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witch-and-her-witcher · 2 months

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Little Tiger

feysand, feyre & nyx, rhys & nyx | G | angst, family, hurt/comfort, fluff

based off of this headcanon post. just a little sad, but ends with fluff.

thanks as ever to the support squad. 🥺❤️

ao3

~*~

“Should I take watch, darling?”

“No. This is my mess to clean up.”

“Maybe you should cool off —”

“No.” Feyre bites down on the inside of her cheek. Cool off? What else has she been doing, perched in this tree top — on out of practice, aching knees while rain drizzled down through the canopy? “Thank you,” she adds, because it really is her own mess and her husband doesn't deserve her venom.

That belongs solely to herself.

And maybe some as well for her —

Her thoughts cut off as the gentlest snap of a twig underfoot gives away a new presence.

Feyre hones her gaze on the forest floor beneath her ambush spot.

The smell of citrus and jasmine is just barely there: hidden under damp foliage, river mud caked fur, and hot breath scented with gristle stuck between teeth. An old meal, if the noxious odor is any tell.

An odd sensation runs through her: concurrent twisting of her gut in anxiety as well as the sharp bloom of anger heating her neck, cheeks, all the way to the point of her ears.

Feyre checks that her shields are in place, carefully masking every aspect of her presence. Forces every inch of her body to draw tight as a bow string.

Doesn’t risk breathing even as her prey draws out of the shadows of a Night monsoon drenched frond. Shoulder bones, drawn tight in a crouch, protrude out of an inky black pelt.

Closer, closer.

Feyre’s quarry is focused completely on the dazed fowl clucking and flapping in the narrow clearing.

The high altitude rainforest is alive this evening with bugs chirping, birds ducking to and fro in the tree tops, but even the bullfrogs stop their persistent calls as the juvenile tiger approaches with ill-practiced stealth.

No wonder the meal on the tiger’s breath is old.

Probably something that was sick or dying, easy pickings.

Somehow, Feyre tenses further as one paw draws in front of another, just moments away from triggering —

“Go easy on him,” Rhys sends his final plea.

And this is exactly why he isn’t here.

“You’ve grown soft in your old age.”

“In fatherhood, yes. I would like my son to return home in one piece.”

Those front paws press just the right amount of weight down.

The snare releases with a sharp twang.

The sound is nothing compared to the ferocious yeowling of the tiger.

Feyre drops into the clearing, lifting the spell from the brightly colored fowl and letting it squawk away in a flutter of feathers, and locks eyes with the tiger’s stormy blue gaze just as its jaws clamp shut.

“No promises.”

“Remember you love him, remember the picture hanging above the mantel he gifted you last Solstice —”

Feyre cuts off the tether between herself and her overprotective, doting to a fault, far too soft mate.

Anger courses through her veins.

“Nyx Archeron, you will shift back. Now.”

The might of the woman who faced down a Middengard Wyrm with nothing but sheer grit and a hand crafted bone speer speaks through her. There’s no warmth, no kindness, only the hardness that has seen her through battles, through loss, through condemning her citizens when necessary.

Her son stares back with all of the same, unearned defiance, through the grizzled face of the tiger he’s become so fond of in his pre-adolescence.

“Nyx. Now.”

Feyre throws in the weight of the High Lady behind her command. An overstep she will feel guilt over later — later, when anger isn’t riding every one of her nerve endings.

Nyx bares his unclean teeth at her.

But fortunately for his hide, it’s a dirty-faced fae child facing her a moment later.

Arms crossed over his bare chest that’s littered with scrapes and various burrs and pokers from the plants he’s been dragging his body across out in the forest miles outside of Velaris.

“You have one minute to explain yourself.”

Those lips, his father’s lips, press into a hard line. Nyx’s stubborn expression is only punctuated by the draw of those dark brows.

Another torrent of heat flares within Feyre at that look.

That damn look she’s become so familiar with in the last few months.

“Fifty seconds.”

“I know how to count,” he snaps, as if he just can’t help himself.

His mouth snaps closed with an audible clack.

A growl rips from Feyre’s throat.

Mother above, no one had prepared Feyre for this part of parenting.

She was ready for love so great, so overwhelming that she wouldn’t even hesitate at the thought of sacrificing her life for this child. Prepared for insurmountable joy at watching him experience the world, all of his first times. Pride over his growth and the almost greater sadness over every conquered milestone, every sign that he’s not that same baby she held so, so close. Anxiety over keeping him safe, providing for him, giving him the best youth to not only grow into himself, but into the court he will one day rule.

But the shift in emotions?

When the anxiety over his well-being morphed into fear and anger and devastation that her child would act against her, against all of the love and thought his parents poured into him?

And for what?

An act of rebellion?

To get attention?

“You will speak now!” Feyre roars.

Days. It's been days since her son ran away.

For the life of her, she couldn’t understand the joking nature Nyx’s uncles took the news with, the shit talking and arm punching that accompanied comments like, “Like father, like son, huh? Nothing like a prince sized temper tantrum.”

Her baby gone — by choice, none the less — and they all acted as if it were some rite of passage.

Feyre hasn’t slept. Hasn’t eaten. Hasn’t been able to function outside of pacing the halls, waiting for Nyx to give in and come back home like they all kept saying was inevitable.

The comfort of her and Rhys’s daemati powers feeling his presence still within their borders did little to ease her mind.

He’d accepted Rhys into his mind, had assured his father that he needed to do this, that Rhys wouldn’t understand, before shoving him out.

He hadn’t accepted Feyre’s attempts to contact him.

Nyx didn’t want his mother.

And that thought has been eating Feyre up from the inside out along with every other undulating pulse of fury, indignation, and anguish.

“Why are you even pretending you care?”

“Excuse me?” Feyre mirrors his arm crossed posture, ignoring the strain in her muscles from the long stake out. Her son had held out longer than she expected before giving in to his growling stomach and going for the too-easy trap.

“Go adopt one of those kids from the orphanage since you love them so much more —”

“Is that what this is about?” Feyre has to force herself to breathe against the new surge of insurmountable disappointment, disbelief. “You’re jealous I have been spending time with less fortunate children? You ran away, driving your family mad with worry, to throw a fit to get more attention because I am doing my duty as High Lady and a person with a beating heart by checking in on — I — Wow. Wow.”

“Please, you both knew where I was the whole time,” Nyx grumbles, eyes shifting down for the first time.

“That’s not the point, Nyx!”

Nyx’s wings jut even higher with his stiff posture.

“What were you thinking?” Feyre grounds out. “I can’t — I don’t even know the boy I’m looking at right now. To be so self-centered is beyond you.”

Hurt flashes in those big, blue eyes. “I did it because of you.”

“To get my attention? Well, here you go, Nyx, here’s my attention —”

“No!” Nyx cries out, the sharp bite of the tiger’s screams echoing still. “Because I overheard what you said to Aunt Nesta!”

Feyre screws up her face in confusion. “What are you talking about? What I said to Aunt Nesta? Nyx, there’s no excuse for behavior like this —”

“You were telling her what a spoiled brat I am! How entitled I’ve become! How I’ll never … I’ll never understand how you were raised, those lessons you learned.”

All of the emotions Feyre had been feeling gutter out.

Tears begin to line Nyx’s eyes in a silver limned underlining of the truth.

Nyx had overheard …

“I … That’s not what I meant,” Feyre croaks.

She reaches out her hand to touch her son’s shoulder, to try and convey the misunderstanding of the conversation, of her intent.

But Nyx steps back out of her reach. He locks his jaw tight again even as a few tears slip free.

“Nyx, I’m so sorry —”

“That’s what you said. I’m spoiled. You understand the younglings in the orphanage better than your own son.”

It hits her like a leaden weight.

The regret of her words being overheard and the inability to explain the complexity of it all. The heart wrenching understanding of just how Nyx would have taken those words.

A betrayal.

And a reminder that her little boy is more aware, every day understanding more and more about the significance of what is said around him, about him.

“I thought maybe if I lived rough for a while, you’d understand me more …” Nyx swipes the back of his hand beneath his nose to wipe where it’s begun running. “Love me, like those kids.”

Nyx had run away because of the pain she had caused. His own mother who should only love, support, guide —

“You didn’t mean it the way he’s taking it, darling.”

The shock of her son’s words must have lowered her shields.

Feyre bites back her own hot tears threatening to spill, the knot in her throat, because she doesn’t deserve the comforting caress along her mind, the thoughtful strum of the bond.

“Nyx —” Feyre clears her throat, clears away the broken sound. What can she say to make this right? “Nyx. What I said to Aunt Nesta is complicated.” Gods, she’s feeling her age. Unprepared. She doesn’t deserve her son, doesn’t deserve to inflict this inexperience on him. “I’m sorry you overheard it, I really am. But you have to know how much I love you?”

Before he can answer, a low, guttural rumble from deep within Nyx’s belly cuts through the distance between them.

“Talk after he’s eaten.”

“I know how to care for our son,” Feyre snaps, the inadequacy riding out logic for a moment. But then she considers what she’s already done to one member of their family, and adds softly, “I know you mean well. But this is …”

“Nothing that will be solved right away,” Rhys says gently. “You are a good mother. I’m proud of you.”

“Is father mad?”

Feyre shakes her head. “I told you, we’ve been sick with worry, Nyx.” She steps forward more deliberately, extends her hands out with beseeching eyes. “Let me take you home. We’ll talk after food and a bath?”

No one had prepared Feyre for the ups and downs of emotions that later childhood brings in a parent, but also for the mourning.

Nyx hesitates, but another adamant groan from his stomach seems to make up his mind. He nods and accepts her outstretched hands.

Mourning for the loss of the unshakable faith of a child in their parent.

A soft sniffle is buried in her knees as Feyre fights back the swells of sadness.

Whatever she felt for Nyx in those moments before he’d revealed his true motives for running away is turned ten fold against herself.

The disappointment in herself for failing her child, letting Nyx be cut so deeply by her own careless words.

The bath water plips and trickles along as Nyx scrubs clean the filth of days spent in the rainforest.

Old enough to demand privacy in the bath, but not too old to forgo Feyre’s offer to sit with her back to the tub and simply work her magic to channel the warm stream of water from the faucet down his back, through Nyx’s hair to wash away suds. As she had done since he was small. Keeping him warm at all times, avoiding that stark chill from water damp skin exposed to the cool air above the tub.

That simple gesture of accepting her offer nearly had Feyre bawling after they’d finished a tense, quiet meal. Just the three of them and their clinking spoons and soup bowls, fresh and steaming buttered bread wafting between them.

“Mama?”

“Yes, Nyx?”

“I’m sorry.”

Feyre shakes her head. “Don’t be. I should have never —”

“It’s okay,” her son’s voice is gentle in the manner he’s picked up from Rhys and it squeezes Feyre’s heart that much more for it. “Father explained over dinner … He told me there’s a lot I’m not old enough to understand yet and … No matter what, I need to be responsible because it’s not just about me. I’m a future leader of this court and I … I can’t run away.”

“Oh, Nyx.”

What can she say to that? That she wishes he didn’t have the burden of his family’s position and title? That she wishes he didn’t have to be so grown up already? To have a mother who can’t relate to what he’s experiencing because her childhood was so vastly different?

“This is where you two went off to,” Rhys says by way of announcing his entrance as he slips into the bathing chamber.

Feyre tips her head back just enough to see her mate’s broad frame without cutting into the view of the tub. As if they aren't the High Lord and Lady, Rhys sits down beside her on the tiled floor, pressing his warm thigh against hers as he positions his legs crisscross.

“I’m hurt you’d let me miss out on this cozy scene,” he says, kissing the side of Feyre’s head.

“Ew.”

Feyre huffs a laugh. “Nyx might have requested you didn’t join for this exact reason.”

The sharp cut of Rhys’s jaw falls open as he looks back at his son in faux offense. That sharp jawline Feyre recognizes as her son’s future, the beautiful features he has inherited.

“Greedy. Trying to keep your mother all to yourself. As if witnessing your parents love is so mortifying.”

“It is,” Nyx admonishes, but it's for the bit more than anything. “You always have to kiss and hug and it’s so gross.”

“Gross?” Rhys’s brows raise to his hairline as he sends Feyre the next shocked expression of the back and forth. “Never in my centuries have my romantic overtures been described as gross until you gave birth to my harshest critic.”

Nyx makes gagging noises at the word ‘romantic.’

Another swell of emotion chokes Feyre.

‘I love you,’ she mouths to her mate and his glittering violet eyes.

Curling his strong arm around her shoulders, Rhys squeezes back his wordless response.

Feyre continues to weave the warm water through tendrils of inky black locks, feeling the current of the water through each strand, down the knobs of Nyx’s spine and into the tub water. She hopes the water can convey everything she can’t seem to find the words to express to her son.

“The talk can wait. It’s been a long couple of days.”

“It seems you already had the talk. Busybody.” But really, Feyre is almost relieved. She doesn’t even know where to begin with Nyx, with her upbringing, with the grief over the situation —

“Our schedules were already clear due to a certain tiger on the loose,” Rhys says, smiling gamely. “Why don’t we take advantage of the time and sneak off to the theater. I hear the performers have really outdone themselves.”

“Oh! We haven’t been in ages! Really, you have time?”

“For you two?” Rhys winks. “Absolutely. Let me sweep your mother away —” Without warning, Rhys has Feyre in his arms and lifting to stand as she yelps in surprise “— and you dress?”

“Alright!” Nyx calls cheerily to their departing backs. “Can we get treats?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Feyre curls into the hollow of Rhys’s neck, settling into the hold. The touch of her mate’s skin eases some of her internal turmoil. Soothes the worst of her self-deprecating thoughts.

“This isn’t going to get any easier, is it?” Feyre whispers, once they’re out of ear shot of their son’s bathing chamber.

“With him inheriting your magic? I wouldn’t imagine so. The shapeshifting began so early, I can only imagine what else we’re in store for.”

She clicks her tongue in disagreement, but she can’t be bothered to lift her head from the warmth of him.

“I don’t mean the magic.”

“I know.” Warm cedar and fresh linens meet her as they cross the threshold into their chambers. Rhys sets her lovingly on the bed before stepping back, gripping her hands. “But the rest of it is a tale as old as time. We won’t be the first to struggle through raising a youngling and we won’t be the last. I’m only lucky enough to have the best partner to face the challenge with.”

A blush settles across her cheeks. “Stop. I’ve made such a mess of things. Chased away our poor son —”

Rhys presses his fingers against her lips to still them. “Later, darling. For now, let's dress for the theater and enjoy an evening out with our son.”

Feyre smiles softly. “Maybe you are getting wiser and not just older.”

“That’s the second remark about my age today,” Rhys growls, eyes darkening with silken promise. “Perhaps I need to remind you just what these old bones are capable of.”

“Later,” she mimics, sticking her tongue out in a flash before he can catch it.

For now, she will cherish their time as a family. No matter her faults, no matter how things may shift in their dynamics, at least she can be certain that they can make it through together.

#nyx #feysand #nyx & feyre #nyx & rhys #acotar #acotar fanfic #my writing

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sgiandubh · 5 months

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Machiavelli took a day off

... when the Telegraph article was written in great haste, by someone blatantly given a last minute task, who had no fucking idea to whom she was talking and what exactly meant the PR vetted or even prompted questions.

Instead of a line-by-line analysis, we'll take things differently, on this page, using the '5 W rule of journalism' (or even non-fiction writing, in general, if you ask me):

Who? SRH, EP of the OL series and one of the two male leads of the TCND series, which will be shortly broadcast by Channel 4, in the UK and IE only (and Movistar in ES). The rest of the world is not concerned.

What? A promotional article, focused on the actor's personality, CV and projects.

When? At a particular moment in time, just after the SAG-AFTRA strike and before shooting OL's eighth and last season.

Where? Crucial to place it in LHR (to imply he is 'just visiting') and God forbid it would be in GLA, which (for some curious reasons) seems to be off-limits.

Why? An actor with solid credentials hopes to keep agents and employers interested, after above OL project is done, which is rather sooner than later. Also addressing (as per the actor's PR agent specific requirements) three particular issues: the Palestine letter, the Bond project and his 'private life'.

Onwards to the three issues at stake, which probably prompted the article. In chronological order, this time. And no, I am not going to address the Scottish independence mention, because this is a sincere, well-known position of his and this page never bitches about people's convictions - also because I educated myself on it and I agree with S.

Palestine:

It was important, for obvious reasons, to push damage control a tad further. Also, strictly from a hypothetical POV, I would be very curious to read your compare and discuss thoughts with regard to this particular post on this page:

A sort of answer came in the Telegraph paper, too. Not only to me (I am less than nobody), but to all the people (of which we were many) who thought he should not get involved in this type of debate:

This is not the first time he uses this specific talking point. Last time known to me was on the day the Queen died, on X (I looked for that post, but can't find it, because I am just a filthy lurker, like that: but it is there).

The really interesting question, therefore, is: does he/somebody monitor what is being said on Tumblr? The answer is, I think, yes, and it shows. Will it stop me talking in here? Nope, as I trust my discerning abilities, for the moment. Other than that, his damage control op does not bring anything new to the table.

Bond:

What can I say, Sir? While there's life, there's apparently hope. But that doesn't translate well, given the context of your interview. That spells desperate and it's not a great picture. Also, let us keep a pious moment of silence in fond memory of a 25 year old who had a dream and the dream went to Daniel Craig (who I detested as Bond, because every girl has her Bond and mine is Pierce Brosnan, amen).

I know people still speculate about it. I have very high reservations and I cannot, for the life of me, seriously consider even thinking about the possibility. He could do it with flying colors, no doubt. Does he stand a chance? I prefer to have zero expectations on it and be floored if it happens. If he naively still yearns/pushes for it, this interview could very well be as abysmal as C's VF tantrum.

'Private life':

Ugh. Slippery when wet. I have already touched the subject in a reactive re-blog of @samheughanswife's post about it and I will not get back to what I said even without reading the article.

Some more extraordinary wording, in here: 'there might even be space for a personal life' - begs the question 'when?' In general? (in general, all men are created equal, too - it's practice that kills the theory) Now? (it is my staunch belief the answer is yes). After OL? (then and now and after Hiroshima, too). Can you program these things? (nope, stars simply aligned) Heh. Enough said. Also, 'might' spells cheap insinuation to me. But that's just me, a blonde voice in the audience.

Now, onwards to the daughter thing. I believe this specifically addresses the cheap, abundant clickbait content on You Tube, hence the vague 'online' reference (not Tumblr, not fans, not blogs - he is not C, he kept it clean). Such as this very recent one (last 'clip' on the topic was five days ago):

The two I chose to share here, which are very conspicuous FAKES, are originating from the same 'source', an account that seems obsessed with S&C and has no problem changing its narrative three times a week, if needed. My opinion? PR induced shite, to prod numbers/interest and see what sticks.

No newborn daughter? I hear no lies.

As for OL leaving 'no time for relationships', ahem. *urv will be thrilled to read that, I bet the farm. As will Flukenzie Floozy, at least her - damn, she was persistent! Also, hello, back to 2014-2016 playbook, aren't we?

No new relationships? Whatever for, when IYKYK? I hear no lies.

'I want a cat' ('because she's great', says my shipper brain on autopilot), 'but I am too scared even for that'. Humph. A very poor lie. But admitting you wanted and got a Ca(i)t scares the bejesus out of you, since 2016. I hear no lies. Yes, I am being tongue in cheek and damn the consequences.

Morality of it?

The easiest solution is never to take personal questions in interviews or panels. Why These Two still do it completely mystifies me.

#shitshow

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aclowntiny · 7 months

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Hello 👋

Can I pls request seventeen reaction when they have a crush on female reader they haven't confessed yet and gets jealous when we hang out with our guy best friend more than them?

Thank you ❤️

Sure! As a girl with guy friends this is an interesting request for sure hehe 😁 sorry some are simpler than others, I just believe not all of them would be very jealous 😅 & that sometimes situations get misread so I mixed it up a few times! warning: long post ahead!!! hehe

Seventeen's Reaction to Their Crush's Guy Best Friend (F!Reader)

S.Coups

You were the cutest thing Seungcheol had ever seen. The way your lips pressed together when you thought, how wide you smiled when you got a pleasant shock…the way you’d given that same smile when he’d offered you his arm half-jokingly, half-seriously and you’d taken it, walking right alongside him like that.

So who was that guy making you smile and laugh? Why were you always dropping someone else’s name? Was he that dense or was this guy really just a good friend? Seungcheol wanted to be that name. He wanted to have you by his side, have plans with you as often as your self-described “movie buddy” you caught nearly every new flick with. He could feel his brow creasing whenever his eyes fell upon the guy, mostly out of confusion, but a touch out of something else, even though he knew he didn’t have the right.

He just wanted it, wanted it so bad it was practically motivation throughout the day. As if every task, every workout, was saving up more strength to finally have that conversation with you.

It came more quickly than he cared to admit, his feet carrying him right to you of their own accord. You were wearing his favorite color on you, and the smile you gave him when you turned around only spurred him on. He had to know. Had to make you his if there was any chance in the world. If not, that ‘buddy’ of yours had better treat you like a queen.

“Hi, Seungcheol!” You gave him a little wave and he thought his heart might burst. “What’s up?”

“Have you seen that new mystery that just came out?”

“Not yet,” you shook your head, “but hopefully soon, I’d really like to!”

“Oh, you haven’t made plans with your boyfriend for it yet?”

Your gape, the near-horror that crossed your eyes, was priceless in more ways than one. “That is not my boyfriend, that’s just my bestie! He’s my mom’s best friend’s son, and he’s so not my type!”

Passion took hold of Seungcheol, a wave of adrenaline like he could barely describe. “I see! I wanted to respect your relationship to him above anything, but if that’s the case… Can I ask you out to go see it?”

“Of course!” You grin. “I keep telling him to get a girlfriend to take to all these movies anyway! I only like you.”

It took everything in Seungcheol not to kiss you right then and there.

Jeonghan

“Well, what am I supposed to think?”

“She said they were just friends!”

“She also sits really close to him.”

Jeonghan was sick and tired of that same old argument. Sick and tired of wondering who that guy you took everywhere with them was, even if he was really nice. The others tried their hands at blind reassurance, but Jeonghan was the type to get information himself, and the way you two had sat so close, chairs pushed nearly as much as possible together and legs brushing, was the final straw.

One conversation and he would know. Would leave you alone and smile through the knowledge that he was too late, come to accept it in time. All he had to do was play his cards just right, and if there was one thing he was good at it was that.

You were happy that night. Having a great time out with Seventeen, laughing at Soonyoung’s antics after he’d had one too many, stealing lots of glances Jeonghan’s way that had his heart leaping and easy smile manifesting. Your ‘best friend’ couldn’t make it, so it was the perfect time to work his hook into the conversation.

“Did you see those little flower stands on the corner?”

“Yeah,” you nod, an eager yet wistful look crossing your lovely features, “the bouquets are so pretty! It’s because Valentine’s Day is around the corner.” And there it was- you had taken the bait exactly. “If only…”

The way your chin fell onto your hand, the little drift of your eyes. Dreamy, all of it. It was enough to make Jeonghan want to spoil you. “You don’t think anyone will get you some?”

Your eyes widen a bit; you take a sip of your drink and shake your head. “No, who on earth would? Unless I had a secret admirer,” you joked, voice truly and genuinely incredulous.

That was all Jeonghan felt too, complete shock at your lack of awareness of what a gem you were. Well, that and the soaring rise of satisfaction knowing how surprised you were going to be on the fourteenth.

Joshua

Joshua embodied the old “slow to anger” verse for sure. It took a lot to build resentment in him and he truly saw the best in others whenever he could. So the fact that this guy was bugging him? Had to be his problem. I mean, you met in dance class, of course he’d be dancing with you across the practice room floor, but why’d it seem like showing off when-

“Jealous?” Suddenly Jeonghan had appeared at his side, catlike smile upon his face.

Heat crept to Joshua’s face at the single word, furrowing his brows even as his eyes widened. That was all his vocal unit-mate needed, it seemed.

“I knew it. You like her, don’t you? That’s the only reason you’d care if they were dancing, after all we showed them the moves we were working on.”

“I just-” He sighed, unable to defend himself with lies any longer. “Yeah. I guess I just wish that could be me waltzing with her like that.”

“It can be! Watch!” Jeonghan held up a hand. “(y/n), can Joshua try? He’ll be a natural!”

“Of course!” You lit up. Waving away your dance partner, you stepped up to Joshua. “I can see you being a good waltzer, Mr. Gentleman.”

Rolling his eyes at Jeonghan’s smug look, Joshua nervously, gently, gripped your waist, ready to give you the waltz of your life and dip you like your best friend almost did.

Jun

He was always teasing you and nudging you, but it was ok, right? He drove you around and bought you food sometimes, too, but that was alright… wasn’t it?

It was natural to want to do those things with you, too, as long as he didn’t let any animosity toward the other guy build up. At least that’s what Jun told himself. Some of the members were whispering suspicions about you just not going official yet, and that was like an arrow straight through his heart. Ever since the day you two had gone to that cat café, after all, his heart had been for you and you alone.

You were laughing really hard at something he said. Something about raisins that surely needed context. Part of him wanted to scoot in closer. Another part wanted to just leave and move on to another conversation. He settled for quiet, just watching for a bit. Your eyes darted his way and he smiled. You smiled back. You brought up something funny he'd done, asked if he would recreate it for everyone. For you, he would.

The way you laughed was worth it. Lighting up your eyes reminded Jun what was really important- protecting your precious soul. Your friend laughed, too, played off the joke perfectly. He was a nice guy, he really was. Jun still couldn't help feeling intimidated, though, when he went up to get another drink and your best friend immediately followed. Trying to play it cool, he turned his head, gave your buddy a smile.

"Hi. Do you need something? I can get you a drink, or- or-"

"She'd kill me if she knew I was doing this," he blurted out, eyes staring right into Jun's eyes, "but she likes you, man. I wouldn't normally say anything, but... I don't know, I can just see it with you two. I just don't want her to get hurt, so..."

"I don't either." Jun's eyes widened at the revelation, corners of his mouth threatening to tug upward. "I just want to make her as happy as she makes me."

"Believe me, if all her rants are any indication, you do," your best friend teased Jun, elbowing him.

Hoshi

The moment he heard that you, the object of his feelings, had a guy best friend, it set off an insatiable curiosity. Soonyoung had to meet this guy and meet this guy fast. Because if this guy was your bestie, he probably wasn't your type, right? So if he was anything like Soonyoung himself, ouch. Not that it sounded like the guy was a choreographer or anywhere near the tiger aficionado he was. But just as important: did he treat you right? It sounded like he did. Did he set the bar really high? Model how a real man should act or would Soonyoung have to sweep in and take over for the bas-

"I know this is a little silly of a way to spend your day off, so I really appreciate you joining us, Soonyoung. Sorry we're late!"

Your words interrupted his reverie, cutting the blur of his vision back to dial in on your wonderful smile again. In your hand was the box of lego he'd agreed to build with you and the guy he'd been curious about for so long, someone who was really into building sets, apparently. Soonyoung could dig it. A rare respite from the usual chaos he lived in.

"Don't worry," he comforts you, throwing a hopefully-subtle glance your bestie's way. Well, he certainly didn't look like Soonyoung. Whew. "This is a great way to force me to relax. I'm all yours!"

Of course, being a tiny bit more flirty around the best friend may also draw a distinction...better venture putting an arm around you when you sit down just in case...

"Next time I come to Seoul, I'm hoping my girlfriend can make it, too," you best friend suddenly comments as he splits the baggie labeled with a 1 open, "she just had to be in LA this week. We could..." He pauses, glances between you and Soonyoung with a sly smile. "...maybe do a double date or something?"

Oh, he could just kiss this guy! No, wait, you! Soonyoung feels himself flush and grin widely before he can help it, trying to calm his expression as he glances your way. Can you feel his heartbeat against your side?

Your eyelashes flutter. So cute. "I-I'm game if you are," you tell him shyly.

"I am. I so am."

Wonwoo

"Well, if it isn't Jeon 'Nerves of Steel' Wonwoo."

"Are you insecure or something?" The bespectacled rapper shoots back, sparing Chan a passing glance.

"No, I'm sane! If I liked someone whose best friend was all over her like that, I’d hardly be carrying on like normal.”

“All over her? They’re just walking up arm in arm! We don’t even know the guy yet,” Wonwoo reminds him. After all, this is the first time they’ll be meeting the bestie they’d heard so much about, so it is still unfair to judge him. Even if Wonwoo does wonder what it would feel like to get to walk with you that way…

“Hi guys! We’re here!”

You exclaim the greeting and your best friend grabs your hand, hoisting them up like you’ve just won the Olympics. The others swarm you right away, members you’re also close with and a few of the elders vibe-checking your friend. By the time Wonwoo approaches, Chan following quickly behind him with a skeptical arch of his brow, Seungcheol is already talking to him about music.

“Of course I’ve heard your songs! (y/n)’s car alone would teach me a lot, but I’m a fan anyway! It must be so amazing, all the different people you guys get to work with and other idols you get to meet! Who’s the nicest?”

He does seem really nice. Chan can keep his immaturity to himself, Wonwoo thinks. Who cares if the guy is- still holding your hand? Ok, a bit suspicious, but he had to swallow that, remembering your happiness was the most important thing and smiling for you.

“Oh my gosh! Wooyoung from Ateez? Good to know, he’s pretty much my ideal type!” Your best friend jokes to Seungkwan, who’s quickly hijacked the conversation about other idols. “Isn’t that right, (y/n)?”

“Save it for your poster,” you joke back before turning toward Chan and Wonwoo with a teasing grin, “I keep telling him his next boyfriend should be a lookalike- whoever finds him wins!”

Ok, now Wonwoo is smiling for both of you.

Woozi

Oh, man, if Seungcheol found out, he was dead meat. At least that was Jihoon’s guess. His fellow leader could be very intimidating when he wanted to be, and the protective streak Jihoon admired would surely apply to his best female friend. The very same woman he had fallen for.

You were bright, cheery in a way that energized him instead of exhausting him. Just the type he'd always dreamed of. The day you left one of your silly little figurines in his studio "just to keep him company" was the day he knew he'd fallen hard. Seungcheol always beamed at you with pride, and Jihoon could see why. But did your friend see you as his?

“Here, listen to this!” Seungcheol was in the studio, your figurine and Jihoon both watching as he gently dropped a pair of headphones onto you.

Your eyelids fluttered closed; contentment spread across your face, bringing warmth to Jihoon’s heart as he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Gently you nodded to the rhythm, smile growing as your head bobbed. It was like Seungcheol was gloating, torturing him-

“What do you think?” Hands on either side of your head, your friend freed you from the headphones’ grip and peered into your eyes with a smile Jihoon tried desperately to read. Maybe that was the problem: he was trying both too hard and not hard enough.

“I love it!” You burst out, glancing between the men on either side of you from your chair. “Did you write this, or-”

“No,” he shook his head, “Jihoon did. Sounds like someone beautiful must have inspired him, huh?”

Seungcheol’s head turned as he said those last words, nodded almost imperceptibly. Oh. It was that demo. Was he- Was he giving his blessing? Jihoon felt red blooming beneath his cheeks, barely resisted the urge to frown and wave a hand and turn back around from your gaze. Well, the nod- and Seungcheol’s look of amused surprise- would have to do. Jihoon didn’t feel like having a conversation with him about it, but maybe he’d have one with you soon…

You seemed positively giddy to introduce Seokmin and your best friend, probably because he was like the next best thing. Not that that was the role he wanted. It wasn’t besting the poor…well, bestie, it was simply that you were so cute and he just wanted to hold you and sway you back and forth and kiss your cheeks and…

Seokmin really liked you. The fact that you had a guy best friend, though? Easily meant you just clicked with dudes, had a different approach to dating. It wasn’t something he tried to bring up too much. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

Bliss that couldn’t last forever, though, as you dragged your friend forward and Seokmin got ready to study every interaction you had with him. After all, if you acted the exact same way toward that guy it would be obvious. Crushing, pun intended, but obvious.

The guy playfully rolled his eyes as you yanked him over- not by the hand, though, by the sleeve. Interesting. Introductions went smoothly.

“So, how long have you two known each other again?” Seokmin asked.

“Funny, I was just about to ask the same thing to you!” Your best friend replied with a smile.

Was that a challenge? A threat? Was this a how-well-we-know-(y/n)-off?

Apparently not, for all the guy did was nod and say “Ok, cool!” before you guys all headed into the arcade.

Soon you three were having a shoot-off at the basketball game, and when you took second place, you high-fived both of them. Equal treatment? But earlier you had put your hand on his shoulder, oh and you said he looked cute when you guys were messing with the game props and-

“Hey, Seokmin?” Your friend had gone to the restroom, leaving just the two of you pulling aside from the hoops.

“Yeah?”

“I hope this isn’t a weird time to do this, but, well, I wanted there to be a third person in case things got awkward,” you paused for three, four of his rampant heartbeats, “I just wanted to tell you that I like you.”

His jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

“Why would I lie about something like that?”

“I dunno, I guess I was just worried you saw me the same as your friend there,” he shrugged.

“Please,” you waved your hand, “love that guy, but he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body.”

Seokmin grinned. “And I do?”

“Says the guy who always pulls me away from the road and gave me his scarf the other night!”

“Oh,” Seokmin mused, “I forgot about that. But you know what? Keep it.” And with that, he scooped you into a the warmest hug of your life, all the lights and chatter of the arcade fading out beneath the sensation.

Mingyu

Mungyu was head over frickin heels for you. You, the way you smiled, how hard you laughed at his roast battle with Soonyoung (he won), the cute little way you wrung your hands when you were nervous. He couldn’t help but feel jealous of your male best friend, though- that man must have known your lovely brain even more intimately, known every secret to winning your heart. Maybe he already was winning it, the way you always sat by him and dragged him along on your wonderfully silly antics. The most conflicting part? Your best friend was one of his bandmates.

He’d only met you because you moved near Seventeen’s dorms and Seokmin started bringing you around. It shouldn’t have mattered, but the way you laughed together had his chest tightening, wondering why that couldn’t be him. But would saying something upset Seokmin, cause a rift between the two men? That was the last thing Mingyu wanted. If only his heart would dull its ache, quit beating a mile a minute the moment you fell into his sights.

Something snapped in him one day, though, when you fated three made a convenience store run. You were in a particularly good mood, excitedly grabbing your best friend’s hand and swinging your joined appendages back and forth. All Mingyu wanted was closure, and he was going to get it once and for all.

“So, do you two like each other?” The moment Seokmin rounded the corner to find his favorite snacks, the words burst from the tall rapper’s lips. Mingyu’s composure threatened to falter in the seconds before you answered, ticks that felt like minutes.

You giggled, but the sound wasn’t sheepish, in fact it was…incredulous? Not to mention extremely adorable the way you lit up with mirth. “No way! Seokmin is like a brother to me. In fact, the only reason he started bringing me around Seventeen was thinking he was going to set me up with one of you,” you replied.

“Really?” Mingyu can’t hide his gape at that. “Which one?”

At that, you giggle again. “I don’t think it mattered, really! I think he just wants to make a real sister-in-law out of me. I’d probably have my pick,” you rolled your eyes teasingly.

But then your gaze fell from his almost shyly. And there between aisles of foil snack packages, beneath fluorescent bar lights, came a glittering vision of hope. As if all of Mingyu’s dreams were going to come true.

“Well, if you’re taking applications, sign me up,” he tells you, leaning against a cookie display.

His arm slipped and he almost fell, but you said yes, so nothing was going to wipe the grin off of his face as he took your hand, insisted on carrying your bag on the way back to the dorms.

Seokmin just swung his head back and forth between you two. “What happened while I was gone?”

The8

“You’re not jealous?”

“Why should I be?”

Frankly, it blew some of the other more possessive-leaning Seventeen members’ minds how little it bothered Minghao. You, the girl he claimed to have feelings for, to feel differently toward than anyone else he'd ever met.

"Because that guy is sitting awfully close to her!" Mingyu shot back. "You're not upset? At least feeling like you have competition?"

"A person isn't a prize. It's her choice on who to be with, not mine, and besides, they're best friends. I'm not exactly wishing to be in his place, no," Minghao responds, ending his statement with a smirk.

Mingyu shakes his head at first before breaking into an amused smile and laugh. "All right, you got me there."

Before much else could be said, Minghao heard his name, grinned as he turned around and saw you waving him over. "Come play our silly little game with us!"

"Ok," he chuckled, sending one last smile to Mingyu, who mouthed an overly encouraging 'go get 'em, tiger' that had his nose wrinkling.

In all honesty, it made him happy to be included in moments like that one, old nostalgic games with your best friend. Like him back or not, there was a beauty in seeing Minghao as an important enough part of your life and he wouldn't waste that. As a matter of fact, it only encouraged him to get closer to you and your friends and welcome you more into his life, too.

“After this, you get to pick the next game, ok?”

Minghao just smiled. “Of course. I can teach you mine and my mom’s old favorite.”

Seungkwan

“Oh, remember at your brother’s birthday party when your mom had the limbo contest?”

“Yes, he just bent his legs so weird!”

You and one of your closest friends are sitting reminiscing on all the things you’d done together. The two of you have, for lack of a better term, history, and maybe that’s something that will never get built up the same with-

“Seungkwan?”

Turning his head, Seungkwan responds to his leader’s call with a faint hum, seeing Seungcheol nod toward an empty bedroom and following him in. As soon as he steps through the threshold, he sees the way his elder has his arms crossed and his downturned eyebrows raise.

“Wanna talk about what’s going on out there? And before you ask, yes, I can tell something’s off. It’s (y/n) and her friend, huh?”

Curse his expressiveness. Sometimes Seungkwan feels like he can never keep a secret. Everything is betrayed by his face or the way he acts, but nothing in the world can suppress reflex, pure emotion. At least not all the time.

He sighs. “Yes. I just… I just can’t help feeling like I’ve lost. He knows her like the back of his hand, they have all these memories together… maybe I should just give up.”

“Just because they’ve known each other for longer doesn’t mean anything,” Seungcheol comforts him, stepping forward to rest a firm hand on his shoulder, “in fact, maybe that’s a good sign. If they’ve been friends for years and he’s never made a move, why would he now?”

Seungkwan’s shoulders rise and fall beneath his leader’s warm grip. “Maybe. I guess… I mean, I just worry because she’s spending all that time with him and what am I if not-”

“Seungkwan!”

Your voice cuts into the dark, curling clouds of his reverie, fading around the corner as he stiffens and Seungcheol drops his hand again. Shuffling carefully forward, he tentatively leaves the room to find you standing before him, a smile rising gently to your lips.

“There you are,” you breathe, stepping closer, “I was worried when I saw you leave suddenly. Are you alright?”

His heart flips. He nods. “Yeah, Seungcheol just had a question for me. I’m heading back out, in fact,” he adds, shooting Seventeen’s leader a brief look and receiving a nod in response.

“Good. It’s not the same without you,” you tell him, and this smile elicits more than a flip- this time his heart practically explodes.

“Really?” He asks before he can stop himself.

“Really,” you confirm, heading back out into the room. Luckily you don’t seem to notice the very smug, triumphant glance he shoots your best friend’s way.

Vernon

Vernon isn’t the jealous type. Possessiveness is unnecessary stress, and he feels like if two people truly connect there’s no need.

The problem is he isn’t sure how well you two have connected. Sure you’re friends and sure you guys have hung out, but there’s another guy you’re with all the time- boyfriend? Hard to tell. If so, not officially, not in words. He’s your best friend, your ride or die, so to speak, and Vernon isn’t going to do anything to get in the way of that. Having twelve ride or dies himself, that would be hypocrisy in the highest.

Yet the way his brow furrows seeing you with him, the unpleasant jolt of his heart when you bring up yet another joke just the two of you share, has him wondering if his interest is feckless. It’s not anger, for he had no claim to you, but a strong desire for closure, just one final word to release him from the surreptitious glances at your beauty or jokes made just for you. The thoughts of what sort of stuff you would do as a couple- were you the matching tattoos or matching pajamas type? DIY dates or something bougier? Probably more DIY, you were so down to earth, but Vernon would spoil you if you let him…

“Oh, come off it, bro,” you waved your best friend’s hand off your shoulder, wrinkling your nose at the embarrassing childhood anecdote, “I haven’t done that since I was a kid and you never saw me, my mom just told you the story!”

Bro? Bro! One choice word had Vernon’s ears perking up. He’d never caught you going full bro with your bestie before. Did he have a shot? Involuntarily his heartbeat picked up.

“And I’ll never let you forget it,” your best friend gave you a smug look, crossing his arms.

Your eyes met Vernon’s in a flustered glance. As cute as you looked embarrassed, he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. Instead he offered a comforting smile. “Don’t worry, I didn’t really catch it.”

Sighing in relief, you shook your head at your friend before looking once more at Vernon. “You’re so lucky you just have a sister, otherwise this is what you have to deal with.”

Vernon laughed at that, a sound that even surprised him, but such a giddy rush had struck his heart with the hope that came from your revelation. If your best friend was a brother in your eyes, could someone else hold your heart?

Dino

Lee Chan was, in a word, not having it.

You were it for him, a girl like he'd never met before, and it had become his newest mission in life to show you how amazing you were. Compliments, small gifts, being there for help or comfort whenever you needed it, all were fair game for the youngest member of Seventeen.

So why were you suddenly dragging this other guy around everywhere?

Chan's heart felt like it was in a vice when you made all the posts taking him to an amusement park, to Baskin Robbins, the park, all the cute places he would have given anything to go one-on-one with you to.

"Trust me, I think you should let this go," Minghao told him at practice one day, "look at his arm around her, nice but so stiff. There's no way the two of them are anything but friends."

Valid point, but who else would take up such major real estate of your time so quickly? Go from zero to sixty hanging out unless you were his girlfriend? Either way Chan wasn't going down without a fight.

The next time he saw you, the metaphorical gloves were off. And by that, Chan fully intended to march right up to you, thundering of his heart be darned, and have his choice words. Well, choice question, really.

"Why are you doing all those things with him and not me?" It wasn't entirely a complaint, not entirely a command or entreaty either. It was everything Chan felt when he looked at you and lit up, then saw someone else basking in that light.

Your brows furrowed at his words, every twitch of your muscle one of true confusion, before you spoke. "Who, my cousin? He's only in Seoul for a few more weeks, so we've been cramming it all in. Do you really want to do all that with me too?"

Cousin! Internally Chan was breaking out into a one-man dance routine. Externally? He had to keep it a bit cooler.

"With you and no one else," he confirmed with a smile, leaning back against the wall with a look of smug satisfaction, even if it did mean Minghao was right.

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randomshyperson · 2 years

Text

Sweet Us - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: An accident with interdimensional portals takes you to a world where you are married to your best friend. For a certain black widow, it's a great opportunity to torment you. Or, the one where you have feelings for Wanda and sometimes you just need to visit the version of you who had the guts to tell her. | Requested

Warnings: (+18), a little bit of everything from angst, bad jokes and happy ending, some milf!wanda was well, friends to lovers, kissing, nudity, avengers being a family, some drinking, several references to comics and series inside jokes, emo wanda, mild angst, everyone is homosexual 'cause i said so, car sex in the end, strap on use, bottom!wanda, reader being a simp in every world | Words: 12.555k

A/N-> A friend from A03 asked me for this one and she had asked for a comedy and I put in several angst scenes for free. Anyway, I think it worked. Now I still have a fic from a very old request for Spider!Reader that I should post next week. Hope you like this one!

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--//--

Sweet Us - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

The Multiverse was at war.

It didn't start in your world, however. In fact, according to Stephen Strange, the supreme of your reality, the war wasn't actually even in its infancy. He just knew that things had gotten out of hand and that the Avengers would be a good help in keeping the dangers at bay.

Therefore, Tony and Vision created special teams to help the sorcerers - In Tony's words, a glitter cleaning team (No one was offended, everyone was sure it was jealousy since Iron Man couldn't do magic) and you were one of the names on the Black Widow team.

Obviously, Natasha was the leader. You, like her, were part of the Red Room in your childhood. The third was Yelena, and she didn't want to join the mission because Kate Bishop was coming back to the compound this weekend and she wanted to be a good friend.

You understood and said fine. Natasha was annoyed.

"It's her job, Y/N!" Complained the redhead for the hundredth time on the way to the Sanctum Sanctorum beside you. "If she doesn't help us to protect the universe, she can wave goodbye to movie nights with her girlfriend."

You sighed lightly. "But she hasn't seen Kate in months, Nat! It's normal to miss each other..."

"I don't even know why I'm trying to explain this to you." Natasha interrupted irritably, her hands busy reviewing ammunition (a Yelena task) while you drove the truck. "Of course, you understand well what Yelena is going through."

You frowned slightly. "What did you mean by that?"

But Nat only laughed dryly, ignoring your quibble and going back to check to see if the guns were loaded.

Usually, Stephen's missions were simple. Making sure the interdimensional cracks were closed in time and dealing with any kind of threat that might have escaped through them.

But as soon as you made the curve in the avenue, and you had to brake the car to avoid hitting the number of running pedestrians, you and Natasha knew it would be different than last time.

Natasha quickly slung a gun in your lap and opened the doors, and you wasted no time in running with her toward the confusion. Soon you could see the cosmic monstrosity that was happening there.

Right on top of the Sanctum Sanctorum, an extradimensional cathedral had opened. Stephen and some other magicians were floating around, trying to keep the creatures under control, and they seemed to be doing a good job. But extra weapons were always useful.

Exchanging a look with Natasha, you moved into the fray, and you had to put all your widow training into practice to stay away from the tentacled creatures advancing out of the colored cracks.

On a roll behind a car, your cell phone rang. You answered the call using the helmet of the uniform you and Natasha were wearing.

A small window became visible in your field of vision, and the image of a sleepy Wanda Maximoff with slightly tousled hair and scratching her eyes appeared and sped up your heart more than the surrounding monsters.

"Good morning Witchy, what can I do for you?" You asked in the gentlest tone you could manage, as your fingers worked to reload your gun. Explosions boomed behind you.

"dobroye utro, milaya ('morning sweetheart)..." She started with a yawn. "Y/N, have you seen my Imagine Dragons t-shirt? I can't find it anywhere and I was going to wear it to the show later."

"Yeah, it's in my closet-ouch!" A small exclamation of pain cut off your speech because some of the creatures threw an acid that corroded half the car and dripped onto your sleeve. Wanda was immediately alarmed.

"What was that, Y/N? Where are you...?"

"ARE YOU REALLY ON THE PHONE WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FIGHT?" Natasha shouted from across the street in indignation and thank god it was too far away for Wanda to hear. You grunted a little.

"We ended up in a conflict before we got to the sanctum, darling. No big deal, just a few more little magic monsters." You said, and Wanda's face grew even more worried.

"I'll dress up in a minute, I can help-"

"No, no, you're off duty." You interrupt her immediately, shaking your head and having to throw yourself to the side to keep a tentacle from holding you. "Wanda, go get some breakfast, and the blouse-Shit!" You hush to defend a blow, ducking and Wanda tries to look past the camera but to no avail. You return to the video breathless and with a helmet full of blood on the outside (Not that she can see). "Your blouse is at the top of my closet, wear it with that black skirt it will look great! I-I'll meet you and Pietro at the door of the show, okay? Seven-thirty. As we agreed."

Wanda hesitates, clearly worried about the muffled confusion around you. You soften your expression though you can feel a cut burning in your stomach.

"I'm fine, Wands. I'll come home, I promise."

You never lie to her, especially if it is a promise. So she smiles, swallows dryly the anticipation, and trusts you.

"I'll be waiting, dorogoya. Seven-thirty, don't be late." She says before hanging up.

But the fight seems to get worse after that. Or maybe it's the cut on your stomach, which slows you down.

Natasha steps back to give you cover, and for a moment, it looks like you are winning. You see Stephen controlling the largest of the Monsters, and the mages closing most of the cracks.

You turn to tell Natasha that you have landed more hits than she has, but the redhead is already running toward you to get you out of range of the car that one of the monsters has thrown in your direction.

You both roll a little on impact, but you're fine.

"You could have knocked me down a little more gently, Romanoff." You mutter to irritate her as you massage her shoulder. But Natasha is looking forward with wide eyes.

When you look and see the crack that you have passed through - and which was now closing in at high speed - you also widen your eyes.

You stand up to try to stop it, but it is already too late. The portal had already closed.

"Okay. Okay. Don't panic." You gasp with your hand on your stomach, looking to where the crack was, but where now there are only streets. And what was once a chaotic fight with a crowd fleeing monsters, has turned into a quiet boulevard with pedestrians looking strangely at the blood-covered uniforms you and Natasha were wearing.

"Let's try to be positive. Maybe we've gone to a nice world." You try but Natasha is drawing her pistol again, turning toward something behind you.

Black pickup trucks arrive at high speed and park, surrounding the area. Pedestrians run away and you swallow dryly, feeling a little dizzy. You can feel the cut dripping down your stomach as well.

"Let me do the talking." Natasha murmurs to you, as you watch masked agents step out of cars with rifles that are clearly far more advanced than anything you have in your world.

They all carried the Iron Legion symbol in a brooch on their chests, perhaps that's why Natasha lowered her gun to the ground and stepped forward with her hands in the air.

"We're not here for trouble." She tried, but one of the soldiers stepped forward.

"Identify yourselves outsiders." Demanded the male voice. You swallowed dryly as you noticed the iron hand that held a smaller type of iPad.

"I am Natasha-"

"Reason for the Journey, not names." Cut the serious man - Or you imagined the expression by the tone of his voice. Like everyone else, he wore an iron mask that covered much of his face. But the long hair and green eyes were familiar enough for you and Nat not to despair. She swallowed dryly.

"Bucky, we are travelers from another universe, we are not here to cause trouble." Natasha tried as she stepped forward, but the mention of the name only made everyone tense up. The soldier put down his iPad and drew his gun. Nat stopped walking.

"Reason for travel, I won't ask again!" He shouted demanding, and Natasha sighed slightly. She opened her mouth to reply, trying to decide how she was going to explain all of Strange's confusion when she heard a motorcycle noise. Bucky's variant let out an impatient grunt, but the vehicle was already parking next to the truckers, and someone got off.

"You're losing your touch, Barnes." Mocked the agent who got down, and before you could mutter to Natasha that it was a hell of an entrance, the woman was pulling a knife from her ankle and advancing on you two. Natasha wasted no time in reacting, of course, masterfully matching the blows.

"You're trespassing, illusionist." Said the soldier between one hit and another. You tried to help Natasha, but Bucky's variant attacked you and the metal arm kept you busy enough.

"It's not an illusion!" Natasha defended herself without stopping the fighting.

"It's not, heh? If you really are Natalia, tell me something only I would know." Demanded the woman, making the redhead laugh confusedly.

"I don't even know who you are." Justified the widow, and ended up getting hit in the legs that knocked her down.

"Wrong answer, evil clone." Retorted the other. Fortunately, you had trained enough with Bucky to know exactly how to defeat him and had just hit him when Natasha fell. You only had time to run and throw yourself against the agent to prevent your friend from getting hit in the face.

The wound on your stomach throbbed with the impact, and you squirmed on the ground, trying to get up beyond the pain because you heard the other soldier doing the same next to you. Natasha ran into a range to you, helping you up and taking a few steps back. You both raised your fists at the Soldier getting up, but Natasha hesitated when they took off her glasses that were scratched in the fall.

"You take the right and I'll take the left, okay?" You directed but Natasha was lowering her hands. You frowned in confusion. "Nat, by god, she's coming, what the hell are you doing?"

The soldier started walking, and you swallowed dryly. Nat didn't hesitate. "Take off your helmet, Y/N."

"Do you want her to hit me in the head? Or worse one of the soldiers?" You asked in desperation.

Natasha grunted impatiently, and when the soldier moved forward, she spun her body skillfully and used the same blow you never knew how to defend, effectively knocking the other woman to the ground.

"No matter the world, you never watch the knees, do you баламут (troublemaker)? Mocks the widow, pinning the soldier beneath her, a victorious smile on her face. You frown in indignation.

"I thought you only called me that..." You mutter in annoyance, and Natasha sighs impatiently.

"By God, Y/N! Hasn't it become obvious yet? Take off your helmet, and help me before they shoot us." She shouted, and despite your grimace, you capably obeyed.

As soon as your helmet came off, the soldiers hesitated and lowered their weapons. Bucky - who was getting up - widened his eyes and made no attempt to attack.

The woman trapped underneath Natasha stopped struggling.

"I'm going to take yours off now, okay?" Natasha asked the soldier, who stood still waiting.

As soon as the iron mask came off, and you saw your own face, you were completely speechless.

But only for half a second.

"Oh my God! It's me! I'm so cool! Did you see the way I arrive on the bike? Where did I learn to ride a motorcycle! And this leather jacket looks amazing on me! And see the way everybody put down their guns and let me fight alone? I'm like a super powerful leader, aren't I? My God this is so cool!

Natasha laughed incredulously, and got off your variant, helping you to stand while you looked around excitedly.

"Like I said, it's not an illusion." Said the widow. "We are from another world. It was an accident to end up here."

Your variant swallows dryly, exchanging a glance with Bucky - who is standing and sort of at a loss for words with you praising the improvements his mechanical arm has received in this world - before sighing lightly.

"I'll take them to the compound, Barnes. Take the team to take care of the breaches they've opened up in the north." Your variant directs, and Bucky seems quite content to evade your comments, gesturing for the team to follow him.

In record time, the pickup trucks and soldiers are gone, and you and Natasha stand facing the motorcycle.

"You can't fit three on a motorcycle..." You mutter softly, making your variant chuckle. She moves to take something off the dashboard of the vehicle, and you realize that it is one of the rings that Strange owns. And that might explain how cars get to places so quickly in this universe.

She opens a portal into the street, and you walk through to end up in the front yard of the Avengers Complex.

"Are you writing this stuff down, Romanoff? Strange could lend us those rings." You whisper to the widow beside you, who shakes her head, hiding a smile.

"Why did you bring us here?" Natasha asks your variant, who is dragging the shut-down motorcycle to the entrance.

"You need to give some statements, paperwork for multiversal travelers." She replies, parking the motorcycle before turning to you two again. "And well, the Legion of Ultron takes care of those matters."

You and Nat swallow dry, exchanging shocked looks. It is by following your variant that you realize that the Avengers' symbol is not on the door of the compound but the same as the Iron Legion's - or Ultron's - like the one on the brooch on their uniforms.

"Ultron worked out in this world then?" Natasha asks casually, and your variant lets out an impressed laugh.

"You guys know him?" She asked. You scratch the back of your head.

"Yeah, something like that." You mumble because you don't think it would be a good idea to say that he was a supervillain in your world and that you and Wanda destroyed his last body together.

It seemed like a good enough answer for your variant.

"The guy's a pain in the ass if you ask me." Retorted the variant. "But if you're fans, he stays in the Tower basically always, because he can work inside his own head. You can ask for an autograph before you leave."

Natasha giggles, muttering that it wasn't okay in the sense that she had no interest in asking the robot for autographs, but you barely heard it because you were impressed with the inside of this world's compound.

Everything was so clean and luxurious, and the painting of that legion of Ultron on the wall of the living room attracted your immediate attention. All the Avengers were there, and they were a few years older. The image of yourself smiling and with an arm around a redheaded Wanda made you interrupt the conversation.

"This girl. That you hug in the picture. Are you friends here?" You ask, and your variant raises a surprised eyebrow.

Natasha rolls her eyes. " Of course, you and Wanda are besties everywhere, Y/N, can we get back to adult business now?" Retorts the impatient widow having been interrupted in her questioning about going back to her own world, but your variant lets out a small laugh.

"It's all right, Natalia, in a new world I too would be curious to know where my wife is."

Your smile fades immediately, and Natasha's shock only lasts half a second.

"I beg your pardon?" She questions with a dry laugh. "Did you say wife? Are you married? You?"

Your variant laughs awkwardly, approaching the frame next to you. "Yes, for a few years actually." She starts by nodding to the picture. "That was taken in the first year of the legion, we called ourselves the Avengers back there. It was cool, but while I'm not much of a fan of the microwave, I have to admit that Ultron has improved everything. It's nice not to have any tragedies to avenge, you know?" You counter with a slightly nostalgic smile, lowering your hands and putting them in your pockets. "We had quieter years, I was able to start a family. Wanda and I got married just before we were promoted."

You had your mouth hanging open in shock. Natasha was biting back a smile, trying not to start laughing at your face.

"Wow, what a beautiful story." She commented with a slight tease that your variant didn't catch. "And were you guys friends or was it already a more direct thing with dating and sex in the compound?"

The variant gave a shy, confused laugh, evidently surprised at the straightforward curiosity. You grunted in shame, unable not to imagine the situation, and closed your eyes for a moment to control your own thoughts.

"Sorry, you and Wanda are not a couple in your universe?" Your variant asks tenderly, and Natasha giggles from your side as you try to control the red in your cheeks.

"N-no, we... um, no." You stammer.

"They're living a friends to lovers, I'd say." Natasha murmurs, and your variant gives a chuckle at the way you cross your arms in a sulk, your face burning like your ears.

Natasha seemed intent on continuing to torment you, but someone crosses the hallway and you roll your eyes at the sight of Peggy Carter in front of you. You only know her from Steve's pictures and the Shield paintings, and it is impactful to say the least to see her standing in front of you.

"Y/N, I just got the notification from Bucky." She says seriously, her gaze on you and Nat. "We don't bring travelers into the compound, but seeing them, I already understand the exception." Says Peggy, to which your variant just nods.

"Is Wanda back yet? Someone has to take care of the trial and T'Challa is in Wakanda until next week." Your variant said, but before Peggy could respond, Nat steps forward.

"Trial?" She asks indignantly, but her variant softens her expression.

"It's just what we call it, Natalia." She replies. "We have rules for interdimensional travel, all are administered by the Council. It's dangerous to mess with the multiverse, everything has to be well taken care of to avoid catastrophes. When two variants appear in the middle of New York, we need to know what they were doing here."

Natasha sighs slightly, deciding to trust. It was you, after all.

You, on the other hand, are trying to look at the shield Peggy carries on her back. She gives a little giggle when she notices, taking the item out to show you.

"So cool!" You comment excitedly, running your hand over the flag. "We have a Captain America on our world, his name is Sam Wilson, maybe you know him?"

"Oh, sure, he's our Captain America too." Peggy retorts with a smile. "He took over the shield after Steve Rogers. And I'm Captain Carter."

"Oh, that makes sense." You murmur nodding. "It's nice that you and Steve were able to stay together in this world."

Peggy frowns slightly, chuckling lightly. "Um, actually, Steve isn't...well, we were partners. In the war, before the ice. But now, well, he and Barnes got married in the fall." She tells you and you widen your eyes in surprise. "And I'm... um, I'm Margaret Carter Romanova now."

Natasha chokes in surprise, turning redder than her own hair. You can't hold back your giggle.

"You married Steve's ex-girlfriend? Sweet Jesus, Natalia, congratulations, really. I'll never let that one go." You teased and Nat grunted loudly, but the variants only chuckled lightly.

"There's time until the trial, and you guys could use a bath." Your variant spoke, clearly trying to dim the awkwardness of the conversation. "Come, I'll take you to, well, your rooms." Joked last.

You would have scoffed at the way Natasha tripped over her own feet as she passed Peggy - who muttered to her that she was very pretty in all universes - but you were too excited to see the rest of the compound.

Despite the different decorations - from pictures or coats of arms - in general it was quite similar to the one in your world. You found it funny that your room in that reality was on the other side of the tower, however.

"I imagine you know the showers trick." Asked your variant as she led you inside, and you laughed, nodding in agreement. "You can wear anything from the dresser, we're the same size after all. I'll see if I can get you guys something to eat. And I'll check if the operations with Bucky go smoothly. Make yourselves at home." Said your variant, before leaving the room.

Natasha turned her face and her gaze was full of mischief.

"So you actually want to marry Maximoff..."

"Choose your words well, Romanoff. You hooked up with your best friend's ex." You retort quickly and Nat chokes in shock. She closes her mouth with an irritated grumble and you giggle. "Let's get this over with soon, and you can torment me later."

"Oh, believe me, I'll torment you later." She retorts mockingly but is moving away toward the door. "And what can we do but wait? Strange is probably looking for us right now, which means we should take advantage of the time we have here."

"Nat, please stay out of trouble..."

"Or please, the баламут here is you." She retorts with a chuckle as she opens the door. "And I'm just curious what my life is like here. Come on, it's not every day we get to go to a different universe. If I were you, I'd go snoop around, maybe find out how you and Wanda ended up under a tree..."

You grunt in embarrassment, grabbing one of the pillows from the bed to throw at Natasha, but by the time you do, she is laughing her way out the door.

Sighing heavily, you decide that if Natasha is going to be looking around for trouble, someone of you should behave. For now, you need a bath.

Your room is evidently the largest in the world, especially the closet that your variant humbly calls a dresser.

You let your fingers run through the suits and uniforms until you reach a kind of dressing table, where you let out a soft sigh when you find a picture in the mirror.

Red hair suits Wanda. In the photo, she is sitting on your lap, while you kiss her cheek. You are both smiling, and what is most different from your world are the golden rings on your fingers.

You swallow dryly, returning the photo to its place and letting your attention fall to the fighting equipment your variant keeps there. The iron mask has its replacements in the top drawer, and you are curious to know how it feels.

Putting it on, you face your reflection. It's nice. You're considering telling Tony when you come back for a new design on your uniform when you hear footsteps approaching and a voice that makes you stumble with fright.

"lyubovʹ moya, ty tak dolgo (my love, you took so long)" Wanda comments as soon as she enters the closet and you swallow dry, ready to explain the whole story, but she walks over to you and hugs you tight and you can only sigh deeply. Once she looks at you again, she gives a little giggle at the mask, "I always forget how hot you look in this."

Oh.

Your cheeks blush, heavily, and you are grateful for the mask. Wanda kisses you on the neck and you almost become a complete mess. She doesn't seem to notice, pulling away and going back to saying something about the mission being over earlier than expected, and her looking for you, but you're trying to decide how you're going to explain everything and stop shaking.

All thoughts fade away when Wanda simply takes off her shirt.

Your breath catches, and you know that your face must be the same color as her hair. With trembling legs, you sit down in the closet chair, and Wanda - oblivious to all this - simply works to remove her bra and turns around with her torso exposed to you.

"[...] Anyway, that Bishop girl has been hanging around the house a lot, don't you think? I've asked America dozens of times, but she keeps evading the subject. Billy and Tommy refuse to tell on their sister, but I'm going to find out if they're dating." Wanda comments, but you're in shock, staring at her bare breasts without reaction. At your realization, she raises an eyebrow. "Malysha, are you listening to me?" She asks with some amusement, placing a hand on her waist and you gasp slightly.

"Jesus christ." You mumble affectedly, finally looking away and not risking looking up again. Wanda watches your reaction with amusement.

"All these years and you're still speechless at the sight of me without clothes..." She murmurs approaching and you are opening your mouth to start explaining, but Wanda is straddling your lap and you find that you have lost the ability to breathe. "If we were quick, we can have some fun before the appointment this afternoon. Do that thing I like with your tongue..." She teased softly, hips grinding against yours and taking away your ability to think properly.

"Wanda, god, I'm not-"

"Wow, that's something." Interrupted someone from the doorway and Wanda screamed. She stumbled away from you, covering her torso with one arm, a mixture of horror and confusion on her face. But your variant, arms crossed from the doorway, was laughing. "I can only remember when I said I dreamed I kissed another version of you and you made me sleep on the couch. Now, look how the tables have turned."

Wanda grunted indignantly, "Explain yourself, Y/N! Now!" She demanded, still in shock that she was seeing two versions of yourself. Your variant didn't stop smiling but uncrossed her arms.

You heard something about multiverse but the wound in your stomach throbbed painfully and everything started to go dark.

When you blinked again, you were lying in an infirmary. And Natasha beside you.

"Hey." You greet in a hoarse voice, and soon let out an exclamation of pain from the slap you got from Romanoff on the arm.

"Why the hell didn't you say you were hurt?" She questioned as you massaged the twinge and sat up in bed.

"I didn't think it was serious." You justified yourself feeling your whole body aching. "And the super serum has to be good for something."

"The serum doesn't make you immortal, Y/N! God, if I let you die in another world Wanda turns me into a frog." Grumbled the redhead making you chuckle lightly.

"She's not that kind of witch." You say, but Nat shakes her head.

"Oh, that's not what I heard." Says the redhead, nodding her head at the couple talking outside the room. Wanda and your variant are talking very close, and when they exchange intense smiles, and the variant takes Wanda's hand and kisses it before saying goodbye, you turn your blushing face away.

"What do you mean?" You ask Nat, who sighs a little.

"You blacked out for a few hours, Y/N. The trial is over."

"W-what?"

"Relax, it all worked out." Nat soothes you by forcing you back into a sitting position when you make mention of getting up. "They've had some bad experiences with travelers in this world, and now they keep things under control. They were waiting for you to wake up to send us back."

You absorb the information in shock, and before you can question further, Wanda is back. She opens the door and offers you such a tender smile that you suddenly feel very aware that you are only in a top because of the bandage they made on your belly.

"You're awake, dorogoya." She greeted, and you were too busy hiding your flushed face to notice Natasha's little smile beside you. "How are you feeling?"

"G-good." You murmured watching her approach the bed until she was close enough to touch your face. "Natalia already told you about the trial, I imagine."

"Mm-hmm." You merely replied, knowing that you would have no ability to formulate any answer with Wanda caressing your cheek like that.

She smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before commenting, "God, you're so young. This is so odd."

You laugh shyly. "You don't look old."

That wasn't entirely true. Wanda was older than the one you knew, but that may be because you have all the traits of her face memorized, and your Wanda has no age wrinkles yet. Regardless, the version in front of you is absurdly gorgeous.

She chuckles a little. "You are sweet, but I am old enough to be a mother in this world." She murmurs as she pulls her hand away, you were going to complain about the lack, but she sits down beside you. "And indeed, I am."

You widen your eyes softly, but Natasha doesn't seem the least bit surprised, a little smile lingers on her face.

"Do you have children?" You ask curiously, and Wanda smiles, nodding in agreement. "Cool. They... are they ours?"

She bites her lip thoughtfully, and you imagine that there must be rules about what and how much to say about the multiverse. Wanda may have decided to ignore them all.

"Yes, they are ours." She replies, her hands moving to check the bandage on your belly. "America, not by blood, is our older. We adopted her when she was 6, she's the naughtiest girl I know. And then the twins came. William and Thomas. They are our biological children."

You give a lopsided laugh. "Is that, like, possible in this world?"

It's Wanda's turn to laugh, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

"Oh, dorogoya, believe me, we figured that out." That's what she replies, and you'll accept it as enough because you've suddenly allowed yourself to think about the attempts and the heat that has surged in your body makes you embarrassed. Wanda realizes that everything is okay with the bandage, and sighs slightly. "If you are really feeling well, everything is ready for you two to go."

You swallow dryly, nodding and forcing a smile at Wanda.

"Hey, Wands." You call out to her before she can get up. "Sorry." That's what you say, surprising her. "F-for not saying I wasn't your wife. And for seeing your boobs."

"Wow, excuse me?" Natasha cuts in with a laugh that Wanda accompanies. You blush heavily, but Maximoff gestures slightly.

"It's okay, sweetie." Wanda assures you. "My wife also gets tongue-tied around me. It's a good reaction, I suppose."

"Well, you're super gorgeous, so it's not our fault." You mutter getting a shy chuckle from the other, but Natasha grunts softly.

"And you guys are super gay. I'm going to get something to eat before we go, Y/N." Annunciates the redhead before leaving the room, and you and Wanda exchange giggles as you were left alone.

Once the giggles cease, she reaches for your hand on the bed.

"Promise me you're okay?" She asks low, and you swallow dryly at the strong deja vu. Wanda is Wanda in all worlds.

"I'm fine, it was just a scratch. I promise." You assured her making her smile slightly. Next, you let your curiosity prevail. "Where did I go?"

Her smile didn't go off. "Home, of course." She says. "We work at the Tower, but our home is in Massachusetts." She tells surprising you.

"We live with the witches, huh?" you joke and it's Wanda's turn to be surprised.

She hesitates a bit, curiosity shining in her eyes as she draws patterns on her hand.

"Your Wanda...she's not a witch?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, half thoughtfully. "Well, technically, no? Her powers are super cool, and when she was with Hydra, she did some stuff with people's fears and everyone started calling her a witch. But she only does energy stuff and stopped with the mind control thing. The nickname little witch caught on, but she doesn't really do spells."

"But the powers, where did they come from?" She insists, and you shrug softly.

"From the mind stone, I guess." You reply. "That's what I know."

Wanda forces a smile, nodding and stopping her caresses on your hand. "I am a witch, Y/N. And I think your Wanda is too."

"Well, that's cool, I love magic and so does Wanda." You casually retort, getting a small giggle from the other.

"Malysha, listen to me carefully, okay?" She asks looking into your eyes. "I have met a few versions of myself in this extensive multiverse. None that have had their magic amplified by an Infinity Stone before. Your Wanda may be a special kind of us."

"Oh, like royalty?" You ask receiving a frown in return. A small smile forms on your lips. "I usually call her princess too. It would be nice to know I got another nickname right."

Wanda laughs softly, her eyes full of affection. "You really like her, don't you?"

You swallow dryly, evading the hidden meaning in her words. "S-She's my best friend."

The redhead doesn't seem to be impacted much by the correction. She smiles.

"If I'm right, Wanda will be the Scarlet Witch one day."

You blink in confusion. "I don't know what that means."

"And you don't need to know." She says, placing a hand on your face. "Not now. You're young, she is too, isn't she?" She asks and you nod quickly. Wanda smiles, "You have time. Enjoy that innocence now, that freedom. If she really is the Scarlet Witch, the power and responsibility don't come for free."

You frowned in concern, raising your hand to her forearm. "Wands, what are you talking about?"

But she smiles, shaking her head. "It's not my place to tell your story, dear." She says as she strokes her skin. "Please, just be there for her. She's going to need you. I always do."

You swallow dryly but force a smile. "I promise."

Wanda smiles, and you hold your breath as she approaches. She kisses your cheek, and you know you are blushing hard.

"Go get dressed, I'll make sure your Natasha didn't destroy something else." Declares Wanda as she walks away, and you frown in confusion.

"What did she destroy before?" you ask getting only a chuckle in return.

Many minutes later, you are wearing a completely clean uniform with a pouting Natasha Romanoff at your side. - She didn't like that the Legion of Ultron people wouldn't let her destroy another of the small statues of Vision (which in this world was Ultron) scattered around the compound. In her words 'microwave third wheel deserves no tribute'.

You were very pleased that some members of the Legion came to say goodbye to you.

Peggy even let you hold the shield before you left. And you were too busy talking to Wanda to notice the flirtations the captain threw at Nat only to see her blush.

"I think you would like to have this." Wanda said as she handed one of the masks to you, and got you to widen your eyes.

"She-I mean, I won't mind?" You ask, and Wanda giggles.

"It was my wife who asked me to deliver it." She explains, and you take the item from her hands. "I think she'd like to give it to you, but someone has to make sure Billy and Tommy do their homework. And part of her got the impression that you'd like to see me by your bedside when you wake up."

You blushed again, babbling embarrassedly, which only increased Wanda's smile.

"Thanks for the mask, witchy. Really." You murmur and she moves closer to hug you almost tight enough that your bruise hurts. No chance for you to complain, Wanda could keep her arms around you as long as she wanted.

"Sorry to break the moment, love birds, but I think we'd better go soon." Natasha said as she approached with her arms crossed, and her face half flushed. "Our friends must be worried."

Wanda waved goodbye as she let you go, and you smiled at her before joining Nat.

After the conversation, you weren't surprised that the return spell was done by Wanda, and you just arranged to wave goodbye to the Legion before entering the portal with Natasha.

The scenery of the compound was replaced by the interiors of the Sanctum Sanctorum, where Stephen Strange stumbled away from spell books toward you two.

"Romanoff! L/N! You are here!" He announced in amazement, but Natasha rolled her eyes.

"And we did it on our own, mister Supreme!" She scoffed.

"But it was Wanda who did the spell..." You muttered low, receiving an elbow from the widow who forgot you were injured and scrambled to help you stand when you howled in pain.

Stephen used his cape to float to you quickly.

"How long have we been gone?" Nat asked holding you as you squeezed the bruise gently.

"Long enough." Stephen replied. "I alerted your team, and was trying to find the spell to take to me and -"

But Stephen didn't even have to complete, because a female figure was crossing the hallway and as soon as she laid eyes on you, she let the teacup fall to the floor.

Pietro caught the item with a grimace, keeping the drink from spilling out, and Natasha released you just in time for Wanda to throw herself onto you.

"Hey, hey, I'm fine." You assured with a shy chuckle, feeling Wanda squeeze tighter. "I'm glad you found the t-shirt."

But she didn't laugh at your joke, sniffling against your chest and making you swallow dryly.

"I thought I lost you." She confesses with her face hidden against you. "I couldn't...I couldn't feel you anymore. Nowhere. Don't ever do that again. You scared me."

You stroke her back, swallowing dryly before saying, "Forgive me, I didn't mean to. I'm here now. I'm safe."

Wanda only releases you because you grunt softly from the pain of the bruise. "W-what happened?"

"We have a lot to discuss, Maximoff, you have no idea." It is Natasha who answers, and you force a tender smile at Wanda.

–//–

In the end, Natasha did most of the talking. She took care of the story, and because you were injured, you insisted on taking care of the mission reports for Stephen.

She politely ignored your request and delivered them while you were busy at dinner with Wanda.

Unfortunately, you missed the show. Your interdimensional trip lasted almost two days on this world. The avengers were racing against time to find you, and Stephen had spent many hours enduring light threats from an angry Wanda demanding that he find out where you were. Pietro, besides being a mandatory presence on the rescue team, thought it best to stay around so that Wanda didn't end up destroying the Sanctum.

Your injury was healing fast, and although you had told the team members a few hundred times about the universe you visited, you were doing a great job of hiding the fact that you were married in your other life to your best friend.

When Kate Bishop showed up in your room with tickets to the next Imagine Dragons concert, they came with an ultimatum.

"You have to tell her." She said, completely confusing you.

"What are you talking about, Hawkeye?" You questioned, but Kate crossed her arms.

You widened your eyes. "Who told you?"

Kate laughed. "Really, Y/N? Nat tells Clint and Yelena everything. And Clint is my mentor, and Lena is my girlfriend. And well, I tell everyone everything, so I guess the only person who doesn't know is Wanda, but if Pietro already knows..."

"God I need to sit down." You state with a nervous nausea in your stomach, sitting down on your bed as Kate sighs impatiently, and closes the door with her foot as she follows you inside.

"Man, what's the big deal, you know? You married her in another world, and you're obviously super into her in this one too."

"Kate!" You interrupt her with a red face. "It's not like that, okay!"

Kate rolls her eyes, with an incredulous laugh. "As if." She mutters, but you grunt.

"Look, I can't, okay? Wanda is...perfect. She's everything. Everything I have." You state looking at the floor, and Kate frowns in surprise. You swallow dryly. "I can't ruin us. She's the most important person I have, and I don't know what I would do if I ruined this..."

Kate sighs, coming closer and kneeling in front of you, one hand on your knee. "Y/N, it's normal to be afraid. I felt the same way with Yelena. But look on the bright side, you can already see that you guys work in another life, you can have a chance to be happy in this one too."

You smile sadly. "That world was different, Kate." You mutter. "There, a lot of things that went wrong here, worked in that life. What if in this world, Wanda and I are supposed to go wrong? That variant was incredible. Fearless and so cool. I am not that way. I panic about basically everything, and I have no idea what I'm going to do with my life. Those two knew who they were and that they wanted a family together. And I have no idea how to do that."

Kate swallows dryly, forcing a smile. "But you don't need to know that now, Y/N." She says gently. "We are so young. Maybe your variants were as lost as you are now, but they had the courage to stand by each other until they were ready. The question is whether you will too."

You swallow dryly, silently absorbing her words. Kate offers you a soft smile and moves her hands away to take two items from her blouse pocket.

"I heard you missed the last one, and I hate the band, but I kept getting tickets because of the last name, so I figured you'd make better use of this than me..." She says as she places the tickets in her lap. "A confession is a good way to end a concert."

You laugh with flushed cheeks, picking up the tickets so they don't fall off as you hug Kate.

"I would never have the courage for something so public, but thank you little Hawkeye." You murmur and she laughs softly, hugging you back.

Neither of you notices the teary-eyed girl behind the bedroom door.

–//–

When your wound had completely healed, you went to Wanda's room.

It was Tuesday and it had been two weeks since the trip to the multiverse. The subject, in theory, was no longer anything new for any Avenger to be interested in asking about.

That's why you were surprised Wanda brought up the topic again.

"I'm just curious." She justified herself as soon as she saw your expression. "It's weird, to think there are other versions of us living around."

You chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck as you settled into Wanda's bed. It was a common image - Since you joined the team, your intimacy was very strong. And her room was practically yours. So she was at this very moment trying to decide what outfit she was going to wear to the Imagine Dragons concert, and both pieces in her hands were yours.

"You're right, witchy, but I already told the whole story." You lay with your head resting on your arm, as Wanda put the shirt over her body in front of the mirror. She hums, clearly not believing you and you frown.

Wanda never acts like that with you. But to be fair, you didn't usually lie to her either.

"What does ‘hum’ supposed to mean?" You question, but Wanda sighs wearily, scarlet magic keeping the garments in the air as she pulls her shirt up.

Your face burns and you look up at the ceiling immediately. Wanda notices you through the mirror, and has trouble hiding her little smile.

"It doesn't mean anything, just that I was listening." She mutters in clarification, and it's your turn to mutter back, not trusting your words when the image of Wanda in a bra is still so fresh in your mind. "Hey, Y/N?" She calls out after a moment, and you hum to say you're listening. "How come, if we're such good friends, we never change in front of each other?"

Your brain short-circuits. You open your mouth and close it dozens of times, but can't think of anything.

"Is it a cultural thing? I thought Americans were more casual about such things..." Wanda continues, and you are sure it is meant to torment you.

"I don't know, Wands. Jesus." You mumble in embarrassment, stumbling out of bed and thanking the heavens that Wanda is already in her t-shirt. "It just never happened. You, um, want to change in front of me?"

She gives a naughty little laugh, raising an eyebrow.

"Humm, Malysha, take me to dinner first." She mocks, turning back to look in the mirror, and you snort indignantly.

You walk dragging your foot out of the room, muttering that Wanda is playing games with you and misses the way she is blushing too.

Wanda won't find you again until dinner, and you are grateful for the hot food with which you can justify the redness of your face at having her approach you and kiss your cheek.

"What are we having today?" she asks, too close, a hand on your arm as she leans over to look at the pans on the stove.

It has to be on purpose. Wanda has always been affectionate, but this here has to be a test to see if you'd have a heart attack before dinner or something.

"S-since it's Lena's birthday and we're going to be at the show, and she doesn't want a party, I thought I'd do something traditionally Ukrainian..." You start to explain trying not to sound so affected by the closeness and begging to the heavens that Wanda doesn't notice how much you are trembling. "There are some Nalesniki, which are cheese crepes, in the oven and the cured pork, Salo, is going to be the main course-"

"Is that Banush? Oh, dorogaya, kak zabotlivo s tvoyey storony (darling, how thoughtful of you)" Wanda cuts in excitedly as she looks at the food, and you smile immediately at her happiness.

"Yeah, I've been trying to get the point of this one right." You count as Wanda stretches out her hand to taste the food. "And Nat and Steve went to the market to get the missing peanut butter for the Kiev Cake."

Wanda smiles, having gotten her entire finger dirty from the meringue that was going on the cake. She brings it to her lips, sucking it clean while staring at you before releasing it with a soft pop.

"Delicious." She praises but you're not even listening properly, the blood pulsing in your face at the sinful image. You feel an intense attraction, and lean in at the same time as Wanda and her dark eyes, but just as your noses brush against each other, loud avengers enter the kitchen.

You immediately pull away, Wanda biting her lips and you clearing your throat.

"Here's what you ordered, баламут." Natasha announces as she places the market bags on the counter. But as soon as she notices the tension between you and Wanda, she raises an eyebrow. "Are we interrupting? I can retrace my steps..."

"Shut up, Nat." You interrupt in an embarrassed grunt, wasting no time in grabbing the missing ingredient from the bag while Natasha giggles a few times.

Wanda follows the cue of Kate and Yelena walking in chatting loudly and leaves the kitchen behind them, barely listening to Steve's apology - busy with bags - who bumps into her as he closes the door.

Even if Yelena doesn't want a party, this feels like one. And you even baked a cake.

As soon as the food is served, the Avengers spread out around in various conversation wheels. Pietro kept changing the music every five minutes, but Wanda was too busy stealing glances at you talking to Clint across the room to bother.

"So Maximoff, how's it going?" It was Yelena, with a plate of cake in hand. Wanda sighed loudly.

"Not well."

Yelena grimaced. "What? Are you sure you are doing as I said?"

Wanda sighed again. "Yes, Lena, I'm sure. But maybe that's my mistake, you know?" Retorted the upset brunette, returning the soda glass to the table and crossing her arms. "Your tips worked for you and Kate. I'm not like you, and Y/N is not Kate. I did what you told me to, I even tried the t-shirt trick but she just ran out of the room!"

Yelena made a thoughtful face, chewing the cake. "Are you sure you did it right? When I did the T-shirt trick, Kate melted down and ended up confessing that she liked my tits."

"First, gross. Second, too much information. Third, I'm exhausted." Wanda confesses with a grunt, pushing her hair back. "I don't know what to do anymore. Ever since I heard her confession, I've just been waiting for her to make a move, but she just... I guess I should just accept that she's decided I'm not worth it."

Yelena shakes her head indignantly, pushing her plate on the table and placing her hands on Wanda's shoulders.

"First of all, I don't allow that kind of blue humor on my birthday." Yelena informs with a mixture of serious and playful tone, offering the brunette a tender smile. "Second, you are so close, Maximoff. You can't give up now. You have to play dirty."

"Play dirty?" Wanda asked in confusion, to which Yelena merely nodded, leaning in to whisper something in the brunette's ear that made her eyes widen. "Belova!"

The blonde laughed softly as she turned away. "It'll work, I guarantee it. It worked for Kate."

Wanda grimaced. "Too much information!" She complained walking away, but Yelena laughed, shaking her head and deciding to go look for her girlfriend.

Wanda had two seconds of peace as she poured herself some non-alcoholic punch before Natasha appeared in the kitchen.

"Lovely party, eh Maximilf?" She began, and Wanda gave a confused giggle at the nickname. "Oh, I forgot. Not a Milf yet."

"What...?"

"Hey, can I talk to you?" You came in suddenly, cutting off Natasha's question. Wanda didn't understand why you looked so uneasy - You had been talking to the redhead two minutes ago. She knew because she watched you all night.

"I'm busy, Y/N, talking to your wif-"

"Natasha." You cut her off almost pleadingly and the redhead sighs impatiently, and unlike Wanda, ignores your question and bends down on the counter only to grab a bottle of whiskey.

"You know what we should play? Have I ever never." Declares the redhead and turns to the kitchen with a huge smile. "Avengers! Everyone is going to play!"

You are visibly annoyed by the whole thing, but when Wanda approaches and goes to ask if everything is okay while the rest of the team starts getting organized to play, you force a smile.

"Nat had a bit to drink, and I didn't want her to talk more than she should. Maybe it would be better if I didn't join-"

"баламут! Don't even try to run away from the game! You're going to be the first!" Shouted the redhead from the room and you sighed loudly. Wanda giggled, moving even closer and holding your hand.

"I could charm them into forgetting about the game. If it's making you uncomfortable."

You blinked impressed. "Would you mess with their minds for me?" You ask in a low voice, and Wanda nods, looking at your mouth. "What a naughty witch."

Heat spreads quickly through her chest, and Wanda bites her lip to hold back the sound that wants to escape her throat. She is about to kiss you in front of everyone when the team whistles and the moment is broken immediately.

You approach the circle, and because everyone has already sat down, Wanda has only one vacant seat on the other side of the room. She doesn't complain because at least she can breathe properly without you next to her.

"Now that we are all seated, you start Y/N." Natasha declares with a mischievous smile on her lips, her hands busy pouring whiskey into the glass that Pietro uses speed to place in each person's hand.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair.

"Never have I ever gotten drunk playing these games." You mutter getting a few laughs. Natasha and Tony exchange impatient buffos at being the only ones drinking.

"Very funny, kindergarten. Now allow the adults to play. Romanoff, would you like to do the honors?" Tony asks, but Natasha shakes her head, settling further into the couch.

"I'll give mine some thought." She retorts mysteriously, and since Tony doesn't insist, no one else does. Only Wanda notices the way you swallow dryly and squeeze your glass hard.

"Never have I ever been turned down." Tony declares arrogantly but the whole team booes in disbelief. Natasha laughs out loud.

"As far as I can remember, Stark, I did that about four times in my first week of the industries alone..." Affirms Romanoff and this is the first time you see Tony effectively blush with embarrassment. He takes it in stride, rolling his eyes and taking a long swig from his glass.

You don't drink, and somehow, everyone notices.

"Really, L/N?" Kate asks genuinely curious. You laugh sheepishly.

"You can't be rejected if you've never confessed." You retort and the team laughs in understanding, but Wanda realizes your smile is forced.

"Okay, okay, now it's my turn." Pietro cuts in raising his glass in the air. "Never have I ever made out with someone of the same sex. And yes, everyone here but me is going to drink." He sneers, at the rest of the team who laugh and exchange curious glances.

Steve clears his throat and settles into his seat to ask for his turn.

"Never Have I Ever... Googled sex positions."

The room burst into laughter. Tony was so red from laughing that he almost fell over backward. It was the whiskey's fault, probably.

"Jesus, Steve, this isn't a confectionary! You must say things you didn't do." Pietro clarified and Steve became a complete tomato, muttering that he had got the game wrong. Thank god everyone was starting to get drunk enough not to care.

Sam, as soon as he stopped laughing, raised his glass. "How about we make things more awkward for the originals? Never have I ever slept with a co-worker."

The original Avengers let out embarrassing grunts, and all of them drink.

"Wow, now I need to know who with who." Yelena declared but Natasha laughed.

"That's not the game." Retorted the redhead and didn't flinch even when Lena used the birthday card.

But the light and fun mood were about to end, because as soon as Thor said "Never have I ever been unfaithful." and was taunted that it was hard to believe that the god of fertility was faithful, Natasha stood up.

"Never have I ever... been in love with my best friend."

The question hung in the air lightly for a few minutes. Most of the team thought it was funny, Kate, Yelena, Steve, and Bucky drank. But you remained static in your seat, feeling Natasha's gaze burn into you.

"Honest answers only, people." Insisted the widow, and soon everyone noticed that she was looking at you.

Clint noticed the way Wanda squirmed in her seat, lowering her gaze to her own lap, so he cleared his throat.

"Come on, Nat, maybe you should change the question, that's a pretty personal one."

Nat forced a laugh. "I have a better one then; Never have I ever married my best friend in another world."

You cringed, closing your eyes but Wanda raised her head.

Your reaction was answer enough, but she questioned anyway.

"What are you talking about, Nat?"

The widow put a hand to her chest with false innocence in her expression. "What? You haven't heard? What a strange thing! Y/N must have been busy telling Steve about Peggy to remember, I imagine."

Steve sighed loudly from the couch. "Natasha, I said it was okay..."

"For you!" She interrupted indignantly. "I told her not to tell! It was my secret!"

He sighs again, the room silent and shocked listening to them argue. "What difference does it make, Peggy is gone."

"Exactly." Natasha retorts with tears in her eyes. "I have this perfect wife who makes me happy and loves this complete mess that I am in that world, but here, I have nothing. Peggy is gone, she never even met me. And she was my best friend's ex-girlfriend, so excuse me if I wanted that to be my secret. But now it doesn't matter anymore, because everyone knows!" Natasha exclaimed with open arms, and when she went to get down from the table, she stumbled softly, and Wanda understood that the bottle of whiskey was not to be the first of the evening. "And you know what the funniest part is? It's that Y/N only did that because she's scared! She has something incredible, the chance to be with the one she loves the most, and she's afraid!"

You feel your eyes fill with tears, and you are standing like half the team, who stood up when Nat stumbled. The widow, who now looks on the verge of tears as well, moves closer to place her hands on your cheeks.

"I just want you to be happy, you stubborn, idiotic girl!" she says indignantly and drunkenly. "And I need your first daughter to be named Natalia, too."

The group giggled emotionally, and you nodded in agreement, putting a hand around Nat.

"Come, Romanoff, what you need is some water and a night's sleep."

As you lead Nat away, the game ends and the Avengers scatter back with a few murmurs about the scene but no one is too upset about anything, and Yelena says she will check on her sister.

Wanda approaches Steve and Clint once they are alone.

"You two are the closest to Nat, so I want to know what this whole otherworldly marriage thing is all about." Demands the witch and the two exchange sighs.

"Natasha has spent the last few weeks stressing about it." Clint began. "Apparently, she met a version of Y/N who was married to you."

"What?" Wanda exclaimed in shock, a warm thread of hope sprouting in her chest.

"Yeah, happy family with kids and everything." Steve completed the story. "She made several jokes, heckled Y/N with that story for days trying to get her to confess the whole thing to you. But in the end... well, you saw. Y/N told me that Nat's variant was Peggy's wife, so that was the end of the matter, and well, they got so tense that no one else had the nerve to ask about it anyway."

Wanda twists her fingers nervously. "B-but, do you guys think she didn't want to talk about it because she hated the idea?"

Steve and Clint frown. "What? No, Wanda, that's not it." The captain says, with Barton nodding immediately.

"I think maybe she loved the idea, actually." Clint says with a laugh. "But you know, you're all what, twenty, twenty-two years old. You're young as hell. If at that age, a version of me showed up saying I'm going to get married and have kids, I'd freak out too. Even today I have my doubts about paternity. It couldn't have been easy for Y/N, you know? I'd be scared to mess it up too."

Steve nods in agreement. "Especially with someone who is already important." He says. "If you didn't know each other, she might get anxious about a date or something. But, you two are so close. And I can tell you from experience that the fear of messing up and losing someone important like that is pretty strong." Steve said, his gaze going to Bucky across the room to exemplify.

Wanda swallows dryly. "B-but I like her." She confesses low, and it's no surprise to the Avengers next to her, who smiles. "I really like her."

"You should say that to her, not to us." Clint says gently, and Wanda sniffles low, but smiles, nodding.

She takes a heavy breath and decides that this thing has gone on too long already.

–//–

Natasha fell asleep just as you and Yelena threw the blanket over her, exchanging giggles at seeing her sleeping expression.

"Hey, Belova, the birthday girl has to stick around at the party." You try as you watch her sit down, but she holds up a finger in warning.

"I told you I didn't want a party." She accuses in a fake serious tone, making you laugh guiltily. "I'm tired, Y/N. I'll text Kate to come to sleep with me, and the rest of the team can keep having fun."

"As you wish, birthday girl." You mumble but when you go to walk away, she holds your forearm.

"Thank you." She says. "For taking care of my sister."

You smile. "Usually, it's always the other way around. It doesn't hurt to return the favor once in a while." You say, getting a smile from her. "Hey, Lena, that Peggy story, I really didn't mean-"

"Don't worry." She interrupts gently. "I'm not mad, it was just a disagreement between you and Nat. Friends fight sometimes. You can apologize to her when she wakes up. Now you should talk to another Avenger."

You swallow dryly, looking away. Yelena expects you to make up an excuse, but you sigh. "Yeah, you're right. Wish me luck?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be lucky tonight." She retorts to which you only laugh without understanding the malice in her tone of voice.

You leave the room and decide to go look for Wanda at the party, but when you return to the living room she is no longer there. Sighing in defeat, you make your way back to the elevator and toward your bedroom.

You are quite surprised to find Wanda inside.

"Hey, Wands, I didn't know you were up here." You greet as you take off your jacket, and the brunette meets your gaze just for a moment, her attention on the mask on your shelf.

"This is new. Did Yelena make it for you?" she asks about the item, running her fingers over the details. You swallow dryly, throwing the jacket on the floor and sitting down on the bed to remove your shoes.

"No, it's not from around here." You reply, clearing your throat softly. "You gave it to me."

She frowns in confusion, turning her face to you only to understand immediately when she meets your gaze. "Oh. The other me."

"Yeah." You gasp softly. "The Wife one."

Wanda looks away to the side, leaning gently on the shelf because she thinks her knees are weak.

"So that's actually true." She mumbles trying to sound casual, and you think your tie is too tight. To blame Kate and her small suits, you are sure.

"Yes, I was surprised, but it's not like it's completely out of the question, right?" you retort so naturally that Wanda's eyes widen slightly. Panic settles in your chest. "I-I meant that friends get married all the time! A-and of all the people on the team, if I were to marry someone it would make sense that it would be you, I mean, not that I'm thinking of marrying you, but if given the choice and based on our intimacy..."

Wanda cuts off your anxious babbling with a giggle. "Detka, you're hanging yourself." She comments nodding to the tie that you took off in an all-crooked manner, and was in an even tighter knot around your neck.

She moved closer, her hands working leisurely on the item even though you both knew she could use magic to pull it off.

"You really... don't think it's so impossible for us to be together?" Wanda questions the next moment, her voice husky and affected, and you raise your eyes to her immediately.

She looks absurdly beautiful. And you sigh, biting your tongue to keep from letting that slip out instead of the answer.

She uses your silence to finish the knot, and when the tie falls loosely around her neck, she makes mention of pulling away, only for you to hold her by the waist.

"I don't think it's impossible at all." You answer finally, rising to stand at the same height as her face, and place a hand on her warm cheek. "I think we are made for each other. In any world, especially this one."

A short, shy, contented laugh escapes Wanda's lips and is mirrored on yours. She steps forward, breaks the distance between your faces and the world stops.

It's not your first kiss, but if it were your last you would die happy.

Her lips are soft and taste of cherry gloss. It's sweet and so warm, and it's over too quickly.

Wanda pulls back with sparkling eyes but slight insecurity. "Was that... nice?" she asks in a husky voice, and you almost choke because how can she have any doubt?

Instead of answering with words, you kiss her again. And again. And again. Until Wanda entwines her hands behind your head and slides her tongue into yours. You gasp because this is even better.

She explores your mouth until you need to break for breath, and when you do, your lips trace a trail down her jaw to her neck, and Wanda shudders, an aroused groan escaping.

You suddenly lose your balance when she pushes you sitting up on the bed, but you don't complain because she is straddling your lap next, kissing you with passion.

It's a war of hands and pulling, but it feels so good. Wanda kisses you with the same longing that you do as if she can hardly believe that you have wasted so much time without doing it.

It's late when you stop. Far beyond the end of Yelena's party.

You have half the buttons open, and her dress is dangerously lifted at the edges of her thigh. You are lying on your back on the mattress, Wanda beside you, hugging your body.

"I don't want to close my eyes." She confesses in a whisper with her head on your pillow, and you straighten up to be even closer. "I want to look at you."

You smile, your cheeks flushed. "I'll be here when you wake up. And you'll be able to look at me all you want."

She smiles but straightens up so that her face hovers over yours. "Just look?" She asks in a tone that makes you chuckle softly.

"I hope not. Please do more." You joke in the same tone and she chuckles lightly before kissing you again.

It doesn't take long for you both to fall asleep after that. Both of you with easy smiles on your faces.

–//–

One Month Later

Your relationship with Wanda was only getting better every day, unlike the war in the multiverse.

The variant was right - Wanda needed you. Luckily, you also needed her.

Even though the Avengers' missions were increasing, you and her were falling into an incredible rhythm in your relationship, getting closer to each other every day.

And speaking of proximity.

"We're missing the whole concert." You recalled in a breathless voice, Wanda's lips marking your neck making the task of conversation nearly impossible.

You were in the back of your truck. The original plan was to watch Imagine Dragons, finally, and Wanda was even wearing your T-shirt. But well, she wanted a kiss, and somehow you ended up in the full auditorium parking lot in a heavy make-out session.

The sound of the music muffled out the sighs, and hopefully, the night made it impossible for anyone curious to try to look inside the car.

Wanda was on your lap, grinding against your thigh, and you were gripping the seat for support, trying to resist the urge to rip her clothes off.

Wanda seemed to want quite the opposite.

"Detka..." The brunette practically whimpered, teeth dragging under your skin. "Touch me."

You groaned aroused, tightening your hand around her waist and earning a sigh in return. "By god, Wanda, we're in a parking lot."

She complains with a bite on your skin that makes you gasp. "Why won't you touch me?" She insists almost annoyed, and you sigh before bringing your hands to her face.

"I thought you wanted our first time to be special." You explain with a warm face, surprising her a little, "We won't even be able to make any real noise here. And it's going to have to be quick."

Wanda bites her lip, her hands going down to the buttons of your blouse. "It's going to be special anywhere, detka, because it's with you." She retorts before stealing another firm kiss. "Now someone is confident about the quick and loud." She teases getting a small laugh before you return to kissing her with more passion now, determined to win the implied challenge.

Wanda tried to match the intensity of the kiss, but her hands wandered and you adjusted just enough for her to feel something else.

She broke the kiss with a soft choke, her center pressed against the firmness between your legs. Her darkened irises flashed in surprise at you.

"What's this, dorogoya? Were you planning this?" She asked with a mixed tone of teasing and mockery. "But what about all that stuff about our first time to be special..."

You grunted impatiently, thrusting your hips upward as you firmed your hands around Wanda's waist, and the precise friction of the strap against her made her whimper and grip your shoulders tightly.

"This was meant to be for after the show, smart-ass." You explain half breathlessly, watching her gasp as you guide her movements in your lap. "I did something nice in your room, with roses and everything. But someone couldn't keep their pants on..."

Wanda gave a guilty little laugh that turned into a groan when you pressed her right.

"I need you inside, detka, please." She whimpered but you shook your head, stopping your movements to push her skirt up with one hand.

"I need to stretch you out first, pretty girl." You explained, sliding your hands inside her skirt and choking on your own breath as you found no panties. "Wanda, by all that's most sacred..." You grunted affectedly, leaning your forehead against hers and she gave a breathless giggle.

"Yelena's idea, you can thank her later." She clarifies, throwing her hips forward to encourage you to move your hand. You follow the cue immediately, and when your fingers sink inside her, she arches her back and throws her head back. "o chert, detka! (oh fuck, babe!)" She exclaims affectedly, making you smile proudly.

"Feels good, doesn't it, babe?" You ask meekly, curling your fingers inside her tight intimacy and stimulating her at slow speed until Wanda is panting and whimpering. "You look so sexy riding my fingers, pretty girl."

Wanda moaned deeply as she came and you muffled the sound with an intense kiss, feeling a strong wave of arousal at the sensation of her pussy twitching and dripping onto your fingers.

"I'd say that was pretty quick, but let's try the loud now, what do you think?" You sneer at the dizzy with pleasure girl in front of you, who has a few seconds to recover from her climax before you unzip your pants and adjust the strap with her entrance, making her jerk a little for her sensitivity. You kiss her cheek, hands on her thighs. "Changed your mind?" You ask warmly, showing in your gaze that there would be no problem at all if Wanda wanted to stop, but she shakes her head quickly and kisses you hard. You feel her straddling you, and only know that she has done the work to adjust and sink into the toy when she gasps against your lips in a loud whimper.

"Fuck, it's too big." She whimpers, and you hold her waist, keeping her still. Your lips kiss her face and neck, and one of your hands moves up to her breast, stimulating the tip and making Wanda roll over against the strap-on instinctively.

"You can take it, I know you can." You coax meekly, the hand on her waist moving down to her intimacy, your fingers beginning to draw circles on her swollen clit that make Wanda drop her forehead against your shoulder, an affected moan leaving her lips. "Can I start moving, sweetheart?"

Wanda nodded breathlessly, practically bouncing on her own and making you smile. You held her by the waist, looking down to see the strap-on soaked when you pulled it out and then watching the toy unstrap inside her as you lowered her back down, the image tearing a moan from you.

You kissed Wanda again, but as soon as she found her rhythm on top of the fake cock, it became impossible for her to reciprocate. She bounced on your lap, the sounds of your hard thrusts echoing mixed with her whimpers of pleasure until she began to spasm and you had to take over.

"Bozhe moy, detka, ya tak blizko! Ne ostanavlivaytesʹ, pozhaluysta, ne ostanavlivaytesʹ! (Oh my god, baby I'm so close! Don't stop, please don't stop!)" Wanda came with a loud cry of pleasure, making a complete mess in your lap and destroying half the seat with her magic.

You kissed her hard, exchanging breathless giggles as you caressed her hips.

"This definitely beats watching Imagine Dragons." You joke and she laughs with flushed cheeks, kissing you again.

You notice that the noise of the music has diminished, indicating the first break, and you sigh together. Wanda speaks before you.

"Take me home, dorogoya. " She asks against your lips, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "I don't want to stop."

You choke softly, and nod dumbly, which makes Wanda smile.

You have no idea how you managed to drive home after that, but part of you thinks Wanda must have used magic.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #canon divergence #scarlet witch x reader

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kosmicdream · 4 months

Text

The FATE of FEAST FOR A KING

.. and Nasty Red Dogs…

And some other miscellaneous thoughts about comics, writing, and time.... AND ENDINGS...

=============

As I’m approaching 10 years on FFAK and NRD is currently 5, I’ve been reflecting a lot on How far this journey with comics has taken me and how far I still have yet to go. For those unaware, my first webcomic was actually Eggshells, which started in 2011, but i only started posting pages publicly in 2013. It too is unfinished, but its planned for 7 chapters. (I’m currently working on chapter 5, which probably will come out early next year.) I have 9 ongoing comics I’m working on. NINE!! 3 of those are FFAK related. (FFAK, After Dinner Treat, and the prequel series “Help.”) It is so many comics though. And beyond that! I have two other stories I’ve been working on for the past few years in secret, one being Nice Blue Cats, which I might still draw as a comic someday.. As well as a series of “one shots” that is meant to be its own collection. Slugmom and “The Teacher & The Fairy” are part of these one shot collections. Which, uh, it was designed to help me practice writing short stories. Which TT&TF is now going to be three parts long, and roughly 300 pages. So I guess that’s short enough…? Ha.. laughs… Anyway, as I was saying.. Sometimes I’m sure, readers might wonder. “Do you ever feel overwhelmed, with so many projects Kosmic?” Yeah dude. I sure fucking do. I got 9 of them! That’s more than a full pokemon team of projects that are potentially a decade + of work. A couple of them already are a decade old/older at this point. (Praeymoon is actually one of my oldest-lasting projects, even tho its first chapter only finally released in 2023.. I first attempted to draw ch1 back in 2016, but was unable to finish it and scrapped the “full color” angle i was trying then. ) All my current ongoing comic projects are as follows: Feast for a King, Nasty Red Dogs, Eggshells, The Teacher & the Fairy, Replacer, The Eyes of Miasma, FFAK: After Dinner Treat, FFAK: Help, are all written. The only one which isnt fully written is Praeymoon, which I don’t mind because the way that story is organized is almost more of a sandbox-fantasy world of mini stories. I’ll be honest, if you havent heard of Replacer or The Eyes of Miasma, I don’t blame you- its not that i don’t like those stories. They just kind of are the “most neglected” comics yet I’m also kind of amazed they exist at all, like I DONT know how I found the time to draw over 100 pages for both of them. They also have fully written outlines and all things considered, are probably only going to be under 400-500 pages in length. But that’s still a decent amount of work there. Its been ten years since I more or less started making webcomics… and as I plan, and try to calculate all my projects for the next 10 years, my main priority at the moment is well.. Finishing all of these fucking stories one way or another. Its hard! I don’t know if I can as I put way too much on my plate. But at the same time like.. Whatever. I could easily drop most of them, if I felt inclined to - but I don’t. They are my library of work, and I’ve sort of made an artist oath to myself that I will see as many of them to the end as I can. I’m excited that three are very close to its end. (Nasty Red Dogs, The Teacher & the Fairy, and Eggshells.) After that well.. I’ll see what I can cross off my list next once I get there.. That’s still going to take years to get those done. But hopefully not too many.

[Spoilers for potential LENGTHS of FFAK/NRD.. And other things.. I speak very transparently about writing and working on comics here AND including my thoughts on ENDINGS.. You’ve been warned]

I’m comfortable enough sharing that the fairy comic is 3 parts, Eggshells is 7 chapters, but when it comes to FFAK/NRD.. Its much harder to give an estimate, or if sharing those things will only be disappointing or annoying to hear about.. If you have ever been around me for more than 10 minutes, i am constantly talk about the “length left” on these projects a lot anyway. At night, i count them in my head. In the day, I write little lists as if I’ve forgotten the names of them.. They are MY LIST.

But for those who do not know and wish to, NRD is likely going to end with 10 chapters. I have extended this in the past, so it could still change.. but it only really has gotten “longer” due to pacing of scenes rather than the actual content. And Honestly, it was paced out specifically to avoid this next chapter. Not that I didn’t want to draw it, its because i was Scared to do it.. Why? Because there’s cars I have to draw in it. And dogs. I have drawn those things before, at least once or twice. But I do not enjoy drawing cars or dogs. Dogs are okay now, but i hate that they have legs. Dont give me references, i have those. Its just how my brain is, with those fuckign legs and how there’s four of them. I know practice makes perfect. Or do-able. I have drawn amost 1000 pages of NRD, i dont remember how they bend and i’ve forgiven myself for knowing there’s just some things god cannot do, which is to give kosmic the ability to look at a dog leg and understand. Anyway. Because of this reason, somehow, finishing NRD with it only possibly being 4 more chapters, still feels harder than finishing ALL of FFAK - which (drumroll) might be .. only around 10 or 12 chapters left. Yes, you heard me- for the second AND third arc. 10 or 12 more. Will that also change? Probably!!!!!! Like, yes… its been 9 years and I’ve completed a lot more than just 10 chapters of comics in that time.. But wrapping up a story is way harder and I dont know what that’s like..yet! But i feel still confident that i will. I mean, i don’t really have any other choice than to experience it. I used to recoil and fall apart just emotionally contemplating finishing FFAK. my FUCKING baby. My joy. You mean that has to end?? NEVER. My attachment to it and the characters was incomparable to anything else I had done, and in my mind ever WILL make… (and that is still true.) But.. I’m okay with that now and I actually look forward to seeing how it could end up. Even if its bad!

Its kind of weird to say, I just don’t really think it will be.. super good? Like.. it could be? I don’t know how readers will react. I dont even know how I feel about the whole thing.. I have felt so many feelings about this comic already, now I’m kind of.. Past it in a new stage. Zen like peace almost. There’s just.. so much that I wanted to PUT in FFAK and so much i could STILL put in. But I kind of just am okay with what i wrote, does that even make sense? The whole comic has felt like such a fluke to me, from the very start. And I managed to accidentally make so many great things in it I don’t actually understand sometimes. And my dreams for the comic has been nearly limitless. I couldn’t possibly contain all the feelings I’ve had over this story over the many years I have been making it, and all the incredible narrative outcomes I could see the characters going in.. the possibilities, the parallels.. The anime music videos.. I would NOT compare my writing style to GRRM, I haven’t read his books. but I can’t help but feel a bit like a weird baby version of him with the amount of cast members I have to push around and draw.. And I want to be clear. If FFAK was written as a book, it wouldn’t happen. I cannot write books. I do not think writing books is easier/faster than making comics, but sometimes it is hard to have to draw everyone. Point is, I understand the reality of a long-term comic project now, I have numbers and logs to prove it and my range. And I’m fairly consistent, even in my low days. So.. in recent years my writing style has.. has changed to accommodate.. Those.. General Realities i’ve observed in myself.

That’s why the second arc excites me. It has a lot of uhh, urgency that underlies it. You might have already noticed a change in the tone in chapter 16, which I’ve been working on for almost a year now. (I mean, I’ve been working on the written version for.. LOL.. much longer.) Maybe you haven’t! It could all just be from my own POV with how differently i feel that I delegate time to characters now. I did not start “writing” FFAK until chapter 10, and then i did not really start WRITING writing ffak until about.. Honestly, i want to say as late as 2019. It TOOK SO LONG you guys. I dont even know how many fucking thousands of pages of madness word documents I’ve got, with revision after revision and trying to list, contain, every possibly plotline… character backstory.. Blah blah blah.. Ive cut it down so much its impressive only to me. I don’t remember my lore anymore , and i love it. My readers probably know my lore better, and I don’t love it. Except when it benefits me. Then Its good. I would not describe myself as a RUTHLESS cut THROAT author, im actually too way sentimental to really let go of anyone. That’s why it took me so long to kill off Rock, but also because I wanted spoon to look really sexy and evil and that’s hard to do sometimes when I cant remember what half side he is. And when he was flipping around, I had to actually make a paper doll for him so i could TRY .. TRY to draw his arm on the correct side. Sometimes I didn’t. I just let it go if the drawing is good enough and i let it be a fun game for the readers to catch. But anyway, That’s why characters like Aeschylus are still around. Now that time has passed, I kind of regret it. Rome was right.. I dont need Aeschylus here and I’m mad he brought his friend Randall too. That being said, they’re some of my favorite characters in this arc even if they’re totally useless. In general, i have tried my best to not repeat all my writing sins and all my regrets of arc 1. I would not have been able to do this without the help of NRD to help get me to see that I can get attached and motivated to write new stories. When I hit my writing block in 2016/2017, it almost broke FFAK. FFAK still continued, but it also didn’t. But i was patient, and i worked through it.. And now I look forward to the ends of my comics, not because I want them to end but I’m very deeply excited for all the new opportunities my imagination to go to. I don’t know what that will be like. I don’t know how long it will still take me to get there, but I have it on [digital] paper and it does feel good to see that. Its affirming. I feel like i have a clear mission and I feel strong enough to really do it and commit to it. The second arc has barely started but in my heart I’ve made peace with the ending, whatever it might actually result as.

Plus if I finish it and its so bad, I’m sure that will be inspiring in itself! People might actually write fanfics!! I think a lot of readers are NOT going to enjoy the ships, for one. The MEAN greedy part of me hopes they don’t. That’s the most ruthless part of my writing to me is the ship choices. Oh! My evil mind. I mean theres no possible way to please everyone, or even myself, but there is a possible way to displease a lot of people. Including myself. So that’s kind of the route I find myself drawn to. Why? Because it gets me out of the hole of like.. I dunno, being stuck.

I used to write out a lot of big posts but over the years, I’ve kinda stopped. Mostly bc they were honestly really repetitive..or about lore that didn’t truly matter too much… That hasn’t really changed. This post is more or less “im still working on it, everyone! Just hang tight! Wow it’ll be a crazy wild ride” but it also is something I wanted to write to myself as words of encouragement. This has been a tough year. Like so tough that its hard to think about. But its very nice to feel like, i guess, my drive for my stories hasn’t gone anywhere. If anything, i really feel like i’ve gone through the mourning and ego death of “not being able to write a thing how you want” and now I’ve made total peace with it. Its just gonna be what it is, and I like that actually. When my life is tough, my comics at the moment serve as a place of hope for me - and assurance that I can survive through tough years. That’s the message they have ultimately given me, finished or not. And… I honestly don’t think of FFAK or NRD as my masterpieces or anything, but i know they might very well be the only stories people will know of when they think of me. If they think of me! So I wanna do a complete job with those. Rest assured, it’ll get there. I cant make big promises about all the comics I work on… even the bonus comics for FFAK, but at least those main two are my main priorities. That has not changed. THE FIRE is still in me. Even if FFAK took a like.. Mental.. 5 year hiatus its back baby.

I’m about 30 pages in to my 50 page script for chapter 16, so I guess it’ll be around 300-400 pages more before its done. Things are picking up speed! So it could be less. I am also preparing for the monster that is the 7th nasty red dogs chapter. I cannot stress ENOUGH that this next chapter, I have put off since chapter 4. Yes, I’ve actually buffed the story out to be longer than it intended, just to avoid drawing it. I even put a horse guy in there, I never draw horses because those ALSO have legs but they’re worse than dog legs. And, its not that i didn’t want to draw this part of the comic! But I didn’t think i could do it. It intimidated me. It still does, but, I’m gonna do it already. I know chapters 8-10 will be hard too but like…eh… I know in my heart its gonna really be about 7 for me. It always has been about 7 to me.. 2024 will be a big year for my comics for sure, just because of that alone I think. Not only will I have chapter 16 done, as the first step of the 2nd arc and a new adventure of my apocalyptic wormy drama, I’ll be facing my fears of the dog variety. Its TIME.

I’m so happy people have stuck around for my work, or shared it with others, even if they’re a strange mess. Its interesting to see, who comes and goes. I still enjoy refreshing my comments every morning when I wake up, and right before I go to bed. Its comforting.

My closing thoughts on this. I don’t HATE the ending of FFAK. I… like it! Its an ending. But I LOVE the ending to NRD. i think that ones legit good, i hope. With FFAK, part of me kinda hopes that turning up the pressure on myself of proceeding anyway will help the story. I don’t really know, or expect the ending to change though LOL…. Maybe i’ll come up with something better, but it will be too late so I cant do it or something, and then we can ALL write fanfics together of something else. Then sometimes I think about GUNNM and how the first ending was retconned but then last order was like? Basically the first ending again? I dont know actually, its hard to remember. THATS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN BTW. Also the ending is not everyone dies, even though that ending is fun and tempting. I didn’t do it, because end of evangelion already exists and its got a great song to go along with it too. YES it is also tempting to have someone go “WELL That was A FEAST.. For a KING” as the like final line, but I.. it wont wont. I prommy i take the ending seriously.

The reason I wanted to write all this, with webcomics, I think in general too people are so scared about writing their big comics that take 328523895235 years and the ending being bad. I see so many webcomics just, kinda die before the finale.. Which I totally understand, But I just.. Wanna show everyone that its much better and much more satisfying to just write the ending even if its a fucking disaster LOL. Because ultimately, its a webcomic. I don’t even know how to spell but people read mine! And so.. If theres anything I feel like i can promise and deliver to the world of the internet/my readers, is this big fucking disaster mess.. But it will end someday! And I’ll miss it. I hope readers will too, when that day comes (?) in probably another… 10 years…. idk.... BUT UNTIL THEN.. I hope you’ll enjoy the rest of chapter 16!!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-Kosmic Dream

#ffak #feast for a king #nasty red dogs #long post #webcomics

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whispering-ways · 10 months

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•♡✿⁠ tulips and katsudon ✿♡•

✿ summary: you and izuku go on your first date after crushing on each other for quite some time

✿ pairing: midoriya izuku x reader

✿ tags: no warnings, just fluff! :)

✿ notes: hi everyone! this is the first fanfic i've not only posted to tumblr but also the first i've written in general, so any constructive criticism is appreciated <3 it's also on my AO3 (whisperingways)

You’re searching for your earrings when you hear a soft knock at your door. You turn your head toward the door before calling out, 'Just a minute! I’m just finishing up in here.' Upon opening the door, you see Izuku standing there with a bouquet of flowers, looking as cute as ever. He is practically red all over as he all but thrusts the bouquet into your hands.

'Th-Those are for you; I remember you mentioning that tulips were your favorite, a-and I know that your favorite color is pink, so I picked them up for you. I hope you like them!' Izuku says with a slight chuckle.

'Thank you so much! Come in real quick while I put these flowers in a vase,' you say, opening the door wider so that he can come in. He carefully brushes by you and stands near your door as you fill up the vase at your table. As you run the vase under the faucet, you become more excited for your first date with Izuku.

You’ve been classmates for three years now, and while you've been friends for a long time, it was only in the past year that you started to fall for him. It has been hard not to, honestly. He is one of the sweetest, kindest boys you've met, not to mention academically driven and passionately loving everything and everyone he cares about, including you. He has also filled out over the years. All those years of training have given him a lean build, but he still retains that same old boyish smile that you love.

What you didn’t know is how he adored you as well. Yes, he thought you were absolutely adorable and gorgeous, but he also loves your personality. He admires how hard you work towards improving your quirk, striving every day to be the best hero you can be. He appreciates how sweet you are, not just to him, but to everyone around you. You have this caring aura about you that makes you so likable. He thought someone like you would never like him back, so he was content being friends. So, to say he was surprised to find a little note from you asking him out would be an understatement.

And that leads us to this afternoon, the first date. You two decided to go to a nearby restaurant for lunch, a tiny mom-and-pop shop that you suggested solely for its signature dish: katsudon. You"d have to admit, things seemed a bit tense at first, but as the day went along, you two slowly fell into your usual comfort.

"Wow! This katsudon is amazing! I mean, I really hate to say it, but it might even be a little better than my mom"s, but only by a little bit," Izuku said.

"It definitely is really good. I"m glad I got the spicy one though. You know, that reminds me of when Katsuki made that super spicy ramen. Kaminari took a bite of it, and he seemed like he was going to explode or something. Poor guy just kept drinking more and more milk!" you said with the most harmonious laugh Izuku had ever heard.

You both kept reminiscing about memories from the dorms until it came time for the bill. Although you insisted on paying for your meal, Izuku paid for both of you, saying that his mother raised him to be more gentlemanly than that. As you walked back to the dorms, the conversation continued, and as you neared the dorms, it was clear that neither of you wanted the date to end just yet.

"So um... would you happen to be free for just a little while longer? It"s okay if you"re not, but I know there"s this art museum nearby that I heard might be a little interesting," Izuku asked, wringing his hands. "Admission is free and all, so don"t worry about fees, but would you like to come with me?"

"I"d absolutely love to, Izu!" you said, elated that the date didn"t have to end just yet. "Would you maybe like to hold hands while we walk there?" you asked nervously, wondering if it would be too much too soon.

Izuku lit up like a Christmas tree. "Yes! I-I mean, yeah, that"d be nice. We can definitely hold hands," he said excitedly, offering his hand to you. You placed your hand on top of his, and you could have sworn you turned beet red. His hand nearly engulfed yours, and you loved the coarse feeling of it wrapping around yours. He interlaced your fingers together, and you both started the walk to the museum.

The museum was about a 15-minute walk from the dorms, making the stroll in the cool spring breeze absolutely lovely. Once you reached the museum, the receptionist informed you that they have a traveling exhibit about past heroes and art created with their quirks, which piqued both your and Izuku"s interest. You both looked at all the artwork pieces in awe while Izuku stood beside you, analyzing every piece, never letting go of your hand in the process. On the walk back, all you could talk about were the beautiful pieces of artwork.

"I think my favorite piece had to be those stone sculptures done by the creation quirk artist. I mean, it"s gotta be really useful to create all the tools you need at your disposal and definitely a great way to store things. What about you? What did you like the most?" you asked, looking into Izuku"s eyes, which seemed so much brighter than you last remember.

"I loved that one installation by the strength quirk user! I"m no artist myself, but it"s very creative to use that sort of magnified strength to create a huge installation, not to mention the use of her engineering background. Using both the background and her quirk to create an interactive, domino-effect-esque installation that allows all ages to enjoy the art was absolutely ingenious in my opinion. Plus, the use of colors was really- oh God, I"m rambling, aren"t I? I"m so sorry," he exclaimed, looking down towards the ground.

"Don"t worry, you weren"t rambling at all. I think it"s cute, honestly," you replied, sending Izuku into a tizzy.

"W-Well, I"m, uhh, glad you like it. You"re pretty cute yourself," he said, beet red, squeezing your hand.

You both kept talking about the exhibit until you reached the dorms, and Izuku walked you up to your room. "Thank you so much for this date, Izuku. It"s been nothing short of lovely, truly," you said, gently holding both his hands in one of yours, with a soft smile painting your face.

'Honestly, the pleasure was all mine. I never thought you’d actually ever want to go out on an actual date with me, so this has all been like a dream come true. In fact, I was going to ask... whether you’d be interested in possibly having another date sometime soon?' Izuku asked tentatively.

'Yes, I’d absolutely love that! Just text me the day and time you’d be free, and we can plan something out if that sounds good to you?'

'Perfect! Well, I guess this is goodbye then, huh? I’ll see you in class tomorrow?' he said, looking up at you with that boyish smile that you oh so adored. It’s clear that neither of you wants the date to end, but it's a school night, and you both prioritize having a full night’s rest.

'I guess so, Izu. I hope you have a nice evening, though. And again, thank you so much for making this day as lovely as you are!' you beamed. You thought about it momentarily and then gave him a quick peck on the cheek before wishing him goodbye and closing your door, leaving him a blushing mess.

You slid down, back against your door, giggling like a schoolgirl at the kiss. Something about it just made your heart absolutely burst with giddiness. You were already daydreaming about what your next date was going to be like. There was no way you were getting any sleep tonight.

#bnha mha #mha x reader #mha #bnha fanfiction #izuku midoria x reader #izuku x reader #bnha izuku #mha izuku #izuku x y/n #ao3 izuku #izuku fluff #deku my hero academia #deku midoriya #deku x reader #deku fluff #izuku midoryia x you #izuku midoriya #deku mha #midoriya deku

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beerecordings · 6 months

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i have seen people put together some background canon info about the egos and their appearances over the years, which is awesome and a huge feat, but I just wanted to compile some popular headcanons and fanon interpretations that might be relevant if someone new was trying to get into the fandom, or even that we may see references for in new canon. it's our CULTURE okay??

Chase having two kids: when Sean released CHASE he announced that Chase canonically has/had one child, but in Chase's original video he referred to Stacy taking the "kids," which lead to the popular interpretation that Chase had two young children. you might still see this around

Henrik's backstory: likewise, Sean used to make occasional references to Henrik having an ex-wife and possibly kids. some people consider this canon and others don't, because it was just in random gameplay vids, but you might see it referenced

Anti is a turtle: an OG ego meme. when Anti says "I am eternal" in Say Goodbye, it sounds like "I am a turtle." Sean saw this and reacted to it in a vid, and now there are occasional turtle references

Queer egos: obviously this is tumblr and queer headcanons abound. in my experience, the most popular interpretations include Jackie being trans and Marvin being mlm. you will see this frequently in the fandom

JJ's mutism: JJ first appears in a silent video with captions like an old-time movie, but Sean didn't confirm that he has mutism until later, and also incorporated British Sign Language in his most recent video. older portrayals of JJ - or less inclusive ones - might not feature his mutism. additionally you may encounter a variety of magical or practical aids to help him communicate. oh, and you might also hear JJ called Dapper Jack - we were the ones who named him Jameson Jackson!

Eye color: throughout the years the glitches that suggested Jack might be making ego content frequently featured changes in his eye color. Sean has had brown, green, pure black, and mismatched eyes on different occasions. it's unknown if these correspond to particular egos, but Anti has appeared with green, blue, and black most frequently

Henrik being tortured for nine months: after Henrik was attacked by Anti during a video, Jack posted a bloodied postcard depicting a beach in Germany. this lead to the popular conception that Henrik was taken by Anti and may have been tortured by him. the length of time between seeing him again was nine months

Jack in a coma: this is more canon than fanon, but we've been saying that Jack's been in a coma for years and years now, pretty much since Anti first got his hands on him. Jack later had a voiceover in a video where Chase told Jack he needs him to wake up.

shipping: some of the most popular ships include Marvin/Jackie and Chase/Henrik. you'll also see some Darkiplier/Anti. although the egos all look the same, there's no canon suggestion that any of them are related at this time.

friendships: Chase canonically refers to Jack as his friend, and the fact that Henrik tried to help save Jack has led to the popular conception that he and Chase at least know each other, and are possibly friends too. the others? no clue. oh except maybe probably Anti is holding JJ captive who knows

Phoenix Marvin: Jack once referred to Marvin as a phoenix from the ashes in a tumblr post and we all lost our minds about it. great motif. and of course he wears the cat mask, so you'll see a lot of Marvin with cats or being able to turn into a cat. his magical powers are not canon yet, so you'll see a huge variety, as well as magic or superpowers for other egos too

please feel free to add on to this!! I'm curious what would stand out to everyone else if they were trying to share the fanon with someone new

#jacksepticeye

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bananastarion · 7 months

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Here's a whole bunch of cute, fluffy Tav/Astarion headcanons for you

With just a touch of Gale and Halsin in there, as well. I might break some of these up into their own posts eventually. Enjoy? And let me know your thoughts, I crave feedback. <3

Astarion & the Rainbow: After a rainy day, the most brilliant rainbow appears in the sky above Baldur's Gate. You catch Astarion just sitting on the ground and watching it, and you sit beside him. He doesn't take his eyes off the sky, and his expression is difficult to decipher... is he in awe, or sad, or just spacing out? You realize this is likely the first rainbow he can ever remember seeing, and that he knows it most likely will be his last. You sit together in silence as he grips your hand tightly, and stay there until the rainbow has faded away completely.

Astarion & Love Bites: Astarion gets bitey when he's feeling frisky, or hungry, or just affectionate. Like a cat. You'll be cuddling or play wrestling with him and he'll start giving you little love nips. Not enough to break the skin, though they often tend to lead to that if you let him. Sometimes he accidentally bites a little harder than he meant to, and to make it up to you he'll kiss the spot better. Sometimes you'll be praising him or saying sweet nothings and his brain will just short circuit, and instead of coming up with anything to say back, he'll find it irresistible to just grab you and give you a happy little nibble.

Astarion Proposes: Astarion has never felt the least bit sentimental about marriage, but then again, he's never loved anyone like you before. The idea of you being his legally, forever, definitely has given the tradition a newfound appeal. Plus, it would be a good excuse to throw a lavish party. He takes you out to a beautiful, remote location where the stars are fully visible, and you lay together under the beautiful night sky, taking it in. He clasps your hand and with his roguish dexterity slides the ring almost imperceptibly on your finger. You notice the coolness of the metal and look to see what he's done- and oh my gosh, it is an absolutely gorgeous looking ring. Very ornate and regal looking, with diamonds and rubies. He gets down on one knee and proposes to you with tongue in cheek theatrics, before ending it with a quietly earnest plea to marry him and spend the rest of your lives together.

Of course you say yes... just don't ask where he got that ring from. Something tells you he probably didn't pay for it. "Oh, never mind that... you like it, don't you?" But if you push him- "Fine. If you must know, it belonged to an undeserving couple in the upper city with more money than they know what to do with, and a marriage that surely won't last. We'll make far better use of it than they ever could." If your Tav is a do-gooder, you might have an argument about this, and make him return the ring. Then he'll buy you a new ring with the reward money he got for 'finding' the 'missing' ring. Old habits die hard, okay?

Astarion & his Mirror: Astarion asks you a lot for feedback about his appearance. He really likes it when you play with his hair or rough it up after a night of passion, but afterwards he'll fix it back up again right away. He'll always ask you if it looks good, even though after 200 years of practicing without a mirror he already knows it does.

After he drinks from you, he'll wipe the blood dribbling from his lips with the back of his hand and ask if he got it all off. More than occasionally, he just ends up with a big smear of blood across his chin after doing this, which you are happy to wipe off for him.

You like to go shopping together, and he loves trying on clothes- while asking you lots of questions about how they look on him. Does the color suit his complexion? Is he more of an autumn or a winter? Does it flatter his figure? Does he look better in silver or gold jewelry? He takes your opinions on these matters seriously. He's still figuring out who he is as a free man, and how he presents is a big part of that to him. It's less overwhelming for him to have the feedback of a trusted person guide him through it, but you try to push him to make his own choices as much as possible.

Astarion & Poetry: Astarion feels strongly about poetry. Surprisingly strongly, once you get him on the subject. There are lots of poets he considers to be hacks that only write sentimental claptrap. But other poems he knows by heart and will passionately recite them for you with the zeal of a bard. He likes old, dark and enigmatic poems, ones that capture his own feelings and struggles better than he can express in his own words. If he knew of our world's poetry, he'd probably consider Invictus a favorite. (bonus thought: Halsin would probably really like this poem)

Astarion & Cooking: Back when you and your companions were all traveling and camping together, Astarion was feeding on you regularly so he could be strong in battle. But seeing the effect this was starting to have on you roused some concern in him. He can't have his favorite blood supply get too low in iron! So one morning, Astarion gets up before you to cook breakfast, to help replenish your strength after a particularly... draining night together.

The trouble is, he's never really cooked anything before that he can remember, and has no idea what he's doing. Gale catches him putting a half-burt, half-raw, unseasoned pork loin on a plate and asks him why he's making food. When he tells him it's for Tav, his eyes go wide. "Gods, are you trying to kill them?! Here, let me show you how it's done..." After much bickering, and Gale struggling not to go full Gordon Ramsay on Astarion for being so clueless, they manage to make a decent breakfast together.

You wake up to a pleasant surprise and Astarion is quick to take all the credit before Gale butts in and says "Ahem! Actually, we made you breakfast. Well, mostly me. If it weren't for my culinary expertise, Astarion would have effectively poisoned you. You're welcome." Astarion shoots him a glare, but deep down he is appreciative that you got to have a nourishing meal one way or another.

Astarion & Gift Giving: Astarion is great with his hands- he has beautiful handwriting, is deft with a needle and thread, and wields his weapons with much flair. He gets fidgety when his hands aren't busy, so often when relaxing he'll be doing something with them. He fidgets a lot with coins, rings, his daggers and whatever else he happens to have on hand. He discovers he has a knack for making little things, and he has the perfect excuse to now that he has you around. You'll find him shyly gifting you all sorts of intricately made little knick knacks- embroidered handkerchiefs, crocheted scarves, precisely folded origami. Often times, he just leaves them on your pillow without a word. Maybe Halsin even turns him onto whittling. It's oddly relaxing for him, and refreshing to be a little generous for once. To you only, of course.

Thanks so much for reading! <3

#astarion #headcanons #astarion/tav #gale dekarios

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voltstone · 4 months

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they adopt a cat named floof (Wenclair One-Shot)

wednesday, for her girlfriend, gets a cat. she finds a way to bypass the “no pet” policy in order to do so. :)

(inspired by this post)

[1,268 Words] | [Last Edit: 11/12/2022] (Full One-Shot Post)

Note: This one-shot has been reposted from my old account onto this one. If it looks familiar, that's why.

Hope you enjoy! :)

Enid has figured, months ago, that she might as well be dating an Eldritch horror.

At first, she thought that Wednesday is just an angsty little goth. Come to find, her aesthetic and snapped wit are the most outwardly charming things about her. Because, as much as Enid loves her, Wednesday is really, really fucked in the head.

Fucked head or not, though, Wednesday has a heart. She does. Sure, it may be in her foot for all Enid knows, but watching how she plays along with Eugene’s bee-scapades, and how cordial she and Bianca have gotten, she knows there’s a heart of gold in Wednesday. (That or she’s color-blind and it’s not gold but rather, in fact, dirt.)

Not that it matters. After too long of a day, Enid is ready to collapse onto Wednesday’s bed and badger her until she stops her “hour of novel writing” in exchange for, uh, osculation.

Some days the struggle is short-lived. Wednesday gets needy too. But other days, the “hour of novel writing” is extended to several, and a long, long pout-full sleep on her bed. Hopefully today is the former. Given the labs, and the lectures, and the other labs, Enid really just needs to scratch an itch. And by that, it’s really Wednesday scratching it, and then Enid taking a nap afterwards. With Wednesday. (They cuddle.)

The door is nudged open. A hinge creaks, and a floorboard groans. Her eyes find Wednesday immediately. By the window. Waiting for her. Mildly surprised, but, ultimately, glad. Enid smiles widely. “Wednesday! Your novel's…”

“Done for the day. I did it this morning.” She straightens as Enid closes the door. "Enid,“ Wednesday prompts, and though she catches a quirk down her lips, Enid can’t help but feel…cautious. A Wednesday with her hands behind her back is a Wednesday with too big of a trick up her sleeve. "I have a surprise for you." See?!

Wait.

Cautious or not, a wide smile flourishes. "A…surprise?”

“Yes.” A blink. (Surprisingly. Heh.) “You said that you wanted a pet to keep us and Thing in better company.”

If Enid could jump Wednesday’s cold, frigid bones, she would. But, alas, as much as she loves Thing, Enid isn’t sure if she’d appreciate two running around—as a hand, and then a paw. So she stands herself squarely and musters a curious face. “Yeah, I-I did… So…?" A grin is pressed. Oh fuck, she can’t bear holding herself together any longer. Her hands are clasped. The grin cracks glee. "What is the little one…?! A gerbil? A ferret? A—” Enid practically melts off the face of the earth. “A kitten?!”

Wednesday maintains her composure, but that quirk down her lips worms. “Not quite. Close your eyes.”

She does as told, and she hears Wednesday shift with the surprise in her arms. Her grin is wide with her tongue snagged between teeth.

“Enid. I got us a cat.”

There’s a hop, and a skip, and yip! before she has the chance to open her eyes. "O-M-G! Can we name it Floof—?!“ When Enid does open her eyes, she… U-Um. Well, um. She sees orange. And the cat is…staring at her. Except it’s disconcerting and not at all like Wednesday; rather than stare deep into her soul to lobotomize it, the cat is, like, staring…through…it?

Wednesday tilts her head. Another blink. "What?”

The—

The cat isn’t fucking moving. It just…isn’t. It's—

Oh my fuck, what the God did you do, Wednesday?!

Enid stands in place, feet anchored to the ground, as she stares at the… The— M-Muppet. Dead muppet. There’s a swallow, and then, a squeaked, "…w-why does it look like that?“

Wednesday lobotomizes Enid’s soul (affectionately). "Like what? The child we shall raise? Together?” …that shouldn’t have flipped Enid’s heart over. It’s practically roasting on a skillet now.

Enid lurches a quite tentative step forward. She meets…Floof by its vacant stare. "Did you put googly-eyes on it?“

"Well it is taxidermy,” Wednesday confirms, bluntly. She gazes down at the cat’s face, and the black dots follow. “I felt you would have appreciated her eyes.”

“Instead of what?”

Wednesday stares back at her. “The eyes I found bludgeoned from her head.”

Where did she get this cat?! Enid follows Wednesday to her desk. …Floof is gently set down beside the typewriter, and as Wednesday fixes a bent whisker in place, Enid hears Thing scatter across the room and back under one of the beds.

Judging from the multitude of blemishes across…her body, it’s clear that Floof spent all nine lives at once. Poor thing. Yet, she looks as alive as Enid supposed she was not months ago—googly-eyes discounted. She imagines Wednesday’s lithe fingers spindling to sew the worst of death, hide it away, and it’s a mellow thought, if morbid. Her coat looks soft, and her body, strong. Put back together, at least. "That's— That’s such a pretty pattern on Fl-Floof’s back,“ Enid comments.

"Goodyear, for a truck—winter coverage.”

…a-ah. Okay.

Wednesday lingers in place, with her eyes avoidant, and hands tied together. It takes a moment before she begins to ramble—a rarity, with Wednesday, and Enid feels her own heart pool to her foot: “You said you wanted a cat, but I told you—again—that we can’t because of the academy’s policy, but you looked like you wanted to kill yourself when I said that—”

“…Wednesday, I’m not…s-suicidal.”

“—so I went out searching for one, on the roads, and I found this one. She looks like a lot of your sweaters, which is disgusting, so I figured it’d work out. We wouldn’t have to pay for any of the necessities she needed alive, though I’m sure enough nail-paint and -remover will do the equivalent.”

Enid grimaces, though her eyes land on Floof’s white paws, and they snag each toe. “She does have nice nails.”

“I filed them.”

A hum down her mouth, because Enid can smell the anxiety off her neck—even from around the desk, despite whether or not Wednesday herself realizes it. But it's…funny, really. There’s a sort of beauty about it, how mental gymnasticshas become the sound way to understand Wednesday’s language:

Want a pet? Can’t have one because of rules. So, here’s a dead one. With pretty nails you can paint, and a head big enough for a bow.

Enid watches her quietly. Wednesday plays with her hands, spindles them together. Her lips are thin. She’s nervous. Her eyes are cast down. She anticipates.

“How long did this take…?”

Wednesday, slowly, murmurs, “Two weeks. I had to…help with the odor. You would’ve vomited or kissed the floor otherwise.” A pause, then, “…and broken your…pretty nose. Again.”

“That did hurt, yeah…” Enid breathes. (It’s still sore. She swears she’ll set Wednesday’s side of the room on fire, someday.) She rounds the desk’s corner, and Wednesday is swiftly tucked in her arms. There’s that initial frigid moment before Wednesday unwinds, and her body remembers that, yes, it’s Enid, and Enid has the permission. She nudges her pretty nose along Wednesday’s neck. “Thank-you…” is murmured.

“We’re going to reconsider the name." You’re welcome.

"No we’re not." No we’re not.

Together, they eye Floof, and Floof…is staring at both the door and window simultaneously. With—

Aww, her tongue is almost sticking out. What a cute touch, Wednesday…

"You’re needy.”

“It’s almost a full moon…?”

Wednesday twists her head, and Enid seeks for treasure.

They osculate. And her lips feel like death, but they’re the most liveliest thing, all at once.

Hope you enjoyed! :)

#volt's library #wednesday 2022 #wednesday netflix #wednesday show #fanfiction #ao3 #wattpad #wenclair #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #fluff #they kiss #and there's a cat :)#reposted from last account #if this looks familiar it's because i yoinked it from my last (dead) account

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spookyserenades · 1 year

Text

Trouvaille - Chapter One TEASER

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 3.1k

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

**** READ THE COMPLETE CHAPTER HERE! ****

This is a teaser for Chapter One of Trouvaille! The whole chapter will be 20k words and posted on February 7th. If you'd like to be added to the taglist for the first few chapters, let me know. Any comments, questions, and feedback will be lovingly received. Please enjoy!

The place was entirely gray. The walls, the tin desk with an ancient register, the old guidebooks lining dusty shelves, all radiated a depressing emotion. Even the man behind the desk, still watching a noisy pre-season Patriots game, had dull gray hair and a sagging complexion. Stifling a smirk at how out of place ritzy Ben looked, Y/N pressed a hand over her mouth as she sifted through a rack of hybrid-specific clothes that were about as old as she was. Roy cleared his throat, standing before the desk, Ben uncharacteristically silent as the man grumbled with annoyance, peering up at the three of them.

Setting his phone down, the man stood arthritically before painting on a customer-service smile.

“And how can I help youse today?” Y/N nearly snickered at the man’s Quincey accent, alcohol making her a little giddy, until she realized this man just might be the saving grace of her Friday night. “We’re havin’ a sale on them jeans over there,” the man pointed to the rack Y/N had steadied herself on.

“Uh, okay, good to know. Actually, we’re here to potentially adopt, if you have any hybrids available, that is,” Roy took the lead, Ben’s eyes glazed over as he stared at a cobweb on the ceiling. The man made a noise of understanding in the back of his throat, grabbing a key ring from the desk drawer.

“Got just one, follow me,” the man motioned to them with a finger, unlocking the door at the back of the shop behind a shelf of books. Roy looked a bit disheartened, the chances of the lone hybrid at the shelter being a child slim to none. The trio stepped through the threshold anyways, the back room filled with what could only be compared to empty jail cells sans doors, the scent of cleaning products heavy in the air. Y/N was shocked by Ben’s continued silence, analyzing his stony expression as they reached the back of the room. There was a slim hallway to Y/N’s right, dimly lit, but they did not go down that way.

“Got this one in about two hours ago. She’s the smallest of her siblings, apparently… too hyper for them fancy shelter’s customers, or so’s I’ve been told by the person who dropped her ‘ere. Name’s Daisy, up-to-date on her doctor’s visits, guaranteed,” the shopkeeper rattled off, scratching the back of his head. He stepped to the side, allowing Ben and Roy to peer into the chamber Daisy was in.

Sat on the little bed in the corner, engrossed in a colorful picture book, was a little girl about four years old. She had beautiful white blonde hair, long white lop ears sprouting from her crown, and was wearing a sundress with strawberries on it. She looked very well taken care of, a teddy bear clamped under her arm and hair neatly brushed. One of her ears twitched at the sound of the man’s voice, large chocolate eyes darting upwards. A tiny, toothy grin stretched across her precious face as she jumped up from the bed, book clattering to the floor.

“Oh my gosh!” Ben gasped delightedly, the little bunny hybrid gathering a fistfull of his pant leg. Y/N was flabbergasted at the sight of such an angelic little girl in such a drab, depressing place. How in the hell did nobody adopt her?

“Hi! Hi, you’re here! They’re loud…” Daisy practically vibrated with energy, shaking the material of Ben’s pant leg excitedly. Her eyes darted down the narrow hallway Y/N had spotted moments before, one of Daisy’s ears lifting in that direction.

“She’s beautiful! I can’t believe it – we were looking for a child just like her! Ben, what do you think?” Roy was so happy, his face was entirely pink as he bent down to say hello. The hybrid seemed to not have an ounce of shyness in her body, thrusting her teddy bear into Roy’s hand and telling him the bear’s name.

“I think that this place was harboring a miracle after all,” Ben said in a disbelieving tone, simply glowing at Roy and Daisy’s interactions. She was chattering on about her morning, what she wanted to eat for dinner, and her new book.

“I don’ think she’ll be here for very long,” the shopkeeper called from next to Y/N. He looked like he was aching to get back to his Patriots game. “If you wanna adopt, I suggest you do it tonight.”

“What breed is she? How old, and how much, and where do we sign?” Ben asked rapidly, blushing furiously as Roy picked Daisy up when she stretched her arms out to be held. Y/N could hardly believe the events unfolding in front of her; she knew that the couple was prepared to adopt that very night, but she was sure they wouldn’t be able to find what they were looking for right away. Suddenly, she felt like she was intruding on a private moment, no matter how close she was to Ben and Roy.

“Uh…” the man pulled his eyebrows together, checking a clipboard velcroed to the wall. “She just turned four. Lionhead rabbit, the fancy Latin name ‘ere too if you want it. Adoption fee for her…” looking thoughtfully at Ben’s Gucci loafers, the man smirked. Y/N turned away, feeling ill from her martini, stalking off slightly down the mysterious hallway. “... $2,500. I’ll print up them papers in the office.”

Slinking down the short hallway, Y/N took a deep breath. Daisy was like a gift from some cosmic entity, and it almost seemed too good to be true. She felt warmth spread through her chest as she thought about the spare room in Ben’s townhouse, already decked to the nines with children’s toys and furniture. Daisy would want for nothing, and it was as if Ben and Roy had already fallen in love with her. Dragging her fingertips along the cinder block walls, she made a surprised sound at the heavy metal door a few feet away from her. Further down the hall, there was a normal wooden door left ajar, an office, from the looks of it. Humming, she turned her attention to the safe-like door, a big red sign nailed to the left of it. The sign read: Exotics and Aggressives - Do Not Enter.

Now that sign certainly caught her attention – all she had to read was Exotics before a happy sensation flooded through her. Giddy, she began to rise on her tiptoes to peek through the small square window of the door, when she heard a throat clear behind her. Startled, she whipped around, guilt painting her features as the shopkeeper eyed her suspiciously.

“I wouldn’ get too close to them, if I were you, young lady,” the man said, hands on his hips. “They’ll take off your arm in a second.”

Arching an eyebrow, Y/N’s curiosity was piqued even more with this statement. The man sighed, pointing at the window.

“Go ahead, take a look. They’re all vicious, the jaguar bastard bit me yesterday,” he muttered, tenderly rubbing a bandage on his left forearm. Staring at the man, as if to decipher if he was egging her on or not, Y/N turned back to the window, finally peering in.

The room was large, but all divided by iron bars, like giant cages they would keep big animals in at the clinic. At first, she had to squint to see anything other than iron, but then she let out a startled gasp as her eyes focused.

She counted four hybrids, fully shifted into their animal forms. First, her sight landed on a gorgeous, albeit underweight, leopard, laying on its side, asleep. In the cell next to it was what appeared to be a coyote, turned away from the door and shaking like a leaf in the corner.

“My God,” Y/N whispered, taking in the third animal, a black jaguar, most likely the one that had bitten the shopkeeper. It was asleep, breathing labored, as blood oozed from a jagged cut on his side.

Anger welled up inside of her, beginning to turn to the shopkeeper in wrath, before her breath was cut off by the sight of the final animal she could see: the biggest Northwestern wolf she had ever seen, and it was staring right back at her. Undoubtedly a male, the wolf’s amber eyes bored into hers, ears swiveling forward in alert and teeth baring immediately. The creature’s expression sent shivers down her spine, even as he was laying down in his cell separated by the heavy door Y/N was pressed against. Unable to tear her gaze away from the wolf, she forgot all about her bed calling her name, about Ben and Roy, and about Daisy.

“Who are they?” Y/N asked, eventually breaking eye contact with the wolf. Looking at the shopkeeper, who had pulled out his phone to check on the Patriots, didn’t even spare the door a glance.

“Bunch o’ bastards. We get the unadopted hybrids that are found wandering the streets, the ones that are rejected by other shelters, sometimes from circuses or zoos if they stop doin’ what they’re supposed to,” he replied, sounding bored. He began to walk away, heading towards the office, when Y/N pulled herself away from the door to urgently grab his wrist.

“Wait! I– oh,” she let go of his wrist, blushing in embarrassment. “What’s going to happen to them?” Y/N asked, fearing the worst. The man scoffed, beginning to get annoyed with her questions.

“Listen, lady, I’ve got a guy from Manhattan coming in tomorrow morning to pick up them animals. He’s offering seven G’s for all seven of em’... for hunting or something, I don’ really care what for. It’s payday tomorrow. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to send that rabbit on her way with your buddies so I can finish the game in peace,” with that, the man stalked to the office, muttering something about “women”, the sound of a stuttering printer filling the hallway.

Affronted, Y/N felt her heart begin to race, thinking about the beautiful leopard being hunted down, and the chances of the injured jaguar living past tomorrow evening. Feeling more ill than ever, the disgust for the world she lived in infiltrated every cell of her body. She peeked back into the room once more, immediately searching for the other three animals, but could not strain her eyesight into the far hidden corners of the room. A pained wheeze came from the jaguar, tail limply beating the floor. She looked at the wolf again, but to her surprise, he had turned around from her view and curled himself into a ball. Her heart sank, palms sliding down the door. If she didn’t feel powerless to help animals before, she certainly did at that moment.

“Y/N? Where did you go?” Roy inquired, voice raised. She blinked rapidly, ears picking up Daisy’s childish giggle, and huffed sadly for the seven hybrids behind the locked door. While her heart was breaking for them, she wouldn’t allow herself to dampen her friend’s spirits on such a wonderful night for the two of them.

She stiffened as the shopkeeper brushed past her, a packet in hand, grumbling in her direction. Curling her lip up in a snarl of disgust, she begrudgingly followed him, glancing at the metal door once more.

“The papers. Let’s sign em’ up front, come on, now,” the shopkeeper grunted, stepping into the light of the main hybrid holding room. Roy still had Daisy on his hip, his face confused as it landed on Y/N. She brightened up in the best way that she could, smiling sweetly at Daisy, who had begun to sleepily nod her head against Roy’s shoulder. Ben held her teddy bear and picture book, pacing around the space she was in as if to check for any other of her belongings.

“Sorry, guys! I had to run to the bathroom in the back,” Y/N lied, watching the shopkeeper carefully to see if he would rat her out. He rolled his eyes disinterestedly, already making his way to the storefront. Roy easily bought the lie, trusting and easygoing, face dissolving into understanding. She felt rotten about the deception, but she would feel even worse if she robbed her friends of the happy glow around them with the news of the exotic hybrids only feet away.

Ben straightened up from where he was crouched over by the bed Daisy had been sitting on, face a touch melancholy.

“Honey, is this all that you brought with you?” Ben asked Daisy, brushing a strand of hair away from her cherubic face. She cracked an eye open, peering at Ben’s outstretched hands holding her teddy bear and book. Nodding twice, she buried her face into Roy’s neck, sleep threatening to pull her under. Ben tutted, a look of adoration on his face.

“I think she likes you, Roy,” Ben whispered with glee. “Let’s go sign the papers and get her home,” Ben took Roy’s free hand, flashing a brilliant smile towards Y/N, face clear of all stress from earlier. She trailed after the new family, no longer filled with exhaustion from her eventful day, but instead was consumed with cyclical thoughts.

She felt dazed as she watched Ben smoothly sign his name on the papers, eagerly pushing them towards Roy once he finished, nearly tossing the packet off of the tin desk. The shopkeeper went back to his game on his phone, yawning, as Ben excitedly joined Y/N at the front of the store.

“Can you believe it? Y/N, what are the chances?” Ben gushed, fingers fumbling along the bookshelf stocked with the hybrid guidebooks. Digits dancing along the spines, he carefully selected one while scratching his close-cut beard thoughtfully. The book was specific to hybrid children.

“I can’t believe it. I also can’t believe it’s this easy to adopt – I mean, there’s no interview? Or background check?” With this statement, Ben turned to look at her curiously.

“Well, I know that the other shelters have at least one quick interview, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth,” Ben said slowly, sensing something off about Y/N’s countenance. “Besides, look at this place. Sadly, I don’t think Belichick over there is very concerned with who walks out of here with a hybrid. What’s up? Why do you look so upset?”

Y/N shook her head, spotting a rabbit hybrid booklet and pulling it off the shelf for Ben. Her fingers paused, noticing a thicker book for wolf hybrids a couple of spines over. She snapped out of it, sensing Ben’s probing gaze, and handed him the booklet with a grin.

“I’m not upset, that martini just made me feel a little sick. I think today has just been a little crazy,” Y/N explained. Ben softened at her response and her offering of the booklet, pulling her into his side tightly.

“I haven’t thanked you yet for coming along with us today. It means more than you know, having you be here for this,” Ben confessed, squeezing her once.

“Always,” Y/N replied, tears threatening to fall for the second time that day. He let her go, lifting the books in the air, heading to the register to pay the final fee before they could leave with Daisy.

“That’ll be $3,000 even – with the tax an’ the books,” The shopkeeper punched numbers into the noisy cash register, cursing as the sport’s broadcaster announced a foul from his phone. Ben handed him his thick black credit card easily, and with the flimsy bag for the books in hand and credit card securely back in his wallet, the four left the dreary shelter without any complications.

Unlike when Y/N left the clinic earlier in the evening, exiting the shelter and breathing in the nighttime air offered no relief to her current anxiety. Roy was busy ordering a cab for their ride back to their townhouse, carefully shifting the sleeping bunny hybrid on his hip. Ben was busy blathering on about what he should whip up for Daisy’s dinner, or if he should call in some takeout. Y/N tried to steady her breathing, checking her slim wristwatch for the time. It was only 9 PM, but it felt like midnight. She considered leaving her car in the spot seven blocks away in favor of jumping on the Red Line, but wasn’t thrilled about a ticket likely being tucked under her windshield wiper come morning.

“Guys, I’m gonna get going. My car’s a little ways away, so I should start walking now,” Y/N piped up through Ben’s cooing at sleeping Daisy, both men turning to face her.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car? I can order another cab for myself after,” Ben offered, ever protective and concerned for her walking alone at night. She shook her head lightly, reaching out to stroke the back of Daisy’s head. She was irresistible and her hair was impossibly soft, and Daisy leaned into the touch even in her sleep.

“No, no, don’t worry about me. I have a taser and a knife. And my clogs are heavier than they look, for kicking some nuts. You guys should get home as soon as you can, settle her in,” Y/N said slowly, trying her best not to wake the child. Ben looked like he wanted to protest, but was cut off by the pulling up of the cab Roy ordered. Y/N pushed him towards the passenger side door, eager to spend some time thinking on the walk to her car.

“I’ll call you in the morning to check in, and I’ll even come and stop by tomorrow if you want, and ask my dad to schedule a check-up for Daisy,” Y/N offered, opening the doors for both of them. Roy gave her a swift kiss on the cheek, mouthing a thank you sincerely, carefully maneuvering his way into the backseat.

“Thank you, Y/N. Text me when you get home,” Ben hugged her once more, folding himself into the passenger seat and closing the door softly. Y/N waved as the cab drove away, waiting until it turned the corner before sparing another glance at the shelter behind her. Brushing a sticky piece of hair from her forehead, humidity pressing down on her, she set off down the street to her car.

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp

Please do not repost or translate my work. Thank you!

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #hybrid au #bts ot7 x y/n #bts hybrid au #bts fic #bts au #namjoon fanfic #seokjin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #hoseok fanfic #jimin fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts hybrid x reader #bts hybrid fanfic

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weaper-reaper · 1 year

Text

Eventuality Pt.2

1, 3+4, 5, 6

NEW CHAPTER JUST DROPPED!! FT. Jealous Konig (if you squint) so you’re welcome. As always cross-posted on Ao3 @WeaperReaper, check that out for quicker updates.

CW: Same as before in Part 1. Just more plot here really. No NSFW

Hot water never felt so good. My muscles eased as it glided over my shoulders and down my back, the steam from the shower drifted up and over the flimsy curtain that separated the tiny tiled space from the rest of the bathroom. It had been my plan to clean off the sweat and grime from yesterday the moment I got into my room last night, however the moment my head hit the pillow on the cot I was out.

It was a much needed rest, and though I really only got a handful of hours sleep, I wasn’t going to start complaining. The room I had been set up in was nice. Assumedly slightly larger than the others, with being at the very end of the hallway. There was a steel desk welded to the wall where another bunk would have sat normally, and I’m sure it made for a good place to study. Although with how lacking this particular home base was with any medical professionals- I doubt I’d be doing more studying then I would actual practice.

I unloaded only the basics this morning, never really making a habit of unpacking or filling out a space for too long. I quickly towel dried and dressed myself in the uniform I laid on the neatly made bed. Classical tactical pants and thick mock neck combo. My medic badge from my jacket flashed brightly against the rest of the dark colors, and I ran a hand through my hair to push it from my face as it dried.

The tablet I also took out earlier dinged from it’s place on the desk, I threw my boots on before I made my way over, sitting on the creaky metal chair. It scraped against the stone floor as I scooted it closer.

A new message popped up in my dashboard. It was an email confirmation for the transferring of my records from my old Sergeant to Captain Price, and a note that I’d be working solely under his jurisdiction. When I tapped on his icon however, nothing but an error message showed up. It was almost as if he wasn’t in the system. I went to the search bar and typed in Johnny, but no one stationed this far east came up.

I tried ‘Soap’. Nothing.

My fingers itched over the keys.

‘Konig’ I typed, unsure at first how to even spell it. Yet again, nothing. A KORTAC tag popped up for a moment, but being another national division I didn’t have clearance for any of that information.

I sighed, how was I meant to treat them if I didn’t know anything about them? If there were no files on anyone I’d met so far. I racked my brain to try to think of any other names I might have heard yesterday but nothing else came to mind. I glanced at the clock- 04:03.

“Well, since I’m up already..” I mumbled out loud to myself and turned to strap my pack on, shoving the tablet inside the bigger pocket. Maybe Soap would have more information, I could ask him to schedule a briefing with Captain Price and I. Something I was surprised I’d heard nothing about since landing, surely if they requested someone they’d at least fill them in.

Pulling my door shut and entering the hall, I was even more surprised to see it packed and bustling with early morning energy. Men had their doors open and some were half dressed- yelling across the hall at someone else. I did my best to keep my eyes mostly to the ground, and thankfully, was able to leave the testosterone fueled building without bumping in to anyone.

That wasn’t however- the case as I swung the double doors open to the outside. I immediately ran into the side of another soldier, dressed in all black and a hoodie that’s seen better days. He had a balaclava on also, the warmth from his breath fogged up into the air as he huffed from my intrusion. His snapped to mine and my breath hitched in my throat- if looks could kill.

His mask had been altered, a white skull painted onto the front made him even more intimidating.

Suddenly I forgot how words worked.

“Mack!” Someone shouted and I was almost too afraid to drag my eyes away from the behemoth in front of me.

“Mack!” The voice said again and a large hand cupped my shoulder, “Oi lass- I thought you wouldn’t join us.”

“Us?” I was able to meakly force out, my gaze finally settling over Soap, dressed in track pants and an almost matching hoodie. Must have been military issued.

His big dorky smile found it’s way up onto his cut face again. “Aye, I see you’ve met ghost.” He turned the both of us back to the brick wall of a man from before and punched at his shoulder lightly.

“C’mon now, don’t scare away the newbies.” Soap teased and I felt incredibly small between them, eyes wide in the relative darkness.

This ‘Ghost’ just gawffed in response to him, turning away slightly to avoid either of our faces.

Soap turned back to me, “You’re not runnin in that are ye?” He asked, motioning to my boots and tactical pants- filled to the brim with gaze, electrical tape, and whatever other medical supplies I could fit. I shook my head at him.

“Uh no,” I spoke, finding my voice once again. It was slightly scratchier from the morning cold. “I was hoping to do some inventory in the infirmary, y’know get stock of everything or whatever.”

He nodded but still let out a laugh. “Not here a full 24 hours yet and ye ‘already thinking too much. I know what you need.” He handed me a bottle that he pulled out of nowhere, emptied of its original water, and re-filled with some chunky looking slush.

I scoffed, the man to my right suddenly forgotten in the background. “There’s no way I’m drinking that.” I was 100% sure whatever was in that was in no shape healthy.

“Suit yer’self.” He said and took a swig of the concoction, letting out a forced sounding ‘Ahhh’ after his swallow. I let a laugh escape me and he eyed me from the side, turning to face ghost.

“Well if you don’t want to join us then maybe you’ll play score keeper. Here.” He handed me a small black notebook, opened to a page scribbled with tally marks. One side labeled ‘SOAP’ and the other ‘GHOST’ with a poorly drawn skull next to it.

“First to make a lap around the entire base, and touch that center pole there,” He pointed to a floodlight that sat in the middle of the courtyard between both buildings. “Wins.” He turned to Ghost who was already stretching one leg out behind him- getting into a sprint position.

“GO!” He shouted.

They both took off in a full sprint and veered right some, ghost reached out to give soap a push that made him stumbled slightly, giving ghost the lead as they wrapped around a building out of sight. Yells and other Scottish noises could be heard echoing through space and bouncing off walls. I let a smile fall on my face as I looked back down at the notebook.

Not wanting to peer too much into his privacy I thumbed over the random doodles and put a pen in the crack of the page, saving my place as I closed the book in my hand.

Some other men took after them as well, and that’s when I noticed the small crowd from inside slowly made their way out onto the yard. Doing random warmups and exercises, but mainly trying to keep up with the race I’m sure.

It was cute.

And it probably boosted morale too, which was always a good thing. My hopes for this place slowly began to rise as I looked around some more. I shifted from my spot slightly before I caught something in the back corner of my eye. A familiar figure stood hunched slightly, resting against the corner of the main building, he had his eyes at his hands, a small book similar to Soaps, and was scribbling something down.

He glanced up as I approached him, myself not even half-aware that I was until we made eye contact. He snapped his book closed and stood up straighter- easing his hand that held the book behind him. My eyes followed the movement.

“Were you drawing?” I asked, where I found the courage to randomly strike up conversation I’ve no idea.

His fingers thumbed the crease of his book and as he hesitated answering. Crap, was I pushing too much?

“Yes.” He spoke out after another moment.

“Cool.” I muttered, feeling like a child at the playground, feeblishly attempting to make friends. I didn’t meet his eyes again, but instead settled at looking at the mask he wore. I hadn’t noticed it yesterday, but there were bleach stains just under the holes that kind of represented tears.

What was everyone’s deal with wearing scary masks?

“How’s your cut doing?” I glanced up at him and his eyes were already on mine, they widened slightly when I spoke- like I had caught him off guard. I tried to contort my face into a pleasant look.

He stood unblinkingly at me for a moment. Then his eyes shifted up behind me and hardened ever so slightly. Stomps grew loud and rapidly approached us. I turned to see as Soap and Ghost made their way across the courtyard in full sprint. Soap moved with an ease and swiftness that I was instantly jealous of. Ghost was just a hair behind him, arm and fingers outstretched. He grabbed onto Soap by the back of his hoodie and pulled just hard enough to give him forward momentum to touch the base of the lamp just before Soap could.

The Scott swung around as they came to a stop and immediately turned to me.

“Did you see that!” His eyes were wide and he looked astonished.

Ghost joined him at his side and they slowly made their way towards where I stood with Konig.

“Bile yer hide!” He shouted followed by some more Scottish noises and pushed at Ghost in a friendly but competitive way. “You cheated.”

“You never set any rules, Jonny.” Ghost’s voice was gravely and he was slightly out of breath. Steam rose off the both of them in a comical way as they both huffed. I handed soap back his notebook when they got within arms distance.

“And you, lass? You saw what he did right?” Soap pleaded in a thick accent and looked almost childlike with big puppy eyes. I raised my hands up in defeat.

“Unfortunately I was talking to Konig here, so I didn’t see much.” I held in a laugh as he responded with another Scottish phrase that probably didn't translate over too pretty.

His eyes rose to the man behind me, and I could feel his larger frame against my back. His body heat wrapped itself around me and I had to stop the shiver that ran up my spine. Something in Soaps demeanor seemed to change slightly as the two of them made eye contact with the other, and he turned to tap Ghost out, their feud dead now. He signaled that they should go inside with a tip of his head. I watch slightly confused as the two of them turned and made their way back to the barracks- soap mingling a little with the others on his way past.

“Oh wait-“ I almost shouted, but the two of them were already halfway across the area, their larger bodies taking two of my strides in one. My hand hung in the air awkwardly. Damnit, I meant to ask him about Price.

I sighed and Konig cleared his throat behind me, reminding me of his presence. I turned to face him and I hadn’t realized how close we were standing together until I had to crane my head back in order to find his eyes. Which were already on mine, naturally.

I let in a sharp inhale, the cold and crisp air bit at the inside of my throat. God it gets cold here at night. The sky was brighter now then when I first came out though, and eventually the sun would rise and heat up the dunes again. Something I wasn’t particularly looking forward to, so I tried to enjoy the cool air while I could.

Konig cleared his throat again awkwardly and I realized I was staring at him, heat quickly warmed up my face and I moved my line of sight back down to the center of his chest.

“You are close with him?” He asked, a little too seriously to just be a curious question. I took a step back so I didn’t have to bend my neck so much when I looked up at him.

“Who, Soap?”

He nodded, the fabric of the mask shook under his movement.

“Oh no,” I corrected. “I arrived yesterday, that’s the first time I met him. Or well, any of you really.” I looked around, most of the men had started to fill into the main building now. Some came out to sit on the benches to eat their breakfast. Others started training in groups or faux fighting in pairs out in the courtyard.

“It is easy for you to talk, to him.” He said matter-of-factly.

I shook my head and corrected him again, “Not really, I’m not the best for conversation really.” I chuckled. I let out a little ‘hmm’ of conviction when he didn’t respond and gestured over to the entrance doors.

“So shall we take a look at you then?” I asked, he nodded and followed behind me to the room we were in before. The doors squeaked shut after us and I could feel everyone’s eyes on the pair of us, Konig followed so close at my back that I could feel the shift of his gear as he walked. Though I suppose being as tall as he was he drew eyes from everywhere anyway, I did my best to brush it off.

We made out way into the infirmary relatively smoothly after clearing through the cafeteria and other crowded rooms, and settled more comfortably in this room. Just the two of us.

My face heated up again at that thought.

Konig hovered by the door as I went to the desk in the back to unload. Tossing my bag up onto the counter I unzipped it and pulled out various items, trying to distract myself by taking account of what I had brought with me.

I glanced back at him, then in the far corner of the room where there hung a single curtain from the slide on the ceiling, a lonely cot sat behind it. I pointed over to it with my finger, “You don’t have to lock the door again, just have a seat over there I’ll be over in a second.”

I didn’t watch him, but I could hear as he crossed the room in less than three long strides. There was something slightly comforting about how quickly he could move. If I ever needed it, I knew who I’d use as a bodyguard. The bed creaked under his weight as he sat, and I took the chance to glance at him from the corner of my eye. He pulled the curtain closed just enough to block him from view of the door, and tucked the bottom of his mask up into his helmet so that only his lower jaw and neck were exposed. I found myself missing the sight of his lips.

I shook my head to get rid of those thoughts and his eyes drew back to mine to follow every movement I made.

The room was silent as I pulled my tablet out, opening an empty file and labeling it ‘Konig’.

“Since you’re here do you mind if we do a physical? I mean I don’t really know what equipment is here, so you’ll have to bear with me for a bit.” I hovered a pen over the screen and turned to face him slightly, his eyes traced down my body and settled on where my hip rested against the edge of the desk.

He nodded slowly and clasped his hands together in front of him, falling into a gentle slouch. His figure was so tall and built that he was probably used to constantly trying to make himself appear smaller and less intimidating. I appreciated the gesture.

“Good.” I mumbled and his eyes snapped back up to my face. I pulled out another alcohol wipe and approached his side. “Tip your chin up to me please, I’ll change these bandages.”

He did what I asked without resistance, and as my hands cupped his face he was less stiff then he was yesterday. I let a gentle smile find my face, glad I’m capable of creating a soothing environment. I slowly peeled off the old tape and gauze against his body and snapped on some gloves before reapplying new ones. The cut looked significantly better today.

“Y’know I don’t think it’ll even scar, Konig.”

“König.” He corrected softly, his German made it easier for him to pronounce then I could.

“Koo-nick.” I tried again, snipping off small squares of excess tape from his face.

The mask shifted above him as he huffed out through his nose in a little laugh. I thought I could see the faintest tip at the corner of his lips, I wished I could pull up the dark fabric to watch him smile- but I wouldn’t push his boundaries like that. Especially not when it seemed he just started to ease up with me.

“Close,” his voice was soft as he spoke to me, and the little praise sent butterflies straight to my stomach. I removed my hands from his skin and cast my eyes anywhere but his, settling on the tablet I brought over. “König.” He said again. “Do you know any German?” He asked.

I hummed a ‘no’ and sat myself on the little black stool, rolling back over to him, tablet open on my lap in front of me. Now that we were both sitting, he was still taller than me and I went up to just about his shoulders.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. If I shifted over just slightly, I could brush our legs together.

“It means King.”

“I don’t doubt that.” I said as I made a show to size him up again with my eyes. He shrunk a bit under my gaze, but still relatively hovered over me in a relaxed way.

“So King,” I mused and his eyes lit up at mine, “How tall are you?”

“82 inches.”

A low whistle escaped me and I noticed the more I probed for questions the faster he bounced his boot or wrung his fingers together. After a solid ten minutes or so of recounting his medical history and any procedures he had done, he settled on pulling his tags from under the collar of his shirt. I quickly jotted down his blood type and leaned back with a heavy sigh.

“I think that’s all then.” I mused and his eyes never left my face. I tipped my head up at him and intentionally gave him a bright smile, those bright blue eyes grew wide and snapped across the room, suddenly looking everywhere but mine. I stifled a laugh and rolled back over to the desk about a foot away from where he sat. Glad for some distance as the room seemed to grow warm.

“I hope to take some blood samples later, maybe today or sometime later this week so, don’t go to far okay?” I turned back over to him and crossed my legs up top the other.

He stood and re-settled the mask back over his face like it had been before and nodded. He turned to me just before he reached the door, one hand on the handle.

“I hope you like it here, Maus.” He said in a gentle and promising way, my face flushed and he quickly turned to leave, the door falling shut in his wake.

‘I hope you like it here,’

‘Maus.’ Rang between my ears.

Was I just given a nickname?

____

Kicking my feet and giggling the entire time I was writing this. The soap ghost race? C’mon guys GUYS guys pls. Also 82 inches is 6’10, I don’t actually know if that’s cannon but someone on TikTok said it so it must be real right?

Feedback apreciated

#könig #call of duty #konig x reader #konig call of duty #Konig x ofc

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