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olsenmyolsen · 1 year ago

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Looking Forward

Part 38 of On The Inside With Elizabeth Olsen

Word Count: 11.2K

masterlist

TW: Walmart Jesus talk

A/N: This is officially the longest chapter I've made. It's got pictures, drama, and turns that I don't think you're ready for. So go to the bathroom, grab a snack and stay hydrated. Happy reading 🩵!

"Mom, you're favorite daughter is here!!" Liz takes my hand and begins dragging me through the house with a child-like smile full of glee.

Y/N POV

Oh, this is going to be a gas, I think to myself as my eyes look back from the twins to Liz to the beautiful house around me. Pictures of childhood memories line the walls of a home I can't wait to see later.

"And who might that be?" We hear an older voice call out as Liz drags me closer and closer to what I can only assume is the kitchen based on the wonderful smell radiating in the air. "Me!!" Liz yells back to her mom Jarnie as we round a corner and spot a busy kitchen with some people I've never met.

Liz drops my hand and runs past two familiar-looking men. One of them is Ash's husband, Louis, who gives me a courtesy wave, and the other is who I can only assume is her biological brother. The man looks up and shoots me a smile before leaning over to say something to the other woman in the kitchen. She quickly turns to me and wipes her hands on her blue apron as Liz finishes up her hug with her mom.

"Hi. I'm Alexis." The woman with the apron moves before me with a warm smile. "Oh, hi, I'm Y/N!" I reach my hand out and let my nerves do the shaking as the man next to her reaches his hand out. "Hi. I'm this one's boyfriend, and those two older brother. I'm Trent." I look behind me to see the twins roll their eyes at their brother. "Nice to meet you!" I say with a smile before holding back some laughter due to Mary-Kate's words, "Oh please, the only thing nice about him is his hot girlfriend." Trent scoffs at this and directs his attention to the duo behind me. "MK, you wouldn't know shit if it hit you in the face."

Without warning, Mary-Kate and Trent begin bickering. Playfully, of course.

Well, I hope it is.

"This happens every year." I turn to my right as Alexis starts leading me away from the bickering siblings, just as Ash joins in. "They love each other dearly. I'm sure you know." I nod my head along and smile as Jarnie yells at the trio to knock it off. When my eyes met Liz's, I couldn't help but laugh as Jarnie covered Liz's ears before yelling at her siblings. She looks like a little kid.

"You guys are cute together." I move my eyes back to Alexis with a raised eyebrow. "Sorry. I- It's just true. Plus, she seems happier than she did last year." Oh? "Last year?" I ask Alexis. "Oh, uh, I shouldn't have said-"

"Babe!" My attention shifts as my smiling girlfriend comes crashing into me, lacing her arm around my body and pulling me closer. "Hi, Alexis! Nice to see you!"

"You as well!" Alexis smiles back. "Is it okay if I steal Y/N? Just real quick?" Liz asks with a smile and squint of the eyes, making me internally laugh. Alexis puts her hands up, mocking defeat. "She's all yours." Oh yes, I am.

"Yes, she is."

Liz utters those three words making my jaw drop, and Alexis' face blush. Neither one of us expected to hear that. But my girlfriend just smiles and starts leading me no less than ten steps to Jarnie, who looks at me with nothing but care in her eyes. "My goodness, Lizard, look at her!"

"Mom-"

"Oh, honey!" Jarnie moves her attention from Liz back to me. "You're beautiful!" Without another moment between us, Jarnie pulls me into a hug before relenting. "Thank you for joining us this year." A smile sneaks onto my face at the sincere words and feeling of love surrounding me. "I was more than happy to come. Honestly." I say truthfully. "I was also going to bring a gift, but Liz fought me on it." I send a confident smile.

Don't get me wrong. I'm terrified to be here. Afraid that something will go wrong. Or I'll open my mouth and insert my foot. But at the same time. Liz was missing home. She tried to hide it the best she could, but I could see it. Between the uptick in calls to her mother and the amount of singing Lizzie would do about songs from her childhood

I would do anything to be here with her now.

Plus, I needed to meet more of her family at some point!

"Oh, nonsense." Jarnie waves her hand. "According to the internet and our Lizard, it appears you're quite busy." I look to Liz, who makes a locking gesture to her lips and shrugs. "Is that what our Lizard is saying?" I peel my eyes back to Liz's mom, who picks up on the looks between her daughter and I. "Yes, contracts for record companies being signed and all that! But frankly, anything to get her to stop talking about her garden all the time" Jarnie then makes a don't tell her look even though Liz very clearly heard her mom. "Mom!"

"Oh, I'm teasing, honey." Jarnie waves her hands at her youngest before grabbing me and positioning me next to her. "Yeah, we're just teasing Lizzie!" A very smug-looking Mary-Kate says as she walks past her sister to the fridge, clearly not knowing what's going on. "Oh, is it teasing Lizzie time?!" Ash chirps, much to Trent's delight and Liz's dismay.

"I say so!" Trent speaks up.

"Baby photos or high school first?!" Mary-Kate excitedly jumps and down, begging me to answer from across the kitchen, while a wide-eyed Liz runs to me and quickly places her hands on my mouth. "Do not answer them. You love me, and it will stay that way!" I can't do anything but laugh through Liz's hands. "Don't do it."

"Lizard, let her speak."

"Mom, she'll betray me! I know that look!" I glance at Jarnie, who shakes her head. "You're right." She says to me. "High school photos first!!" Jarnie says, causing the twins to shriek and run out of the kitchen, spilling water from a freshly made cup. "Mom!!" Liz turns to her mother with a betrayed tone—faking sadness and offense.

"What? Y/N's the one who said it!" I look to Jarnie with Liz's hands still on my mouth. She does nothing but smile and wink. "You'll love them, dear." Without thinking, I try speaking, but nothing but a muffled noise is heard, causing Liz to laugh in defeat before removing her hands. "Thank you, Jarnie," I say with a smile that gets returned. "I bet you look cute!" Liz rolls her eyes and hangs her head as the twins' yells are heard through the house. "Well, thanks, Mom. Let's get this over with.."

"Wait, shouldn't we help?" I look to the remaining food that still needs to be prepped. "Nonsense," Jarnie speaks up. "Alexis and I got it. You're our guest this year. But next year you'll be here next to me. Okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." I nod to Liz's mom, who gives a wink. "Now go see pictures of our Lizard."

I turn back to Liz, who happily grabs my hand and leads me past Trent and Alexis trying to hide their smiles before she turns back to her mother. "I'm still your favorite, though... right?"

This causes me to laugh and wrap my arms around my girlfriend. "Oh, come on. Yes, everyone loves you, Lizzie Olsen! Let's go." I say with a smile as I push through the entryway of the kitchen.

Liz laughs with me as we walk through the house towards the loud twins. "She loves you." I bring my attention from the house's high ceilings back to Liz. "My mom. She already loves you. Plus Trent. I'm surprised he didn't give his big brother/if you hurt her speech." Liz pauses for a moment. "Maybe that's because of what happened at the show." I'm momentarily confused but then remember what happened after my All Eyes On Me performance. "So I guess he already knows you'll do what you can to love and protect his little sister." I smile and wrap my arm around Liz. "I do love her." We slow our walk, and I let Liz's lips plant themselves on me.

"Are you doing okay?" I tilt my head at her question. "I mean, I'm the more outgoing one most of the time in this relationship, but you really turned on the charm in the kitchen. You okay?" Liz smirks while she laces her hands in my own, and I squeeze them, thanking her for her concerns. "Uh.. Don't get me wrong. I'm scared shitless right now." I chuckle. "But it's Thanksgiving. With your family! Today isn't about me. It's about us. And them." I gesture with both our hands together. "The people you love. I'd rather be scared and nervous today than to never do this at all." Liz beams at me and kisses me once again. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"And thank you." "For?" "Being you."

Liz POV

I've been embarrassed and teased, and tricked before.

Yes. Mainly by my sisters. We all know the gum in the hair story.

And I'm not saying everyone hasn't been teased, tricked, and embarrassed because everyone has. Growing up with sisters or not. It's a part of life. It happens whether we want it to or not.

But boy, oh boy, do I want it to stop now.

Because against my wishes, the photo albums and years books were pulled out. The twins started with the college photos. Most of which I'm not proud of, but my sweet Y/N loved them and secretly counted every time I had a joint or cigarette in my hand.

That was thirty minutes ago, and now we've moved on to high school photos.

"Oh, my God!" Y/N yells, snatching another photo Ashley held up to her. "Look at the smile!"

"Look at you!" I smile as Y/N flashes the picture to me before dropping it into my hands as Mary-Kate holds up another one like it's a treat. "Oh my God, You're so cute here, Lizzie!" Ash squeals before flipping the photo over.

Instantly I'm trying to cover it, but Y/N fights me off. "Oh, babe." She says with a laugh. "I can't tell if it's laundry day or you're going through a phase." The twins just about collapse with laughter, practically dying at Y/N's words, clearly hitting it on the head.

Y/N herself bites back her lip before scooting closer to me. "I can tell what phase this is." She whispers, forcing me to snatch the photo from her hands. "It's called being a teenager." Y/N just nods to me and mouths the word sure.

"Oh, look at this one!" My brother shouts from his hovering stance behind the twins. In his hand, I see my high school yearbook. "Trent." I quietly plead, but it's no use because instantly, everyone is gathered around Y/N as Trent shoves the book into her hands.

"Babe." Y/N starts as her finger brushes over the picture. "You're so fucking cute! Your hair is a little frizzy, but Jesus Christ, have you ever had a like bad one? I'm talking awful to look at bad picture taken? Has she?" Y/N looks to the twins and then to me, almost as if she's offended. I don't even get to answer before her ramblings start. "God, it's gonna be so mortifying when I take you to my mom's, and in every picture, I look like I just woke, but I'm also somehow a walking corpse." She sighs. "Meanwhile, you've looked like this for years and years?!"

The rest of her words hit me, and I laughed and smiled along like everyone else, but I focused on what she said. "when I take you to my mom's."

My heart warms up at that.

It's evident to Y/N and myself that we're in this relationship for the long haul, but explicit and fine details have never been discussed. Family visits and trips for the next year or two had never been discussed until very recently. So the fact that Y/N is already thinking and joking about the future in which I see her baby and high school photos makes me melt.

That might not seem like a big deal from the outside looking in, but to the two of us, bringing someone home means a lot, especially after what we've been through.

You all know.

"I'm sure you'll look cute," I say as I pull myself back from getting lost in her eyes. But Y/N rolls them to me. "Notice how you said cute and not gorgeous."

"Babe, stop!"

"Oooh, fight. Fight. Fight!" I look to the twins, who are eagerly looking back at Y/N and me, waiting for this to turn into something bigger. Y/N just laughs and shakes her head. "No fighting here, blondes." "Boo!" Mary-Kate speaks up before her eyes focus back on the stack of pictures while Y/N closes the yearbook. "Hey." I quickly grab her hand. "You're beautiful." And thankfully, Y/N blushes and kisses my hand.

"So are you. I have pictures to prove it." She holds up another and smiles. I gently take it from her. "You and every sapphic lover out there."

Y/N's mouth drops. "What- how- yo-" She stumbles over her words, making Trent laugh as he's quietly watched before returning to his phone. "You know. I think I have to put parental controls on your phone." Y/N squints, but I shrug and look over to Ash, who has heart eyes at what she just witnessed. I also see Ash look at Y/N, who is now helping MK try and find even younger pictures of me, before her eyes focus back to me.

"She's perfect for you." She mouths.

"I know." I mouth back.

"Oh hey guys, we should clean up. Dads is almost here." Trent bursts the bubble of memories we're locked in as he locks his phone and puts it into his pocket. I move my head to Y/N, who moves hers from Trent to me. Everyone else in the room wouldn't notice it, but I do. The strong confidence she's been exuding falters slightly.

I go to speak, but before I can even scoot myself closer to Y/N, the twins begin piling up every photo and yearbook to make it appear as if they were never here. "We can look later!" Mary-Kate tells us as she runs to put them away. Ash running behind her to head to the nearest bathroom. When I turn around to Trent, he's already gone back to the kitchen. Leaving Y/N and I.

"They wasted no time.." Y/N nervously laughs. "They.." I lean closer to my girlfriend. "Trent and the twins grew up.. a little more.. differently than I did." I watch as a quizzical look morphs onto Y/N's face. "Differently?" I nod. "More prim and proper." I husk out, which causes a smile to form on Y/N's face. "What?" I ask as the smile turns to laughter. "Well, babe. I've gathered that. But from what I just witnessed." She gestures with her hands. "You would think it was more.. militant."

I make ah sound, but don't argue with Y/N's word choice. "He's a man of respect. Give it, earn it, or don't bother." I pause and see Y/N slowly nod. "But trust me. He loves us and wants what's best for us. It just.. can take a while. Okay?" Without saying it, I'm confirming and trying to keep calm with what we both fear—the possibility of my Dad, David Olsen.. disliking.. my girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N.

"Okay." Y/N takes her hand in mine. "I remember the first day you met my mom, so if I go through the day without crying over tea. We can count it as a win." Y/N squeezes my hand as I remember that day and fall into the crook of her neck. "Oh, God."

Y/N POV

"Alright, they're pulling up!" Mary-Kate yells from the front door and acts like she isn't just peeking out the window. Ash standing right behind her, making the same look. "Girls, get over here and quit freaking Y/N out!" Jarnie yells as she exits the kitchen for the first time today. Well, she went to the dining room to drop some food off earlier, but those places are one in the same. "You two do this every year. It's just your father and siblings. No need to get so crazy about it."

"But-" MK starts but quickly stops as she and Ash step away from the door. "Come on, guys," Liz speaks up and wraps her arm around each sister. It makes me laugh because of the height difference between the three of them. "Don't." MK glares at me before Liz covers her eyes, laughing.

"Knock knock!" The front door slowly opens as a younger male opens the door. Clearly not David, so this must be... Jake! That's his name! "Come on in, hun!" Jarnie makes her way past us to greet the remaining Olsens. "Jarnie, good to see you as always!" Jarnie makes a comment back to Jake as he smiles and makes his way down the line that all of us happen to be standing in. The twins, Liz and I being last.

"Jake, I'd like you to meet Y/N. My girlfriend!" Jake extends his hand with a smile. "Nice to meet you! Court has mentioned you before and sent me your TikTok's. Very talented."

Oh? I didn't realize Courtney had seen them, much less shared them.

Jake keeps shaking my hand as he continues talking about music and how TikTok has been helping all kinds of artists find their base. So he's excited to see what I got coming up. I agree with him, but I would like my hand back at some point. It appears Liz finally catches on and speaks up. "Jake. Her hand." She says with a friendly smile causing him to look down, embarrassed. "Sorry. I was shaking your hand too long." I nod with a laugh. "That's okay. And thank you. It's nice to meet you! We can chat later."

As Jake scurries to put away the bottle of wine he brought, I glance towards the front door, and I see a tall, grey-haired man finishing up a conversation with Jarnie. Both leaving it with smiles. "Chat later?" Liz asks with a smirk. "Shh." I roll my eyes.

"Hi, Dad!" Trent greets his father with a bear hug before David moves on to the twins, who quickly chat up their dad as Liz laces her fingers in mine. "Where's Courtney?" Ash asks, catching Liz and mines attention. "Oh, she's outside talking with her.. friend," David answers with a sheepish look that I catch. "Well, we're happy everyone could make it!" MK speaks up, obviously catching the vibe. "Yes. Yes, of course." David speaks as he moves to Liz and I. "Speaking of hiya Lizard!" David goes for a bear hug like he did with Trent but only gets a half hug in return since Liz refuses to let go of my hand. This earning a look at our intertwined hands. "Dad." Liz starts. "This is Y/N. My lovely girlfriend."

For the first time since entering the house, David's eyes meet my own. He nods his head and simply speaks as if I were a business deal.

"David Olsen. Elizabeth's Father." He extends his hand directly to the one holding Liz's. I feel as if everyone's eyes are on us. Without a shared word between us, Liz loosens her hand so I can let her go too firmly. And I mean firmly shake David's hand. "Y/N Y/L/N. Lizard's girlfriend."

From the corner of my eye, I can see Jarnie, Mary-Kate, and Ashley's smiles spread.

"So I've heard." David drops my hand and adverts his attention as Jake comes back into the room with a scotch in hand. "Ah, thank you, Jake." He grasps the glass from his son's hand and steps aside. "Much needed." He says after taking a long sip. "Jarnie, could you go get Court, please," David speaks to his ex-wife, who is already waving her hands at him as she made that decision first. "Nurse, your scotch." She says, earning a laugh from the twins as they separate to freshen up. Liz is momentarily ushered away by Trent. "Okay, bye." Those two words drop with sarcasm while I wave while avoiding the burning holes in my head.

"Here." I turn to my right to see Alexis with a glass of white wine. "For the... nerves." She so kindly says. "Thank you," I reply with my own long and strong sip. "Everyone goes through it," Alexis whispers to me when she raises her glass. I give her a look to make sure we're talking about the same thing.

We are.

"Wine?" Alexis rapidly changes the subject as someone appears behind me. "Please." My Liz begs. "One minute." Alexis departs with a strong sip of her own.

"I can't believe him."

I turn to my left to see Liz with a tight jaw boring holes into the her father's head. If looks could kill. I sigh and open my mouth."Liz-" "Trent had the audacity to give me the give it time talk." Hmm. "Fuck that." Liz practically snarls. "Give me your hand." I don't even get a second before our hands are tied together once again. "These." She squeezes our hands. "Don't get separated for the rest of the day." "Liz-" I start again but get interrupted by Jarnie opening the door with a very wide smile. Courtney and her friend, as David put it.

"Hey, everyone!!" Courtney beams to all of us. "This is Ness!" She kisses her cheek and wraps an arm around a shorter dyed black-haired cardigan-wearing woman. "Not only a friend." She emphasizes. "But my girlfriend!" Ness shyly waves, clearly not expecting all of us to be gathered in one of the living rooms. "Hi." Everyone, including myself, send warm smiles as Courtney pulls Ness further into the house. Jarnie watching Ness with care, just as she did with me.

At least I'm not the only new person this holiday.

"Oh my God, Lizzie, you brought her!!" Courtney screams as she hugs her older sister. "So nice to see you again, Y/N! Ness, this is Y/N!" Ness looks me up and down, confused, before a light bulb goes off. "Oh?! The one from the show you went to?!" Courtney nods. "Wow. Courtney and I love your music so far!"

"So far?" I tease, earning a laugh from Court and Ness. "It's nice to meet you."

"You as well."

"So Ness, how long have you and Court been together?" Liz asks as everyone begins to shuffle around the house. "Couple of months. Although we can't agree on when we started dating exactly." Courtney laughs while nudging Ness. "Only because this one thinks our first night in Mexico was our first date, but it was obviously the Tuesday at Al's before we even left," Ness speaks before Court pecks her lips to get her to stop. "Mexico or some restaurant called Al's. Tell me, which one sounds more romantic?" Court asks Liz and me as we find ourselves in the kitchen. Again.

"Mexico." Liz and I say at the same time. "Unbelievable." Ness' head and shoulders drop. "Anyways." Court wraps her arms around Ness as Alexis drops off more glasses of wine. "What's new between you two."

Where do we start?

"Oh, girls, save that talk for the table. It'll only be a couple more minutes."

"Of course, Mama J," Courtney speaks for the group. "Shall we?" Liz takes my hand and leads me to the elegant dining room. Clearly, a lived in space, but no one eats here regularly. "Mom, what's up with the name plates?"

"I thought it might be fun this year. What with our new guest and all." Jarnie nods towards Ness and me, whose nameplates happen to be right next to each other. On the other side of me is Liz. Of course. "Ah, no fair!" Mary-Kate whines, finding her spot. "I always sit next to Ashley. I sit next to her every day. Can I switch? Who wants to switch?"

"No switching. Now stop it." Jarnie lightly smacks Mary-Kate's head, earning a quiet "ow" from the blonde as the rest of us begin to sit down.

Jarnie and David are at each end of the table. On either side of David is Trent and Alexis.

Next to Trent is Louis, Ashley, Mary-Kate, and Jake

Next to Alexis is Courtney, Ness, myself, and Liz.

"Alright, Y/N, would you like to say, Grace?" Mary-Kate calmly asks me. Grace? Do they do that? "Mary-Kate." Liz sighs as Ash slaps her twin. "Wow, real violence going on today!" MK rubs where she got hit.

"Serves you right." Jarnie scolds her daughter as she turns to me. "We don't do that. Feel free to do it if you want, or start piling up your plate."

"Piling up my plate sounds good." Jarnie nods back and turns to Liz and not so quietly says. "Have I mentioned that I like her?"

Liz POV

I'm glad to be back home.

I love working, and Texas has been fun, but Y/N was right. I was missing my family and home a lot more than I realized. Because of this: Mary-Kate making a mashed potato mountain while Courtney scolds her for not doing it right. Alexis sharing embarrassing stories of Trent we haven't heard before. Or Ness leaning over to Y/N and I to joke about the twins. This. This is what I love. The fun of it all. The care and joy. Family.

A real Vin Diesel moment.

Don't tell Y/N I watched Fast and Furious without her, by the way.

Anyways I wasn't kidding when I said Y/N's and mines hand were going to be tied together all day. However, if it were up to me, we'd still be doing it, but it was making grabbing the bowls of food passed around very difficult. And eating, for that matter.

"Till after we eat." Y/N convinced me.

Trust me. I know it's a little ridiculous to practically hold someone's hand hostage all day, all because of things my Dad technically hasn't even voiced yet. But I wasn't going to let my father be immediately defensive to Y/N, myself, or Court and Ness, for that matter.

"Wait, what?" Y/N's shocked and open jaw makes me hide my laugh.

"Did you not know?" Ash looks puzzled before her, and my girlfriend's eyes are looking at me. I playfully smile and shrug. "Babe... is there something you'd like to say?"

"Alright, I know Spanish, so what."

"You didn't think to bring that up to your girlfriend?"

"Yeah! You didn't think to bring that up to me?! Like ever!" I shrug again. Enjoying the amused and flabbergasted looks. "I don't believe you," Y/N states as she returns to shoving turkey in her mouth. "There's no way this hasn't come up!" Mary-Kate tries to reason but to no avail.

"So you've been watching me do Duolingo for months and have said nothing?" Y/N breaks after a brief moment of silence. "Nothing?!"

"You never asked for help." I tease, earning a groan. "Also, I thought you've been doing very well, mi amor."

"Gracias." Y/N tries her best to look at me upset but fails as soon as I lean into her and leave a peck.

"Mi corazón."

"Huh?"

"Oh, haven't gotten there yet, huh?" Y/N shakes her head. "Tell me." I keep my face from breaking into a wide grin at the new game I'm going to play. "No."

"Oh, come on." I shake my head. "And no one better help or tell her what it means." I direct to the table and see phones quickly being out away. "That means you, MK."

"Oh, come on." She whines exactly like Y/N. Earning a chorus of laughs around the table.

"So Y/N." My father speaks to Y/N for the first time all meal. Mind you. Enough time has elapsed that some of us are on our second plates myself, Court, Mom, and Alexis. While some are on their third. Trent and Jake. "From what some of the group here and what Courtney have told me. You're quite popular. Talented even." All conversations quiet down, and eyes divert between my father and my girlfriend.

"Oh well." I lay my left hand on Y/N's knee to let her know I'm here no matter how much charisma and confidence she's had it in herself today. "I wouldn't say popular-"

"You held a show right here in LA not too long ago, no?"

"Well, yes, but-" "That certainly sounds like someone who's popular. Talented. Not some nobody. Are you a nobody?" I squeeze Y/N's knees as the clanging of my father's silver wear hits his dish.

"No, but-"

"Do you see yourself having a future? Being somebody?" "Sir, with all due respect-" In an instant, I watch my father move on.

"How about you, Ness?" Y/N looks back at me, mouth agape. "David!" My mom speaks out while throwing her serviette to the ground. "Stop this."

"Jarnie, please."

"Dad!" The twins speak up as I squeeze Y/N's knee again. "Stop this game your playing, or listen to what these young ladies have to say."

"J, what's there to say?" A beat. Confused looks all around. "You know, Lizard." My father draws his eyes back to me. Without removing her eyes from him, Y/N lays her hand on my knee. "What happened with Robbie? I know that Robbie upset you last year-"

"Stop." I close my eyes, hoping he'll listen. "But he knew-"

"Dad, please stop." I can feel Y/N tense as she squeezes my knee again.

"Dad, stop!" Ash speaks as I begin to block out what our father is saying.

Y/N POV

I visibly watch Liz tune out what's happening around here. She's an actress, so it appears she's listening, but I see her. I know her. She's hurting, and the mood for today is ruined.

I lean into her hold and grab her chin gently in my hand, turning her to see me ignoring her father's look. "Hey. It'll be okay." Liz smiles at me and holds back the tears in her eyes. Jarnie watches this interact with a clenched jaw, not at us but at her ex-husband.

"Enough!!" Jarnie shouts out over everyone as she pulls her youngest close. Liz wrapping our hands together. "David Olsen, you've upset everyone with your yammering and condescending questions and statements. Kindly stop it and apologize or leave."

"Jarnie-" David scoffs at this, and I feel Liz tense under my hand again. "David!" Liz sighs- "Dad, stop!" She stands up and yells at her father, surprising everyone.

"What are you doing? Why are you doing this? Just stop it. Stop thinking you know everything or that you have a clue about our relationships or lives! You only know about shit that's going on if Mom tells you or Court and Jake decide to fill you in!" Jarnie places her hand on Liz's arm as Liz stops to catch her breath and wipes some tears that have begun trailing her cheeks. "For the love of God, stop saying the name Robbie. He doesn't exist to us. I don't care what you think, you know, because whatever it is. It's wrong. He and I broke up. He fucked up again and again. And before you start bringing up last year this and last year that. Just stop." Liz sways a bit as she stamps her foot. "God, Dad, do you even know why I was so upset last year?" She sniffles. "Do you even care?"

"Honey-"

Liz places her hand up. "I was upset because that morning, I had gotten my period. After days of bated breath, this was the sign that I wasn't pregnant."

W-What?

I didn't know that.

I feel time halting as my breathing slows as I look around the room. It's clear that no one knew of this except the twins. Their eyes scurrying away from my own.

"But fuck- I- I wasn't upset because I wasn't pregnant. In fact, I was happy. Ecstatic even." My girlfriend chuckles through her sore, sobbed throat. "I was happy. And it felt so wrong to be so happy th-that I twisted myself up into this knot, and I just let myself... go." Liz's lips tremble as she fights for control. "All morning, I just let my body feel. All the emotions. The anger and sadness and the-that fucking happiness that I was putting on myself!" Liz takes a deep breath and lets go of my hand to push her hair out of her face. And I don't know if it was the anger of the weight of it all, but that's when I saw how horrible her hands were shaking and shaking more than the last leaf on a snow-covered tree. I reach up and grab her hand once more. Kissing it. Letting her know I'm here.

The only indication I know that Liz is aware of everyone else in the room is the light squeeze I feel on my fingers.

"But the guilt I felt for feeling how I goddamn felt. Me. The person that would've had to carry it. The person whose body would've been forever changed. My feelings were amped up by the person everyone should live up to, apparently. Robbie Arnett." I turn my head to David for the first time since Liz stood up. Guilt and regret are apparent on his face, but his eyebrows are furrowed, and his eyes remain stoic.

"He wanted kids and that future right then and there. So imagine the hurt I felt. Imagine the look on his face when I laid out everything for him. Okay?" She sniffles again, pushing her pink nose up. "Now imagine when he says nothing. Okay? Now imagine when he starts talking, but those words turn spiteful. Okay? Can you do that? Can you fucking do that, Dad?" Liz picks up her wine glass and rapidly downs it before throwing it into the middle of the table. "I knew that something was happening to our relationship even before that moment. But last year. The same day you want to bring up Dad. That was when I stopped loving Robbie Arnett."

Liz blinks some more tears away before looking around the room. "It was going to happen. And I'm glad it did." The soft tone in which Liz speaks makes me think that it she is talking about isn't her relationship with Robbie. "Excuse me." Liz covers her mouth and bolts from my grip. Running out of the dining room before I can even grasp what transpired in the last couple of minutes. But her footsteps are upstairs and long gone.

The twins hot on her trail, leaving a coat of silence in the large dining room—the quiet air being broken up by my own movement. My body and mind racing and going into autopilot.

Find your Liz.

"Honey.." Jarnie whispers while reaching her hand out to me, forcing me to look at her. Tears fill her eyes.

Mine too.

"Why don't you go check on her. Okay?" I nod, and I don't want to, but I do it anyways. I look into the direction of what caused this eventful meal.

The heads of the side of the table follow my look.

David is leaning back into his chair at the head of the table, looking out the window into the green backyard. I force myself to hold in the scoff.

"Go, Y/N," Court says, sending me a flat-line white people smile. With that, I force my legs to walk away from this. From everything that just happened. "Check upstairs," Jarnie informs me as I walk by her. "Thank you," I reply, only earning a wave of the hand.

"Just hug my Lizard. Please."

"Of course," I answer truthfully, and just as my body leaves the room, I begin to hear the shouting of multiple people.

"She locked herself in there," Ash says to me with trembling lips. "We're pretty sure we heard her throw up, but she won't answer us," Mary-Kate adds while she comforts her sister. "She just got her so fast."

Here. A hallway with a bonus room and a bedroom are at the end of it. One-half bath in between. Where Liz is now. "Okay." I squeak out. Still reeling from EVERYTHING I just learned. "We're sorry," Mary-Kate says as she looks down ashamed. Ash nodding in agreement. "Sorry? What are you sorry for?" I shake my head, trying to focus myself. "For what Dad- David said." Ash corrects. "I swear I've never seen him act like that. Well, to that extent." Mary-Kate says and groans before trying the bathroom handle again. "Lizzie, come on. Unlock the door. Y/N's here." She rushes through her words as the guilt eats her up.

But it's not her fault. Or Ashley's. Or anyone at that table's fault whose name doesn't start with a D.

"Babe. I'm here." I clear my throat and stand next to MK. "Open up. We don't have to talk about anything. I need to know you're alright." Nothing. Followed by nothing. I press my ear against the door, and aside from the hum of the house, I can hear what sounds like whispers. Repeating whispers. I pull my head back from the door and gently try the handle again, but it's still locked. The twins look at me curiously as I examine the door.

"Babe, like I said, we don't have to talk, okay? But I'd like to say some things. It's just you and me. Okay?" I raise my arm and shoo the twins away. Obviously, earning a shaking of the head, but I persist. "It'll be okay." I mouth to the duo, who eventually agree with their heads and make themselves home at the end of the hallway. "Okay, now it's just us." I start with a slight chuckle while feeling lost, nervous, and confused about today means for the greater scheme of things.

"I love you. I love you so much, Liz... and I'm- I.." I lean my head against the door while my hands grip the frame. "I'm sorry dinner took a turn, to say the least. But it wasn't your fault." I swallow. "Nothing that happened today or yesterday, or last year was your fault. Because you're perfect, I'm not just saying that to make you feel better or to open this door." I add a small laugh. "I'm saying it because I believe it. I believe in you. I believe you all the time. I believe you when you tell me I look pretty, even when I just woke up. I believe you when you say you like my smile, even though I've always hated it. I believe you when you tell me about your nightmares, no matter how silly and plant-based they are." I press my ear against the door again, hearing a hushed giggle. "I- I also believe you when.." I sigh, still wrapping my head around this.

"I also believe you'd make a great mom someday." A smile creeps onto my face, just imagining it. "And I believe you when you say you were happy about the outcome last year because there's nothing wrong with that. Nothing. You're allowed to feel however you want to feel. No one should tell you differently. You can always choose what you want. You want to cry. You want to laugh. Say Yes. Say No. You name it. Because no matter what, Liz, at the end of the day, it's your life... your choice. I'm just so happy, and I feel so lucky to get to be a part of it. I'm sorry I wasn't sooner.. and Liz, I believe you deserve nothing but support and love all the time. So.." I lean away from the door. "So, Liz, please open the door so I can take care of you right now."

Silence.

And then click.

I'm a little stunned to hear the door being unlocked, that it takes me a second to turn the handle. But the door slowly opens to reveal my shaking girlfriend sitting atop the toilet. Makeup ruined. Her eyes void of the striking green. They've turned red from her hot tears. However, she's still beautiful. She always will be.

"Hey.." I slowly walk in and close the door behind me. Locking it so the twins don't barge in. Liz lifts her face up to me; she goes to smile, but it falters as more tears slip out. "Oh, Liz." I quickly grab the towel off the rack and wet it to wipe her face and chin. Once that's done, I kneel before her and wrap my arms around her. Muffling her cries as her head buries into the crook of my neck. "I'm here," I whisper into her head, earning a nod as she quiets down.

"Come here." I pull her into me as I maneuver my legs under me. I fall back onto my butt while Liz places her weight on top of me. So now we're both just lying on the floor up against the wall. Well, I am, and Liz has her head on my chest. Luckily I know the floor is clean. "I-I'm sorry." Liz sobs into my chest adding new cracks into my breaking heart. "Hey." I kiss her head and pull her closer. If possible. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing." I whisper. "Did you not hear me through the door?"

Liz's sniffles crawl to a stop, and after what feels like a few minutes, she speaks up. "I love your smile." She lifts her head off my chest and looks at me. "You're right. I love your smile even though you hate it." I smile at seeing hers. "There it is." Liz lightly laughs and wipes off the stray tears she has on her face.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

I rise to my feet and help Liz onto the toilet seat again. Grabbing a new rag from Underneath the sink to clean up her trail-stained red cheeks and puffy eyes. "Don't worry. You still look beautiful." I wink at my girlfriend, that looks up at me with nothing but care. "Are you okay?" Liz closes her eyes as I wipe them. "No," I answer honestly. "I'm mad and upset by your fathers' actions. They hurt you. And my feelings. Probably Courts and Ness'." I rant.

"I understand." Liz sighs as I drop the hand towel in her hands. "I hate him." She concludes. "Li-" "No. I do. He disrespected us all. I've never seen him act like that! And what was up with the vague homophobia?? He's known about Court for the last two months? We've been in the news! I don't get it." Liz grips onto the sides of the sink and hangs her head.

"Do you hate me?"

I look at Liz in the mirror as if she's turned blue and grown 7 feet. "What?" I watch her hands let go of the sink and wrap themselves around one another in front of her stomach. She's anxious.

"Why would I hate you?" I question and bring myself closer to her. Liz opens her mouth before giving up on her words and shrugging, making me shake my head.

"Liz, I know you were listening earlier, so listen again. I could never hate you. Could I be annoyed or slightly frustrated? Sure. Has that happened yet? No, never." Nice safe. "So it stands to reason that I could never hate you. I don't want that thought to ever cross your mind. Ever. You're an Angel on earth."

"Do you still want kids someday?"

I look Liz up and down, catching her hand placement this time. I move gently into her space and grab her hands to lace them in mine. "With you? Of course."

Liz lets out a relieved sigh/laugh. "I'll never forget when you blurted that question out in the New York apartment." I laugh back. "I don't know what possessed me to do that."

We stand like that for a few minutes more. But for Liz, I'd stop the world and stand here forever.

After leaving the bathroom to find the twins on the floor with tears in their eyes, claiming that they weren't listening to our private conversation (liars), we made it back to the site of the crime. To find everyone there but one person.

"He's in the study upstairs," Jarnie says before anyone of us even thinks about asking. "Why is he still here?" Mary-Kate sternly asks her mom. "We don't want him here. He ruined the day." Ash backs up her twin and returns to Louis side. They're cute. "Lizard.." Jarnie walks up to her youngest and wraps her up. "I love you. No matter what. You know this, honey." Jarnie rubs her hands up and down Liz's back. "Do you want to..."

"Y/N." I pull my attention from Liz and her mother to Courtney on my left. "Hi." She shyly looks at me. "Umm, look, we're going to talk to Lizzie as well, but Jake and myself and, uh, Trent are just horribly sorry for how our father acted. Like he's-" "Never acted like that." I finished her sentence for her. "I've heard."

"Right. We're just so so sorry. We all love you and think you're wonderful, and oh god, I had all this to say-" I look back to see the twins now joining Liz in her convo with her mom.

"The study." Court looks at me, puzzled. "The study?" She asks, and I nod. "The upstairs study. Where is it?"

The lightbulb goes off above Court. "Up the stairs. Right hallway. Second door on the left."

"Thanks." I nod at her instructions and start working my way out of the kitchen, passing my lovely girlfriend with a kiss on the head. "Babe?" I turn back to face her when she grabs my hand. "Where are you going?" She knows. "Liz-" "No." "Liz, I want to speak to him." "No." She grips me harder. "Stop, let's just leave." I shake my head to her as Liz's sisters and mother watch us. "No. I'm sorry, Liz, but I'm not letting this go without speaking to him. He doesn't get to push anyone of us like that." "But-" She loosens her grip on me. "No buts, babe. I love you and respect everyone here, but I respect myself too. Maybe not all the time," I squeak out a laugh. "Okay. I love you too. Be careful."

"Always." I kiss her head and give a nod to the twins. "Y/N?" Jarnie calls out to me just as my foot hits the bottom step. "Yes?"

"Thank you for being there for her. In more ways than one." Jarnie covers her mouth, her hand as if debating something. "The first Thanksgiving, our Lizard, brought someone home, it was a blonde hair man whose name I forget, and I didn't like him all that much. No one really did, but we played nice for her sake, and we wanted what made her happy. But he came and went... Then Robbie happened. And he was a nice change of pace for her. Kind and caring, but something was missing that David and I couldn't put a finger on. But once again. We just wanted what made her happy." Jarnie stops as she walks closer to me, taking my hands in her own. "Today." She starts. "Today, I saw her eyes shine, and her smile shine brighter than ever before. You're right for her. Everyone here can see that. Including David." I tilt my head a bit at that last word. "No, I know. That sounds ridiculous, but I think it's true. He doesn't want Lizzie to be hurt again. He's a scared old man." She laughs. "But how he treated you and Ness, for that matter, is unacceptable. So when you get done yelling or talking or knocking him a new one, find me so I can do it as well. Okay?"

I laugh and smile at Jarnie. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, stop with the Ma'am. You're going to be family soon enough. Mama J is fine." She pulls me into a hug that has the warmth of a loving mother. "Family?" I question. Mama J nods. "When you and Lizard are ready, you have my wishes."

Shocked isn't a big enough word to describe how I'm feeling. "Oh wow. Thank you! Thank you. Liz and I haven't even been together that long, and we have our whole careers and everything plus-" "Dear." She stops me. "It doesn't have to be tomorrow. I just don't see you going anywhere anytime soon. You and Lizard have already been through what most people go through in a lifetime. So I have faith. No, go upstairs. He's probably brooding." She pats my shoulders and heads down the hallway towards the bathroom Liz was held up in earlier.

Sensing someone watching me, I move my gaze to them. I see Liz watching me with a smile I've missed over the last half hour. "Did you hear all that?" I asked with a hushed whisper.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She replies in the same manner. "Uh-huh." I playfully roll my eyes and head up the stairs. In less than forty steps, I'm up the stairs and down the hall in front of the study. I stand there staring at the dark oak door breathing in and out. Calming my nerves that are making their appearance once again.

"Let's fucking do it." I knock on the door and twist the handle to open it.

"Mr. Olsen?" I ask I my eyes scan the darken room. Bookshelves and paintings line the wall. Amazement and wonder fill my eyes, and I'd love this room. On some other day. Because right now, I'm here for the man sitting in the brown leather chair. What appears to be a first-edition book of some kind in his hand.

"I'd like to discuss what happened downstairs." I firmly imply as I close the door behind me and stagger my steps to behind the chair oppose of Liz's father. "How so?" He closes the book and lets it rest on the table next to him giving me his full undivided attention for the first time today. "I'd like to know why you did what you did," I state, earning a Hmm.

"What was it that I did?" He's baiting me. "Mr. Olsen, I would just like an explanation as to why what happened. Happened. Was it something I did or didn't do?" He remains silent. "Is the fact that two of your daughters and I can't believe I'm saying this are in a same-sex relationship?"

"Don't be so naive, Y/N." He leans back into his chair. "Excuse me?" I say.

"I don't care if my daughters have, as you put it, a same-sex relationship." I lean forward. "Then what was that?"

"What was what? What did I do?"

I clench my jaw as he goes to pick up his book. Fuck it.

"Okay. Sir. You want to know what you did. What you already know." He closes his book once again and looks up at me. "You just pushed and pushed Liz to embarrass and humiliate herself out there in front of the people she loves most. And whether you like it or not, as you so claim, I'm on that list of people. Now are there days where I feel as if I don't deserve it? Sure. I'm sure you love to hear that." I stand away from the chair and let my feet guide myself around the room. "But that doesn't mean I don't love and care for your daughter every goddamn day as if she created the very ground I walk on. And I know. I know you love every single one of your children. You want what's best for them, like every parent should, whether they're blonde-haired assholes or guys who give her the world only to rip it away again and again. However, how you acted downstairs makes me think otherwise." I point my finger. "I'm better than both of those guys will ever be, by the way. Oh! Also. Liz talked about how you're a man of respect. You earn it, give it, or don't bother, right? So where was my right to earn it in your eyes today? Or Ness, for that matter. She and I had today to make you see how much we love your daughters, and you couldn't bother. Everyone else could. But not you? What is this a test." Mr. Olsen stands for the first time since I walked into the room. It throws me off a little, but I don't stop.

"And just so you know, I have worked my ass off to even be where I'm at today. These last few months haven't been easy, but I'm here. I'm a fucking artist now. And no, your daughter didn't do anything for me except support me. So before you go off thinking I'm only with her for money or notoriety, that's the furthest thing from the truth. I didn't even know who she fucking was till after we slept together!"

Okay, I should've kept that last one in.

I stop myself and look at the man I've been yelling at. "I'm sorry." I freeze, realizing the words that just left my mouth. "No, wait, no, I'm not. I'm not sorry. You treated me like dirt so I could yell at you and tell you that I love your daughter and that I don't plan on going anywhere."

The silence that follows speaks for itself the longer it goes on.

"I just want what's best for Lizzie." Her father breaks the tension in the room as he leans himself against what looks to be a hundred-year-old desk. "I do too." As if that's not obvious, I want to add on but refrain from doing so. "I respect you for coming up and laying into me; however, how you did so was only because of my arrogance, and for that, I'm sorry."

I don't say anything.

"Now.." David takes a pause as he pushes himself off the desk. "I don't know if you're the one for my daughter. You appear to be so." Here we go. "You make her happier than anybody I've ever seen. I would hate for her to lose that." Implying I would do something to hurt Liz. "I understand." I extend my hand to him. He looks down at it and shakes it as I open my mouth. "However, I can't accept your apologies. You hurt your daughters' feelings and my own today. I know you're a smart man. Capable of reading the room and the emotions within it. I thought what you did knowing that was mean. So thank you for your respect and for letting me know how happy I make my own girlfriend, but I don't need your respect for myself. I only need your acceptance for Liz's sake."

"I see."

"So once you apologize to your daughters and to Ness, then I'd love to sit down with you and talk about everything under the sun. Once again, thank you." Without another word, I drop his hand and turn my body to head out the door. Mr. Olsen doesn't stop me.

Liz POV

We all look up as we hear the study room door close. Yes, all. All of us who surround the table now stand at the bottom of the stairs.

Y/N appears from the top of the stairs, not with tears in her eyes or a clenched jaw but with a look of pride? Yeah, pride. "Hey, everyone." She smiles as she descends the stairs. "So!? How'd it go." Jake speaks up. Out of everyone, he was surprisingly really nervous for Y/N and made that known to me when he noticed Y/N was missing moments ago. "Umm.." Y/N plants herself in front of me, and behind the pride on her face, I see exhaustion taking over.

This day ruined us.

"It was informative." She decides.

"We thought we heard yelling," Ashley says as she earns a slap on the arm from Mary-Kate. I ignore them as I wrap my arms around Y/N. "It's true," I add. "Maybe a little." Y/N turns to my mom.

"If you want to go up, you can."

"Oh, honey, I will soon enough. Before we leave."

"Leave?" Y/N questions. "We're going to my- our house." I correct myself. "Our home here. To finish the rest of this day. Dessert. Board games. Movies. Nap somewhere in all of that." I do my best to smile as Y/N doesn't say anything, but I can tell she's thinking. "Is that what you want?" She asks. I honestly want this day to be over. I would have loved to stay here curled up on the couch after stuffing my face more, but the thought of staying in this house longer than an hour after being forced to share things I never wanted to again makes me sick.

"Yeah. Family bonding."

"Okay. Then su-" The upstairs study room door closes again. "Lizard." My father calls out to me as my mother and Y/N move themselves before me. "David, how about some other time? The girls are exhausted."

"It won't take long." He argues. I wrap my hand around Y/N's and pull it as we leave the foyer to go to the kitchen. Ignoring my dad's eyes and pleads. "Did he apologize to you?" I ask Y/N as I begin packing the Tupperware full of food into a tote bag. "Yes and no." She says. "Babe, what are you doing?"

"Is he homophobic now?"

"No. Just old. Babe stop. You shouldn't be doing this. You're exhausted." She takes the bag from my hand and places it down on the counter. "I hate him." I reaffirm as Trent walks into the kitchen. "Lizzie." I hold up my hand to my brother. "Don't."

"He wants to talk to you. Apologize." Trent looks at me so seriously it makes me laugh. No, really, it makes me laugh. I cover my face with my hands to stop myself from crying as I do my best to keep my smile. "No."

"No?" Trent asks as the twins enter the kitchen now. Moving past our brother to help with the loading of the food.

"No, he doesn't get to just apologize."

"Lizzie, I don't think it's like that."

"I don't care what you think it's like, Trent." I fully turn away from the counter to look at my brother. "I don't care what Dad wants to say or do. He should've done right earlier or not shown up today. So it's too little too late." I turn back to Y/N and my sister, who each have a bag around their arms. "Let's go." I muster out as I avoid the concerned look from Y/N.

Trent moves out of our way. "You can tell Dad I don't want to speak to him. I don't want to hear from him. Tell him I said no. No is a full sentence."

Dec. 31st, 2021

Missed Calls Dad (2)

New Voicemail: Hey, kiddo. I see I missed you again. Umm. I just wanted to call and let you know that I wish you and Y/N a happy new year considering I won't be staying up. Everyone here misses you. Me included. Umm, anyways, so long. Love you, Lizard.

I drop my phone from my ear and onto the bathroom counter. As you can tell, I haven't spoken with my father since Thanksgiving. It hasn't been hard to avoid him, but it can't exactly be easy.

"In a minute!" I respond to the rapid knocking on that guest bathroom door that I'm on the other side of. "But Lizzzard, it's me!" I chuckle and put my phone away before opening the door to reveal my very drunk girlfriend. "Why, hello, beautiful!" The drunker she gets, the more of a flirt she becomes. "Hi, baby," I reply as she pulls me into a kiss. A kiss that keeps going and going from my lips to my neck and my collarbone. "Ba-aby." I fluster out. "We have to stop. Someone could see u-us."

"Let them." Y/N looks up at me with that mischievous look in her eyes. "Oh no. Not here. Not in Ivy's penthouse." Y/N bites down on my skin before removing her lips from me. "Fine. Only because you're so fucking smart." She huffs and fakes annoyance before breaking out her wide smile. "I love you." She laughs. "I love you too. Okay. Now move it." I turn her around and smack her ass, so she starts moving us back to the party.

As we whiz through people we know and don't know, Y/N locks her hand in mine. "I wish we had the party at our place." She whines, and a part of me agrees because I know Y/N is horny and would kick everyone out. Another reason is having Ivy and Max host a party was safer for us, especially after some concerning pieces of mail were dropped off at our LA place.

We alerted all who we needed to, but with the holidays, so haven't heard much back.

The pieces of mail were pictures of us. At first, we thought they were paparazzi pictures, but the closer you looked at them, they clearly were pictures a stalker would take. Photos of Y/N coming and going from her record company. Pictures of the two of us at dinner. Even a picture of us when we donated food and toys to the local animal shelter. Y/N's idea, by the way.

But to say we were freaked would be an understatement. I locked myself away in my cave for three days like a ball of anxiety before Y/N, and I discussed our next course of action. She blamed herself, while I blamed myself. But it's neither of our faults—only that assholes.

So anywho, it's been a crazy past two weeks between that and Christmas. Plus seeing Scarlett, Colin, Cosmo, and of course, little Rosie!

"Y/N! Lizzie!" Both of us turn our heads around to see Ivy. "Hey, you two! I've barely seen you since you guys got here!" "To you. Wait, you too!" Y/N stumbles as I just smile at Ivy. "What she said." I laugh and pull Y/N closer to me, not that she minds.

"Where's Max?" Y/N questions. Ivy takes Y/N's finger and points so it'll be easy for her to follow. "Ah!!!" Y/N squeals and drags the three of us over to see Max with a fashionably late Scarlett and a star-struck Sam..? Yeah! Sam, that's her name. The blonde that used to work with Y/N.

"Nice of you to join us ScarJo!" Y/N stumbles a bit as she taunts Scar. "Oh God, she's not drunk, is she?" Max intercepts only to get my nod. "She wanted to celebrate what the new year has in store for us." "Meaning?" Scarlett questions while laughing. "Multiverse of Madness, my new show, her record, us in general-" "Wait, stop!" Scar sets her drink down. "HER? New record?! She signed?!"

Apparently, this is new news to Scar. "Yeah, she did." I smile. "Oh, my God! That's amazing!" She focuses her attention on Y/N, who looks like she just won the lottery. Oh gosh, I forgot about her crush on Natasha Romanoff. "Come here!" Scarlett pulls Y/N into a hug. "Watch the hands, Y/L/N!" I yell to my girlfriend, who does nothing but gasp and pull Scarlett into her again.

Oh, she's so going to get it.

Once everyone stopped hugging one another, I not so gently and calmly pulled Y/N onto my lap once we all gathered around a table in the corner of the room. "Mine," I whispered into her ear as Max questioned Scarlett about Black Widow and The Outset. "Yours." She whispered back.

"So, will you keep the name Y/N or create a stage name?" Ivy asks as her fingers dance around on Max's neck. I hide my smile behind Y/N, knowing the name she came up with. "Stage name." She says with a wave of her hand before flopping into me. "Do we get to know it?" Sam laughs.

"Oh yeah, sure, it's-"

April 22, 2022

Twitter

Marvel Studios @MarvelStudios

The trip through the Multiverse has begun. The stars of Marvel Studios' #DoctorStrange in the Multiverse of Madness began the global tour in Berlin, Germany! - Experience the movie only in theaters May 6.

@scrunchnoselizzie @marvelstudios she was looking at me 🥰🥰

@Hole4TaylorSloane @marvelstudios THE people's princess!! 👸

@MadMaxMoore @marvelstudios oh wait till Y/N sees these. 💙 Y/N wake up!!!

@yeahitsY/N @marvelstudios omg she's so pretty she can crush me and I'd thank her. Alexa play Gorgeous by Taylor Swift! Also not joking but if you guys kill Wanda I just want to talk

@multiversemother @marvelstudios @yeahitsY/N not Lizzie's gf commenting with that picture 💀💀

@NSanders28 @marvelstudios 🥱🥱🥱 next

@witcheswhores @multiversemother they haven't publicly confirmed that they're back together. I know there's been paparazzi photos and posts about them but let's not possibly spread misinformation.

@incellonerman @witcheswhores @multiversemother 👎 as if someone like @yikesitsY/N could pull the beauty that is Elizabeth Olsen.

@happywandaplease @yikesitsY/N @incellonerman WTF are you talkin about?? They're both beautiful af and id pay for them to step on me in their highest of high stilettos!!

@yikesitsY/N Quote Tweeted @inclelonerman

Bet. L. Ratio.

"👎 as if someone like @yikesitsY/N could pull the beauty that is Elizabeth Olsen."

@user8 @yeahitsY/N lmaooooo

@OlsenMyOlsen @yeahitsY/N omg queen!!!

@y/nsgreenreptile @yeahitsY/N i love you

@yeahitsY/N @y/nsgreenreptile i love you too

A/N: We're finally well into 2022!! So I can finally start writing about things that happened more recently!!! Did you guys have a fav part? Twitter handle? Anything??? Please let me know!

Also I truly love every single one of you that takes time to read, comment, like and share this. It means the world to me. And thank you for letting me be me and write this story. 💜 See y'all soon!!

30 notes · View notes

bunnis-monsters · 21 days ago

Text

NSFW

Fern x Reader PT3(Final)

part 1

part 2

a/n: this is the final part of Fern’s main story, but not the end! You can still make Fern requests and I may rewrite this mini series in the future when I have time.

Fern had been depressed lately. He was a fairy, a dainty little thing, and you were now pregnant. He watched as you waddled around, struggling to do things.

If he were just bigger, he could ensure you never had to lift a finger.

All he could do was use magic to help when he could. Vines sprouted to grab things out of your reach or play with your pussy when you were feeling needy.

Fern wanted you so badly, to properly fuck into you and stretch out your fat cunt like he had before.

At night his wings fluttered softly as he rubbed your pregnant belly, kissing it. When his child was born, would he even be big enough to hold them? It made his heart ache to even think of such a thing. How could he protect his family when he was the size of a small doll?

That’s why he made a tough decision. Fern backed a bag, kissed your forehead and promised he would be back.

There were tales of a witch that lived in the center of the forest. She’d grant a single wish for anyone that came to her… but for a price.

He knocked once on the dirty window, noticing it was cracked and the wooden frame was chipped. Did anyone even live there?

The door creaked open, an old crone beckoning him in. “Hurry, I don’t have all day. Go on and tell me what you want.”

Fern sat on an upside down teacup, watching as the witch bustled about the dusty old cabin looking through books and half empty potion bottles.

“Uh… I wanted to know if you can make me… the size of a human.”

The witch paused, glancing at him. “I can, for a price. What are you willing to give me in exchange?”

It had been an entire day since you last saw Fern. He wasn’t the type to be out late, always returning before dark, so it was alarming that he had been gone for more than a few hours.

It was a bit hard walking now. You were six months along, but looked like you were closer to nine. Fern liked to joke that you seemed about ready to burst while laying his tiny head on your belly.

You could tell that his size was bothering him even more lately. As your pregnancy progressed, you needed more help, the kind someone as small as him couldn’t provide.

Despite what others may think, Fern was a proud fairy and hated that he wasn’t able to help his pregnant lover.

Fern wanted to provide and care for you, but that wasn’t really possible when he couldn’t even do most things for himself.

When the second day without any sightings of him filled around, you started to panic. It really wasn’t like him to be gone so long, especially when you were carrying his child.

‘Where could he be?’

Nearly a week passed without him. It was both depressing and terrifying, leaving you nearly bedridden at times. Everything seemed harder with Fern gone.

Even if he couldn’t do much of the heavy lifting, he used his magic to keep you from getting morning sickness, always comforted you when you were hormonal, and made sure all of your vegetables stayed fresh.

Without him, the world felt cold and uninviting. He made all the gray clouds disappear, but now that he was gone the sun had left with him.

You sat in your rocking chair as tears fell down your cheeks. After crying so much, your eyes were puffy and sore.

Even knitting for your unborn child was a chore these days, and you had only finished a single foot when you heard a knock at your door.

For a moment you thought Fern would be behind it… but that was stupid. He was the size of your hand, there’s no way he could knock that loud.

You didn’t rush to greet your guest. Instead you slowly put down the onesie you had been knitting and stood.

Trudging towards the door, you slowly unlocked it and pulled towards yourself…

“Hello, my love.”

You were breathless, eyes wide and mouth agape as you looked up to see a hair of brown curls and eyes as green as fresh oak leaves.

A hand reached out, cupping your cheek and swiping at your tears as you began to cry.

“Fern…”

You sobbed into his chest, warms wrapped tightly around him. He hugged you back, his eyes softening when your baby bump pressed into his abdomen.

“I’m so sorry, love. There was something I had to take care of, something so important I had to leave you for a while.”

As your lip wobbled, Fern began to explain what had happened.

After the witch asked him what he’d give in return, Fern was quick to answer.

“My immortality.”

You covered your mouth, eyes going wide as you swallowed harshly. “You… gave that up to be the same size as me?”

He nodded, smiling fondly as he tilted your chin up. “And I’d do it a thousand times over, love.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his lips to yours a gentle, yet needy kiss. Although it felt amazing to kiss him after such a stressful week without him, you pulled back after a moment.

“But… why did you stay away for so long?”

Fern went pale, scratching the back of his head with a nervous laugh. “Let’s just say the process to become tall was… long and painful. That old witch enjoyed it too, I’m sure.”

After a moment of simply enjoying each other’s presence, you both walked inside.

After that, Fern waited on you hand and foot. He adored you, that was for sure. Every meal, activity, and even bathroom visit was managed by him.

Fern smiled down at you as he helped you into a bath, his eyes lingering in your heavy and swollen breasts.

When you hissed and winced in pain as your hands brushed against your sensitive nipples, Fern cooed out sympathetically.

“Here, just relax.”

His wings fluttered as his hands groped your fat tits, massaging and squishing them lightly. You let out such a delicious noise that he couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss your neck.

Fern’s cock twitched to life when milk spurted from your perky buds. He always got so hard when he was reminded you were heavily pregnant with his young.

“That’s it, feels good doesn’t it?”

His hand slipped between your legs, a vine replacing the now missing one at your tit while his other continued massaging you.

“Mmph… Fern…”

You had been so needy lately, begging for him to properly fuck you since he had returned. But he was hesitant. Fern didn’t want to potentially harm you or his unborn child…

But with some reassurance from you, the fairy joined you in the tub. He settled you onto his lap, continuing his ministrations.

His cock nudged at your warm cunt, desperate to be enveloped by your velvety walls.

And you wanted him just as much.

Fern groaned against your neck, keeping a hand on your baby bump for leverage as he bounced you up and down on his cock. It felt so good to stretch you out again and have you clench around him.

The vines rubbed at your clit, making you tighten up even more. You came again and again, your body way more sensitive due to your pregnancy.

He loved getting to fill you up with his seed. Watching the hot, white cum leak out of your cunt as he rinsed you off made him want to do it all over again.

But Fern wanted to go easy on you until after your pregnancy.

Months passed by, and Fern held onto your hand as you gave birth. Labor hadn’t been easy, but he was by your side the entire time.

“It’s a girl…”

You held onto your baby, eyes half lidded from exhaustion. Fern was an absolute mess, his eyes puffy and red as he sniffled.

“She’s beautiful…”

Fern handled almost everything as you recovered, and as your baby girl grew, her wings started to slowly develop.

“She has wings… is she..?”

“Immortal? Maybe, but I’m not sure… I impregnated you before the witch took my immortality, but she is half human…”

You kissed her little head, letting her nurse as your now husband knelt in front of you.

“I don’t want that for her, Fern. She would outlive all of us. Wouldn’t that be lonely?”

Fern paused to think, slowly reaching out to place a hand over your belly.

“… it wouldn’t be if we… gave her a sibling.”

And so the two of you had several children through the years, slowly repopulating the fairy race. You’d grow old together, and even if your children lived forever, at least they would have each other.

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

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lizzyiii · 2 months ago

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Hey girl hey. Hope you are still alive and life is treating you well. Just checking in.

you're so sweet for this omg. so ive graduated from high school, have this whole summer, but I can't really enjoy it since a broke girl's got to work. got my very first job and it's sooo draining, but I've got to get that bag

Sevenmas

pairing | aemond x wife!reader

word count | 9.2k words

summary | amid the haunting ruins of harrenhal, aemond's pregnant wife senses the looming threat of alys rivers, a witch whose presence fuels her nightmares and aemond's growing distance.

determined to protect her husband and unborn child, she delves into the secrets of warding magic, reclaiming her bond with aemond as she invites him back into her bed and vows to stand against the witch’s dark influence.

tags | 18+ (MDNI), smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pregnancy, magic, fluff, soft aemond, hubby aemond

a/n | it's summer, the heat is evident, yet I've only been at work or home. I needdd to leave my house!

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

My Dearest Babe,

It has been a full moon since your father and I arrived at these dreary halls of Harrenhal. It is bleak here, cold and damp, and the walls seem to hold the whispers of the dead.

I have not known a single night’s rest since we set foot in this cursed place. My sleep grew all the more restless when your father saw fit to move me into a separate chamber.

Harrenhal weighs heavily upon him. It has changed him in ways I cannot yet understand. He walks the halls as if hunted, and I see the shadows of his unrest in his eyes.

Each night, his dreams twist into dark things—visions that wrench him from sleep, leaving him gasping as though clawing his way back to wakefulness. He grows ever more volatile, as if the very stones of Harrenhal press upon his mind, threatening to drive him to madness.

One night, he woke from a nightmare so violent, I feared for him. I reached out to calm him, but he struck out, not knowing it was I. I do not hold it against him—he was deep within whatever horror plagued him.

But he looked upon the bruise on my wrist with such anguish, fearing for my health and yours. It was then he resolved to put me in another room, to shield us both from his torments.

Yet, my sleep has only worsened since he made this change. This keep holds no comfort, only shadows and sighs, and I feel that something - someone - wicked watches us, waiting.

The sixth day of Sevenmas dawned in Harrenhal, a day to honor the Crone, she who carried the lantern of wisdom and foresight. How you longed for that guidance now, caught in the maze of cold stone walls and shadows that seemed to stretch into eternity.

The ancient keep, with its crumbling towers and halls seeped in ghosts of past horrors, gnawed at your spirit with every passing hour.

The days bled together, each as gray and listless as the last. Time itself felt suspended, and there was little to fill it but your prayers to the Seven and the slow, meticulous pull of thread and needle.

Embroidery was meant to calm the mind, but here it became another way for your thoughts to spiral into dark corners. How could you not let them when the halls echoed with whispers not your own and the air felt thick, laden with something unseen yet suffocating?

Your husband, Aemond, the prince with a fire in his blood and the shadow of the conqueror in his step, had become a stranger cloaked in duty.

Since Rhaenyra had laid siege to King's Landing, his days were consumed with strategy, flame-bright eyes scanning maps and murmuring with commanders until dawn kissed the horizon.

You would catch glimpses of him, his presence fierce and distant, a sword poised to strike. And still, there was one tether left—he would always return to break his fast with you, no matter the hour, as if the morning meal was a sacred pact he refused to break.

This shared ritual was a brief light in the gloom, a moment where his brow would smooth, and he would offer a small nod, as if to say, I am still here.

Yet even then, the weight of Harrenhal seemed to press upon him, creasing the corner of his eye and stealing the little warmth from his voice.

You wished for the strength of the Crone’s wisdom, to find words that could soothe whatever haunted him, whatever pulled him into those long, silent stretches where he barely met your gaze.

And so, with the sun’s first pale rays stretching over the stone battlements, you whispered a prayer to the Crone. Let me see what he cannot. Let me guard us in ways unseen.

There was another shadow cast over your time at Harrenhal, one that gnawed at your peace like a hound at a bone. Within the first week of your arrival, an attempt on Aemond’s life had been made, a sloppy affair that left more questions than answers.

Yet the mere notion of betrayal and blood sharpened Aemond’s already fierce nature into something perilously close to madness.

In his rage and paranoia, he swept through Harrenhal like a storm, burning and executing every male Strong—lords and bastards alike, sparing none.

The aftermath left the keep haunted by its own silence, populated mostly by women and children who dared not cross his path. Yet among the survivors, there was one who set your skin crawling like no other: Alys Rivers, the bastard daughter of Lionel Strong.

Her gaze, dark and knowing, seemed to pierce through you whenever it drifted your way. The keep’s old women, those who lingered in the kitchens and halls, were full of whispers, speaking in hushed tones about Alys and the tales that clung to her like a shroud.

They claimed she was a wet nurse with no babes of her own, that her cradle stayed empty because she offered her children to dark gods, drawing power from their sacrifices.

The word witch passed between toothless mouths with reverence and fear, a name that conjured images of blood and whispered spells in the dead of night.

You would catch Alys watching Aemond from the shadowed corners of the great hall, her green eyes glistening like the polished scales of a serpent.

There was something about the way she looked at him, a gaze that lingered too long, with a subtle curl to her lips that suggested she saw beyond what others did. Each time, a cold knot formed in your stomach, winding tighter with each day.

Aemond, for his part, seemed oblivious—or perhaps unwilling—to acknowledge her attention. He stalked the halls of Harrenhal like a restless dragon, his eyes always aflame with thoughts of war and vengeance.

But you, kept to the fringes and left with little to occupy your time, had learned to listen. You had overheard more than once the old wives’ tales, how the stones of Harrenhal bore witness to strange sights in the dark of night.

The morning light struggled to filter through the narrow, soot-streaked windows of Harrenhal’s great hall, casting long, somber shadows across the cold stone floor.

You sat at the grand table, an expanse of dark oak that seemed almost too vast with just the two of you seated at its head.

The hall’s emptiness swallowed the small noises of clinking silver and the rustle of fabric, leaving only the low crackle of a distant fire to break the silence.

You glanced at Aemond, his face severe and sharp as ever, eyes narrowed and distant as he picked at the bread before him. His hair, pale as moonlight, spilled over his shoulders, catching the dim glow of morning like polished silver.

You traced the line of his jaw with your gaze, noting the tautness there, the slight twitch that spoke of restless thoughts.

In truth, you did not know this man well—your husband, your prince, and yet a stranger in so many ways.

It had only been moons since you first met, and within days, the marriage vows were spoken, the ink on the alliance barely dry before you found yourself bound to him in name and in fate.

Your father’s fleet had been your dowry, a formidable power that the Greens could not afford to spurn. You understood your role, the politics and power that tethered you to Aemond, but understanding him was another matter entirely.

His silences were as deep and dark as the Blackwater, and he carried an anger that smoldered beneath his skin, an unquenchable flame that whispered of vengeance and old wounds.

But despite the cold armor of his demeanor, Aemond had never raised his voice nor his hand to you. He moved with a kind of carefulness in your presence, a restraint that bordered on gentleness.

He treated you with a respect that was rare among men of power, where wives were often little more than pawns on a board.

And though it was likely due to the child you carried beneath your heart, it kindled a small warmth within you to think that he had not left you behind when he marched to Harrenhal.

Instead, he had commanded that you come with him, a choice that puzzled you even as it comforted you.

Harrenhal was a desolate place, steeped in old, cracked stone and a history that groaned beneath every step. You despised it, with its drafty halls and the air that always seemed to taste of ashes.

Yet sitting here, across from Aemond as the thin light etched sharp lines across his face, you felt a reluctant flicker of gratitude.

The silence between you was not companionable, but it was not cruel either. It was a space where the two of you existed, tethered by duty and an unspoken understanding.

Your gaze lifted from your untouched plate to meet his. “You barely ate anything,” you ventured softly, the words almost swallowed by the great hall’s vastness.

Aemond’s eye flickered to you, just a moment of acknowledgment, before drifting back to the distant, unfocused point beyond the hall’s great hearth. “I have much on my mind,” he replied, his voice low and guarded, as always.

You lowered your gaze, the golden glint of your cup catching the flicker of the fire as you turned it in your hands. “Today is the day of the Crone,” you murmured, the soft words drifting into the vast emptiness of the hall.

Aemond’s eye settled on you again, this time with a sharper intensity, as if he were trying to read the thoughts that played behind your eyes. The violet of his gaze, stark and unyielding, seemed to see through flesh and bone.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks but pushed on, lifting your head with a tentative, almost sheepish smile.

“I have been holding small celebratory suppers in my chambers for each of the Seven,” you said, the words trembling on the cusp of hope. “Perhaps you would join me tonight?”

Aemond’s expression remained inscrutable, carved from the same marble as the gods whose names you spoke. He was silent, his lips pressed into a thin line as he measured the request. You held your breath, bracing for the sting of rejection, but after a moment, he inclined his head with a slow, deliberate nod.

“I shall see if I am free to attend later, wife,” he replied, each syllable precise, as if spoken under a watchful eye.

A smile unfurled across your face, a small, fragile bloom that brightened the somber air. You nodded, your gratitude silent but deeply felt, and returned your attention to the meal before you.

The hall fell back into its familiar hush, but the silence seemed gentler, softened by the promise—no matter how uncertain—that he might sit with you as the evening drew near.

Throughout the day, you moved with a purpose that had been absent for some time. Excitement flickered within you, casting a rare warmth over the bleakness of Harrenhal’s cold stone walls.

You spent more time preparing yourself than you had in weeks, choosing a gown of deep violet, the color rich and regal, one you knew would match Aemond’s eye.

Your hands worked carefully as you braided your hair, fingers weaving strands with practiced precision. You wound the braids into a half-up style, securing them with thin silver pins, and threaded small pearls between the coils, their soft luster catching the waning light that seeped through the chamber’s narrow window slits.

As the sun dipped lower, you prepared the chamber for supper, eager to cast away the dreariness of Harrenhal’s stone embrace. The table, though small, was set with care.

You placed a modest arrangement of primroses at its center, their pale petals lending a touch of softness to the somber room.

Candles, thick and tapered, were placed with a meticulous eye, their wicks waiting to be lit and offer a warm glow that would banish the shadows lurking in the corners.

Tonight was meant to honor the Crone, a day of wisdom and reflection, yet you could not help but hope for something more—a chance to share a moment, however fleeting, with the man you called husband.

The hours had been long since you’d known any touch of intimacy, any whisper of companionship. The prospect of Aemond joining you, even for a brief supper, was enough to make your heart beat with anticipation.

Time stretched on, heavy and unyielding, as you sat alone at the small table in your chambers, a solitary figure in a room filled with muted light. The food before you, once steaming and fragrant, had grown cold, the sheen of oil on the meats congealing in the chill air.

The candles you had lit earlier had burned down to stubs, their light dwindling as shadows crept up the walls.

The fire in the hearth, once crackling with warmth, had reduced itself to a bed of glowing embers, the last vestiges of heat sputtering as they surrendered to the draft that snaked through the stones.

Your heart, which had quickened with hope earlier in the day, now felt leaden with disappointment. The silence pressed in around you, each passing moment a reminder that Aemond would not come. The anticipation that had kept your spirits aloft now left a hollow ache in its absence.

Pushing your untouched plate away, you rose from the table, your movements deliberate as anger stirred in your chest. It was not the hot, reckless kind, but the slow-burning indignation that came when expectation was met with silence.

You wrapped your cloak around your shoulders and slipped into the dim corridor, determined to find him, to seek an answer rather than stew in this quiet, stinging rejection.

Harrenhal’s halls were a maze of stone and shadow, empty and vast, with only the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the cold. The castle held a thousand whispered secrets, and tonight, it seemed eager to keep its prince among them.

You turned corners and climbed staircases, the flicker of dying torches casting your shadow long against the walls, until the familiar paths grew strange and your resolve wavered.

Finally, as you entered a lesser hall that stretched toward a wing of old chambers, you spotted movement—a maidservant carrying linens, her head bent as if afraid to be seen. Relief mixed with frustration as you quickened your step.

“Excuse me,” you called out, your voice sharper than intended.

The servant started, nearly dropping her burden before bowing her head hastily, eyes fixed to the floor. It was a common sight in Harrenhal, the way they kept their gaze averted in your presence.

Word of your husband’s fierce reputation as Prince Regent and Kinslayer had traveled swiftly, and it seemed they feared that to slight you was to invite his wrath upon them.

With a lifted chin and a tone that brooked no disobedience, you asked, “Where is my husband?”

Before the maid could stammer out an answer, another voice cut through the dim hallway—a voice that chilled the blood in your veins and haunted your sleep with its whispers.

“I fear the prince is still occupied in the council chamber, my lady,” said Alys Rivers, her tone smooth and deceptively courteous, like the edge of a blade.

You turned slowly, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were dark, unreadable, but a knowing smirk pulled at her lips as she regarded you, taking in the sight of your tense shoulders, the protective way your hand drifted instinctively to your rounded stomach.

There was no warmth in her expression, only the sly amusement of a cat toying with a bird that dared to stray too far from its nest.

Your nostrils flared, and you straightened your back, eyes narrowing as you corrected her in a low, simmering murmur, “Princess.”

Alys tilted her head, feigning surprise, though her eyes betrayed nothing but a cold mirth. “Pardon me,” she said, her gaze sliding deliberately to your abdomen before flicking back up to meet yours, daring you to react.

“I am not your lady,” you hissed, “I am your princess.”

With a final, steely glare, you turned on your heel, the folds of your violet gown sweeping the floor as you made your way back through the shadowed hallways, heart pounding beneath your ribs.

The silence of Harrenhal enveloped you once more, and you did not pause until you reached the safety of your chambers, locking the door behind you and pressing your back against the cool, unyielding wood.

The echo of Alys’s smirk lingered in your mind, but you would not let her see your fear. Not tonight. Not ever.

A scream ripped from your throat, raw and primal, as the pain surged through you, tearing its way up your spine and scattering your senses. It felt as though your very body was being split apart, the agony sharper and deeper than any blade.

“Keep pushing, my princess; the babe is almost here,” urged the midwife, her voice steady but relentless.

You clenched your jaw, wanting to curse her, to scream at her to hold her tongue, but the pain stole all words from you, leaving you breathless and shaking.

It was a torment that came in relentless waves, each cresting higher than the last, only to drag you under when you thought you could surface for air. The burning, the stretching—unbearable, blinding.

“I cannot,” you sobbed, tears mingling with the sweat that drenched your brow. “Please… I can't,” you pleaded, your voice broken and desperate.

The pain surged again, stealing the air from your lungs, and then you felt it—a firm, familiar hand pressed gently to your cheek. Through the haze of pain, you turned your head, and your vision cleared just enough to see the sharp lines of Aemond’s face.

His single violet eye was intent, fierce, a rare expression of vulnerability breaking through his stoic mask. Relief, so profound it was nearly painful, swelled in your chest.

“Aemond,” you gasped, his name a lifeline, an anchor in the storm.

Husbands were not meant to be present for the birth, tradition forbade it. But he was there, and you did not care for any rule or rite that would keep him away.

“Just a few more pushes, my love,” he murmured, his voice low, a thread of steel woven through the gentleness.

You nodded weakly, mustering what remained of your strength. A deep groan escaped you as you pushed once more, the room spinning around you. The midwife’s voice rose above the roaring in your ears.

“The babe is crowning, my lady.”

But the tone was wrong. Too familiar, too cold. Alarm jolted you to consciousness, and you struggled to prop yourself on trembling elbows. Your eyes darted to the space at the foot of the birthing bed, and dread coiled tight in your gut.

There, in the dim light of the chamber, knelt Alys Rivers. Her dark hair framed eyes as green and sharp as glass, eyes that glimmered with a knowing, malevolent gleam. A smile curled at the corners of her lips as she met your gaze.

“No, no!” you screamed, panic twisting your voice. “Get away from me!”

With a surge of fear-driven strength, you tried to kick her away, your limbs thrashing wildly, but Aemond’s hands clamped down on you, firm and unyielding. “Calm yourself,” he commanded, his voice cool, steady as stone.

Alys turned her gaze up to him, a shadow of mock sympathy curving her lips. “You must choose, my prince,” she intoned, each word dripping with false solemnity. “The babe, or your wife.”

A sob wrenched from your chest as you felt your breath come in sharp, shallow gasps. “No. No!” The pain was drowned beneath the torrent of fear that flooded you.

Desperately, you looked up at Aemond, seeking the warmth, the fierce protection that once resided in his eye. But what you found was a gaze distant and unreadable, as though he stood apart, watching from some cold, unreachable place. His jaw tightened. “Save the babe.”

Time seemed to fracture around you. His words, so final, crashed over you like a wave of ice. Your eyes widened, disbelieving, as rough handmaids or shadows, you could not tell—pressed you back, holding you firm as you struggled.

“Let me go! Let me go!” you screamed, your voice raw with betrayal and terror, limbs straining against the iron grip that pinned you.

Pain cleaved through you, and you felt the weight of the babe shift within. But your focus broke as Alys moved, no longer at the foot of the bed but gliding closer, the flicker of torchlight catching on the edge of a cruel, glinting blade.

The chamber seemed to darken around her, the faint cries of the midwives fading into an ominous silence. And all you could see were those green eyes, bearing down on you like a curse whispered in the dark.

You jolted upright, heart pounding and breath ragged, the remnants of your nightmare clinging to your skin like a shroud. A trembling hand reached up to brush the tears from your cheeks, the dampness proof of the terror that had gripped you in sleep.

Your eyes drifted down, catching the soft curve of your swollen belly under the covers, rising and falling with your shallow breaths. A shaky sigh escaped your lips, a bitter mix of relief and unease.

The babe was still safe within you—at least for now. You pressed your palm over it, as if to reassure yourself of its presence.

Beyond the thin light filtering through the shuttered window, the sky remained cloaked in the indigo of night.

The stillness told you it was not yet dawn, that liminal time when dreams and waking often blurred. But sleep would not find you again; not after that vision, nor for many nights to come, you were sure.

The memory of Aemond's cold, detached gaze as he spoke words that sealed your fate in your dream clung to you. It pierced deeper than any blade, a wound festering with fear and doubt.

Yet you forced yourself to swallow the sharp sting of betrayal, directing your thoughts toward another source of your unease—Alys Rivers.

The whispers, the eyes that followed, the dark air that seemed to shift when she was near. Your fears, your husband’s torment, the sense of something wicked gnawing at Harrenhal’s bones—it all traced back to her.

Resolve steeled your spine. You pushed back the covers and rose, the weight of your pregnancy making the motion slower, more deliberate.

Wrapping yourself in a heavy fur cloak, you reached for the candelabra on the nightstand. Its small flame sputtered in protest before catching steady, casting long shadows that danced upon the walls.

The corridors of Harrenhal, once alive with whispered conversations and the hurried footfalls of servants, now loomed around you in cold, watchful silence. The draft that crept through the ancient stones nipped at your cheeks and sent a shiver down your spine.

Clutching the fur tighter against your body, you moved forward, the warm light in your grasp flickering as it met the draft.

The silence was thick, broken only by the soft rustle of your cloak and the creak of old floorboards beneath your weight.

At last, you reached the great doors of the library, their dark wood carved with sigils long forgotten and gnarled from centuries of use. Setting the candelabra down, you pushed against one of the doors, muscles straining with the effort.

It groaned open, the sound reverberating through the stillness and sending a cold gust rushing past you. Picking up the candelabra, you stepped inside and let the heavy door drift shut behind you with a thud.

The scent of old parchment and dust surrounded you, familiar and oddly comforting. Shelves stretched high, towering sentinels filled with the stories of old and the wisdom of those long gone.

On other nights, you would have lost yourself in the tales that wove through these tomes—myths and sagas that spoke of courage and triumph. But tonight, solace was not what you sought.

You moved through the rows with purpose, eyes scanning the spines until they found those few volumes that hinted at the arcane.

The lore of witches, their dark arts, the means by which they could twist men’s dreams and cloud their minds—it all lay within reach, hidden among dusty pages that no one dared speak of.

You placed the candelabra down, its light casting a golden glow that flickered across the cracked leather and faded titles.

With trembling hands, you opened the first book, its binding stiff with age. The parchment crackled as you turned the pages, your eyes drinking in the inked words.

If there was any way to guard yourself, to protect Aemond from the shadows that had seeped into your lives, you would find it here. No longer would you be haunted by that witch’s knowing gaze or the dread that coiled tight in your belly.

With each turn of the page, the flickering glow of the candelabra cast dancing shapes upon the stone walls, warding off the chill that seeped through Harrenhal’s blackened stones.

The words spoke of charms and tokens, of age-old rituals whispered by the smallfolk who feared the unseen.

Marking doors with protective sigils or crosses to ward off malevolent forces. The purifying strength of salt, said to bar dark spirits and their ilk. Rowan wood, revered for its protective properties, best used when tied with crimson thread to seal its potency.

The hours crept by, measured by the slow guttering of candle wax. You read, forgetting the passage of time as the nightmare’s claws loosened their grip on your heart.

Knowledge was your weapon now, and you wielded it with the silent promise that neither you nor Aemond would fall victim to powers unknown.

The day’s first light spilled through the high, narrow windows, a pale and hesitant glow that bled into the room and painted the bookshelves in muted gold.

It was the day of the Stranger, seldom celebrated, yet you paid it no heed. Lost in the pages, you missed the bells that tolled the hour and forgot the warmth of your usual morning meal shared with Aemond.

When at last you closed the final volume, a resolve settled in your chest, resolute and unyielding. You would need these items—symbols of protection—and that meant venturing beyond the castle’s shadowed halls and out into the market.

The fur-lined cloak wrapped snug around you, guarding against the bitter drafts that swept through the corridors as you made your way back to your chambers.

As you reached the windows, a rare sight unfolded before your eyes—snow, soft and unrelenting, blanketing the bleak spires of Harrenhal.

Snow was a rarity in King’s Landing, seldom seen during your girlhood there. For a moment, untouched by fear or doubt, you felt the stir of childish wonder rise within you.

Three knights of the Kingsguard, their white cloaks pristine even in the snow, flanked you as you ventured to the market. The square bustled despite the cold, vendors calling out their wares with voices hoarse from the chill. Your list of protective items, hastily scrawled in the early hours, guided your every step.

Surprisingly, the rowan wood was easy to find, its branches bundled tightly with red thread as per custom.

Charms of polished crystal and talismans wrought from iron and bronze were procured with little effort, their sellers eager to part with them for a handful of silver stags.

The murmured blessings from the old crones at their stalls made the hair on the back of your neck prickle, but you pressed on, their eyes shadowed with both reverence and suspicion.

By the time the sun began its descent, casting a gilded glow over the snow-draped stones of Harrenhal, your arms were laden with your newfound protections. You returned to your chambers with purpose, setting to work immediately.

With meticulous care, you bound the red thread around the twigs of rowan wood and placed them above each entrance.

Salt, precious and fine, was spread across the thresholds, each grain catching the firelight like scattered stars.

With charcoal from your writing desk, you etched intricate symbols—wards against dark magics—onto the cold, unyielding stone walls.

But it was not just your own safety you sought to secure. For Aemond, you had combed the market for a piece both practical and protective. After much haggling, you procured a leather eyepatch, supple and black, unmarred by wear.

Returning to your chamber, you carefully stitched shards of black tourmaline into its edge, each piece glinting with a subtle, protective gleam. Your needlework was steady, each pull of the thread imbued with silent prayers.

Lost in your task, you barely noted the soft knock at your door or the maidservant who entered, setting a tray of supper on the table near the hearth.

The aroma of roasted fowl and warm bread wafted through the chamber, but your focus remained fixed.

As you worked by the fire's glow, the shadows that had haunted your waking hours seemed to lessen, replaced by the steady rhythm of thread and needle, and the quiet resolve that this time, you would be ready.

You were so absorbed in your needlework, fingers deftly stitching the dark crystals onto a supple leather patch, that the sudden clearing of a throat startled you. Your gaze snapped up, eyes wide with surprise as they met the cool, familiar face of Aemond Targaryen.

“Husband,” you said, breathless as you hastily hid the finished eye patch beneath a velvet pillow. Rising to your feet, you inclined your head, though your heart thudded with residual tension.

He stood tall and imposing in the dim glow, the silver-white of his hair catching the light like a crown. For a moment, the room felt smaller, as if the walls themselves pressed in with the weight of his presence.

“What brings you here?” you asked, voice touched with confusion and a hint of sharpness. Exhaustion dulled your sense of propriety, leaving the question more pointed than intended.

Aemond’s lone violet eye narrowed, an unreadable glimmer within its depths. “To have supper with you,” he replied, as if such a thing were the most natural answer in the realm.

Your eyes flickered to the table, where two silver plates now sat, the steam rising lazily from the dishes set by the silent servant moments before.

You pressed your lips into a thin line and sighed, murmuring, “I believe my invitation was for yesterday.”

A shadow of regret crossed his face, so brief that another might have missed it, but you saw. As you moved past him to take your seat, you caught the soft murmur that slipped from his lips, “I deserved that.”

Aemond followed and took his place across from you, the creak of the chair echoing in the quiet chamber. For a moment, silence hung between you, broken only by the faint crackle of the hearthfire. His gaze settled on you, sharp and searching.

“I have not seen you at all today,” he said at last, the words carrying a hint of something that might have been longing, tempered by pride.

Your eyes dropped to your hands, fingers fiddling absently with the edge of your gown. Remorse pricked at your heart—you had broken your shared morning ritual, the one part of the day reserved just for the two of you.

“I was very busy,” you replied softly, the excuse feeling thin on your tongue.

Aemond’s expression remained unreadable as he tilted his head slightly. “I heard. Visits to the market square,” he said.

You hesitated, holding back the details of the charms, the salt, the ancient warding sigils you had traced with trembling hands. He would only deem you foolish or worse, mad.

“I needed fresh air.”

His eye narrowed, a flicker of displeasure passing over his sharp features. “It is too dangerous for one in your condition to wander beyond these walls,” he said, the admonishment clear, though his tone held an undercurrent of concern.

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with defiance. “That is why I took three of your White Cloaks,” you retorted, the fire in your voice matching the spark in his eye.

For a heartbeat, the tension crackled between you, the weight of unsaid words pressing down like a heavy cloak. Then, Aemond’s lips quirked, almost imperceptibly, as if some silent battle had been waged and resolved within him.

“Good,” he said at last, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “You are no fool, wife.”

The tautness in the room eased, and though unspoken, an accord was reached.

Aemond leaned forward, and placed a carved wooden box on the table between you. “I’ve brought you something,” he said, his voice a measured calm, yet there was an undercurrent of something softer. “An apology for last night.”

Your brows knit together, skepticism clear in your eyes. “My forgiveness cannot be bought with trinkets, husband,” you said, your tone edged with defiance. Yet even as you spoke, curiosity stirred within you.

One of his silver brows arched at your remark, and a small smile ghosted his lips. “Let us see if it is worthy,” you murmured, reluctant to give ground but unable to hide the intrigue that tugged at you.

With a careful hand, Aemond lifted the lid of the box, revealing a necklace of silver and sapphire. The deep blue stone glimmered like the sea under moonlight, capturing the room’s faint candle glow.

Your breath stilled for a moment, eyes tracing the intricate work of the silver links, each carved to mimic dragon scales.

Your fingertips brushed over the gem, the cool surface grounding you as warmth bloomed in your chest. Unbidden, a soft smile tugged at your lips, an expression so rare that even you felt its presence.

“Thank you, husband,” you whispered, your voice softened by genuine gratitude.

Aemond’s face shifted, pride flickering across his sharp features. There was something triumphant in his half-smirk that you could not allow him to savor unchallenged. You rose from your seat, skirts rustling as you moved.

“I, too, have a gift for you,” you said, your tone now light with a note of playfulness.

“Oh?” he replied, one silver eyebrow lifting in surprise, though the glint in his lone violet eye revealed his interest.

“Mm,” you hummed, stepping to the chaise where a small cushion lay. Your fingers slipped beneath it, retrieving the item hidden there. Turning back to him, a touch of shyness colored your expression, a rare sight that softened the lines of your face.

With both hands, you presented him with an eye patch, the black leather supple and embroidered with fine strands of broken tourmaline crystals, catching the dim light with a subtle shimmer.

Aemond took it, surprise giving way to careful scrutiny. His fingers traced the delicate work, the weight of the crystals and their arrangement thoughtful.

“Black tourmaline,” you said quietly, watching his gaze flick between you and the patch. “It is said to have powerful protective qualities.”

You hesitated, unwilling to speak of how it was also believed to ward against dark energies and unseen dangers—of how it might shield him from threats both known and hidden.

For a moment, silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. Aemond’s mouth quirked into a faint smile, rare and genuine. “Thank you, wife. 'Tis a very thoughtful gift,” he said, voice low and sincere.

A moment passed, and you froze in silent shock as Aemond reached up to remove the eye patch he wore. Of course, you had seen what lay beneath—the striking sapphire set into the hollow of his missing eye—but Aemond was never keen on showing it.

In King’s Landing, he would only take it off moments before sleep and replace it the moment he awoke.

Before he could put on the new eye patch, you placed a hand over his arm. “You know you don’t have to wear it around me, yes? I have no issue with it, and you should not either.”

Aemond stared at you for a long moment, his nostrils flaring slightly. For a heartbeat, you feared you had overstepped, but then he nodded, leaving both eye patches on the table.

A small, victorious smile touched your lips as you felt the weight of this unspoken understanding between you. “Allow me to have the maids bring us some dessert,” you said, the tension lifting.

Aemond nodded, his gaze lingering on you as you turned to the doors.

Stepping into the corridor, you quickly found a maid and requested something sweet to be brought to your chambers. When you returned, your heart faltered at the sight before you. Aemond stood at your desk, his tall frame hunched slightly as he leaned over an open book—your journal.

Panic surged within you, and you strode forward, slamming the book shut with a sharp motion. “What are you doing?” you demanded, your voice sharper than intended, eyes wide with both shock and alarm.

Aemond straightened, holding the closed journal in his hand. His expression was unreadable, though his eye bore into you with quiet intensity. “What is this?” he asked evenly, tilting the book slightly for emphasis.

“My private journal,” you answered quickly, reaching for it, but he lifted it just out of your grasp, his superior height giving him the advantage. “Give it back, husband. It is mine.”

Aemond’s voice was steady but carried an undertone of something raw, almost fragile. “Then why,” he began, his eye fixed on you, ignoring your protests, “do you write to our babe?” There was an ache in his tone, a depth of emotion he hadn’t yet voiced.

The question caught you unprepared, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your fingers tightened around the fabric of your skirts, and your shoulders sagged as you avoided his penetrating gaze. “In case,” you whispered, the words trembling as they left your lips.

“In case of what?” he pressed, his voice low and edged with a demand for understanding.

His gaze bore into you, unrelenting, as though he could uncover your secrets by sheer will. Unable to face him, you closed your eyes and let out a shaky sigh. “In case I’m not there,” you admitted at last, the words barely audible, like a confession carried on the wind.

Aemond’s brows drew together, confusion shadowing his features. “What do you mean if you’re not—” He stopped mid-sentence, his breath catching as realization dawned. The tension in his posture shifted, his shoulders falling ever so slightly. “…There.”

His sharp features softened, a rare vulnerability settling over his face. “Women do survive the childbed,” he murmured, his voice gentler now, as though he feared the weight of his words might shatter you.

“Not every time,” you countered, your tone edged with resignation. “And there’s also… that choice.” Your voice broke on the last word, and you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint crackling of the fire. Then, with a tenderness that made your heart ache, Aemond reached out and cupped your cheek.

His touch was warm, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin as he tilted your face toward him, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“There can be more babes,” he said softly, his words a promise etched with fierce determination, “but there is only one you.”

His eye, a storm of violet and sapphire, held yours with such intensity that you felt as though he was laying his very soul bare. A tear escaped and traced down your cheek, but Aemond caught it with his thumb, his touch steady, grounding you in the moment.

“I would not choose otherwise,” he said firmly, the weight of his vow lingering in the air between you. “Not for all the heirs in the realm.”

Your lips trembled as you whispered, “You swear?”

“I swear it,” he replied, his voice low and resolute. “I will not lose my wife.”

The ache in your chest eased slightly, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like a shield. You placed your hand over his, pressing it gently against your cheek.

With a soft breath, you tilted your head upward, letting your lips meet his in a gentle caress. The kiss was tender at first, a quiet exchange of affection that carried the weight of your unspoken fears and his unyielding promise.

Aemond responded eagerly, his lips pressing more firmly against yours as his hand slid from your cheek to cradle the nape of your neck.

His other hand found your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulled you closer, as if the mere thought of distance was unbearable. His tongue brushed against your lips, seeking entrance, and you granted it willingly.

As his tongue met yours, the kiss deepened, a slow, fervent dance that sent warmth coursing through your veins. A soft moan escaped your lips, and you felt his grip on your waist tighten in response, his fingers digging into the fabric of your gown.

Your hands moved up his chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle beneath his tunic, before curling into the fabric as if to anchor yourself.

The world around you faded, leaving only the press of his body against yours, the taste of him on your lips, and the heat that built between you like the fire crackling in the hearth.

When the kiss broke, it was with a reluctance that lingered in the air between you. Your breaths came in shallow pants as you gazed up at him through hooded lashes, the corners of your lips curving into a teasing smile.

“My love,” you purred, your voice sultry and laced with affection, “you’ve left me wanting… again.”

Aemond’s gaze darkened, the stormy hue of his violet eye smoldering with barely restrained desire. “Have I now?” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Then it seems I must remedy that, wife.”

You guided his hands lower, to the swell of your belly, then further down to the hem of your nightgown. “Will you show me how much you desire me?” you asked, your voice a sultry whisper. “Make me forget everything but the feel of you inside me...”

A low growl rumbled in Aemond's throat as his hands moved beneath your gown, fingers tracing the curves of your swollen belly before dipping lower to find the damp heat of your core.

“You have no idea how often I dreamt of this,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Of burying myself deep within you, feeling your walls clench around me...”

With a swift motion, he lifted the hem of your nightgown and pulled it over your head, throwing it aside, revealing your naked form.

His gaze devoured every inch of you, from the full breasts that rose and fell with each ragged breath, to the soft, rounded hips and the glistening folds of your sex.

“Tell me what you want, my queen,” he commanded, his voice husky with desire.

A shiver ran through you at Aemond's bold appraisal, your nipples hardening into tight peaks as his hungry gaze seared your skin. You reached for the fastenings of his breeches, your fingers fumbling with urgency to free his straining erection.

“I want you,” you murmured, your voice low, thick with a desire that lingered like a soft melody in the air. Your eyes never left his, the depth of your longing laid bare in the way your breath hitched.

Aemond’s violet gaze darkened, the flicker of a smirk ghosting his lips. His head tilted ever so slightly, a predator’s grace, as though savoring your words before acting upon them.

You took a step back, your movements slow and deliberate, your footsteps light against the floor as you inched toward the bed. The flicker of the firelight cast a warm glow across the room, the shadows dancing across the carved posts of the bed.

As you reached its edge, you let yourself fall gracefully onto the soft mattress, your body sinking into the luxurious furs and silks. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you gazed at him through lowered lashes, a sly smile curving your lips.

“You beckon me so boldly,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvet drawl, the faintest edge of amusement laced within it. “Have a care, wife, for I am not a man to resist such temptation.”

Aemond watched, transfixed, as you sank onto the bed, the mattress creaking under your weight. His cock throbbed in time with his racing heart, the tip already glistening with precum.

He shed his clothes the rest of the way, letting them fall carelessly to the floor as he stalked towards you, muscles rippling with each step. By the time he reached the bed, he was fully erect, his shaft jutting proudly from a nest of silver curls.

Lying beside you, he reached out to cup your breast, thumbing the sensitive peak before leaning in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss.

His free hand trailed over your round stomach, pausing to tease the edge of your slit before delving deeper, fingers probing your slick folds.

“You're so wet for me already.”

You gasped into the kiss as Aemond's fingers found your entrance, your hips bucking instinctively to meet his touch. “Please,” you whimpered, breaking away from his mouth to gaze up at him with pleading eyes. “I need you inside me. Fill me up, make me yours again.”

As if sensing your desperation, Aemond positioned himself between your thighs, the broad head of his cock nudging insistently at your opening. With a deep groan, he thrust forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one powerful stroke.

You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure-pain crashed over you. It took a moment for your body to adjust, to relax and welcome the thick length filling you so completely.

Aemond's breath hitched as he bottomed out inside you, your velvety walls gripping him like a vice. For a moment, he simply savored the exquisite sensation, reveling in the tight heat enveloping his throbbing cock.

Then, with a slow, deliberate withdrawal, he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, setting a relentless pace.

The bed frame creaked ominously beneath the force of his thrusts, but Aemond paid it no mind, lost in the primal rhythm of rutting his mate.

“Yes, just like that,” he growled, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. “Take my cock, my queen.”

You wrapped your legs around Aemond's waist, heels digging into his firm behind as he pounded into you with wild abandon.

Each brutal thrust sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins, your inner walls fluttering wildly around his pistoning shaft.

“Aemond!” You wailed, your nails raking down his back as you met his ferocious pace.

The obscene slap of flesh against flesh filled the room, punctuated by my wanton cries and Aemond's guttural grunts. You could feel the pressure building within you, coiling tighter and tighter like a spring ready to snap.

Suddenly, you were hurtling over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. You screamed his name as your cunt clenched rhythmically around him, milking his cock for all it was worth.

Aemond's eye rolled back in his head as your velvet sheath spasmed around him, your climax triggering his own. With a hoarse groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came undone, his seed erupting in thick, pulsing jets.

He continued to thrust through the aftershocks, prolonging your shared bliss until he was spent, collapsing beside you with a grunt. For a long moment, the two of you lay entwined, chests heaving as you struggled to catch your breath.

The chamber was awash with the warmth of the firelight and the quiet hum of your contentment. As you lay entwined, your bodies barely a breath apart, your gaze lingered on Aemond’s face.

His sharp features, so often hardened by duty and war, were softened now, his violet eye fixed on you with a tenderness rarely seen.

Your noses brushed lightly, a quiet intimacy, as his hand rested possessively over your waist while yours splayed across his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart.

Almost as if drawn by a spell, he leaned forward, pressing a feather-light kiss to your lips, a gesture so gentle it felt like a whispered promise. When he pulled away, he settled back onto the pillow beside you, his arm still wrapped protectively around you.

You shifted, nestling closer, your head finding solace in the crook of his neck. Your hand lay over his heart, its steady rise and fall a soothing cadence that began to lull you into slumber.

His breathing slowed, each exhale a soft brush against your hair, and soon, the quiet comfort of his presence drew you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

But the peace did not last.

You jolted awake, startled by the sudden thrashing of Aemond’s body beside you. His face, so serene moments ago, was now contorted in anguish, his brow slick with sweat.

His breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, and his hands clenched the sheets as if warding off some unseen terror.

Your heart clenched at the sight. He had spoken little of his nightmares, but you knew they haunted him—a torment born of battles fought, losses endured, and burdens carried.

Pushing yourself up, you moved with as much haste as your swollen belly would allow, the weight of your pregnancy slowing you only slightly.

Grabbing the robe draped over the chair, you wrapped it around yourself, its soft fabric barely warding off the chill of the room as you padded toward the small table where you had placed your new goods.

Your hands rummaged through the items with purpose, your fingers finally curling around a small vial. You held it up, peering at its contents even in the dim light. The faint, familiar scent already began to calm your racing heart.

Lavender oil.

You returned to the bed, the vial clutched firmly in your grasp. As you sat beside him, Aemond's thrashing began to subside, though his breaths were still ragged, and his jaw clenched tightly.

Carefully, you uncorked the vial, the soothing aroma of lavender wafting into the room. You poured a small amount onto your hands, warming the oil between your palms before leaning over him.

With gentle, deliberate movements, you began to anoint his temples, your touch light yet firm as you traced small, calming circles.

The oil left a faint sheen on his skin, its scent filling the space between you. "Aemond," you whispered softly, your voice low and steady, a tether pulling him back from the depths of his nightmare.

His breathing began to slow, the tension in his body easing under your ministrations. You moved to his wrists, massaging the oil into his pulse points, your hands steady despite the ache blooming in your lower back.

“You are safe,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear. “I am here.”

You whispered a silent prayer under your breath, invoking the gods for protection and peace. Your gaze stayed fixed on him, your heart clenching as you watched his features begin to soften, the tension melting away.

You held your breath, waiting. When his form finally stilled, his breathing evening out, you let out a soft sigh of relief. The lavender and your quiet vigil had worked.

Exhaustion weighed heavily upon you, and you slid back into bed beside him, pulling the covers over the both of you. But just as you were about to lay your head against Aemond’s chest, you froze.

A chill ran down your spine, and the hairs on your arms stood on end as an inexplicable sensation swept over you.

You were being watched.

Your eyes darted to the chamber doors, which you now noticed were slightly ajar. Beyond them, barely visible in the darkness, you caught the faint glimmer of glowing green eyes.

Your heart raced, a primal fear coursing through you. The air seemed to thicken, heavy with an unseen presence.

But you steadied yourself, your breathing slowing as you reminded yourself of the protections you had set in place earlier that day.

You had taken every precaution, warding the chamber with runes and incantations, ensuring that no ill intent could cross its threshold. Alys Rivers might wield her strange gifts, but she would not claim Aemond—not without a fight.

With a courage you hadn’t known you possessed, you tightened your arms around Aemond’s sleeping form, drawing strength from the warmth of his body against yours. Lifting your chin, you stared directly into the glowing eyes, refusing to show weakness.

“I won’t let you have him,” you whispered fiercely, your voice a low, steady vow. “Not without a fight, witch.”

For a moment, the air seemed to hold its breath. The green eyes lingered for a moment longer, unblinking and cold, before retreating into the darkness.

Only when the oppressive feeling lifted did you allow yourself to exhale. A trembling sigh escaped your lips as you lowered your head, nestling into Aemond’s chest. His heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your ear, became a soothing rhythm, lulling you out of your fear.

As the night enveloped you once more, you clung to him, your resolve unshaken. Whatever forces sought to disturb your peace, you would face them.

For Aemond, for your babe, for the family you were building together—you would fight.

Hope You Enjoyed!

#aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x you #aemond targaryen smut

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emeritusemeritus · 6 months ago

Text

Charming Witches [Fred Weasley]

Title: Charming Witches [Fred Weasley]

Pairing: PregnantWife!Reader x Fred Weasley, background Hermione X Ron.

Timeline: Set after canon (Fred lives!)

Summary: Ron has an embarrassing issue and unluckily for him, Fred is the only one that can help.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, babies, established relationships. Sexual references throughout. Fred has a bit of a breeding kink- shock. Just a silly little drabble I couldn’t get out of my mind. Fred is a bit mean and sarcastic to Ron.

Word count: 1.6k

"You're, you know... well, sort of, um."

"You'll get there eventually Ronald," Fred jokes with a straight face, half listening to his brother's whispered fumbles whilst he pours himself and his wife a drink, not bothering to offer his youngest brother one. If Fred had even bothered to look at Ron's face, he'd have seen he was as pink in the cheeks as a bottle of love potion, his blush so vivid that he looked ready to erupt with a face full of dragon pox any moment.

Ron clears his throat, trying again, as he casts a nervous glance around the Burrow's kitchen, checking no one was hearing this. He didn't know why he'd chosen Fred of all people to have this conversation with, in theory George would have been a much better choice but he didn't have the same 'qualifications' as his twin, seeing that you and Fred had been together for absolutely years.

"Well, umm," he freezes under Fred's quick but glance, silently telling him to spit it out. "Well you and y/n, you're in sync aren't you... Sexually?"

Whatever Fred was expecting to hear eventually tumble out of his brother's mouth was not even close to the reality and he can't stop his eyebrows from shooting halfway up his forehead instinctively in disbelief.

"Did my very pregnant wife give it away?" He snarks, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of the beer he'd poured, openly enjoying the discomfort his brother was radiating. "That might have been your first clue."

Ron somehow looks paler underneath all the blushing and Fred is revelling in his ability to make his brother squirm.

"Well, yeah I suppose," Ron mumbles, beginning to get defensive and deeply regretting opening up to the trickier twin.

"Calm down Ronald," Fred says, "you and Granger having bedroom troubles?"

"No!" Ron bites back a little too quickly but his resolve breaks under a few seconds of Fred's probing gaze, arms folded in an unconscious power stance. "Maybe."

He's quiet again for a few moments and Fred is uncharacteristically patient whilst he waits for Ron to collect his thoughts.

"How many times would you say is normal, like in a week?"

"Don't know if there's a 'normal' Ronniekins," Fred says with a shrug. "Most days and twice on a Sunday?"

Though he hides it this time, Fred revels in the look of utter horror Ron's eyes convey and it's like he can see the cogs in his brain working on overdrive, emitting smoke as they crumble and break. Evidently, his answer was light years away from what Ron had hoped for. He knows that his wife being ready to pop at any second only helps Ron believe his words and he mentally thanks Godric Gryffindor himself for the overly fortunate timing.

"Don't think it matters mate really; as long as you're both expecting about the same." This time, Fred actually thinks he's being reassuring.

"She just wants to read all the bloody time, even in bed! It's like I'm a bloody afterthought."

"Have you even met your girlfriend?"

This time it's Fred who pauses when he meets the icy glare of his younger brother. He sighs and a slightly awkward silence falls between the pair as they both try to think of how to fix whatever was going on in Ron's mind, hoping that two head were better than one.

"You two alright?"

Ron jumps out of his skin when he hears your slightly concerned greeting upon seeing the two brothers, Fred especially, in near silence.

"Don't tell me you forgot I was here," you joke to Ron, walking over to Fred as he holds out your waiting drink. "Been your sister in law for five years! Plus the bump makes me pretty memorable," you add with a smile.

"I'll say," Fred says with a wink, the cheeky glint in his eyes ever more sparkling as he looks at your bulging tummy, unashamedly ogling your pregnant form. You gently nudged him, silently telling him to be quiet but as you do so, you catch a slightly glare aimed at your husband from Ron.

"Am I interrupting? " You ask outright, sensing tension.

"No," says Fred almost immediately.

"A bit," Ron admits, cringing slightly before he lets out a loud yelp, having been smacked upside the back of the head by his older brother for his disrespect. He grumbles slightly under his breath, absently rubbing the back of his head where Fred's hand had connected to him and let's put a deep sigh.

"You're a girl," he says, averting his eyes anywhere except directly on your own.

Fred snickers at Ron's feeble and clumsy attempt at starting the conversation but opts to take a long swig of his beverage to avoid anymore laughter spilling out, though his delight still shines through his eyes.

"Only when it's not a full moon," you jest, trying to slice through the awkwardness Ron is emitting.

"Forget it, you're as bad as he is."

"Firstly I'm offended," you say, reaching out for his arm gently as you feel his begin to pull away, ignoring your husband's opposition. "Secondly, yes I'm a girl... go on."

"Well," he pauses, gathering courage, long ginger lashes covering his shy eyes that still raise no further than your ankles, "say Fred suddenly didn't want sex."

"Wouldn't happen."

"Fred shush."

"Well... say suddenly he wanted to read at nighttime over having sex."

"Again, wouldn't happen."

"Fred!" You hush him again, this time more firmly.

"How would you go about trying to, you know, fix it."

You were certain you'd never seen Ron this vividly pink in the cheeks before, he looked like he'd been decorated up to display in Umbridge's office.

"That's the problem? Hermione wants to read instead of sex?" You ask, not really seeing the big issue, but trying to say it gently so that you didn't spook him.

He nods, "but it's all the time," he adds, justifying his gripe.

"Well," you say, lowering yourself into Arthur's seat at the head of the kitchen table only a few feet away, unable to stand much longer. "Play her at her own game."

"Eh?" The brothers ask in sync, their faces scrunched into an almost identical confused expression. You simply shrug.

"Make yourself less available to her, pull back a bit," you say, taking a sip of your drink to wet your lips. "Start reading in bed just like she does, act like you're not interested in just sex."

"So I act like I'm not bothered even though I am?" He asks, still not following what you're saying.

"Sort of," you say, trying to find a better way of wording it.

"Reading's always been her favourite thing to do hasn't it? Join in on it. I'd bet on my life that she has a fantasy of you in bed shirtless reading beside her. Stop making advances, let her come to you."

"That's actually quite clever," he says after a few moments of consideration.

"It's been known."

"Shirtless?" He asks with a frown, seemingly fixating on that point.

You chuckle nodding, "well you have to still appeal to her, you don't want it to just be a study session do you?"

"Right, right," he says with a nod, a slight smile returning to his face before it dramatically falls away in an almost comedic move.

"I don't have a book."

"What do you mean you don't have a book?" Fred says in a flabbergasted manner, earning a slight but unconscious raise of your eyebrow. Though you didn't comment on the irony of his words considering you couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him so much as skim the daily prophet.

"I don't really have one," Ron mumbles quietly, "unless my quidditch annual counts."

"It doesn't," you say firmly.

"So I need a book," Ron says firmly, as if he was cementing the plan in his mind, nodding along with his thoughts until he finally makes eye contact. "Thanks y/n," he says with a smile and a nod of his head before he walks away, a bounce in his step.

"Think it's actually gonna work?" Fred asks as you pry yourself out of the chair and walk to stand next to him as you place your empty cup in the sink.

You let out a little chortle and shrug, "well if it doesn't, at least Hermione can read in peace."

Laughter bursts out of Fred and he pulls you close, bump nestled between you as he delights in your words, realising you had absolutely no idea if the plan would work.

Later that evening when everyone was preparing to leave the Burrow after another wonderful family dinner, Ron pulls you and Fred to one side before he left, away from the eyes and ears of everyone else.

"Thanks again for earlier," he says, clearly feeling more at ease about his issue. You smile warmly in reply, happy to help.

"No problem little brother," Fred beams, as if it was him that had offered any advice.

"Oi Ron," you call out quietly to get his attention as he turns to leave. With a smile, you reach down into the bag on your shoulder and pull out an item you'd gleefully searched for in Fred and George's old bedroom after the conversation. "Just incase my advice doesn't work."

Ron frowns reaching for the item you were handing him, a frown that only deepens as he reads the title of the book he was now holding. Fred's laughter is sudden and booming as his eyes land on the once familiar item that had him cracking up laughing, realising instantly what it was.

Twelve fail-safe ways to charm witches.

"Oh piss off."

Taglist part 1

@ferntv

@aigowen

@that-lame-ghoul9000

@jules-with-stars

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@seppys-return-to-madness

@wtvbabes

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@nighttimewrites

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@comicgollum20

@moonieseyelash

@marisimps

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@70s-chic

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@autumnboo126

@kpopgirlbtssvt

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist

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d-z20 · 1 month ago

Text

Resistance is Futile (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: Agatha and Rio have claimed you as their pet but you're not going down without a fight and are defiant to their advances. The two witches are undeterred and keep trying, knowing they'll break you eventually

- OR -

They've finally grown tired of your reluctance, they fuck you with their magic strap-ons until you can't think (or walk)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, Top Agatha, Top Rio, Pet Reader, dub-conish, reader refered to with she/her pronouns, magic straps, magically enhanced orgasms, voyeurism, breeding, marking, degradation, praise, magical restraints, Agatha and Rio are dark in this universe, kind of stockholm syndrome, overstimulation, possession/ownership, throat fucking, cum as lube, maybe more who knows

Words: 4.4k

A/N: So in my head the magic straps in this are like similar vibes to Celestial Agatha in What If so you know: gay and powerful. It's easy to see how Rio got Agatha pregnant. Fic req

AO3 | Masterlist

You were not going to make this easy for them. That much was clear. The long, shadowed corridors of Agatha’s lair feel like a prison, but you don’t care. No, your defiance is all you have left—the only thing that gives you any semblance of control in a world where you are nothing more than their possession, their thing, their pet.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself to survive.

Agatha’s eyes follow you as you pace, her gaze calculating and predatory. Rio sits at the table, arms crossed, her sharp smile never wavering. Their attention feels like a weight pressing against your skin, heavy and suffocating, like predators waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“You think you can defy us forever?” Agatha asks, her voice low and honeyed, sliding under your skin like a blade. “You think you can stay strong in this cage of your own making?”

You stop in your tracks, meeting her gaze with fiery resolve. “I’m not your pet,” you spit, defiance simmering in your voice.

Agatha chuckles, rich and dark, the sound curling through the air like smoke. “I’ve seen stronger wills break under pressure. Yours will too. Just wait.”

Her words are a subtle threat that lingers in the air, but you refuse to let her see the sting. “We’ll see,” you mutter, arms crossing over your chest as if to shield yourself from the weight of her gaze.

Rio’s grin widens as she leans forward, her sharp eyes studying you like a puzzle she’s dying to solve. “You know,” she muses, her voice smooth as silk, “you make this so much more fun than it needs to be. But I think you’re wrong about one thing. You are ours.”

—

Days bleed into weeks, and every moment feels like a war. They test you constantly. Punishments come as sharp reminders of your place—subtle and precise—but they’re always followed by praise that’s just as cutting. Agatha’s actions are cruel and calculated, leaving you trembling with exhaustion but too stubborn to yield. Rio’s methods are softer, more insidious, sinking under your skin like an itch you can’t scratch.

“I’ve seen stronger witches than you fall apart,” Agatha muses one evening, her fingers tracing the sigil that glows faintly on your wrist. The magic embedded in it burns, sparking through your veins like electricity, and you barely manage to suppress the flinch. “What makes you so special?”

You refuse to scream; you won’t give them the satisfaction.

“This supposed to break me?” You sneer, voice shaky but defiant. “Because it’s not working.”

Her lips curl, amusement dancing in her sharp eyes. “You think you’re strong? Maybe. But strength is nothing without control.”

Rio stands in the doorway, her dark eyes gleaming with curiosity. “She’s right,” she says, her voice velvet and steel. “Strength alone won’t save you when you’re as lost as you are. But you could find control... with us.”

You scoff, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “I don’t need either of you.”

But the look they exchange, the promise and challenge flickering between them, makes your chest tighten.

—

A week later, they come to you together. Agatha’s magic is constant, clinging to you like smoke, pervasive, and invasive. Rio’s touch is gentle yet commanding; her movements slow and deliberate, as though she’s teaching your body how to respond to her. You hate how easily it works.

It begins with something small. Agatha’s fingers brush over the curve of your neck, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “So defiant,” she purrs, her voice a dark promise. “But I see cracks in your armour.”

Your breath catches, and you hate yourself for it. The pressure of their presence is overwhelming, making your head swim. Rio steps closer, her hand lightly brushing against yours, her grin dangerous and knowing. “Maybe we’re getting somewhere after all.”

—

The next night, they return. Agatha’s magic binds your movements, a reminder of the power she wields over you. Rio removes the physical restraints, her hands steady and deliberate, as though she’s peeling away the layers of your resistance. You fight, struggling against the invisible force that holds you still, but it doesn’t stop them.

And for the first time, you start to wonder if you even want them to.

It’s late when the breaking point comes. You stand in front of them, all your defences stripped bare, the cracks in your resolve widening by the second. Agatha’s gaze is unwavering, sharp enough to pierce through every wall you’ve built.

“You can’t keep hiding from us,” she snarls, her voice low and commanding, threading through you like a spell. “You’re ours. The sooner you accept it, the sooner we can turn pain into pleasure.”

Your head shakes, but there’s a tremor in your voice you can’t mask. “I’m not yours.”

“You are.” Her words are a whisper, a command, and they press down on you like a weight you can’t escape. Your knees weaken, and you gasp, overwhelmed by the sheer power of her presence.

Rio steps closer, her hand curling around your arm in a grip that’s both firm and comforting. Her touch sends a shiver racing through you as she tilts her head, her voice a soft murmur. “Stop fighting it. Stop pretending this isn’t what you need.”

Their proximity is suffocating. Your body trembles with desire, with the ache of something deep inside you finally breaking free. The walls you’ve spent weeks fortifying come crumbling down in a single moment.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of surrender.

Agatha’s lips curve into a slow, knowing smile. She steps forward, her hand settling at the back of your neck, her fingers cool against your skin as she pulls you toward her. Her kiss is slow and deliberate, a claim that leaves you breathless. The taste of her is intoxicating, and it leaves you reeling.

Rio’s laughter is soft and low as she moves behind you, her hands settling on your hips. “There she is,” she muses, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. Her teeth graze the sensitive skin, sending a jolt through your body that makes you curse under your breath.

“Fuck you both,” you manage to hiss, but the heat in your voice betrays you.

Agatha pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Such a sharp tongue,” she says, almost to herself, as if considering how best to silence it. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

With a flick of her fingers, magic courses through you, curling around your wrists and pulling them above your head. The force isn’t rough, but it’s unyielding, holding you firmly as glowing tendrils bind you in place. Your pulse pounds as Agatha steps back, her eyes raking over you like she’s admiring a masterpiece.

Rio’s hands slide to the hem of your shirt, and with a whispered word, the fabric disappears, leaving your skin bare and exposed. Her palms are cold as they trail over your stomach, her nails scraping lightly against your ribs.

“Is this supposed to impress me?” You snap, though your voice is breathless and uneven.

Rio laughs again, the sound rich and dark. “No, sweetheart,” she purrs. “This is supposed to ruin you.”

Agatha’s magic shifts again, a tangible wave of heat brushing against your skin, making you arch involuntarily as it settles low in your abdomen. Her fingers move through the air, weaving invisible patterns, and you feel it—a phantom touch tracing up your thighs, teasing, testing. Your breath hitches, and you tug against the restraints, hating the way your body reacts to the sensation.

“You’re trembling,” Agatha observes, her voice silk and steel. “Tell me, pet—are you afraid? Or just desperate?”

“Go to hell,” you snap, but the words sound weaker now, edged with something you don’t want to acknowledge.

Rio’s hands move lower, her touch firm as her fingers hook into your waistband. Another muttered spell, and your clothing vanishes completely, leaving you bare under their gaze. Her nails rake lightly against your inner thigh, drawing a shudder from you that you can’t suppress.

“Look at her,” Rio murmurs to Agatha, her voice heavy with satisfaction. “So defiant, but her body knows better.”

Agatha steps closer, her hand ghosting over your chest, her magic lacing every movement with electricity. When her fingers brush your skin, it’s as if she’s leaving a trail of heat in her wake, her touch deliberate and possessive. “Let’s see how long you can keep up this act,” she says, her voice low and commanding.

You’re trembling now, every nerve alight as their magic weaves through your senses, blurring the line between pain and pleasure, control and surrender. Every touch feels amplified, every breath stolen, until all you can do is cling to the last threads of resistance—and even those are slipping through your fingers.

Agatha’s magic pulses, a living thing coiling around your body, dragging sensations across your skin that feel like whispers and lightning all at once. Her lips are back on yours, devouring, commanding, and pulling you deeper into her orbit. The taste of her is heady, and it leaves you reeling, your legs trembling as if the floor beneath you has given way.

Behind you, Rio’s hands continue their slow, maddening exploration. Her fingers dig into your hips, grounding you just enough to keep you teetering on the edge. Her mouth is at your neck now, lips pressing hot kisses against your skin, teeth grazing the sensitive spot that makes you gasp.

"Such pretty sounds," Rio mumbles, her voice dripping with amusement as her hands slide down, teasing at the edges of where you want her most. "And you’re trying so hard to hold back. It’s adorable, really."

Your jaw tightens, but your body betrays you, hips twitching under her touch. “I hate you,” you breathe, though the words lack conviction, each syllable faltering as Agatha tilts your chin up to meet her sharp, knowing gaze.

“Hate?” Agatha repeats, her tone mocking as her thumb traces along your jaw. "No, pet, what you hate is how much you want this. How much you need it."

Her words settle over you like a weight, and the truth burns. You jerk against the glowing binds holding your wrists above your head, but the magic only tightens, pulling you taut and vulnerable between them. The heat of Agatha’s magic licks over your skin, and your breath hitches as the phantom touch returns—this time teasing higher, brushing against your inner thighs in a way that makes you bite back a whimper.

“Such a stubborn little thing,” Agatha muses, her fingers brushing over your chest, her nails scraping lightly. "But look at you now—shaking like a leaf, your body begging for more even while you try so hard to keep that sharp tongue of yours.”

Rio’s hands press against your thighs, urging them apart, her touch firm and deliberate. "Let’s see if we can help her find her manners,” she says with a smirk. “Think we should ruin her properly this time?”

Agatha hums in agreement, her magic shifting in intensity, winding tighter around you. The phantom sensation becomes sharper, more precise, brushing against your sensitive clit, drawing a cry from your lips that you can’t suppress. Agatha’s smile widens. “Oh, darling. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Let’s hear more.”

You stutter out a curse, but it dissolves into a gasp as Rio’s mouth finds the curve of your shoulder, her teeth leaving marks that send heat racing through your veins. Her hands, firm and demanding, leave no part of you untouched, tracing patterns down your sides, across your stomach, and lower still.

“Such a mess,” Rio murmurs, her voice heavy with satisfaction as her nails rake over your thighs, making you jerk. “You’re dripping, sweetheart. Just admit it—you like being our plaything.”

“Fuck—fuck you,” you stammer, though the heat in your voice betrays you, every word trembling with desperation.

Agatha laughs softly, the sound rich and dangerous, her magic surging in response. The phantom touch turns relentless, teasing, and tormenting, and you arch involuntarily, a broken moan spilling from your lips. Your knees buckle, but Rio’s hands are there, steadying you, holding you exactly where they want you.

“That’s it,” Agatha purrs, leaning in to press her lips against the corner of your mouth. “Let go, pet. Let us take you apart.”

Rio’s fingers find you again, slipping between your thighs with devastating precision, and your head falls back against her shoulder as your body betrays you completely. “There she is,” Rio murmurs, her voice a low growl in your ear. “Knew you couldn’t hold out forever.”

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, the world spinning as Agatha steps closer, her hands cupping your face to make you meet her gaze. “Look at me, Y/N,” she commands, her voice leaving no room for disobedience. “I want to see the moment you break.”

You can’t fight it anymore. The sensations are too much—the heat of their touch, the pull of Agatha’s magic, the way Rio’s fingers work you with merciless expertise. Your body trembles violently, and you cry out, shattering under their combined efforts.

But they don’t stop.

Agatha’s magic shifts again, coaxing another wave of pleasure from you before you’ve even recovered from the first. Rio’s hands are unrelenting, her touch alternating between rough and gentle, keeping you on edge, leaving you helpless against the onslaught.

“Pathetic,” Rio says, her tone gleeful as she watches your body twitch and tremble. “Completely undone. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You try to respond, but all that escapes is a broken moan, your voice cracking as your knees finally give out. Only the magical binds and Rio’s grip keep you upright as Agatha’s lips brush against your ear. “You’re ours, Y/N,” she whispers, the words sinking into your very core.

With a flick of her fingers, Agatha adjusts the magic holding you in place. The binds shift, no longer just keeping you upright but suspending you in midair, as if resting on an invisible bed. The sensation is strange but oddly comforting, the magic cradling your weight effortlessly. Your arms remain bound above you, leaving you completely exposed.

Rio moves to stand by your head, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your damp forehead as she smirks down at you. Meanwhile, Agatha positions herself at your feet, her glowing eyes raking over you as though admiring her handiwork.

Agatha’s smirk grows as she steps closer, her fingers glowing faintly with her signature purple magic. “We’ll start slow,” her voice a soft caress, though the wicked glint in her eyes promises anything but gentleness. Her hand slides between your legs, her touch precise and knowing, and you can’t stop the sharp inhale as her fingers begin to work you open.

“Relax, pet,” she whispers, her voice low and commanding, as her other hand moves to your thigh, holding you steady even as the magic does most of the work.

At the same time, Rio hooks her fingers under your chin, tilting your face up to meet her gaze. “Open,” she orders, her tone leaving no room for disobedience. You hesitate for the briefest moment, but the commanding heat in her eyes makes resistance futile. Slowly, you part your lips.

“Good girl,” Rio purrs, her magic flaring as A glowing, dark strap materializes at her hips. Without hesitation, she guides herself into your mouth, her grip firm as she sets a punishing pace. The sensation is overwhelming, the stretch and weight of her filling you completely as Agatha’s fingers curl inside you, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body.

“You’re taking us so well,” Agatha coos, her tone mocking yet almost affectionate. Her thumb brushes over your sensitive bundle of nerves, her movements deliberate as she stretches you open. “See, Rio? She’s learning her place.”

Rio hums in agreement, her hips rocking forward, forcing you to take her deeper. “She’s a quick learner,” she mutters, her tone dripping with amusement. “But I think she can do better.” Her hand tangles in your hair, holding you steady as she thrusts into your throat, her breath hitching with each movement. The magic allows her to feel everything, and her low moans of pleasure send heat pooling low in your stomach.

Tears prick your eyes, and your throat protests, but you push through, the weight of their control pressing down on you until you’re trembling under their combined attention. Agatha’s fingers curl, hitting a spot inside you that makes you cry out around Rio, your body jerking in response. Rio groans, the sound rough and needy as her hips stutter, the magic amplifying every sensation as she pushes herself closer to the edge.

Her breath hitches, and a deep, guttural moan escapes her throat as she pulls back abruptly. “Fuck,” she rasps, her voice breaking with raw need as her strap pulses in your mouth, just shy of her release. She withdraws with a deliberate slowness, her eyes dark with satisfaction as she grips the base of her strap.

Rio circles you with slow, measured steps, her predatory gaze dragging over your trembling form as she moves to stand by Agatha. “Switching places for a moment, darling,” she smirks as she traces her fingers along your calf. Agatha just chuckles, her magic flaring as her own glowing strap begins to materialise at her hips, its sleek, enchanted form matching the dangerous glint in her eyes.

With a shuddering exhale, Rio begins to jerk herself off, her movements slow at first but growing more desperate as her climax quickly builds again. The room fills with the sound of her ragged breaths and low, throaty groans, the raw need in her voice making your own pulse race. As her release finally hits, a long, drawn-out groan tears from her throat. Her body trembling with the intensity of her orgasm as she cums all over your pussy. “A little something to make things easier for you, darling.” Rio says after a moment, her voice husky as she steps back, her satisfaction evident in the smug grin curling her lips.

“How thoughtful of you,” Agatha chuckles, her hand aligning the tip of her strap against your entrance, which was now dripping with a mix of your arousal and Rio’s cum. “Let’s see how well our little pet takes it.”

The stretch is slow and deliberate as Agatha pushes into you, the slickness making it easier, though no less overwhelming. She fills you completely, her hips moving in slow, devastating thrusts that leave you gasping and trembling. “That’s it,” she whispers, her hands gripping your thighs as her rhythm builds. “Take it all. Good pet.”

Rio’s eyes glint with hunger as she watches, arms crossed and shoulders relaxed as though she isn’t buzzing with anticipation. Her lips curl into a sly smile as Agatha sets the pace, each thrust precise and devastating. "Look at her,” Rio remarks, her voice thick with satisfaction. “Already such a mess. She’s perfect like this. Just for us."

Agatha’s answering laugh is low and sultry, her grip on your thighs tightening as she drives into you with more force. Each movement sends jolts of pleasure tearing through your body, amplified by the hum of her magic. She leans down, her breath warm against your neck, and you feel the sharp graze of her teeth. A shiver runs through you as she bites down, hard enough to leave her mark.

“She needs more,” Agatha purrs, her voice laced with wicked amusement. “Doesn’t she, Rio?”

Rio hums in agreement, stepping behind you. Her hands glide over your trembling form, possessive and firm as she tilts your head back, exposing your throat. "Let’s make sure she doesn’t forget who she belongs to," she hums, her lips brushing your ear before sinking her teeth into the sensitive skin just above your collarbone. The sharp sting pulls a broken moan from your lips, and you feel the curve of her smile against your skin.

“Tell us who owns you,” Agatha demands, her voice sharp and commanding as she drives into you with unrelenting force. Her magic courses through you, burning in all the right ways, overwhelming your senses until you’re teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

“Y-you,” you stammer, the word barely a whisper as your body trembles under her onslaught.

“And?” Her pace quickens, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.

“Rio,” you gasp, tears streaking your cheeks as your release builds, unbearable and all-consuming.

Agatha hums in satisfaction, her movements growing rougher as her own breath hitches. The magic connects her to every sensation—the friction and heat dragging a deep, guttural moan from her throat. “Good girl,” she groans, her voice strained with pleasure. With a particularly deep thrust, she sends you tumbling over the edge. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum tonight, as a fresh climax hits with an intensity that leaves you sobbing, the pleasure tearing through you until you’re left trembling, every muscle quivering with aftershocks.

But Agatha doesn’t stop. She presses deeper, drawing out every last spark of sensation, her own shuddering release building as she feels you clenching around her. An almost feral growl escapes her as her hips snap forward in one final thrust, her movements stilling as you feel her twitching inside you, magic amplifying the waves of her release. Her grip tightens on your thighs, her nails digging into your skin as her body shudders against yours.

When she finally pulls back, her breath comes in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as she stands tall, a smug, satisfied smirk curling her lips. “Mine,” she murmurs, her voice heavy with possession, as her fingers trail over the fresh marks she’s left on your skin, her touch lingering like a brand. A slick, warm sensation follows as her release drips out of you, a vivid reminder of the claim she’s just staked.

Rio steps forward then, her hands sliding up and down your trembling thighs, her touch deliberate as if savouring every inch of you. She hums softly, her lips quirking in amusement as she watches Agatha’s cum trickle down. “Messy,” she remarks with a low chuckle, her tone almost mocking.

Leaning in, Rio gathers it on her fingers and pushes it back inside you, her grin widening as you gasp at the intrusion. “Can’t let that go to waste,” she purrs, her tone thick with satisfaction.

Only then does she line herself up fully, her hands gripping your hips tightly as she thrusts into you with brutal precision. The pace is relentless from the start, her hips slamming against yours in a rhythm that leaves no room for reprieve.

“Fuck, you take my cock so well,” Rio growls, her head tipping back as she buries herself in deeper. Her pace is relentless, each movement sending fresh waves of pleasure crashing through you. Her nails dig into your hips, and she drags you back against her, forcing you to take her deeper still, making you cry out in pleasure. “I thought you were defiant,” she mocks, her voice dripping with dark amusement. “And yet, now you’re practically begging for it.”

All you can manage is a broken moan, your body arching into her as the pleasure blurs the edges of your thoughts. Every thrust leaves you gasping, every scrape of her nails and bite of her teeth reducing you further. Rio leans down, her teeth grazing your shoulder before biting hard enough to make you cry out. "That’s right," she murmurs, her voice low and rough. “You’re ours to ruin.”

Her movements become erratic, her breaths ragged as she slams her hips into you, every twitch of your already overstimulated cunt pushing her closer to the edge. “Fuck,” Rio hisses, her voice breaking as her hips snap forward, her own release tearing through her with a force that leaves her trembling. She holds you tight, her head dropped back in pure ecstasy, a rough groan escaping her throat as the magic amplifies every pulse and throb of your body around her.

Rio doesn’t pull out immediately, instead grinding her hips against you, dragging out the sensations until both of your bodies finally stop twitching. Her chest rises and falls heavily, and she leans forward, pressing a possessive kiss to the curve of your shoulder before straightening and calling over her wife. “Come here, my love.”

She adjusts her position, kneeling between your legs, her hands firm on your thighs as she spreads them wider to give Agatha a clear view. “Look at this,” she says, her tone dripping with amusement as she watches their combined release trickling from your thoroughly used body. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Agatha’s sharp eyes gleam with approval as she steps closer, her lips curving into a satisfied smirk. “Absolutely perfect,” she purrs, crossing her arms as she leans in slightly, watching intently as Rio moves between your legs.

Rio’s tongue flicks out, her movements slow and deliberate as she begins to ‘clean you up,’ her warm, wet strokes collecting every drop of their cum. The sensation is unbearable, the overstimulation pushing your body past its limits as each pass of her tongue sends sharp jolts of pleasure and pain coursing through you.

“P-please,” you stutter, your voice cracking, but your plea only earns a low chuckle from Rio as her hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place.

“Shhh, pet,” Rio whispers against your skin, her breath warm as she continues her slow, torturous movements. “We’re not done until we say we’re done.”

Your body jerks under her attention, the overstimulation finally cresting into another peak that crashes through you with devastating force. Your release hits like a thunderclap, leaving you sobbing and trembling as Rio licks you clean, her tongue never missing a single drop.

By the time Rio is finished having her fun, you’re a trembling, stuttering mess, every shred of resistance melted away. They’ve undone you completely, your body and mind utterly spent. As Agatha waves a hand, the magical restraints dissolve, and you slump forward, only for Rio to catch your limp form.

“Good girl,” Agatha affirms, her voice soft yet laced with smug satisfaction as she strokes your hair.

Rio hums her agreement, her arms tightening around you as she presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re ours now,” she whispers, her voice filled with possessive pride.

And in the haze of pleasure and surrender, you don’t argue.

-----

I told myself I'd get the next chapter of Neighbourly Care out before New Years but then this fic possessed me. Oh well, if I managed to get my degrees by writing everything the night before I can certainly do the same for my fics 😤😤

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Taglist: @danveration @aceday @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @sunshine-makes-flowers-grow @gbab09 @vigilante24ish @marvelwomenarehot0

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gghostwriter · 3 months ago

Text

Time is a Fickle Thing

Girl Dad!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer realizes how important it is to occupy the present and be active in the little things Trope: Fluff & Comfort w.c: 1.48k a/n: this was inspired by an essay I read over the week titled ‘Learning to Measure time in Love & Loss’ by Chris Huntington. It’s very profound so I would suggest you go read it—Andrew Garfield also read it on the podcast called ‘Modern Love’ so go listen to that too. Not proofread. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

There was still an array of paperwork to be done in his desk at Quantico. Case files that needed to be written down and reviewed by his unit chief, Emily.

The past Dr. Spencer Reid—the one who was still wet behind the ears and green in the eyes of his team members, would have found the droll of filling out forms therapeutic. But now at his age of 40, everything else—typing out information and grading essays, were chores that demanded his every waking attention. He had found himself agitated with the looming workload that seemed never ending.

“Daddy,” a sweet voice murmured beside him. The source—a small body nestling closer to his side.

He hummed in reply, absentmindedly as his brain was preoccupied with estimating how many hours he needed to finish checking submissions in lieu of sleep.

Tiny hands patted his cheeks. “Daddy,” the sweet voice now coated with a hint of urgency.

Spencer’s hazel eyes locked with a pair of replicas. “Yes, Aurora?”

“What happens next?”

Shaking his head, he glanced down at her choice for a bedtime story, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and realized it was the end of a chapter. Reading together was a sacred ritual he formed ever since he had found out you were pregnant.

It made you giggle when you pointed out that she, still a fetus cocooned safely in your body, would not understand the works of The Giving Tree or The Rainbow Fish. He rattled of statistics that although she couldn’t understand the meaning, she could still hear quite well.

In truth, he wanted her to know him—his voice, his presence. Her father who was quite scared to bring in an innocent into the world.

Still, scared even.

Her pink bottom lip jutting out into a frown, reminiscent of the ‘look’ his wife gives to him that renders him speechless and pliable to demands.

It was fascinating how you and him created such a perfect combination—a seven year old daughter who was into reading, as he was, and confident, as you were.

“Daddy, what happens next?”

The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile. The look of exasperation on her tiny face was adorable.

Everything about her was captivating.

“Well, sweet pea,” he began to close the book. “That would be a story for another night.”

“But—”

“Remember what we promised?”

She sighed, gripping her white bunny—a gift from Aunt Penelope, closer. “One chapter only.”

“That’s right,” tucking the stray tendrils away from her angelic face.

As he started to stand up from his precarious lying position on her gingham patterned bed, Aurora’s tiny warm hands gave his sleeves a double tug.

“You’re forgetting something, Daddy.”

He leaned in to give her forehead a kiss.

“Is that it?” He teased.

She giggled, her feet kicking under the covers. “No!”

Brushing his fingers behind her neck—her tickle spot that matched yours. “What about this one?”

Aurora squealed, her infectious happy energy warming his heart. She was a treasure and he felt blessed to be considered her father.

“Stop Daddy, stop!” She sat up, hands crossing over her chest to state she meant business.

Spencer conceded, showing his hands in front of him—a sign of surrender. If she was standing, he could just imagine her little foot stomping on the ground and taking in a wide stance she learned from observing Uncle Morgan.

“Mommy always said you never forget anything,” she argued. “She said you have an ei-eid—perfect memory.”

“Eidetic memory, Aurora, and yes, mommy is right.”

She tilted her head then, her wavy hazel hair swaying behind her. “Then how come you don’t remember?”

“How about giving me a clue then?”

She huffed. “Best part, worst part, Daddy! You forgot to ask me!”

Oh.

That was another ritual he added when Aurora started to learn how to string words along. Although there were nights away from a case that he could not read to her, he always made it a point to ask her via call the best and worst part of her day. It made him feel connected with her even though he was miles away.

“Oh how could I forget, sweet pea,” Spencer sat back on the bed, tucking her back as he went. “Now, can I know what your worst part is?”

She went silent for a moment. Deep in thought, brows scrunching together.

“When Mommy didn’t allow me to wear my new rain boots to school. She said it’s because it wasn’t raining but I really wanted to wear them.”

He laughed, having heard of the small disagreement you had which made you late for work. “We only wear rain boots when the weather is sad, remember?”

Aurora nodded.

“And what about the best part?”

She smiled, the answer quickly spilling out of her. “This is, Daddy.”

Spencer could feel the effect her simple words had to his system. It warmed his heart that expanded for two when she came into the world. It put a halt to any train of thought in his brain.

“Want to know a secret?” He whispered. “This is mine too.”

Tiny hands rubbed her drooping eyes before further nestling in her bed. “Good night, Daddy. I love you.”

He slowly crept out of the room.

“I love you too,” he flicked the light off and closed the door behind him.

Spencer found himself repeating those words and slowly lamenting over missed milestones in her burgeoning life.

Her first steps.

Her first tooth falling out.

Her latest family presentation in school in which you recorded her explaining where he was and what he does for a living—catching bad guys.

In his focused dedication in trying to make the country a better place for her future, Spencer had forgotten to appreciate the present, her growth, and the very notion that time could not be reversed to live the mundane things that make everyday worth living.

Aristotle once said ‘time crumbles things; everything grows old under the power of time and is forgotten through the lapse of time.’

It was a concept he was familiar with by the ripe age of nine, having spent his early youth in isolation and soaking up every thinking thought from the great minds that had roamed this planet before him.

He never forgot the words—not that his memory would allow him to.

And yet, as he found himself sitting on his desk, a cup of fresh tea in front of him, the phrase came to surface like a forgotten pair of lucky socks hidden within the depths of a cabinet.

Perhaps it was his heart that kept it hidden or better yet forgotten, a feat on its own. Perhaps during his tender age, he had yet sculpted the capacity to digest what it meant to his very soul.

Or perhaps, it was a sign from the unknown to focus and live in the present.

She was growing and becoming her very own person right before his unfocused eyes.

Spencer sighed, feeling a pair of arms glide to wrap around his shoulders.

“What’s got you so down, handsome?” You left a kiss on his cheek.

He intertwined your hands together. “It’s just—I missed out on so many milestones. Does that make me an absentee father?”

You walked around him before propping yourself on his lap. “I don’t think so, Spence. Why? What brought this on?”

“I found myself thinking about work when I should be focused on spending time—reading to Aurora. It made me feel sad that she was looking forward to our nightly routine and there I was, thinking about paperwork.”

There was a flash of sadness in your eyes as you caressed his cheek. “That’s alright. We all have our moments, Spence. You just got caught up with life and the responsibilities it has given you,” a lithe finger twisted a loose tendril blocking hos vision. “I know—we know, Aurora and I, that you being busy doesn’t mean you love us any less.”

“I just wish I wouldn’t miss anymore, love.”

You trailed kisses all over his cheeks, the corners of his mouth, before landing perfectly on his awaiting lips. “And I know you’d try your best moving forward.”

“Have I told you I love you?” He teased, arms securely on your waist. “Because I do and I feel lucky to have an understanding partner as you.”

“I love you too, Spence, and Aurora loves you too,” you giggled. “And between you and me, I think you’re still her favorite parent.”

Head thrown back, he laughed, thighs shaking from your admission. “It’s because I cave more to her whims more than you do.”

“Well, there’s that too.”

You gave him another kiss.

“We can try to be more present next time—together. I won’t let you doubt yourself. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

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fandomnerd9602 · 10 months ago

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Y/N cuddles with Wanda on their bed…

Y/N: can I touch your belly?

Wanda: (giggles) it’s your baby too, detka

Y/N: I know. But you’re your own person and I didn’t want to infringe on your space

Wanda: I’d be more insulted if you didn’t touch my belly (giggles)

Y/N: oh alright

Y/N gently caresses Wanda’s pregnant belly. The babies kick…

Y/N nuzzles Wanda, conveying every ounce of love they can give…

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #the scarlet witch #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff incorrect quotes #pregnant wanda #wandavision #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n

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cthulhus-curse · 7 days ago

Text

Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 10,031

Warnings: Drugging, Dubious Consent, Impact Play, Jealousy, Manipulation, Mind Control, Mommy Kink, Nursing Kink, Possessive Sex, Sadism, Smut, Somnophilia, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Fingering, Womb Tattoos | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: You never expected to meet the twins you had given away over a decade prior on your 29th birthday, but after a chance encounter, you visit the quaint little town of Westview to find more than you bargained for at the hands of its mayor — the dark, elusive, puppeteering Wanda Maximoff. (Once Upon A Time AU)

The journey to New Jersey was seemingly endless. All which could be seen from the inside of your yellow bug were dark trees which embraced the dimly-lit roads of the rural side of the state. It had not been your plan to drive through the most remote part of the tristate area, living in the depths of New York City yourself, but for a spontaneous birthday trip, it was entertaining to say the least.

You eyed the two small children sleeping in the back of the car through the rearview mirror. It had been years since you dared remember the twins you gave away over a decade before. You were young and stupid, getting pregnant before you had even finished your first year of college. Not being fit to be a parent, you decided to have an outsider raise them. Although you never met the one who adopted them, you just knew they were in good hands.

The last thing you had expected was for them to show up at your doorstep on your twenty-ninth birthday. Your phone was in hand ready to call security about two missing children, but after the one with longer hair, Tommy he said his name was, told a story about twins you once gave away, you nearly passed out from disbelief.

They had carried around a rather curious book filled with various comic book stories. You knew them from passing through stores and seeing such familiar names present, but when they each told you they were real people in their town, it took all your energy not to laugh then and there. After brushing it off as a simple case of being children, listening in to them talking about how various people were from such stories, such as their mother being the Scarlet Witch, the waitress at the dinner Black Widow, their psychologist Hulk, among others, you made up your mind.

Not trusting a train to take them back home in the late hours of the night, you drove out to a quaint little town called Westview, New Jersey. You could only assume it was as small as a simple street without much surrounding it as it didn’t even show up online, but with a map – old-fashioned as it was – the boys gave you, you set forth to bring them home. The least you expected was for them to keep you company through the drive, knowing not to get close or else you’d get attached once again, but as soon as you left the city, they passed out.

“I can’t believe I have to drive to creepy New Jersey on my goddamn birthday,” you grumbled. There wasn’t much waiting for you at home, only a frozen pizza to heat up while you watched reruns of your favorite comedy shows, but then again, that was the only entertainment you cared for.

Far too afraid to awaken the slumbering children, no music was put on. You carried lazy, exhausted eyes while driving through the empty roads, confused at the fact that it was a seemingly desolate path no one dared venture forth. It had already been an hour since the last sign of civilization was seen.

When you finally saw the sign reading ‘Westview’, relief shot through you. Only a few more minutes and you’d be driving back home to resume your boring night. Impromptu babysitting was not something you’d signed up for.

“Hey, little runts, we’re here,” you said while turning around to shake the boys awake. “Come on, where’s your home? Your parents must be worried sick about you two.”

“Our mom doesn’t care,” Billy sleepily mumbled, rubbing his eyes as she awoke before his brother. “She sucks.”

“Dude, you’re like ten. Everyone thinks their mom sucks at that age until you’re at least 17,” you shrugged. “And you’re the ones that left this bumfuck town to find me . What kind of birthday gift is this? Haven’t you ever heard of the postal service? Couldn’t you send, like, arts & crafts and call it a day?”

“What’s bumfuck?” Tommy suddenly piped up from the other seat.

“Your parents are going to kill me,” you whispered to yourself. “Just tell me, guys. Where to now?”

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After seemingly driving around town in circles, you landed before a decently sized mansion. It was much bigger than the other surrounding houses. For a moment you frowned, seeing how private and reclusive, bushed guarding it from perfect view, it was. With a front yard covered with blossoming apple trees and a lengthy path leading up to the front door, you felt a sense of familiarity hit you – remembering seeing it once in a dream along with a red headed creature with glowing scarlet eyes made you shake your head with disbelief.

“Home sweet home. It’s time to say goodbye, kids,” you announced when turning to the twins. They had their knees close to their chest while eyeing their house with fear. It was not a good sign. “Come on, get out of the car. I’m exhausted and need to crash soon before I kill myself in the car.”

“Can you walk us to the front door?” Billy asked with a hopeful voice.

“Kid, you’re practically an adult now. I’m pretty sure you can walk by yourselves,” you rolled your eyes with slight annoyance. Seeing their glassy eyes in the dimly-lit car broke your heart. No names, no attachment. And yet you found yourself wanting to wrap them up, your own children, in a hug. “Okay fine. Grab your things and pray your mom doesn’t kill me.”

You had barely stepped out of the car, opening the back door for the twins to exit, when the front of the house revealed a shadowed figure. Walking down the bricked path to the mansion was seemingly tedious. You weren’t afraid of many things in life let alone for the woman who stood back, a messy bun over her head and donning a rather expensive dress only accented with high-heels and crossed arms over her chest. The closer you got, the more your eyes widened.

With your subconscious taking you back to such a dream, everything in your surroundings turned a macabre dark red. There had been pitch black trees without leaves in sight as their trunks stood mangled as though tortured by the very presence of the woman at the end of the seemingly haunted forest. Glowing red eyes had pulled you forth then and as you stared at the door of the mansion, you saw them once again.

“Please don’t take us back there,” Billy suddenly cried when tugging at your shirt.

“I have to,” you sighed, knowing the kids weren’t going down without a fight. “I’m sure your parents are worried sick about you.”

“We don’t have parents. Just a mom and she’s evil,” Tommy explained from your other side. You hadn’t even noticed how they lacked the book they always carried, leaving it in your car for their ulterior motives.

“Evil?” You shook your head in disbelief. “That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?”

“She is. She doesn’t love us,” Tommy shrugged, huffing as he stared down at who appeared to be his mother inside the house.

“She only pretends to,” Billy finished.

“Kids,” you sighed, knowing exactly how they felt. Dropping to your knees to be at the same height, you threw them a sad smile. You’d already gotten far too close, so you mused a bit more closeness couldn’t hurt. “I’m sure that’s not true-”

“Boys!”

The familiarity of the voice which rang through made you frown.

“Tommy! Billy!” the voice exasperated. The hidden figure which once stood by the door ran towards you. Arms were quickly wrapped about the twins, hugging them close. You noticed tears in her eyes which mirrored those of a crocodile. Ignoring the wild red mane which you knew from your dream, your lips formed a thin line. “Are you okay? Where have you been? What happened?”

“We found our real mom!” Tommy snarled before grabbing his brother’s hand. Neither of them dared turn back, instead running off into the house and ignoring everything their mother, well, adoptive mother, had spoken their way. Grimacing, you were left alone with the older woman.

“Y-you’re my boys’ birth mother?”

There was something enchanting and yet secretive about her. You couldn’t help but feel as though she towered over your being, smirking with raised eyebrows while you hid underneath her shadow. Each little second that passed by in silence, you allowed your eyes to rummage through her body. The tight, perfectly cut black dress accented her thin eyeliner. Hands were on her hips, clearly dominating you without daring to say a word. You allowed yourself to stare up her perfectly toned legs to her midsection, then find her cleavage before snapping yourself up to her lips. With them parted slightly, lipstick all prim and proper, you knew she was a woman impossible to forget.

“Hi,” you awkwardly replied. At the hospital when giving away the twins, no one had dared to prepare you for such a moment. It was supposed to be a closed off adoption, no one was to know and yet you were easily found by a pair of children who carried hatred for their mother.

The older woman took a moment to compose herself, lips going from disdain to a fake smile you saw right through.

“How would you like a glass of the best apple cider you’ve ever tasted?” She questioned, her voice thick with an accent you couldn’t recognize.

Chuckling, you shook your head. “Got anything stronger?”

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Tommy and Billy had long run upstairs when you were allowed into the house. Greeting the woman who you learned was Wanda Maximoff, mayor of Westview, was awkward on its own. Mostly due to the rampant disbelief and similarity to a witch having appeared in your dreams. On the way to their home, the twins had shown off a book filled with various comic book characters – superheroes at that. You shook your head when they mentioned an entity called the Scarlet Witch, said to be their mother, but as you eyed the woman who handed you a glass of brandy, you couldn’t help but let your curiosity win.

“How did they find me?” You asked after taking a sip of your drink. With the way it went burning down your throat, you closed your eyes with relief.

“No idea.” Wanda replied, her viridescent eyes unmistakably glowing red without your knowledge. “When I adopted them, they were only three weeks old. Records were sealed. I was told the birth mother didn’t want any contact.”

“You were told right.”

“And the father?” she curiously wondered. You took note of how she refused to drink alcohol and instead went to her apple cider. Her apparent obsession with apples was something you found quite amusing.

“There was one,” you giggled a bit. It was a mistake more like it, a chance encounter at a bar you were far too young to enter with a fake ID and your friends. You hadn’t even gotten his name, but of course ended up with his children.

“Do I need to be worried about him?” Wanda dragged herself down the hall where you followed obediently. Without daring to say a word, you’d exhibit no hesitation when listening on to silent orders.

“Nope. He doesn’t even know.”

“Do I need to be worried about you, Ms. Y/L/N?” There was fear in her voice which dismayed you from the well-put together, secretive woman. Whatever the kids said, you could tell she truly cared for them.

“Absolutely not,” you were quick to reply. As much as they would love for you to take them away, you had your own life built without any children. There was a reason you had given them to someone else. You weren’t fit to be a mother so Wanda, even as severe as she seemed, took that place in your name.

The office reeked of cinnamon apples when you first walked inside. The smokey nature of it, only a light turned on in the corner alongside a strip of pictures the mother and children pilled, made a warmth settle over your chest. You always did pride yourself in holding down your alcohol, but even a slight sip of the drink made your head feel woozy. Sitting down on the couch, you huffed. With hazy eyes you could barely see Wanda’s blurred figure who closed the door and sat across from you.

Gripping the faux leather couch, you frowned. There was still control you exerted over your body, but felt a strange, wicked attachment to Wanda. Looking down at the drink you noticed bubbles rising from the remaining liquid. It wasn’t a good sign but then again you were far too gone to care.

“I’m sorry they dragged you out of your life. I really don’t know what’s gotten into them.”

“The kids are having a rough time,” you shrugged. It took a moment to situate yourself, blinking various times until your vision, to your disdain, only got worse. “Happens.”

“You have to understand, ever since I became mayor balancing things has been tricky. You have a job I assume?”

“I, uh, I keep busy, yeah,” you shook your head. Wanda stared into your soul when you so much as made eye contact with her. She licked her lips, hunger striking while you grew more loopy by the second.

“Imagine having another one on top of it. That’s having a single mom.” Crossing her legs, the woman’s eyes flickered over your body. Beneath the pristine cover as a mayor lay a beast, a witch, who only wanted to come out and play. Unbeknownst to you, she had been expecting your arrival ever since she casually dropped a slip of papers near her children’s room knowing they would unknowingly bring you to her. “So I push forward. Am I strict? I suppose, but I do it for their own good. I want my boys to excel in life. I don’t think that makes me evil, do you?”

“I’m sure they’re just saying that because of the comic book thing,” you pointed out.

“What comic book thing?”

There was feigned confusion from Wanda. Truly she knew about the book which carried the stories of the townspeople. It was crafted with the help of the Darkhold, telling each person’s lives in the universe they had previously called their own. As the ruler of the cosmos, she simply had to find her children. If it took taking a chunk of their universe and bringing them to a town, which was not supposed to exist in that universe, in another, then so be it. Wanda would have her happy ending no matter what – you were only an added bonus to having her children already.

“Oh you know, their book. How they think everyone’s a superhero from it,” you chuckled at the mere idea of it. For a moment you wondered if you were in it. “Like their shrink is the Hulk.”

“I’m sorry. I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh. You know what? It’s none of my business,” you ended up awkwardly laughing. It was so difficult to breathe. With eyelids growing heavy, you held onto the couch for support. “They’re your kids and I really should be heading back.”

In your attempts to stand up, you nearly fell face first after so much of a step. With surprising speed Wanda was there to grab you in place, humming amusement as you fell onto her. She grabbed your hips, pulling you close enough to her until your face lay against her shoulder, bodies melting together.

“Of course. It’s getting late, darling. I’ll have to get you to a safe place all by myself. We can continue this conversation some other time.” She dragged you out of the room, flicking her wrist so that all the lights there dimmed down and the door closed behind her. Lips were pressed against your cheek, dropping a kiss there before making their way to your ear. “Have a good night, darling,” she breathed out with a tone dripping with lust. “Happy birthday.”

There came a frown when she uttered the words, but you were barely conscious to properly react. Your body had a mind of its own as it sagged while being pulled away. Wanda had your body and soul the first time she had set her eyes on you in your dream, only controlling you by having slipped something into your drink. As fear began to set in, eyes growing wide, everything suddenly turned black.

Under Wanda’s grasp, you were nothing but an obedient pet.

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When you awoke your head felt like it was about to burst. You grimaced, massaging your temples as the pain shot through the rest of your body, which was suspiciously lacking clothes let alone for your underwear. Not even the bed sheets beneath your back covered you up while inside the strange room. It carried a horrid floral wallpaper similar to that of the 80’s almost as though you had gone back in time.

Sighing, you shook your head. All you could remember from the previous night was having one too many drinks at the mayor’s place before inevitably needing to be taken away to the local inn. a brain filled with fake memories was not something you could put a finger on, only following what you believed to be real.

“I’m such an idiot,” you mumbled to yourself. Ignoring the growing headache from what you imagined to be a typical hangover, you huffed. Making yourself look like a drunk in front of your children’s mother who incidentally was the most powerful person in town. You ignored the book that casually sat on the bedside table of the inn, mysteriously appearing alongside you after having previously been sitting in the backseat of your car.

Deciding to get a head start on the drive back home, you gathered a few of your belongings sprawled across the room and headed out. The lanky hallway reeked of lavender which was far too much for your suddenly sensitive nose to get used to. Peering through the mysterious path, you waltzed on. Your stomach was rumbling far too loud for your comfort.

You ended up at a diner connected to the inn. It was small, quaint, and rather old fashioned with a jukebox still sitting at its side playing light tunes from past decades. Although it was barely packed, all eyes were on you. Perhaps it was the clothes from the previous night you still wore, desperately requiring a shower already, being a new face in such a small town, or both. Still, you ignored each patron of the restaurant and sat by the corner of the bar.

The menu was handed to you by a woman with dark hair and similarly sharp hazel eyes. She gave you a onceover, not daring to say anything before shaking her head and moving away. As cold as she was, there was an odd sense of familiarity to her.

“What’s a cutie like you doing in a dump like this?” came a voice which snapped you from your thoughts.

Facing from the menu, the sight of a smirking redhead standing at the other side of the counter took you by surprise. She donned an outfit similar to that of a waitress while holding out a mug filled with steaming coffee. Although rather dashing, you only had eyes for Wanda – at the silent revelation you frowned, almost as though she was in your head which, not that you knew, was not so far from the truth.

“Just dropping a pair of kids off. Not exactly how I thought my birthday weekend would go, but it’s better than sitting home and lighting a candle on a store-bought cupcake,” you chuckled dryly. “I’m just getting some breakfast before I head back home.”

“Oh it’s your birthday?” She casually asked.

“It was yesterday.”

“Well, happy belated birthday, malyshka,” the redhead mumbled before pointing to the menu. “Guess it’s on the house for you. It’s not every day we get such cute visitors. I wouldn’t mind seeing you around more often.”

“If you’re ever in the city you know who to call.” You gave the menu a once-over before landing on a whole stack of pancakes which made your mouth salivate. That along with the coffee would be the perfect fuel to get you back home safe in a matter of hours. After telling the waitress your order, you took your chance. “I’m Y/N by the way. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Name’s Natasha,” she beamed before holding out her hand. You didn’t hesitate even a second to shake it. “Sorry about my mom by the way. Melina’s not really used to new people. We actually haven’t had any visitors in years.”

“I get it. I couldn’t even find directions to this place on my phone. It’s a bit weird, but it seems like a nice enough town. Very different from the loud and obnoxious city.”

Natasha was very different from Wanda. You quickly learned that she was adventurous and longed to meet new people, perhaps escape the small town of Westview to move out west with her sister in tow. The two of you talked for what seemed like hours even between you gnawing at your pancakes and her being yelled at by her mom, who spent most of her time in the kitchen alongside her dad, to tend to other incoming customers.

To your dismay each time you so much as attempted to get close, even with light brushes against her hand, you felt a burning sensation on your lower stomach each second you talked more with Natasha. Hissing quietly, you pressed a hand against the skin. The searing pain along with glowing red eyes which zeroed in on you from outside the diner foreshadowed the life you’d lead, never daring to leave Westview even as much as you wanted.

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You had barely stepped into your room at the inn, already full with breakfast and ready to jump ship, before your mind turned blank. No thoughts swirled over your head, only mere images of a certain powerful redhead who, once again, plagued your life. Not being aware of the woman standing behind you made it easier for her to force you into the bedroom. With hands showing off their red glow and eyes mirroring it, she had you under her spell.

While nearly unconscious, Wanda dragged you to the bathroom. Your eyes were barely open, already drunk with exhaustion as your clothes were shed away. Obedient as she wished, the woman had you stand back as she turned the faucet of the shower. She had taken you to the inn late on the previous night aiming to return in the morning to take what was rightfully hers. Although when seeing you interact with Natasha, the green monster popped out – it was time to show you who owned you.

“Come here, baby,” she cooed while dragging you into the shower. In your naked glory the mayor allowed her eyes to feast up your skin. It was perfect, a blank canvas ready to be used by her. Only making it better was the tattoo she had impulsively decided to give you over your womb – a marking which shone with a scarlet tint in the shape of a particular comic book character you knew. “In the shower, now. If my little angel can’t take care of herself then mommy has to. You’re far too dumb to do it, huh? Always needing my help.”

Stepping into the shower without another word, you sighed. The warm water hit your body leaving you in awe of its silent yet powerful demeanor. While basking on the relief it made you feel, you were ignorant to the curtain which remained open as another naked body slipped behind you. Once perky breasts pressed against your back, nipples rubbing your skin, you let out an involuntary moan.

“That’s the sound I love to hear. You’re such a pretty girl, honey. I’ve missed you,” Wanda mumbled, lips brushing against your ear as she held you close. “You don’t know me, at least not here. You’ve barely even met me and yet here we are. It’s rushed, I get it, but I couldn’t stand another second away from you. Did you miss me, buttercup? I love being in your head as you sleep, but it’s nothing compared to having you here with me.”

“Miss you,” came your hypnotized reply. “So, so much, Wanda.”

“Yeah?” she smirked devilishly. Although it was her own magic making you say those words, she didn’t care. Hearing them again after having lost you in her own universe along with her children made it all better. “You’re safe now, honey. You’re home with mommy. I promise I’ll never let you go again.”

Wanda spent what felt like hours dragging soap along your body. She explored every inch, never forgetting your ticklish spots which made you giggle as she beamed at the joyous sound. Being careful when cleaning the area where the fresh tattoo lay was a must. The last thing Wanda wanted was to ruin the gift she so happily got her pet – a marking so that even touching another person, a potential threat to your owner, made you hiss out in pain and crave her even more.

Fingers danced along your sides as their nails left red marks upon your skin. She desperately craved to possess you entirely, to leave you dripping with blood, body all maimed, with bruises and little cuts she had once left on you. Wanda was nothing if not possessive. You were her property and, whether you liked it or not, she’d make it known to the world.

“You’re doing such a good job for me, baby girl. Now you’re ready for us to have some fun. I want it to be perfect though. You can’t rush this,” she said while allowing the water to overtake your soapy body until you were fully clean. “We can take it slow if you want. But just know that whenever I want to, I’ll have you. I want you to behave and not spend time around that silly waitress. Can you do that?”

“I’ll do as you say, mommy,” came your robotic reply with a mind not your own.

“There’s a good girl. Now it's time to get out of the shower.”

She helped you leave the steaming space, making you stand by the curtains as she dragged a previously dry towel across your naked body. Wanda tilted her head when brushing against the tattoo. Leaning in, she pressed her lips against it. Owning you was the greatest pleasure of her life along with being a mother – doing both made her life perfect.

“You’ll put on the clothes mommy left for you in bed. I want you to stay in town for as long as I say. You will live here, alright? If you behave, then you can stay with me,” Wanda instructed calmly. She stepped back and allowed you to go into the room to eye the pile of clothes on the bed. She knew exactly what you’d be comfortable wearing. “It’s easy, honey. You be a good little pup and I’ll reward you. If you misbehave, I’ll punish you. Am I clear?”

“Yes, mommy.”

“Good. Now let me help you get dressed. You’re far too dumb to do it yourself, huh?” Wanda hummed as she stepped closer to you. Eyes roamed her naked body which stood mere centimeters away from your own. While the redhead helped you into your new clothes, making sure to allow her lips to kiss every inch of skin she ended up covering, you were left holding onto her for balance and enjoying the view. “I’ll allow you to spend time with the twins. It’s not like you’ll remember much anyway. Just be sure to keep our children safe otherwise I won’t be sweet with you.”

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You were left to roam the reclusive town of Westview for days upon days, mindlessly walking across every area and becoming yourself acquainted with it. Various townspeople had eyed you with confusion. As Natasha had said, none of them were used to outsiders. There was fear and confusion stricken over their faces as they saw a new face waltzing down main street.

Wanda had allowed you to see the twins more often than not. They were ecstatic to spend time with their birth mother, running to you to wrap you up in their little arms before jumping up and down, asking what the plan was for the day. She didn’t allow you to leave town. As much as you wished to do so, fighting back and humoring the idea of taking them to the city for a day, the mayor flicked her wrist. Eyes turning red, she was sure to make you see the light.

Most days you spend hiking out with the boys. Tommy was quite fast if you said it yourself. The both of them would do races with him always coming out on top. Admittedly so, Wanda had her anxieties about the twins running around the forest after school, but once you promised to help them with their homework and bring them back to the mansion with full stomachs, she agreed to it – mostly when seeing in your mind how sincere you were.

“What’s going on between you and Wanda?” Billy asked one day when you walked back from the depths of the forest to the car.

“You call your mom by her first name?” You couldn’t say you were surprised about it. After all, they had trash talked their mother each time you were together. A part very deep inside you agreed, but with Wanda in your mind swallowing your thoughts, you tried to dissuade their feelings.

After shrugging, Billy continued. “Sometimes. But seriously, you’ve been weird. You shouldn’t get close to the Scarlet Witch. She’s wicked and evil.”

Tommy remained silent, seemingly exhausted from the walk. As soon as you unlocked the car, he threw himself in the backseat, begging for you to take them to the diner so they could have a burger. You quickly learned they easily dramatized their emotions at times to get what they wanted. You’d say something if it wasn’t for them being your kids.

“It doesn’t matter if you think she’s this villain or not. Wanda is your mom. She’s been taking care of you all your life. She wouldn’t hurt you, alright? You’re her kids. She loves you, little dudes,” you explained when starting up the car.

During the rather short trip to the diner up main street, Widow’s Diner & Inn, both twins remained silent. You took the time to gather your thoughts which, unbeknownst to you, were no longer your own. Pensive thoughts of Wanda have become a daily occurrence for you. At times you’d lay in your bed at the inn all sprawled while your mind went to the woman. She was fierce and powerful, but as much as you feared her, there was something familiar about her which went beyond your dream. You swore you had known her forever.

You shook your head when arriving at the diner. The boys were rather excited to finally eat, already jumping up and down with sudden bursts of energy which were only dissuaded when you ordered them to bring their backpacks – the homework would not be done by itself unless you wished for Wanda to have your head, figuratively you hoped.

“Burgers and fries for you guys again?” You asked when taking a seat in a booth in the corner of the diner.

“Yes!” came the little voices simultaneously.

After giving your order to a rather giddy Natasha, who made sure to ask about your day along with the twins’, you tapped on the table rhythmically. The boys were instructed to take out their homework and get a head start before finishing it in your room, but Tommy had other plans. The last time he was at the inn he took the book you’d curiously found yourself flipping through late one night. When he slipped it out his bag, you knew you were in for a long dinner service.

“Guys, we don’t have time for fairytales right now. Your mom’s gonna kill me if she finds out you’re doing work when you get home. No offense, but I am more scared of her than you two.”

“Come on, ma. It’ll just take a second. We gotta show you something!” Billy exasperated happily.

You rolled your eyes and let them continue. Without daring to admit it, ever since they had begun calling you ‘ma’ days before, the name coming naturally, your happiness had increased. “Fine, but make it quick. So, who else is a comic book character?”

“You know Mr. Stark Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer? Well, he’s actually Iron man,” Tommy whispered as though it was a long lasting secret they were to keep. He slid the chunky book towards you showing off a picture of a man surrounded by suits of armor. “And his wife, Pepper, is actually Rescue. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Yup, that’s insane,” you replied with feigned interest. While part of you only saw them as silly comic books, you couldn’t help but begin putting the pieces together especially when it came to Wanda. You had yet to say anything about your little encounter, not that you remembered much of it. Still, you knew she was someone not to be tried whether she was the Scarlet Witch or not. “Who else?”

“There’s Brunhilde who’s a Valkyrie. She’s the one that takes care of the horses and everything. Carol is her girlfriend and she’s a bartender who is supposed to be Captain Marvel. We don’t really see her much though. We’re not allowed in the bar. Mr. Stark says they sell really good wings though!” Billy huffed with apparent frustration, suddenly craving hot wings. “T’Challa is the coolest. He’s supposed to be Black Panther and he’s, like, the best math teacher ever! Oh and there’s Peter who’s in high school and he’s Spider-Man. I really like him. Sometimes he visits our school and we get to hang out! But Wanda isn’t a fan of him. She says he’s a bad influence. Oh! She calls him a mu'dak whatever that means.”

At what you knew to be a swear word, you smirked. They were fairly young, sure, but you wouldn’t punish the usage of such a word without knowledge of its meaning. Either way, you were sure you wouldn’t mind if they evolved to much more colorful words. As long as their mom was oblivious to said actions, you weren’t complaining.

“Mr. Rogers, our gym teacher, he’s supposed to be Captain America. Then Thor, the guy that works at the stables too, is, well, just Thor so that’s pretty obvious. You’d think the Scarlet Witch would pick better names to hide their identity,” Tommy shook his head with amusement. “You know Dr. Banner is actually the Hulk and,” he leaned in close, “Natasha is Black Widow. Her dad is actually the Red Guardian. Yelena and Melina are also Widows. Then there’s Clint who owns his own farm with his family. That’s Hawkeye. They’re the main six, ma. They’ll help you break the curse and bring everyone back to their universe.”

Parenting did not come naturally when you decided to give away the twins, but when getting the chance to be around them, to see how similar in nature they were to both you and Wanda, it just felt right. They each had small characteristics shared with you, primarily their propensity for stubbornness and pushing back against authority; their mother being their enemy. While you couldn’t figure out a way to remain in their lives without casting Wanda to the side, it was awfully nice to spend time with the little runts.

Still, it worried you that they put so much effort into accusing their mother of being an evil witch who created and teleported an entire town to a different universe, erasing their lives and memories before implanting new ones. While they were still letting their imagination run rampant as children often did, they took down the already weak relationship they had with their adoptive mom in the process. In the short amount of time you had known Wanda, you knew she didn’t deserve that – she forced you to think she didn't.

“Kid, this isn’t Disney. There’s no curse to be broken. You’re mom’s kinda weird, sure, but that doesn’t make her a witch,” you pointed out.

With a deflated look on their faces, the kids began pouting. It was something you quickly found to be your weakness. You had yet to spend enough time to get to know them well-enough, but knew you would do whatever it took for them. Crushing their dreams wouldn’t help you win the parent-of-the-year award, but perhaps it would get you in Wanda's good graces allowing you to potentially see more of the twins.

When Natasha arrived with your food, only a side of mac & cheese for yourself with a mysterious apple on the side, she flashed you a smile. You allowed yourself to bask in her beauty, thoughts swirling around how badly you’d want to take her hand in your own to bring her close until your lips were ghosting over one another’s. As your lower stomach burned bright red, you clutched it. Surely you couldn’t see yourself willingly settling in Westview, but for the sake of the twins it was worth it, Natasha being an added bonus.

The witch inside your head was not a fan of that, her lips turning into a thin like as you took a bite of the apple she sent your way. In minutes you were dumbed down and controlled just like she wanted. Even before having come to town she was in your head. Only given your arrival, she fully took control of her little toy. There was nothing you could do other than sit back and let her take you once again.

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“You should’ve known better, princess. Everything was going so well. We were going to be a happy family, but of course you went ahead and ruined that. Now I have to force you to listen whether you like it or not.”

They felt like macabre thoughts swirling in your subconscious. You were sleeping soundly in the inn during the depths of the night. With closed eyes and deep in your sleep, you were unaware of the atmosphere around you changing. The air grew thick and musky, your window having been opened by a bout of red magic before an unknown figure made itself into the room. A simple flick of her wrist got your clothes to disappear, not that you knew anyway. That’s just how she’d love to keep you, fast asleep and easily corruptible.

“Just look at how beautiful you are when you sleep. All mine and ready for the taking,” the mysterious voice mumbled as its owner made herself close to the bed. She undressed herself with another flick until her clothes were properly folded over the nearby desk. Leaving the children sleeping peacefully at home, Wanda wandered off to find you. “I was trying to make this special for us, but you left me no choice. Now you’ll have to pay the price. If only you could’ve done what mommy said then none of this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe I should teach you a lesson and hurt that Romanoff girl. Would you learn then, baby, that you’re all mine?”

Wanda took her time to use her magic and bind your wrists to the headboard. She had yet to wake you up, instead settling on the bed and between your legs. Her hands found themselves roaming all across your body. She had seen you naked before various times, especially when using her magic long before your arrival to town and watched as you hopped in the shower to sneak a hand between your legs. She was quite the fan of seeing you turn into a mess while she watched without your knowledge.

Sharp nails dug upon your skin before moving down. They left angry trail tracks running upon your chest. They were deep enough to draw small bouts of blood which she happily leaned in to lick clean. Seeing you in pain, writhing in your sleep while she marked your frail little body, was something making Wanda’s heart swell.

“Time for you to wake up,” she said. Fingers went near your forehead before your eyes widened. You were awakened forcefully, fear immediately striking down your being. It wasn’t long before Wanda used her magic to dumb you down once again, the effects of the poised apple mixing with her powers. “Good morning, sleeping beauty. It’s time for us to have some fun.”

“What?” you grumbled while on the bridge between your own consciousness and Wanda’s.

The woman held down your hips and pushed her hips forward enough to let you feel her little secret. While your tattoo burned bright red, so did the dildo nestled between her legs. She let its tip glide up and down your slit, the strap-on growing wet with your juices and spreading against your folds. The mere sight made her groan with arousal.

The redhead urged herself forth. Soon enough, the toy stretched your hole apart, making you moan while making eye-contact with eyes which dripped with bloodlust. Even if she couldn’t feel it, Wanda knew you were a tight, needy mess for her. She drove herself inside far enough to have the head touch your depths, the entire thing being covered inside your cunt in one swift movement.

“Don’t worry pup, it won’t hurt at all. Just let mommy use you, alright? It’s what you’ve wanted ever since you came to me huh? You just needed someone to use you like the cute little fucktoy you are,” Wanda maniacally huffed out. “Mommy’s here now, no need to keep worrying. Let me make your thoughts all mine. You won’t have to think about anything else from now on.”

“W-wanda?”

“Shhh don’t overexert yourself, honey. It’s not good for you. I can tell you’re exhausted. Close your eyes for me. Let mommy use you while you get some good sleep,” Wanda whispered, her lips running up your skin. Teeth grazed every inch before coming down to nip the softness beneath. “Did you like the apple mommy gave you? It made your brain all fussy, didn’t it? It’s just what I wanted. Sometimes my pretty girl needs to take a step back and let mommy help. You want me to make your cute pussy feel good, right?”

“Yes,” you hazily replied. It was difficult to keep your eyes open as you slowly drifted closer to sleep. Your pussy throbbed at the feeling of Wanda moving deep inside you, the dildo attached to her hips being much larger than anything you had ever taken. Even with the mix of pain and pleasure you felt, you didn’t dare complain. “Harder.”

“You want it harder, buttercup? Oh my. Does my dumb baby need mommy to fuck her pussy with my cock?” She was more than happy to hear that hushed plea. “I bet no one’s ever filled you up like this. I’ll ruin this cunt, my fucking property, for anyone else. Not even that Romanoff slut will get to touch you. You’re my little bitch.”

“Yours,” you lazily replied.

“That’s right, Y/N. Mommy’s fleshlight, all happy to be fucked like a whore. After I’m done with you,” she leaned in dangerously close, “you’re going to be an obedient little pet. I can’t wait for you to cum all over my cock. Your cunt is all mine now for the taking.”

Wanda spent countless hours driving the dildo in and out of you. She noticed a bulge appearing each time she went deeper, smirking with pride whenever pushing down on it. You were far too hazy, your mind a mess while laying down and taking whatever she gave you. The tattoo over your skin, the proof of ownership from your master, intensified the lustful feelings hiding inside you.

Fingers gripped your breasts until you cried out in pain. You’d be lucky if your sounds didn’t awaken the entire town, let alone the tristate area. Wanda didn’t care though. If she got caught, everyone would get to see who your owner was. They’d see the stupid, dumbed down little whore she could turn you into without much effort.

“What are you-” you muttered when gaining a bit of lucidity, still coming on and off from Wanda’s strong grasp. Even with your failed attempts to push her off, she continued fucking you with her faux cock.

“I don’t think you want to do that, honey. I could have the entire town here in minutes. Do you want them to see your slutty little body being fucked hard by mommy?” Wanda questioned with raised eyebrows, waiting until you shook your head lazily. “Good. Then shut up and take it. This will be our little secret if you behave.”

“Yes, mommy.”

She did not care when you were driven near the edge. Wanda slapped your breast, nails grazing the mounds and leaving scratches behind. It was a hellish momentum which you could not willingly rid yourself off, but admittedly so, you didn’t want to. You loved the way she rolled her hips, your own moving rhythmically. Each little tug against the magical bindings made a burning sensation shoot down your body. That was enough pain to make you hum with approval.

The sole mistake you made while Wanda writhed on top of you was coming undone without permission. You allowed your eyes to close, exhaustion sliding in, as the knot inside you was finally loosened. Wanda eyed you with fury, viridescent orbs turning bright red as she roared. After a much-deserved slap landed over your face, she huffed.

“You dumb slut. Who gave you permission to cum all over my cock. Stupid girl needs to learn some manners, huh? You always have to wait for mommy to order you around. That’s nonnegotiable, princess.” Wanda slid the strap-on out of you and for a moment you were disappointed at the sudden emptiness between your legs. She used her magic to make the makeshift cuffs around your wrist disappear, leaving red marks along your wrists, along with the dildo strapped to her hips. The way she tilted her head sadistically struck you with fear. “Turn around. I want you on your hands and knees, baby. You don’t get away with being a disobedient little bitch.”

“I’m so sorry, mommy,” you sobbed against the bed sheets, still making sure to follow directions so as to avoid any more anger from arising in her. “I didn’t mean to be bad. It just felt too good. I didn’t know what to do.”

Wanda ignored your apology and instead waited for you to get in position. When your ass was up and ready for the taking, your face still hidden over the mess of pillows by the head of the bed, she found herself to be satisfied enough to continue.

A hand found itself striking down on your backside without notice. She hummed, face lacking emotions before hitting you again with the back of her hand. The actions were carried out over and over again. With hotness shooting across your frame, you felt your cunt practically begging to be touched. Juices ran down your inner thighs all slick and shiny underneath the moonlight.

“Stop squirming. I was very clear with my order’s, wasn’t I? Now stay still and let mommy give you the punishment you deserve.” Wanda remained smacking you until she was satisfied. Your cheeks were red and sore, almost turning to a dark hue the more she torture you. The one moment which she dared stop her attacks was when you allowed yourself to breathe, body sagging while your sweat profusely with fear. “Did you know apples mature very slowly? I grew tired of being alone when enticing this universe. No one knew who I, the Scarlet Witch herself, was. They all forgot about their stupid little heroic past selves and knelt to me, their rightful ruler. I figured that until you had my boys, I had to make preparations. There are over twenty varieties in my garden, just like there are many more of you. Now you better behave, be a good girl and take what mommy gives you, taste my forbidden fruit. Unless, of course, you’d like to be replaced. That can always be arranged.”

“I’ll be your good toy, I promise. I swear I’ll do whatever you ask of me. Just please, don’t hurt me,” you begged.

“Oh but baby, don’t you know? I fucking love hurting you.”

Your cunt was dripping with juices when Wanda smacked it with the palm of her hand. She wasn’t soft by any means, instead hitting you, fingers brushing against your clit from time to time, until you desperately craved more. Each attack made you grow wetter. At one point you began grinding down on her hand each time it touched you. Turning you into a brainless little whore was her greatest pleasure in life.

“Such a cute fuckable puppy. All for mommy to ruin,” she grinned before giving you one last slap for good measure. “I must say you’re taking this all so well. Who knew my baby would enjoy her punishments? It’s adorable.”

“Anything for you- ah!”

Wanda did not allow you to speak. Instead she eased a pair of fingers in you, letting out a throaty moan as she felt your walls clench around her. You were far too soaked allowing her to dive in deep without any issues. She could feel how you throbbed against her digits, your velvety insides practically begging for more.

The craving sensation inside her, a monster who had to be sated, ran rampant. Wanda felt alive as she brought a third finger inside you, spreading you apart further while you clutched the white sheets in torment. It was dirty and animalistic, your body swallowing the witch with gluttony. You couldn’t remember anything but her. Always in your mind and always would be.

“Now you can cum, darling. Go on and put on a little show for mommy,” Wanda snarled as she curled her fingers up inside you.

An all-consuming orgasm took over your being. Your mind, body, and soul were all wrapped around in it, finally being brought peace and piercing pleasure you so desired. Wanda’s free hand was on your body, gripping one of your sore cheeks with might until her sharp nails drew blood. As she had wished, you had crumbled at her feet.

She kept ramming her digits inside you until you’d had enough. When being taken out they weren’t plopped in her own mouth, instead your own. Lips lightly sucked on the fingers as you tasted your own essence. It was sweet and savory. Your eyes were barely open, your body having been turned so you could stare down at Wanda who hovered from above you. As wicked as you knew she was, her mere appearance underneath the blanket of the night was one of an angelic figure.

“You did so well for me, Y/N. Just look at how happy you’ve made mommy. I can’t even tell you how proud I am of you, pretty girl,” Wanda said as she pulled her fingers from between your lips. She cupped your face tenderly, smiling sweetly at the tired little eyes which looked back. “Seeing you all fucked up for me has made mommy really wet. All you have to do is make it better, okay? Then I’ll finally let you rest for a bit. I know you can do it.”

“Always, mommy,” you whispered back – lips were cracked as your body was ready to shut down and yet you had a drive which forced you to please her. “Let me make you feel better, please.”

“Hmm there’s my good girl.”

Wanda crawled up your body, but not before planting a kiss upon your lips. She praised you for your willingness to please then allowed herself to straddle your face. Even with a blurry eyesight ready to give up, you could see wet juices that coated her needy pussy. Licking your lips, you stared up with hunger ready to eat her whole.

The first taste of Wanda was unlike anything else you’d had the pleasure to try before. She lowered herself over your mouth and allowed you to feel her arousal up close. Folds were sloppily spread apart as you ran your tongue through them, groaning at the ecstasy overcoming you.

“You look beautiful with a mouthful of my pussy, angel. And your tongue feels so fucking good,” she swallowed her pride and mewled, “Come on, Y/N. I’m not close. Be good and make mommy cum all over your stupid mouth.”

You spent heated moments eating her out. Your body shifted underneath her while the older woman grinded over your face. She grabbed the headboard for support. Each little thrust brought her pussy down closer to your lips which devoured her greedily. With your hands finding themselves holding her thighs open, you turned Wanda into a mess mirroring your own ragged, fucked up body.

“Just like that, baby. Keep going. Fuck, that feels amazing. I’ll have to give you a reward for making my pussy feel so good,” Wanda chuckled in disbelief. She had never felt such an intense pleasure in her life. Even the way your nails dug over her skin made her arousal shoot through the sky. “I’m c- fuck! Puppy, I’m cumming!”

Your face was left coated with a mess of her juices as Wanda caught her breath. She was tired, exhaustion mirroring your own setting in. it was hard to move herself from your face knowing how glorious she felt with your mouth pressed between her legs. The previous vexation she had experienced was replaced with relief.

Wanda did not hesitate to show off her caring side only when around you. Albeit worn out, she grabbed you from the bed, picking up your weary body before dragging you to the bathroom. There she was quick to run a shower for the two of you. Knowing it would be impossible for you to stand without help, mind blank and eyes closing, she held onto you while running soap all over your decayed skin.

Kisses were dropped along your body as you were taken from the shower. The softness exuding from Wanda was startling to say the least. She had spent tedious, painful years without you by her side. Surely her twins soothed the empty hole in her heart, but without you, there was no family. Having them unknowingly bring you to her was a risky yet fulfilling choice she made.

“I love you so much, baby. You have no idea how much I’ve missed this,” Wanda breathed out as she hugged your wet frame from behind. She sighed with relief and grabbed a towel to dry you both up. She’d finally gotten her happy ending. “You’ve been such a good girl for mommy. I’m always so proud of you. Don’t worry, you’re home safe now. I will never let anyone hurt you again. We’ll be so happy here, I promise.”

“Thank you,” you replied. There was no way of knowing whether the effects of the apple had worn out and you were lucid enough to form a coherent sentence or if she still controlled your mind. All you knew is that a sudden burst of adoration for her began soaking your heart. You held Wanda close, not caring if you were naked in the middle of the bathroom, and hugged her with tears in your eyes – it was a mixture of your overwhelming emotions and the enticing pain on you. “I love you too, mommy. Always.”

The night was filled with the remembrance of an old life you’d lived. While you remained in her arms, Wanda held you out of fear of losing you once again. The darkness that exuded from her being, finally falling into her role as Scarlet Witch, did not go lost when she pulled you into the bed. She was flustered, a vision of her past-self, an innocent Sokovian girl who found herself siding with the Avengers to save the world, was clear as day for a moment. Shame filled her features when she ran her fingers down your mutilated thighs, the tips finding the womb tattoo she had gifted you with.

She cupped her face and for a moment, you swore you were back in her universe. You gained clarity, mind coming to terms with the recent events as you place a hand above her own. Wanda was broken, tears filling her eyes as she allowed herself to be weak for once, to be vulnerable before her star-crossed lover’s appearance.

“We’ll be together forever. I’m never letting you go again,” she murmured, her lips shining down upon yours. It was the first time during those weeks she was the slightest bit tender with you, while laying in bed, legs all interlaced with her dragging you on top, you knew you were home. “Kiss me.”

You spent what felt like hours devouring one another. Your brain was still woozy, mind overtaken by Wanda who made you hers over and over. Her nipples brushed against your own, skins slapping as you turned to one. There was no need to fight for dominance as Wanda would come out on top, groaning as she slipped her tongue between your lips.

“Come here, honey. It’s time for us to sleep,” Wanda whispered as she dragged your face to her chest. She guided you until your mouth brushed against one of her nipples. Curiously eyeing up at her with big, doe eyes made her smirk. “Go on, baby. You can suck. I remember you loved doing that with mommy. It was your favorite reward of them all.”

Latching onto her nipple felt natural. Wanda sighed with relief, beaming as she got to feel the happiness experienced in her previous universe. She spent years seeking you out after fighting Thanos. He had taken everything from her – her happiness, her love, and you. She was not proud of herself, of having succumbed to the Darkhold while taking the life of a rather powerful girl to gain her abilities. Bringing those fallen behind had soothed her grief. After all, Natasha and Tony had forever been part of the team she once called a family.

You sucked on her nipple for countless hours. A hand came to play with your hair, fingers drifting soothingly upon your scalp as your eye began closing once and for all. Wanda hummed quietly to a tune you found oddly familiar. While on the run after Germany, she always did love holding you close and whispering sweet Sokovian lullabies until you eventually succumbed to rest.

“Missed you,” you grumbled all tired and ready to fall asleep. You were barely conscious when she turned around with confusion over her features.

There were dreams you’d had which you didn’t know she’d tainted. For decades Wanda had found herself in that universe waiting for you to come to her. She was patient, a feline creature waiting for her prey to be vulnerable enough for the taking. Eyeing you happily, she found herself prouder than ever.

“Hey, look at me,” Wanda raised her eyebrows before roughly grabbing your chin. She pulled you from her nipple, eyes turning red as a sudden jolt of adrenaline shot through her. “You’ll be mommy’s good girl forever, won’t you.”

No hesitation was required for you to give your answer. Even with your jaw all sore, dry tear tracks adorning your flushed cheeks underneath the moonlight, you replied with a choked “Yes.”

For Wanda, that was enough to seal your fate without daring to look back at your previous freedom.

#cthulhus’ fanfics #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fanfiction

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aliesbienish · 4 months ago

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Hi!! I was wondering if you could please write a Paul x reader where the reader is super pregnant and is hungry all the time and eats the most random stuff and the pack teases her about it until Paul puts his foot down and tells them to back off

Thank you! I’m really enjoying the study of wolves🤍

Hi lovely anon, thank you for this sweet request - I had a lot of fun writing it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do x

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Recipe for Pack

There was no doubt who this baby belonged to, even in the womb. Since a few months into your pregnancy you’d been insatiably hungry, snacking continuously. Paul had always been the same, of course his excuse was his shifting. Unfairly that meant he got super hearing and strength while you needed to pee constantly and had nausea that rudely didn’t limit itself to the morning. So constant eating wasn’t an issue, it was the cravings that were becoming a hassle.

Paul, being a secret softie, had tried to cater to your every whim. Whether it was chocolate covered zucchini’s or melted cheese topped ice cream, he kept the judgement to a minimum. However these odd cravings did often lead to late night trips to the nearest 24 hour store located in Forks, a forty minute round trip. One particularly bad evening had him chauffeuring you 70 miles at 3am to Port Angeles, purely for a a chocolate milkshake and fries that got dipped into it. It was a miracle the machine wasn't broken.

But while Paul was nothing but accomodating, it couldn't always be said for the rest of his pack mates. Eating a hot dog with raspberry jam caused Jared to make vomiting noises. Adding leftover mash potato to a smore prompted Quil to question whether you needed a visit to a psychologist. Even sweetheart Seth made a quip that your cravings seemed like ingredients to a witches potion. Which was probably fair, as you munched on a buttered bread covered with rosemary.

But one comment, made sitting around Emily and Sam's dinning table took it too far.

Sitting with what to you seemed like a delightful combination of peanut butter and hot sauce bagels topped with orange slices, it was enough to elicit a groan.

"This seems to be getting way beyond normal now. I'm beginning to wonder if you are actually having these cravings or if you just like to make everyone else uncomfortable!" Jacob declared jokingly, but with your out of control emotions it was enough to stop you mid bite and feel shame.

"Right? I think next she'll just eat straight from the trash, it's not like she is far off!" Laughed Quil, causing laughter around the table.

Your eyes watered as you choked out "I'm sorry,"

"No, don't you dare apologise." Paul stated, gently placing his hands on your shoulders. "It's these morons who have no right to be teasing you." Turning to address the pack he gave them a hard stare. "You are all being absolute dicks. She's trying to survive extreme changes to her body, something we should be particularly understanding about, but instead your being rude and judgemental. If you all don't get your shit together and start being supportive then I will absolutely see if beating some sense into you in wolf form will help the process,"

The next evening you were all once again sitting around the dining table. The pack, showing their support, were all eating your newest and rather tame craving - chocolate covered bacon.

Sam got everyones attention and raised his fork in a toast "To our newest pack member,". The rest of the pack raised their own cutlery and echoed the sentiment.

This time the tears in your eyes were from happiness.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

#twilight x reader #twilight fanfiction #twilight #twilight imagine #paul lahote x reader #paul x reader #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote

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miss-vanta-likes-to-write · 16 days ago

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Not matter what people say, I can't get out of my mind Retired!Price being kinky, then he mets a a nurse that also used to work on military and she's even kinkier than him.

Darling, you might be on to something 😏. Because Price fucks so much when he is finally retired. He's got all this energy that needs to be let out. He's finally got the time to date and settle down for real and he wants a few kids. This man isn't beating the allegations for being kinky, but there are a few things he hasn't really thought to try. Good thing he has an open mind.

Pairing: John Price x reader afab

Title: His future wife is a freak (drabble)

rating: 18+mdni

one shot master list

John was going to marry you, propose before his cum was even dripping out of your pussy. You had to be doing witch craft on him because he was seeing stars and begging god to not let him cum too soon. The wet sounds and soft gurggles if you sucking and teasing his dick was enough to make him blush. Your full lips were softer than they looked, and the amount of spit and precum was obscene. Your pretty manicured hand, with gorgeous french tips pressed against his stomach to keep his from bucking his hips.

"Fuck you suck Daddy's cock so well." He let out a breathy moan and tipped his head back. His eyes closed for just a moment before they snapped open. He gasped as your unaccounted hand slipped a finger into his ass. "Fuck!"

There was pressure at first, but then it felt good. Sure enough, this was going to awaken something in him. The suction of your lips on him only grew more fevered as you choked him down all the way to the base of him. His eyes were wide as his struggles to not grab your hair, opting to gently hold your face. "Shit, sweetheart, fu- oh christ." He managed to grit out before cumming down your throat. It was too much. Your finger only kept pressing in and out of him faster, and the movement rocked him against your face. He's trying to pull away, but you only keep following him.

The desperate sounds and heavy breaths are not becoming of the former captain, and he's a bit embarrassed. Still, though, this is his future wife who is working him over. He may as well enjoy this and get used to being vulnerable and trying new things. He wonders if you'd peg him?

Slowly, you pull away from him. The mess of sticky spit and cum, connects in strings to your mouth. You keep direct eye contact with him as you slurp and clean up all the extra cum and your spit from him. A small and evil smile graces your lips.

"Now, Daddy," you say in such a teasing manner. Your hand working him into another hard on, "I haven't even ridden you yet." You push him down onto the couch and crawl into his lap. "Let's see if you can get me pregnant in one shot, hm?" And you slowly slide down onto his overly sensitive dick.

He gasps and grips at your hips. The feel of your hand against his neck, nails slightly biting into his flesh, makes him tense up. You're gonna be the death of him.

#ask vanta #black!reader #call of duty fanfic #john price #captain john price x reader #john price smut #john price x reader smut #john price x reader #captain john price #john price x you #call of duty smut

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breelandwalker · 11 days ago

Text

Magical Oil Recipes - Baneful Edition

For anyone looking to brew up a potion with a less-than-friendly bent, here are some recipes I've created that you might find useful.

To prepare them, blend the ingredients in such proportions as feels correct for your purposes (or as supplies allow). Use dried material except where indicated. Place a few spoonfuls in a mason jar with a screwtop lid and fill the jar with a bland oil of your choice. (Vegetable oil of the sort you would buy for cooking works fine.) Screw the lid on tightly and shake well to combine, then leave the jar in a dark dry place for 2-4 weeks to steep.

Once steeped, prepare a clean storage bottle (also with a secure lid) and label with the type of oil and the bottling date. Strain the oil through paper towels or cheesecloth to remove the plant material, then bottle immediately. Store away from sunlight and heat for up to one year. Use for spellwork as you see fit.

(Please note that NONE of these potions are meant to be taken internally by any means. Observe all proper safety measures related to glass, fire, and potentially harmful plants as necessary during preparation.)

*- Ingredient is potentially harmful if inhaled or ingested. **- Ingredient should not be used or handled if you are pregnant or nursing.

All-Purpose Hexing Oil For general hexing, cursing, and baneful magic.

Dried Chili Pepper

Fresh Lime Peel

Lemongrass (dried or fresh)

Rusted Nail (place in bottle with finished oil)

All-Purpose Hexbreaking Oil For general negation of baneful spells cast by oneself or others.

Agrimony**

Cinquefoil

Fennel

Vervain

Solomon's Seal Root (place in bottle with finished oil)

Backhanded Blessing Oil For blessings that are anything but benevolent.

Burnt Cinquefoil

Bay Leaf

Pine Needles

Bayberry Root NOTE: Prepare as you would a blessing oil, then twist the blessing into a curse, i.e. May You Get Everything You Deserve.

Done in the Dark Concealment Oil For secrecy, confidentiality, and general deception.

Juniper Berries

Licorice Root

Black Hemp (Dogbane)

Ferns or Dried Seaweed Note: For the final ingredient, use whichever is easier to obtain. Both bracken and seaweed work well for basic concealment spells.

Eye of Newt Disruption Oil For disrupting and confounding magical efforts against you.

Black Mustard Seeds

Bloodroot**

Nettle Leaf

Garlic (1 clove, bruised)

No Rest For The Wicked Hexing Oil For punishing one's enemies.

Chili Pepper (any)

Horseradish Root

Cramp Bark

Bayberry Root

On Your Own Head Retribution Oil For counter magic and revenge hexes.

Elderberries*

Bloodroot**

Devil's Shoestring**

Vetiver

Tangled Shoelaces Binding Oil To impede someone's ability to move or act against you.

Pine Needles

Devil's Shoestring**

Scullcap**

Coffee Grounds

Iron Nail in master bottle

Wicked Witch Heavy-Duty Cursing Oil For occasions when a regular-strength hex just won't do.

Wormwood* **

Ghost Chili Pepper (or the hottest chili you can get)

Lemon Seeds

Lobelia* Note: Use With Extreme Caution And Cover Your Ass.

Witchbane Warding Oil For repelling and countering harmful spells.

Bay Leaves

Elderflower

Star Anise

Birch Bark

Should the reader require supplies, I recommend the following:

Penn Herb Company

Starwest Botanicals

Bulk Apothecary

Mountain Rose Herbs

Specialty Bottle

Image Credit - Shaiith

If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar, tune in to my podcast Hex Positive, or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop.

#witchblr #witchcraft #curses #baneful magic #potions #witchy things #I'll see your Threefold Law and raise you an I'm Not Wiccan And I Don't Give A Fuck

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muiitoloko · 5 months ago

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Omg the fluff severus being a father!! Can we also get a fic where he and his wife discover they are having twins? In my mind palace that poor man had the happiest ending idc idc

Title: Double the Love

Summary: Severus and you learn that you’re having twin, and Severus faces the overwhelming realization that fatherhood will be double the challenge—and double the love.

Pairing: Severus Snape × Fem! Reader

Warnings: None.

Author's Notes: I absolutely loved writing this! But I have to admit, I was seriously wondering, how on earth do wizards even do ultrasounds? 😅 Since I couldn’t figure that one out, I just made it as magical and slightly ridiculous as possible, because why not, right? 😅 It’s a short piece, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

First, Second and Third part here.