the way back to his apartment. I know she’s always been confused and indecisive, but I wanted her to be firm in that moment. Because she has chosen to be with Steve. At that moment, she doesn’t know why and she’s still confused about her feelings for Steve, but she knows she can’t live without him. So she chooses to stay with him within the first few sentences of the fic.

I remember a few months ago I received an ask saying that they expected Omega and Steve to stay apart for about 10k words of POYT 5, and I read that thinking “OMG is this what people are expecting???” because PERSONALLY, I would skip the fuck out of those 10k words if reader wasn’t with her love interest for 10k whole words. That’s just me personally, everyone has a different opinion but yeah. I tried to stay as true to MYSELF in this fic as possible, and ultimately, this is how I wanted it to play out.

I wanted POYT 5 to be about Steve and Omega and their interactions with each other. Because if you look back at the four parts before this… why exactly are we rooting for this couple? Have they had any sweet or romantic moments? They have, but very few and far between. Have they even had normal conversations? I needed their relationship to grow and evolve so that it would GENUINELY be a happy ending. I wanted the over-arching theme to be their interactions evolving, and Steve saying he loves her and her being unable to say it back. Which is why, if you noticed, almost every time Steve would say he loved her, he’d wait expectantly for her to say it back, and withdraw when she didn’t.

I’d say my biggest struggle was writing Steve (as it always is). I wanted his character development to be believable. But I think people need to remember that he had already turned a new leaf in POYT 4. And so POYT 5 was more about him demonstrating how he’d change, and keeping true to the promises he made to her in the previous part. I really hope you recognised that I tried to do it gradually, and that he’s trying to be better but still struggling with it.

For example: when he steps away from fighting Peter, you can tell he’s fighting with himself and this manifests through his literal physical features. How his face contorts before bouncing back then contorting again. I focused a LOT on describing Steve’s physical features in that part (so much so that I had to cut out whole paragraphs that just focused on describing his expression changing).

And then his panic attack. I got a message saying that was very out of character for Steve (I’ll respond to that message, don’t you worry, anon). But I really do not think it was OOC. Look, in fics this long, characters need to evolve. And Steve has been cold, calculated, strong, put-together for the whole of POYT so it honestly makes sense that he would lose it. To me, it does. He already lost it a few times in POYT 4, so it would make sense that he’d lose it some more. I know a lot of people enjoy reading him as this all-powerful alpha male and I was like that too, but I had to write this because it felt right to me. Steve is very emotionally volatile, and I think it was fitting that he had a panic attack. It shows another side of him, and I was proud of that scene. I’ll elaborate on this more when I answer that anon. But let me just say this: usually, when Steve got angry in the past – he’d resort to physical violence or some form of twisted, calculated revenge. He cannot do that to Peter, because he knows now that omega won’t forgive him if he did. So, in that moment, he kind of just… breaks. He doesn’t know how to process his emotions properly, so he panics. He’s seen his omega kiss someone else, and then he’s had to listen to that same person call him out in front of everyone and basically told him no one would ever love him. We KNOW Steve is insecure deep down, and so it’s honestly not very surprising that he had a panic attack. Villainous, macho characters can have panic attacks too, anon. They aren’t just reserved for the good characters.

Anyways, this is getting too long but moving on. I really hoped I captured Steve’s growth in a gradual, somewhat realistic way. Like how he blurts out that her mother won’t care about her getting married before he cuts himself off (him being tactful when before, he’d manipulated her and said this VERY thing). In the road trip scene, his communication still isn’t the best but at least he is TRYING, with that “game” that he plays just so he can ask her questions about her feelings. Like, he couldn’t straight up ask her and he had to make it into a game but like… it’s poyt!Steve after all so what do you expect haha. And when they’re at her childhood home, he’s still that guy who goes through all her stuff and pokes fun at her… but the difference is that it’s now turned into gentle teasing and not mean teasing, like how it was in the first few chapters.

Speaking of them going back to omega’s childhood home, I hope you guys caught on that omega realises her mom has left the moment she opens her mom’s bedroom door and sees the bed stripped and dresser empty. That’s why she gasps. But she doesn’t want to accept it, which is why she refuses to believe it. I’m sure everyone caught on to that but I’m just explaining anyways because why not. I’ll also say that writing this part made me cry so hard, I don’t know why. I have a very good relationship with my mother, she’s my whole entire life and she’s the best woman I know. So, to write a character who just does not have that… I don’t know why but it really affected me. And every time I reread this part to edit it, I cried. Every time. Especially the part where she talks about the ghost of her younger self playing in the garden. Like I’m tearing up now… Oh God!!! Also, when she breaks down and starts screaming at her mom’s door, I remember I wrote a part where she takes off her shoe and throws it at the door. I cut it out but I wish I’d kept it in in hindsight, just to show how raw and hurt she felt.

Anyways, as a lot of you messaged me saying this, you’re right, this was the moment where something snaps in Steve and he changes. It’s like he realises everything she’s been through and is still going through, and all the hurt and grief HE caused her. It’s never explicitly mentioned, but since the bathtub scene, Steve is afraid she’s going to kill herself. Like, that’s just a very real thing in his head, he’s just afraid she’s going to do that and he’d have been the main driving factor behind it. And so he realises he HAS to change. It’s in the way he doesn’t get mad at her when she tells him to fuck off, when she makes that dig at him and says he doesn’t have hardworking parents who work long hours. I wanted to convey that in that moment, her mental well-being just becomes his number one priority and he realises he could lose her. Maybe not physically, but he could still lose her. Which is why he gets so desperate in the end, and pleads with her to stay with him.

WHICH IS WHY, from then on, we see Steve being very communicative all of a sudden. And it’s ironic, because he’s not communicative about his own shit but he wants omega to voice all her concerns. That is why we get so much of “baby, tell me how you’re feeling.” Simply put, he’s afraid she’ll kill herself, and he also wants to be more communicative in order to improve their relationship and be better for her. Which is why he kind of throws himself into this new persona of this ultra communicative, ultra vocal about his love type of boyfriend. Like, he really lays it on thick, but he means it… and it also comes from a place of desperation, like he NEEDS her to get better. He knows deep down he’s about to lose his mother, but he cannot lose omega too. So if some of you thought it was OOC for him being SO SO SO vocal about his declarations of love and all his sweet little speeches, well, this is why I did it.

Speaking of Mrs. Rogers, she was a big talking point amongst all of you in the feedback I got! Like, overwhelmingly so! All I’ll say is, the whole cancer thing is something I pictured for her for a long time. But there WAS an early iteration of Steve’s parents where we would’ve met them in POYT 4 during Steve’s graduation and they would’ve been snooty and not approved of Omega. But somewhere along the way, that all changed. But I do want to stress that I did not mean to give the impression that Steve’s mom having cancer is the reason why he’s a bully. He was a bully alpha way before his mother got sick. Maybe it contributed a little bit but it does not excuse his behaviour at all and I never meant for it to! Honestly, it was more about exploring just how delusional and scared Steve really is, deep down. Like, his inability to accept that his mother is dying is very similar to omega refusing at first to accept that her mom left her. It’s more about how both the main characters push their problems aside and are often unable to accept them head on. It also added another facet to Steve’s character, and made things that little bit more heartbreaking, which was my intention.

Oh my fucking God, this is already 2.4k words??? Anyways, I really want to talk about the Rogers’ family mansion. So, since I was a child, I was obsessed with this author called VC Andrews who wrote Flowers in the Attic. When I say obsessed, I mean that I read each of her books like six or seven times and I still reread them till this day. To the point where my writing is influenced by her. Anyways, her stories were often rags-to-riches, and the heroine always describes a mansion. I was entranced reading about Foxworth Hall from FitA and Farthingale Manor from Heaven (if you guys haven’t read these books, please do. They are so, so good. I write the way I write because I read these books). So when I wrote the scene of Steve’s mansion, I wanted it to have that gothic horror family saga type feel, and so there were a lot of descriptions of just how big his house was, how his family literally had a ballroom and used to host galas, I really just wanted to paint a full picture of that. And then amongst all those riches, is Steve’s mom, a woman who is sick, whose husband is always away, whose son is too scared to come see her anymore. The sadness and secrets in all the wealth, that’s what I wanted to capture. If you guys have read Flowers in the Attic, you’d maybe understand what I mean. I deviated a bit from the usual style of POYT for these few scenes in Steve’s mansion, but I enjoyed writing them immensely.

More on Steve’s character: at this point I wanted to show that he was changing but that he wasn’t perfect and change doesn’t happen overnight. Which is why he lashes out at her for not saying she loves him back (right after sex, mind you, when she’s feeling extra vulnerable). It was a mean thing to do, but again, nobody is perfect and least of all him. Also, idk if anyone caught this bc no one has commented on it as of yet, but she almost slipped in the shower because she was trying to chase after him :// POYT 5 could’ve been a lot sadder just then… but I decided not to go there. Anyways, I wanted to show that Steve was still impulsive, quick to get angry. But the key difference is HE CAME BACK. And comforted her. I just wanted to show his gradual growth there.

I feel like I’m doing too much now so let me speed through the rest. I really tried to sprinkle in a lot of moments where Steve was being his cocky self, because he still is that and always will be. He’s still got his rules, and he’s being lax about them but at the end of the day he’s still an alpha. What I’m trying to say is, in the future, he’s not going to be the manipulative, childish, toxic fuckboy that he was before. But he WILL ultimately still be the misogynistic alpha that he always was, albeit a lot less intense and mean than before.

The scene with Bucky was always, always going to happen. All that Bucky stuff was leading up to something, and I always planned to do this. But when I actually got to writing it and realised how lame this man sounded when he was listing his problems “Steve always got the better car” etc, I knew I had to have omega comment on how dumb his problems were compared to hers. Because they are!!! It was ridiculous at the end of the day. I know a lot of people expected a fight with Peter and Steve, but that was never going to happen in full. It was always Steve vs Bucky to me. They have more history, they’re both more evenly matched in physical strength. Also, I want to clarify that at this point, Bucky did not have any feelings for omega, she was just an object to him that he could not have, and it was the last straw for him. I left Bucky’s fate as open-ended, maybe one day I’ll go back to that.

The final scene was ALWAYS meant to be omega marking Steve and finally telling him she loves him too. Like, I had this pictured since day one. This was always, always going to be the ending.

In terms of her and Peter, I really struggled with what type of ending I could give them. Because realistically, if I was Peter, I’d still be angry. I’d still be in disbelief over my best friend being with a man who is just… Not Good. And I do think Peter deep down still feels that way, but he also knows he cannot persuade omega, and so he has to move on. He sent her a wedding card but, in my head, they do not keep in touch. Steve doesn’t want her to keep in touch with him, and honestly, there isn’t much for Peter and omega to say to each other anymore. Which I think is realistic. It’s sad but it’s realistic.

One of the hardest parts for me was making sure to tie up every single loose end. Like for example, Sharon. In an earlier iteration, I had originally planned for Steve to somehow sabotage Sharon and keep her from graduating as revenge for her being mean to omega. In the end, I decided against this. Sharon is not important to Steve, she is not that important to the story either, and honestly, she wouldn’t have deserved that at all. So, I left her alone. I hope she’s doing well.

Same with other tiny loose ends, like who fixed Steve Junior? Originally, I genuinely DID mean that Steve simply paid someone else to fix her. But A LOT of you sent me messages asking if it was Steve himself who fixed him… and it just made so much sense! Because the stitching is done lowkey badly and unevenly, so of course it was Steve! I added that part in right at the end! Also the sketchbook part, where Steve sketches his mom. That was added like, on the day of me posting the fic. I was so paranoid I missed something, but I don’t think I did??

Mr. Rogers wasn’t meant to be in the fic at all. I wanted to keep him mysterious. But in the end, I decided to add him in last second. And I liked that he and his wife are so in love, but I feel like he’s still a mysterious character – especially in his relationship towards his son.

Lastly, Steve was ALWAYS gonna be a girl dad. That was never a question. Like… come on. We all saw that one coming!!!

Now all I can say is that Steve (the one on my blog who answers questions) is going to be SO smug that he got his omega back (after like two minutes of him losing her lmao). LIKE?? He proved all of you wrong hahahaha. The whole time y'all were talking about him sitting at home, heartbroken bc his omega got taken... HE HAD HER THE WHOLE TIME. just a funny thought lol.

ANYWAYS, if you have any questions about the fic, any more deleted scenes you wanna know about, any other things you want to say in response to this? please send them in!!!

[shackledaces]

i’m pulling an all nighter and in the midst of said situation i have decided to refute popular “points” that i see people use to say that komahina is one-sided and/or toxic.

(this is my own opinion!)

1. “hajime hates/doesn’t care about nagito”

okay, let’s take lines from the actual game.

as you can see, hajime doesn’t hate nagito. in fact, it’s pretty fair to say that hajime just wants to understand him, and is probably the only one in the game who doesn’t hate him. arguably, the screenshot is taken from Island Mode, but I’m pretty sure you get my point; hajime voices his want to understand nagito in the actual game.

and plus, if you really hated someone, would you be worrying for them like hajime does with nagito? i mean just look how much he cares about him:

even again

and again.

and again…

AND AGAIN…….

… yeah.

okay, i think you get my point. even i’m getting sick of hajime’s unending care for nagito (and this is AFTER nagito’s betrayal, if i may point out).

so it’s pretty safe to say that hajime doesn’t hate nagito, right? great. next point.

2. “komahina is one sided/hajime doesn’t love/like nagito back”

to be fair, this is one of the strongest arguments i’ve seen that goes against the ship itself—but let me try to change your mind if you believe that hajime doesn’t have even the slightest bit of feelings for nagito (i do believe that this point is mainly based on your interpretation of the evidence i’m about to give you, so you are free to your own opinion!).

so here we go!

hajime definitely had a crush on nagito at the beginning of the game.

(ignore the bright sun)

and then, the infamous stuttering:

hajime definitely stutters when he’s embarrassed/nervous. he does it with chiaki when she wore a bikini before Mahiru’s case (and it’s pretty obvious that he at least had feelings for her canonically. love our bi protag <3).

at the beginning of the game, nagito and hajime don’t know each other that well, but it’s pretty obvious that they create a bond quicker than anyone else does in the game. it’s not out of line to think that hajime probably felt close to nagito, let alone had some feelings for him.

it would explain why hajime was so hurt by nagito’s betrayal while everyone else was angry/confused.

3. “nagito is just obsessed with hajime because of his “hope”/nagito doesn’t like/love hajime”

alright, it’s pretty much canon that nagito has feelings for hajime, but another mini argument i’ve seen is that “nagito is obsessed with hajime for his hope.”

…okay what.

slow your roll; who said that nagito was obsessed with hajime? the only thing nagito is canonically obsessed with is the idea of hope overcoming despair. sure, when he said “i’m in love with the hope living inside of you” you can argue that he was sincere about it, but in the way the Japanese ver of the game puts it, it’s actually a cover up for “I love you.” and even if it wasn’t, the exact word that nagito uses (aishiteru) is a passionate love; or even a love built with time.

either way, i thought it was pretty obvious that nagito loves hajime for hajime, and maybe his hope was a strong personality trait as to why nagito has feelings for him, but that wasn’t the full reason — that’s probably why nagito still calls him Hajime instead of Izuru/Kamukura.

and plus there’s really no uh denying nagito’s side of the ship.

anyway, i can’t really think of any other points so maybe I’ll add onto this later, but my point still stands that KomaHina is by far one of my favorite ships ever, if not my otp in general. the friends to enemies/rivals to lovers trope and the “i didn’t understand what love was until i met you” trope is still in my top five.

if you have any points you’ve heard that you think i can retort, then please do comment them <3

as of right now tho idk so

[phantomram-b00]

Okay I wasn’t going to be active today, but I saw this post about Crowley, and I do recommend you check it out it bring up many good points. It does inspire me to make a post about something I’m kinda surprised no one talks about exactly (or maybe they did idk.)

Now keep in mind, I do love Crowley and Aziraphale, they’re both my favorite characters and also my comfort characters/ship. Not just for their good deeds and characterization but also because they flawed. Or as they said in the blitz episode, they shade of grey. 🩶 I just feel like Crowley behaving a bit stupidly here. (But here might have more validity but still felt it was unwarranted)

Now onto the post, probably wondering what I could be talking about The Jim Situation all the way back in season 2 episode 1

So I’ve been meaning to talk about this, but I wasn’t exactly sure if it would be well received or wouldn’t make sense. But I think the post I linked help me have some confidence, as I do feel that people when talking about it forgot that, Aziraphale DID NOT want to help Gabriel at all. He never wanted to see him again after 2019; why would he, he not only approve of the first armageddon but also wanted to execute him (specially but also crowley) and overall was passive aggressive asshole towards him. Why would he ever want to help his toxic ex-boss? He kinda didn’t have a choice here, now he did say no at first when Gabriel asked to come in (I mean— idk about you but your ex-boss who’s naked want to come into my house I wouldn’t let them inside neither just no-) but he did bring him inside because he felt obligated because everyone is looking at him and the naked man friend, I think if things were different I think Aziraphale wouldn’t even think about helping him as another thing, Aziraphale moved on from everything that happen, he’s living his life, he even said so to Crowley when talking how he doesn’t report to them anymore. So the have this happen, just felt like ABBA song “Mama Mia here I go again”.

But another thing is that, Aziraphale also (while hesitantly) want to know what happen to Gabriel? Why has he forgotten about himself or really everything? And asking him or the empty box didn’t solve anything at all. As patient as aziraphale is, even his was running really thin as he talk to Gabriel. Not to mention of the fact Gabriel revealed that something terrible might happen which understandably terrifies Aziraphale. So, he turns to Crowley, which gifted us Nina asked about the naked man friend (Sorry I love his face when she drop that, the expression speaks so much volume I love it! XD)

Okay back to my ramble, now at first I’ll give the benefit of the doubt of why Crowley was kinda suspicious at first, Aziraphale wasn’t being up front about it at first (though to be fair, trying to tell someone “hey my naked ex-boss is in my bookshop and doesn’t know who he even is” is probably the most bizarre to even try to explain or tell anyone). And then as they go inside the bookshop, he got spooked rightfully so, this was the same person who wanted to kill Aziraphale, even saying the worse thing he can ever say: “shut your stupid mouth and die”. So to see him again, yeah, being scared is a valid response even as well as being showing keep resentment.

But, as they went to the very Va-Va-vroom yellow backroom, Crowley first idea was to take Gabriel somewhere far away, which if you really think about, wouldn’t solve any of their problem. It like putting a bandage or tape on a crack, sure it might help for now but more cracks will come up and will eventually break (I’ll get back to this later). What aziraphale said kinda valid, Gabriel does need them because who knows if this something terrible would only affect Gabriel, it could very well affect him or even Crowley or earth, so in Aziraphale’s view helping him out might neutralize whatever’s going on or will happen and taking him to dartmoor as Crowley stated do anything.

Now okay to give more benefit of the doubt, again, I do understand why Crowley was acting this way, and Aziraphale selflessly helping Gabriel is infuriating for him. As Crowley seeing this as “how can you help the person who want to murder you? How can you look past and forgive them this easily? How can you possible find it in your heart to help him after everything?”, which is pointing out Aziraphale’s flaws, him being selfless and need to help. Gabriel could’ve curse him out or bring him down to his lowest yet he still want to help. Now, there nothing wrong with being selfless, it an honorable thing to do, however, it become an issue when your selfless without thinking how it’ll affect you or the person involve. But, as I mention before, Aziraphale never wanted to help Gabriel, the only reason Aziraphale’s want to even do far as help this angel is because 1) he was obligated to as who else could possible help an amnesiac angel? 2) Gabriel mention something terrible will happen, so aziraphale want to know what can that be to prevent it. And 3) he’s pushing away his qualms against gabriel aside just so he can help him. So I don’t think Aziraphale’s exactly wrong for not wanting to sent Gabriel away as it wouldn’t solve the something terrible.

But Crowley doesn’t want to help (at first), so Aziraphale despite desperately loving nothing more but for Crowley to help him; said he’s welcome to go. He’s at least giving Crowley the opportunity to choose. Even though, Aziraphale want his help more than anything as the one thing both of them share is that, they don’t want to see Gabriel anymore. However, with aziraphale telling him he can go, Crowley well leaves. But not before (granted he did try to calm down though):

Aziraphale while most likely understands why Crowley left, I feel given his expression just wished Crowley tried a little harder rather than just walking away that easily. I almost said maybe he also feels envious that Crowley got the choice to walk away from this but I don’t see Aziraphale as someone who’s envious to that degree, but I feel Aziraphale wasn’t at least wishful he could avoid this whole Gabriel thing more than Crowley. But it just their luck.

Okay back to Crowley again, so we back to see him inside the car and then he is teleported back to hell by Beelzebub, there Ze tell Crowley what Shax mentioned before that Gabriel is gone and try to bribe Crowley by saying he can name his own price and even get his job back. Then tells Crowley that heaven up and arms about the disappearance and will dealt with anyone who’s helping Gabriel with extremes sanctions. Which absolutely mortified him because then there that possibility of being erased from the book of life.

And no, I don’t think Crowley’s original plan would’ve solved anything because in a way, that’s still helping Gabriel in some way. Does it more or less benefit Crowley and aziraphale yes but not by the long run. Like I said, it’s putting a bandage/tape on a crack, it could hold but not for long as it will ultimately fall apart and they would still be punished by doing this. So I think that’s why I never got why he still said “no no no aziraphale what have you done!?” Like sure even though I said my benefit of the doubt, I feel he should’ve at least understand this wasn’t Aziraphale’s choice neither, or even that this isn’t all on aziraphale anyway. It was Gabriel that just showed up and came to Aziraphale’s bookshop in the first place, so this was sprung on him. So I felt this was kinda irrational for him to think this way as Aziraphale never wanted this at all.

So Crowley comes back and Aziraphale decides to play petty (which sure valid since he did walk away but he did give him a choice? Idk it complicated), and Crowley goes on to say he was right which prompted to aziraphale wanting the apology dance from him (which okay imma be real, I have a headcanon where I think Aziraphale was dying to see this day. Been waiting until they first invented it which— I’m curious who idea was this.)

Now, you can debate if this thing was apology dance worthy but frankly, to see the dance, peak performance. But this isn’t about the dance, it about the grey heroes so let get back into it. Now Crowley does decide to help after all, and they decide to do what it seem to be the most powerful miracle anyone probably have ever seen or ranked. And it was only a half miracle. Which is really interesting. But I think even though Crowley does decide to help, I felt his earlier action was not exactly stupid but was unfair toward Aziraphale but at the same time it valid because of what I’ve stated and his underline trauma towards heaven period, so I can’t really call him stupid for this, but more or less deeply flawed here. However while the situation itself was unfair for Aziraphale as he want to help whatever going on I felt he should’ve also been more considerate about Crowley’s feeling with this whole ordeal as was equally unfair to Crowley in a way too. But I think the most common thing is that they don’t want to do this and want this thing to be resolved so they can move on with their lives. And even if Crowley did what he did, at least Aziraphale foot at forgiveness :) (I hate myself for making that joke— someone sedate me)

Now that’s my thought, this probably is controversial, so you’re welcome and valid if you disagree or even agree with this. Tell me what you think or if you agree/disagree tell me why? If you guys do have good omens question or question in general you can ask me on the AMA. But if you have any commentary on this blog you can unleash them, just please be mindful that’s all I ask. I have more analysis I got plan but for now, imma head to bed and relax. I’ll go haunt with you guys later but for now I’ll go haunt somewhere else. Hope you enjoy this blog and please check out the post I link on here, it was an interesting take and help me inspire me to make this one ^v^ so hope you enjoy that post too.

[speakhighlyifyouspeakofcake]

When I was REALLY young I borrowed the children’s version of Jane Eyre and absolutely fell in love with it. It was the starting point of my love for classic romances and was very swiftly followed by pride and prejudice (from which I have never moved on). Nearly 20 years later I’ve decided to finish the original text (via Story time for grownups) and omg???

This is officially a Mr Rochester HATE club like ?? What the fuck??? I feel conned??

So I can’t tell if the dialogue is just very different in the version I read (but the plot is pretty much the same, just with less discussion of sex and addiction etc) was very different or because I am now considerably older than jane??

This is like watching one of my girls in a TERRIBLE relationship trying to justify through tears why he’s actually really nice and just going through some tough things while we try and baby speak that it’s actually not normal for him to constantly talk down to you, hide the fact that he’s still living with his ex, pretend to date other women to make you jealous, make you feel bad for crying when he’s upset you because it upsets HIM, and threaten you with violence and hen you try and leave him!!! It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t mean it!! It’s a weird thing to say!! Like don’t get me wrong, pre the wedding Mr Rochester is a bit of me- aside from the massive immaturity (that I couldn’t look past as a woman sorry) I fuck with the flirtatious arguing and his rough passion but omg she is EIGHTEEN!!! You are TOUCHING FORTY EDWARD!!

So I’m at the bit where he’s trying to justify why he isn’t actually married because he was just a young impressionable man (reader, he was at least in his twenties, and therefore still older than jane is currently) and I honestly could take a pole to his head I- !!!! He is yet to actually apologise to Jane or ask her how she feels outside of HIM.

JAIL EDWARD!!

I genuinely don’t understand how you can read this as an adult and still think he’s sweet?? This is surpassing Cathy and Heathcliff levels of toxic for me, and I could overlook it if they were both on it but she’s just a child!! All I have to say is Mr Darcy would never??? Captain Wentworth??? Mr Knightly?? Would never. EDIT: Mr Thornton?!?! My fav ragged hero would never?????

There’s also something to be said about rereading this as a black mixed race woman 💀 Charlotte? Please come and explain yourself. Idk who is trying to fool me that the mad woman locked in loft that they keep describing as a beast and animal is a “tan European” when Miss Charlotte ticked “all of the above” on every racist stereotype available to describe a black woman 😀

Maybe I’ll flesh out some actual thoughts when I’m finished. Maybe I’ll make a little book blog with my thoughts of many but DEATH to Rochester.

[marvelmaniac715]

Remember that essay that I wrote on here about Chucky? Well, it occurred to me that Nica studied psychology, so maybe I could write a fic where Chucky’s trying to annoy her and she just does a full on psychological analysis 😂. I’ll give it a sappy ending because that’s my favourite type to write, and it’s set during Season 2 of the tv series where Chucky/Nica, Kyle and Glenda are hiding out together because I thought it would be fun. Enjoy it :).

————————————————————

Today, Chucky thought he’d try and play ‘psychologist’. His logic for this is that he spent some time in a mental institution, so he was basically an expert. Nica just rolled her eyes and ignored him as he tried to piece together her (in his words) ‘messed up’ childhood. But then he tried talking about her dad, and that hit a nerve.

“Okay Charles, let’s talk about you.”

This stopped the doll in his tracks.

“…Excuse me?”

Nica smiled sweetly knowing full well he could see her and politely responded:

“You’re excused.”

Chucky seemed flustered now.

“W-what do you know about me?”

Nica scoffed.

“You talk too much. When I get bored of your blabbering I look through your memories to see how you got like this. After months of careful examination, I’m confident I have a full psychological profile that can explain why you are the way you are.”

Now Chucky seemed really nervous.

“I’m like this because I wanna be, there isn’t some touchy feely crap that-‘

“Wanna talk about your mom, Charlie?”

If Chucky could’ve killed her, he would’ve.

“Nobody calls me that.”

Nica smirked knowingly.

“Two important women in your life have.”

Trying to regain control, Chucky retorted:

“Yeah well, I hate to break it to ya, but you ain’t an important woman in my life.”

Nica choked out a bitter laugh.

“I disagree, but I’m going to move on. Shall we begin?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Great, let’s get started! Okay, this is just my best guess, alright- I’m spitballing here. But… little boy kills his mom in a panic and realises that he made a huge mistake. Big strong man that reminds him of his newly dead dad teaches him a valuable lesson and spares his life so the idolising of violence begins… you move to a Boy’s Home and the only person who truly understands you calls you by the nickname your mom called you in moments of extreme fondness and rewarded you with I’m guessing physical affection like hugs and head pats when you committed a destructive act. She treated you like the little boy you still were inside despite having to grow up quickly in the foster system. Oh yeah, and I’m pretty sure she groomed you.”

Chucky seemed outraged by this point.

“Okay, two things. One, how the hell did you know all that? And two, I wasn’t groomed, isn’t that only to do with-‘

“It counts for other things, the thing you’re referring to is just the most common one. In your case I believe she was grooming you to be a killer in order to live out her own twisted fantasies- maybe more, she creeped me out so I didn’t look at those memories too much. But you grew up, and she still treated you like a kid when you were convinced you were an adult. So, craving independence, you distanced yourself from her and began hunting at night clubs, right? That’s where you met Tiffany and began a super toxic, borderline abusive relationship that spanned several decades. But she wasn’t enough, was she?”

After a quiet moment of reflection, Chucky admitted:

“She was just… too much.”

Nica nodded sagely.

“Exactly, and you wanted to be loved, didn’t you? At that point in your life you didn’t want someone who could match or maybe even surpass your level of crazy, you wanted a family, with someone who was (in your eyes at least) innocent and untainted. And what could be more innocent than a pregnant woman who already has a fully potty trained kid ready to go? But she didn’t love you, and my sister didn’t warm to you the way you’d hoped-‘

“I tried everything to get that stubborn brat to like me. She refused to call me Daddy so I settled for Uncle, but that wasn’t enough, oh no. I brought home every toy I could find, I even untied her mother for a few hours a day once I’d locked the door because it made her sad. Hell, I let her keep going to daycare! Why didn’t she like me if you’re so wise in the ways of psychology, Nica?”

“Well, you killed our dad. That doesn’t usually make for a great start. Also, I’ve seen those memories and… you looked sorta creepy. Would a haircut have killed you? You looked like Tommy Wiseau in that really bad movie ‘The Room’. I kept expecting you to ask some one called Lisa ‘Why’ and respond to a man called Mark’s trauma with ‘What a story, Mark’. To a little kid, you probably looked like the boogeyman.”

Chucky’s only response was a quiet and disbelieving:

“My hair wasn’t that long-‘

Nica cut him off with a mocking:

“Maybe he was born with it? Maybe it was L’Oréal?’

She punctuated her last sentence with a dramatic head toss, letting her hair sway from side to side.

‘L’Oréal: Because you’re worth it.”

“We’re getting sidetracked here.”

“Yeah, maybe. Anyway, where was I? Psychopathic tendencies…’

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

‘Classic textbook narcissism…’

“I’m not a narcissist.”

‘It shows in the way you attempted to raise your kids-‘

“Don’t you fucking talk about them. And I’m not a narcissist.”

‘So you don’t believe you’re God- sorry, Damballa’s gift to this world?”

“Well… I am pretty great…”

“I literally want to slap you right now. Anyway, moving on. We’re just gonna skip past most of the doll years, the height perspective makes me dizzy. But I would like to discuss the twins, thanks for bringing them up, by the way. I thought you’d forgotten that they existed-‘

“Why would I forget my own kids’ existences?”

‘-Well you aren’t a great dad, you tried to kill your own six year old-‘

“He started it.”

“That’s very childish logic, but I digress. You traumatised that poor kid because you expected too much. You wanted them to be like you. You made Glen kill when they weren’t ready and Glenda made their first appearance because the kid was so stressed out that their twin probably felt the need to protect them! You were a horrible parent and you still are!-‘

“I’m an amazing parent actually.”

Nica raised an eyebrow.

“Oh really? What were their first words as dolls?”

Chucky thought for a second, then he said:

“Not sure about Glenda, but for Glen it was probably ‘violence is bad’, they said that a lot.”

Nica shook her head.

“Nope. Not even close, and even I don’t know. How about first words as humans?”

“Tiff was raising them, so probably something like ‘Mama’?”

“And you wish it was ‘Dada’, don’t you?”

Chucky didn’t answer, so Nica tried again.

“It’s okay to admit you love your kids and regret not being there-‘

“I don’t regret anything.”

“Okay, strong words for the guy who willingly transferred his soul into a doll.”

“Every move I make is meticulously calculated.”

“Stop changing the subject Charles, we’re talking about your kids here, your flesh and blood. How you failed them.”

“I didn’t fail my children.”

“Glen told me that they don’t feel whole, neither of them do, they were born in one body and they were meant to be together, but you went along with your wife’s batshit surrogacy idea and literally fractured their souls. Don’t you feel guilty about that?”

“…Maybe.”

“Do you tell your children you love them?”

“Hey, I called Glenda beautiful-‘

“You did, but in the same conversation you called them ‘Shitface’ despite knowing about their trauma. And we both know that was just to get them on side so they’d free you. Now answer the question, do you love them?”

Chucky didn’t say anything, so Nica kept talking.

“Your kids- or Glenda is at least- are terrified of you. The poor kid has to constantly be at your beck and call otherwise you scream at them. You haven’t tried to get to know them, you haven’t talked about their interests- your twins like art, did you know that? The twins waited their whole lives to meet their dad and now they’re learning that he’s a tyrannical monster who doesn’t give a crap about them. I mean, what’s your plan in the long run? Have the twins stay by your side to rub your tiny doll feet or some shit as your army rises to the top? Kill them and stuff their souls into any old doll so you have more soldiers for your little army? You aren’t parenting them, Chucky, you’re torturing them.”

Chucky finally spoke, but he wasn’t as defensive as before. He was quiet now, as if he didn’t want to admit this.

“I don’t want them to be scared of me. They’re actually the only people I don’t wanna scare. But… I don’t actually know how to love someone. I failed every time I tried. I couldn’t make it work with anyone, platonically or romantically. Do you know how much it hurt when I had to fight my own kid? I was so proud of them when they used that axe… I think I’m starting to realise that violence is the only way I can properly express myself. Maybe in a way me fighting Glen was like if I was teaching them to ride a bike or something, I don’t know, I’m not a psychologist. I’m getting off topic, but what I meant to say is that I do love my kids deep down, but I don’t know how to show it.”

Nica was taken aback. She hadn’t expected this sort of breakthrough, not when Chucky always seemed so convinced that he did nothing wrong and had zero flaws. Maybe her comments had actually been getting to him? There was no way to know for sure; this could be some sort of act after all, but if it wasn’t, she wanted to try and repair Chucky’s relationship with his children. If only to cheer up the heartbroken twins (after speaking with them a few times, Nica actually really liked them, they were sweet and almost nothing like their dad). With this in mind, she suggested in a soft voice that was barely above a whisper:

“I don’t think you have to do anything… overt, exactly, just tell them the truth, that you love them and feel bad about how you treated them. Do you want me to give you control of the body for an hour so you can tell Glenda?”

Chucky was confused.

“You hate it when I take over, why would you do that?”

There was quiet, then a tired sigh.

“I’ve been in the twins’ shoes. I would do anything to hear my dad say he loves me, even once. And you’re still alive, so you have no excuse not to do it.”

With that, an agreement was made and Nica voluntarily fell asleep so that Chucky could control her body. It was quite late, so Kyle wouldn’t be up. But would Glenda be? Chucky had no idea. Even when he had control of Nica’s body it took him about fifteen minutes to work up the courage to wheel into the small bedroom that his youngest had claimed as their own. He chuckled when he noticed that Glenda slept sprawled out like a starfish - just like he had when he was first human. 

It occurred to him that he had no actual plan from this point onwards. He refused to launch into some sappy speech, he just wouldn’t do it. But he wanted to do this, and Glenda was asleep so there would be no shame or embarrassment on his part unless he woke the kid up (which he wouldn’t, he had experience sneaking around at night). Clearing his throat, Chucky began to whisper:

“Hey kid, you up? No?… Good, because this would be awkward for us both if you were awake. I don’t have much time till Nica wakes up again and bugs me, so here goes… I love you. This isn’t some sort of manipulation tactic or something stupid like that, I actually do. And I’m sorry for pretty much everything. You and Glen didn’t deserve to be dragged into this mess, so my bad.”

It didn’t feel like enough, despite the fact that Chucky’s heart was pounding in his chest with fear and panic with the knowledge that he’d been brave enough to do all that. Extremely unsure, Chucky extended a metal hand (it was so weird to have no sensation in either arm or hand, he’d experimented with his new limbs several times and was still confused) and cupped the side of Glenda’s face.

In their sleep, Glenda smiled and contentedly nuzzled into the cold metal hand. Chucky denied all of this when both Nica and Glenda asked him about it the next morning. 

[theambitiouswoman]

He’s actually been awful to me after I found out...he was texting me just before she was then she called and he was on the way to see her at that point. I called him on the way and he answers and I’m like what....and he didn’t answer and I was like “you have a girlfriend” and he goes “you had a dating app” then hangs up and blocks me...goes to see her and she shows him all the screen shots and messages then tells me they broke up. I have tried to reach out to him multiple times from a private phone number because I am very hurt, I told the girl that too. He has answered but I don’t know what to say when he’s answered and just hung up...I’m just so hurt. He unblocked me and goes “stop fucking calling, it’s annoying, it’s clearly over move on find someone else” I was pretty mean back I’m not going to lie. I called him broke, how he adds no value to my life, said I bet he has baby mamas, but really wasn’t too emotional with how he’s hurt me, was telling him how I wasn’t calling him but was and he knew it was me....I just can’t believe he would do this. I asked him time and time again what he wanted, how I wanted a relationship and to do things in Miami when I was there but he continued to lie to me, leave me, last time he went through my phone and saw I had a dating app and called me “dirty, and a hoe” ....so yeah I’m very upset and don’t understand him. To me, it’s weird how he’s pushing me away when the girl said they broke up? Like you just wanted me to come...have been talking to me for over a year...yet now you’re saying it’s done now that she found out? It’s weird.

This is horrible!!! He sounds like a bad guy.

You have every right to be hurt.

He might be acting like a jerk on purpose to keep you hooked exactly how you’re feeling now. Which is disgusting but a tactic shitty men use. It unfortunately works very often too.

These people are both toxic and I now I stand by my prior assumptions.

They obviously are not broken up and the girl is probably arguing with him and doesn’t want to deal with you.

Him blaming you for getting caught is very manipulative.

Seems like he only cares about himself.

There’s a few lessons I would like to bring up here and hope you would consider so that this doesn’t happen to you again…

1. Like I said prior a year is a long time. It doesn’t take this long to figure out if you want to date a person or not.

2. It seems like he was bread crumbing / gaslighting you for your attention and affection.

3. Inconsistency is a huge red flag.

4. You brought up a lot of negative traits that to me would honestly be deal breakers. I don’t care how much I like a guy if he has deal breakers. I’ll nip it in the bud.

5. Maybe try figuring out what your deal breakers are. What you want or don’t want in a guy. Set standards for the guys you date and don’t make excuses for red flags!! Ever!!!!!!

6. I promise you, like REALLY PROMISE YOU that if he cared about you, regardless of the other girl or not- when you brought up that he was in a relationship, if he cared about - he would not have reacted that way. He would have either gone quiet and sad and been on top of you more or he would have started apologizing and trying to explain over and over and over and behave like a saint. Men will not risk losing a woman they value.

7. To add to that- a man that cares about you isn’t going to call you those horrible words. Personally I don’t let men curse infront of me, needless to say at me.

8. Ask yourself why you’re choosing these type of men and work on that. You may have a heart of gold with the best intentions but we really attract people who reflect inner parts of us. Then there are people who are just attracted to our light but aren’t ready for it and hurt us.

When someone hurts you, you have the right to stand up for yourself and be upset. Don’t let anyone manipulate you into thinking other wise or try to switch the blame on to you. You literally did nothing wrong. You can’t make a man treat you well no matter how good you are to them. And that’s fine because everyone needs to learn that the way they love is special, and we can’t just give it away to anyone who just tells us pretty words, until they prove themselves worthy of.

Again I’m really sorry! What a disappointment. This is going to be a big learning opportunity for you and in a few months or years you won’t care at all anymore! Promise.