#Accidentally on Purpose

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

And all that I have

Part 8 of my Accidentally on Purpose Series

Warnings: Smut (18+), cockwarming, conversations about CNC (consensual non-consent) play, kink discussions, talks about non-consensual kinks, toxic relationship, conversations about burglary, insecurities, angst, obsession with reader, mild body insecurity. Charred the dove and the dove kinda liked it.

Disclaimer: I want to be clear that although the conversations are centred around non-consent, the entire thing is completely consensual, if reader was uncomfortable, the conversation would stop. They are discussing a scene they plan to do in the future, so be warned that this will come up later in this series.

You loved him.

You knew it now, without a doubt.

You’re gazing at him from your spot at your desk, peeking over your laptop so that it’s not obvious to him that you’re staring.

You watch him scratch at his eyebrow, deep in thought as he reads the report on his desk. You feel your stomach flip as he squints for a second, no doubt reading something he disagrees with on the page.

He runs the backs of his fingers over his cheek, scratching at his beard, deep in thought, unaware that just a little distance away, you’re admiring him with every piece of your heart.

Whatever  you had felt for anyone else before was nothing compared to what you were feeling for him right now. Your relationship with Dominic had been nothing but a shell, hollow, it had been filled with moments of self- doubt, separated by spaces of indifference that you’d tried to convince yourself was happiness. But it wasn’t, it wasn’t contentment or satisfaction or delight. Being with Dominic had been nothing but a mediocre meal when you were starving, only perceived as amazing because you were unfed.

Now, with Billy, you knew what it was like to really feel.

“Billy.” You say softly, watching him blink and raise his head. He gives you a tired smile.

“Yeah?”

“I’m bored.”

The corner of his lip twitches before it pulls up into a smile.

He looks down at his report before looking back up at you. 

“Feeling for anything in particular?”

You study him for a moment, before closing your eyes.

“It’s been two weeks since we last had sex-”

“Two weeks and six days…” He pauses when you open your eyes to look at him curiously, “...To be exact, but,” He clears his throat, “who’s counting?”

You can’t help planting your face in your hands and letting out a little laugh.

“Fine, it’s been two weeks and six days, and there’s still about a week left before we can- and I really want a distraction from it.”

He swallows, nodding eagerly, in full agreement with your words.

“I get it," Billy agrees, and you watch him drop his papers onto the desk with a decisive thump, "It's been actual hell to not be able to follow through with any of the things I want to do to you."

You give him an amused raise of your eyebrows, a slow feeling of delight spreading in your abdomen. You take a slow breath to help ease the feeling.

“Well, that didn’t help distract me, just made me want you more.”

The look on his face is one of pure mischief.

“Oops.” Is his only response.

You blink at his audacity.

“You know,” You say, pushing yourself to a stand, “You really shouldn’t tease, there’s no chance of you winning this.” You advise, moving toward him. You don’t stop till you’re leaning against his desk. 

You take your time, moving his phone and staple remover out of the way, and when it’s just papers, you lie down on his desk, smiling proudly as you turn to face him.

The muscle in his jaw jumps as he clenches his teeth, eyes skimming your body as you lie on his desk, knees bent for comfort. After a moment, the pins in your hair begin to stick your scalp and you grunt as you unpin your hair and let it splay across his reports.

“Everytime you tease me, I play this game in my head where I come up with payback.” He says, eyes fixed on you, “At the rate you’re going, you’re not gonna be able to walk after.”

You smile at him, your only response is to raise one hand, and undo the top button of your shirt.

His eyes follow the movement. 

“I doubt,” You hum undoing another button, “That you’d be able to last long after four weeks of no sex.”

“Maybe not.” He sighs, “But I’ll find a way.”

When you reach for a third button, his hand reaches up to cover yours.

"Mercy." He whispers finally, "You're pretty, and I want you and I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"Poor baby." You tease.

He grunts out a laugh, closes his eyes and shakes his head.

"God, you're really in for it when I’m fully healed."

“What am I in for?” You tease, tugging your shirt open as wide as possible.

He looks up, as if asking a higher being for his sanity back.

“You really wanna know? It might scare you.”

“God I hope it does.”

He groans, low in the back of his throat.

“Alright. I’ll tell you.” He looks down at you again, the back of his fingers tracing over your cheek softly.

You smile, closing your eyes as he touches you softly.

“I want to tie you to our bed, and use you whenever I want. I want to leave that sweet little cunt dripping with my come.”

He lets out a soft sigh, his thumb tracing over your lips gently.

“I want to… rent a cabin in the woods, and chase you, make you run, play with you and when I catch you- I want to make you regret running.”

You swallow, excitement swells like a wave within you.

“I’d love that.” You confess to him softly, “Make me regret running from you, sir.”

You watch his throat bob as he swallows, his eyes a hue of darkness you’ve never seen before.

His fingers slip down your chin, tracing its way over your jaw.

“I didn’t expect you to be so… open about this.”

Maybe I'm just right for you, you think helplessly.

You smile up at him.

“I’ve always wanted to explore that side of myself, but Nic wasn’t very accommodating, so I hid those desires from him. But I’ve… I've wanted to be touched the ways you want to touch me for a long time.”

You think about the last time you’s asked Dominic to choke you- he’d done it so poorly, despite the way it had intensified your orgasm, and then he’d never done it again, it was like he wasn’t willing to learn what really got you off, so why would you ever try to push him further, or ask him for more?

Billy grips your jaw tightly, pulling you back into the present, into his dark, hungry eyes.

“Let’s come up with something, that we can,” His tongue darts out to swipe at his bottom lip eagerly, “do together.”

You feel a smile creep onto your face.

“Of course, Mister Russo.”

He leans in, his lips meeting yours softly, contradicting the rough implications of his words.

“Come sit on my lap.” He offers when he finally breaks from the kiss, and you nod easily, rising from his desk, giggling when you feel some papers stick to your arms. He helps you remove them, and then guides you into sitting on his lap, your legs being tossed over one of the arms of his chair.

“Will this even hold us?” You ask, resting your cheek against his chest.

He wraps an arm around you, humming an affirmative.

“Am I hurting you?” You check next, worried.

“Not at all, Mrs. Russo.” He murmurs, kissing the top of your head, “Now, tell me about your limits.”

You smile, looking down, playing with your fingers.

“I’m not that into anal, or hitting. Those are hard limits. I like being spanked.”

Billy hums in acknowledgement, his arm on your knee to keep you steady.

“What about slapping?”

You feel your insides clench.

You shake your head, looking up at him.

He smiles, the hand on your knee moving up to cup your cheek.

“So you like small amounts of pain? But nothing harder than a spank?”

“Yeah.” you answer, breathless at the conversation. No one had ever made you feel this comfortable and safe talking about topics like this.

“I like being scared.” You offer up, “I wanna be scared into acting like a good girl.”

He makes a low sound in the back of his throat.

“God you’re so fucking hot.”

You giggle in disbelief.

“What about pet names? I know you like the nice ones, but what about degrading ones?”

“I like ‘slut,’” You offer, “But not ‘bitch’ or ‘whore.’”

You groan when a thought pops into your mind.

“Literally, I think calling me your little plaything would make me see stars.”

His laugh is deep and alluring.

“What about you?” You ask, desperate to hear him affirm your desires with his own, “Tell me some things you like.”

“The idea of forced breeding is nice,” He starts, and you nod eagerly, already obsessed with that idea, held down and made to take his cum, being teased about having his kids. It makes your skin flush with heat.

“I have- uhhhhh-” He hesitates, and you adjust yourself to watch him carefully.

“Sorry, fuck, it’s embarrassing to say.” He mutters, and you realise that maybe he needs some reassurance.

You raise your hand, cupping his cheek, loving the feel of his coarse beard against your hand. You trail lower, fingers caressing his neck, before you try to slip your fingers under the collar of his button up shirt.

“You can literally tell me anything. I won’t run, I promise.”

He goes still, looking up at you, something unnameable in his eyes. After a moment, he blinks, looking down.

“I have a little fantasy about being a thief, maybe you have something valuable I want. Maybe it’s not what you think it is.”

You swallow, nodding your head eagerly, thinking about what it would be like to find him rifling through your home, touching things that weren't his to touch. You think about the way he’d grab you, about the way he’d lean in to kiss you harshly, the way he’d rip at your clothes-

“T-that’s a nice idea.” You whisper hoarsely. 

You think about him all masked up and taking you on the floor of your home. You shift a little in discomfort caused by your definite arousal.

“I can't- I really need to be inside you.” He rushes out.

“Couch?” You offer, and then you slip off of his lap when he nods.

While he settles himself, you reach up under your skirt, pulling your panties down the length of your legs, smiling when you catch him staring at you.

You carefully climb onto him, reaching to undo his belt, the sound of it making you more and more aroused. 

“You're so fucking beautiful.” He whispers, and you glance up at him feeling a little shy under his obsidian gaze.

“Thanks.” You whisper, your voice so soft that you barely hear it.

The back of his hand traces your cheek.

“Do you need help?” He asks, and you manage to be amused at the question, considering how absolutely wet you were between your thighs.

You shake your head, clenching when you finally get his cock free, giving him a few gentle strokes that has him groaning and dropping his head back.

He's so big, heavy in your hand, you love the slight curve of him, the wideness.

“Ready?” You ask, and he raises his head to look at you.

“If you are.” He says, voice pained.

You lean in, pressing a kiss to his lips before raising your hips to guide his thick cock to your entrance.

His head falls back again, his breathing shallow as he stares wide-eyed at the ceiling.

When you start slowly sinking down on him, you watch him suck in a deep breath, his hands gripping harshly at the couch.

“You're so wet, sweetheart. Fuck.” Billy exclaims, finally able to look at you once more.

You clench around him, your prolonged denial in support of his, claws at the walls inside your mind.

You feel a pinch of pain, the size of him stretching you open but you pay it no mind, your wetness makes taking him in so much easier.

Your eyelids flutter as you sink down onto him fully, you bite your lip harshly when the head of his cock presses firmly to your cervix.

“Oh my god.” You groan, panting, unable to comprehend the world around you with his cock so deep within you.

Before him, you weren't so desperate. You could usually go a month without sex without any problem at all, now though, Billy made lasting four weeks the biggest challenge.

He stays perfectly still, But you can't help yourself, making micromovements on his cock, rolling your hips a little just so you can feel something more.

“Princess.” He warns, and then groans loudly when he feels you clench hard around him in response. He loses himself for a moment, rolling his hips into you, before he grits his teeth, stopping his motions.

“You've never called me that one before.” You purr, trying to distract him while keep your body still.

His hands grip your thighs, blunt fingers pressing into your skin, sliding up to grip your ass harshly.

“It's cause I've got you so spoiled right now.” He hisses, "Couldn't tell you no if I wanted to.”

It makes you clench down on his cock a second time. You watch your own desperation mirror itself in his expression.

“You're so big, Mister Russo.” You moan, gripping his shoulders to keep your body steady.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, to relax the vise grip your cunt has around his stiff erection.

Billy has always thought of himself as a man with great strength, but it's in this very moment, he learns precisely how weak he is. Watching his gorgeous, breathtaking wife, try her best to sit still on his cock, brings out a darkness in him, gives him ideas of what exactly he's going to do the moment he can.

No woman has ever felt as good as you, and he knows no woman ever will.

You're having your own debate in your head at the same time, wondering how you're going to last another week without him fucking you into oblivion.

“Tell me what you want to do to me.” You plead, eyes squeezed shut to hide from him.

He doesn't speak for a moment, the only sound filling the room is both of your laboured breaths.

“I want to see you submit to me completely.”

You squeeze your eyes tighter, nodding.

I want that too.

“And I don't care how hard it is, or how long it takes, I want to fuck you until you're just my messy pile of wife, no brain at all.”

You whine, a low sound in the back of your throat, you can almost taste the pleasure on your tongue as if it’s something physical.

You roll your hips, feeling him inside you, the grip of his hands on your ass tightens.

Your eyes meet his, half lidded, panting and desperate as you gaze at one another, you know that it wouldn't take much to get you off, and you're trying your hardest not to, you really really want to support him this way.

It makes you a true mess, aroused beyond thought. You can see it in his eyes too, delirious yearning looking right back at you.

“What else?” You ask, needing to know the exact ways he wanted to unravel you.

He licks his bottom lip.

“I wanna fill you up, watch my come drip right out of you with the number of times I come inside you.”

“Yeah? M-maybe you can… use a plug if you get tired of watching your cum drip out.”

The sound he makes next is nothing short of a gowl, pulling you closer until your noses brush, You swear there's a fire in his eyes that you've never seen before.

“I can't stop picturing it,” he whispers roughly, one hand leaving your ass, trailing around to your front. You cry out when the tips of his fingers press to your aching clit, “The way you'll look when I'm done with you, passed out of course, my come messy between your thighs, I'll ask you if you're okay and you wouldn't be able to do anything more than make a little sound.” You tilt your head to the side when his finger begins rubbing softly at your swollen bud, he doesn't take kindly to the movement, his other hand reaching to grip the back of your head, forcing you back to him, “Maybe I'd keep fucking you. Even when you're out cold I could still fill you. You'd be so far gone you wouldn't even want me to stop.”

You nod, whining, knowing that you'd let him do anything he wanted so long as he was doing it to you.

“I know how that makes me look- I've been so ashamed of this side of me, but I want this, every little bit of it, and I want you.” You confess.

“There's nothing wrong with you I promise.” He says, leaning in to kiss you softly, his fingers speeding up their touch on your clit.

You gasp into his mouth.

“S-stop or I'll-” You find that the words evaporate on your tongue.

“You'll what, little wife? Come around my cock? Don't you want to?”

You shake your head violently.

“Not if you can't. Don't make me.”

He drags his fingers away, and you sigh in relief despite the way your body burns, aching for you to just take the edge off.

He kisses you again, harsh and all-consuming, you hum happily, trying to return his passion with a little of your own.

“No more.” He says, and you nod, rising from his cock, your cunt clenching as you get free of him, registering the emptiness, before you feel disappointment immediately follow.

He reaches down, grunting as he wraps his fist around the base of his cock, squeezing in what you can only assume is a method to avoid orgasm.

He’s beautiful, the way his skin is so flushed and his breaths are shallow and you think it’s mostly because of you, and you wonder why on earth would someone like him ever-

You swallow nervously, looking away.

You don’t want to ask, exhausted with your own insecurities to voice them.

Luckily you don’t have to, because at the same time, your cell on your desk starts ringing.

You turn to it, standing, adjusting your skirt before taking the few steps to it. You sigh internally when you see it’s your mother calling.

“Hey mom.” You greet softly.

“Hello. I’ve been sending so many messages. Why haven’t you responded? I thought you were dead.”

You try to hold it in but a laugh comes out against better judgement.

“Dead? Really? Wouldn’t someone have given you a call?”

“Who? Who’s going to call me if you die? Dominic? Your friends? This mysterious husband I have never met that might be the person doing the killing?”

“Why was murder the first thing you thought of?” Humour dripping from your voice.

“Because you’re living with a random stranger and I’m very worried.”

You let out a slow breath.

“I get it mom, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to reply to your messages, I’ve been trying to take care of Billy.”

After a moment, you swear you can hear the anger leave her over the phone.

“Okay well… how is he?”

You feel like you've won something.

“He's doing great, recovering well, that's what the doctor said, a few more weeks and he'll be recovered.”

“That's good to hear. When am I meeting him?”

“Soon.” You promise.

“That's fine. I also have something I want send to you. Can you give me your new mailing address?”

“Yeah, no problem, I'll message it to you.”

She's silent for a long time, and you know she's thinking about saying something terrible to you. You tilt your head back in frustration.

“Mom? You still there?” You ask politely.

“Are you doing okay? Dominic said you gained some weight.”

Your mouth parts in surprise.

“Why are you still talking to him?” You ask in disbelief, looking down at your body automatically. Why did everyone care so much about the way you looked?

“I called him. I wanted to hear his side of the story and to hear more about this Billy guy.”

You stiffen, realising that Billy was still in the room somewhere overhearing this conversation.

“Tell me that you didn't believe a word he said.” You beg.

“Some of it was definitely a lie, I remember when you'd called to tell me you'd broken up, that sounded genuine. I don't think you actually cheated on him, and I know you well enough to know that gold digging isn't your style.”

You smile, “Thank you.”

“But,” she continues, “One thing that confuses me is the custom rings. How did those happen?”

“Um,” you squeeze Your eyes shut, shaking your head, “We um,” Fuck, you didn't know what to say, “We had them made the day after.” You lie.

“Why? Why a stranger? Wouldn't you have tried to get the marriage annulled first?”

Shit.

“Um, we tried and then decided not to on the same day. Hey mom? I gotta go, my next meeting arrived early.”

“Okay, cupcake, talk to you soon.”

“Yeah,” you say with a shaky voice, “Bye, love you.”

You hang up before you can hear her parting words.

You stare at your phone, forgetting how to breathe for a long moment.

When he says your name, you turn quickly, looking at him. You finally find the strength to take in a breath.

“I'm fine. I just need a minute, be right back.” You rush out, walking out the room without a second thought.

You press your hand to the wall outside, taking a few deep breaths. You wanted to hide, to stop being perceived at all.

You glance at Martha, sitting at her desk, typing into her computer. When she senses you looking, she turns her head with a smile.

“Are you doing alright, Mrs. Russo? Do you want me to get you some water?”

Mrs. Russo. That was you.

You straighten.

“I'm okay, thank you though.” You say with a smile, turning in the direction of the elevators.

You press the button for his floor when you're inside, and only after you shift your feet impatiently, do you realize that you're not wearing any panties.

It gives you more confidence if anything, you were just sitting on your husband's cock, and he'd asked you to. He'd called you beautiful, he'd wanted you. 

You squeeze your hands into fists, Dominic would not take him from you.

He’s in a meeting, his receptionist says to you, apology in her voice, and when you inquire with who, you find out that it’s just his boss.

You give her a smile, before walking right past her desk and knocking on his door.

You open it without waiting for a response, a smile on your face when you see both men looking at you.

“Sorry to interrupt, but can I please have a moment to speak with Dominic? It’s urgent.”

Both men glance at each other, and you know that his boss would not deny you your request.

“Of course,” The man says, rising from his chair, “We’ll pick this up later.”

Dominic only nods, his face set into harsh lines.

The door closes behind him softly, and you don’t speak for a moment, studying the landscape picture on his wall.

“That day we broke up,” You declare, not turning to look at him yet, “You told me that I wasn’t as pretty as some of your old girlfriends, you told me my laugh was irritating, that my friends annoyed you. You gave me reason upon reason as to why you didn’t like me and why we weren’t a good match, and I’d sat there and apologised to you.”

“Look,” He interjects, “I’m sorry I was so harsh-”

“-I’m not done.” You interrupt, turning to look at him, showing him that there was nothing between you anymore, that he could look into your eyes all he wanted, he would not find the version of you he once knew.

He lets out a breath, raising his eyebrows to seem amused by your intervention. 

You didn't care.

“I can’t believe I ever did that, apologise to you for not being what you wanted. If I could go back, I’d tell you to go fuck yourself.”

He blinks, stiffening his shoulders.

“And then, you come back, assuming that I’d forgive you for the shit you said, and get back together with you. But I was never going to, marriage or not, I’d rather be alone forever than spend another minute with you.”

“So stop trying to mess with me, stop trying to destroy my life over something that happened after you broke up with me. You can’t hurt me anymore, and if you try to, I’ll show you exactly what I’m made of.”

You turn to the door, reaching for the handle.

“I love you.” He blurts, making you freeze in place.

You can’t help it, laughing softly at his admission.

You pull his door open, a smile still on your face as you glance back at him.

“You don’t even know the meaning of the word.” 

.

“Where’d you go?” Billy asks when he sees you come in a few minutes later.

“To give some closure.” You say with a smile, approaching him, cupping his face in your hands, and leaning in to place a kiss on his lips.

You feel him relax under you, you hum softly at the feeling of it.

“Are you in any pain?”

“A little,” He confesses, “I might have pushed myself a little too much.”

Your eyebrows draw together, worried that you might have hurt him.

“I’m sorry, my full weight-”

“-was perfect. It was the tensing up when I got too close to coming that caused the strain.”

You groan, squeezing your eyes shut, one hand pressing to your tummy.

“Why do you even like me?” You rush out, in disbelief that you were literally making power moves just now, to come back to him with your insecurities.

Maybe power was exhausting to hold on to for you.

“Because I do.” He says softly, with an encouraging tone of voice, “Because you see me.” He’s quiet for a moment, biting the edge of his lip in deep thought. 

“Growing up in the system was bad, it was real shitty. I don't think I’ll ever truly recover from the abandonment. I pretend I’m okay, and I pretend that I’m whole but,” He shakes his head, “I’m just pieces on the inside. Broken glass.”

“You make me feel like something more. A mosaic.” He utters, as if the word has just come to mind.

You take in a deep breath, your face contorted into one of sorrow.

I love you, Billy Russo.

You simper, leaning in to kiss him again.

“Let’s go home.” You suggest.

He’s nodding before you can even get the sentence out.

.

The hardest thing is keeping your hands to yourself. You want to touch him all the time, run your fingers through his hair, slide your hands under his t-shirt, gently trace the veins on the back of his hands. You want to smooth your thumbs over his eyebrows and taste his collarbones and you try your best to resist for a couple of reasons.

The first reason is that you don’t want to get him hard- you don’t want to torment him any more than he’s already being tormented. The second reason is because you worry he’ll eventually get annoyed with your insistent touching, that he may find it irritating eventually. The smallest hint that he’s getting annoyed with you might be enough to dissolve you into thin air, you don’t think you’d ever recover from it.

So sometimes you find yourself reaching for him, only to draw back at the last second, hoping he doesn’t see how hard you’re fighting yourself.

You should be more open about it- you know that- he tries so hard to open up to you and the least you can do is respond with the same effort.

And yet, your experience with Dominic lingers. 

You and him had been so good at one point too, and the next thing you know, every aspect of you had irritated him.

How long would it take before Billy felt that way too?

This was bad, you had no support system in place, no one to talk to aside from him, no one to tell you that your thoughts were unreasonable. This, this was why staying with him wasn’t sustainable.

You’re lying motionless in the bath when he finds you after excusing himself to take a work call.

You turn when you catch movement, smiling up at him when he approaches. He’s got an apologetic look on his face, one that tells you that he has to leave you alone before he even says it.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes, coming to sit on the edge of the tub, “There’s an issue with our servers and I have to go.”

“It’s 8 p.m.” You state, “You can’t do this tomorrow?”

He shakes his head.

“Some of our guys are at risk without the intel.”

You take a deep breath, giving him your easiest smile. You wanted to fight, but maybe in this moment you didn’t know if you were capable of winning.

“Alright, Billy, I’ll see you later.”

He leans in, kisses the top of your head, then your cheek, and then tilts your head up for a quick kiss.

He leaves the room, and you hear him grab his things before the front door closes.

You close your eyes, letting your body sink below the surface of the water.

.

You sneak out maybe an hour later.

You wait by the door till the guard stationed there gets up to use the bathroom, and then you slip out in your fluffiest coat, making it to the elevator right outside with your heart slamming into your ribs.

Only after the doors close do you realise that you don’t have anything to help you get back inside, and that you should have maybe left a note. No worries though, you know Billy will call once he gets home and finds you gone.

You’d called Martha earlier, and begged her to find the address you were looking for, apologetic for disturbing her evening.

You take a taxi there, and you knock on the door softly once, in the cold air, before realising that you hadn’t knocked loudly enough.

The second time you knock, you hear footsteps, and you suck a deep breath in, smiling at the peephole before you hear the door unlock.

Maria looks concerned, her lovely brunette hair pulled over one shoulder.

“Are you okay?” She says with worry heavy in her tone.

You try to give her a cheerful expression.

“I’m great, I was just a little lonely, Billy left a while ago.”

She opens the door wider to let you in.

“Yeah, Frank left too.”

“I figured,” You admit, “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind some extra company?”

“Of course! I’m just cleaning up. You can hang your coat over there.” She says, pointing to a place behind you.

You thank her, shedding your coat with minimal difficulty and hanging it on the spot she had pointed to.

You follow her into the kitchen, where she’s mostly done with her dishes, only a few left to dry.

“Can I help?” You offer.

“No, thank you, I’m almost done. I have some leftovers if you want. Chicken parm, or do you want tea or coffee or something?”

You’re a little shy in her presence, trying to pick something easy so that she doesn’t insist.

“Water, for now, though I might pick at your teas later.” You say politely.

She smiles, and you feel so soothed by it, you find yourself smiling back. Not long after, she places a glass of water in front of you. You thank her again, sipping on it gratefully.

“So,” She starts off easily, looking over her shoulder to glance at you while she wipes a pink plate dry, “What brings you here at this hour?” 

God, you wanted to tell her the truth, fold like a stack of cards because you didn’t think you could lie to her. For once, you wanted to be honest about your situation.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t do that to her, and you definitely couldn’t do that to Billy. You’d ruin their friendship if you said anything, you’d ruin his relationship with Frank, he’d hate you for it.

You let out a pained breath.

“All my friends kind of hate me.” You murmur, deep in thought, “and you don’t seem like you’d hate me.”

She nods in understanding.

“Why don’t you tell me everything?” She says easily, and you nod, willing to try.

“My ex- Dominic- we’d been together for two years before we broke up. He works at Anvil, and for a long time I thought I was going to spend forever with him.” You look down into the glass of water, studying the stillness.

“Looking back at it now, I realise how wrong we were together. He never really liked me, I was just a convenience, he only kept me around because it was better than being alone, you know? We took care of each other at first, but somewhere along the way he stopped caring and then any little thing I did pissed him off.”

You watch her finish one plate, reaching for another.

“Our breakup was really brutal, he literally just picked me apart and left me outside my apartment, and then three days later I woke up married to Billy.”

“And you think,” She says, interrupting your thoughts, “That this one is going to end up like your last one.”

“Isn’t it?” 

She smiles, shaking her head.

“You wanna know how long I knew Frank before we got married?”

“A reasonable amount of time?” You offer.

She laughs.

“Four months.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise.

“I’m in no place to judge.”

She grins.

“I got pregnant three months into dating him, and we were married a month later. The first time I met Billy, was stepping on him when I woke up to pee in the middle of the night.” Her shoulders shake as she laughs, remembering the entire story.

“According to Frank, he’d climbed into our small apartment at the time from the fire escape, drunk off his ass, and crashed on the floor before Frank could help him to the couch in the living room. The way Frank says it, he just tossed a sheet over Billy, and stuffed a pillow under his head where he passed out and went back to sleep. I woke up, and stepped on him and he didn’t make a sound,” She laughs,” I screamed though, because there was a random man on the floor and I’d just put my full weight on his leg and he hadn’t made a sound. I thought he was dead.” 

You try not to grin at the imagery.

“After some convincing from Frank, I fell asleep, and in the morning both men were gone. Billy… well he didn’t like me at first. He was sure I’d trapped his friend in the marriage or something, but over time, he… honestly he didn’t really warm up to me until I went into labour.”

You sit there, transfixed by her story.

“Frank thinks she came a week early, but she was just on time. He was supposed to get back before she came but something top secret kept him there longer- anyways- Frank called Billy and Billy showed up at my doorstep in maybe ten minutes. Back then, he had this old, beat up Harley- strictly american- you know?” She glances at you as if you’re supposed to understand what she’s saying, but you can only shake your head in confusion.

She grins, “Sorry, he used to be real patriotic, American brands as much as possible,” She shakes her head, “He’s grown out of that since his discharge. Anyway- that was maybe the first day he actually cared about me, held my hand all the way to the delivery room, almost punched a nurse that told him family only. I was so mean to him too, probably almost broke his hand with the contractions. And then Lisa decided to wait, had me in labour for fourteen hours.”

Your eyes widen drastically, mouth dropping open. She laughs when she sees your face, finishing up her last mug to sit next to you.

“Yeah, gave Frank just enough time to get there. And then there were four of us.”

She blinks, smiling, deep in thought.

“Billy was scared of her, he didn’t hold her for at least two months after, he’d somehow worked it into his head that she wouldn’t like him, but one night I got real sick, and while Frank was taking care of me, he’d begged Billy to come over and take care of Lisa. The first time Frank put her in Billy’s arms, she cried, at the top of her lungs. I thought Billy would have given up immediately, but he didn’t, he rocked her in his arms till she was asleep, and even after he held on to her for as long as he physically could.”

“The moral, of my very long story is that Billy isn’t someone who gives up at the first sign of trouble, and he’s definitely not someone that gets annoyed with someone he loves. If he chooses you, he’s going to stick with you. He knows what it’s like to have no one on his side, and because of that, his loyalty is unbreakable.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest. You wanted to know him the way she did. You wanted stories like this to smile at when you thought of him. You wanted to know what he looked like, riding an old era motorbike, and to see him so drunk he can’t make it to a couch.

“I lost all of my friends because of him.” You whisper, heartbroken, “They thought I cheated on Dominic. Friends that I loved, blocked me because they thought I’d done something terrible.” 

She reaches to place her hand over yours, squeezing tightly.

“Maybe they weren’t very good friends to begin with.” She suggests softly.

You nod, understanding the point she was trying to get across. 

She makes you tea, something calming that makes you sluggish, offers up one of Billy’s old shirts for you to sleep in, and shows you to the guest room. Not once, does she suggest you go back to his home, so easily welcoming, that sleep is attainable within minutes.

Maria, considers for a moment while watching you sleep, that she should tell someone that you’re here. No doubt Billy doesn’t know you left, travelled all the way here by your lonesome. She unlocks her phone, pulls up her husband’s number, and hesitates on the call button. Maybe Billy’s reaction to finding you gone would set the both of you straight. 

She grins deviously, putting her phone away and getting ready for bed herself.

.

It’s almost three a.m when Billy gets back home. He’s tired, his shoulders sagging with having to carry the weight of them. His eyes hurt, feels so much discomfort in his whole body that only sleep can provide.

His shower is quick, functional, though the warm water begs him to stay and enjoy it, he gets out as soon as he can, ambling to the closet to grab a pair of comfortable pants for sleeping.

He moves in the dark, working on a memory of where everything is to stop him from making too much noise, not wanting to turn on the lights either, he really doesn’t want to wake you.

In the dark, his bed is deliciously comfortable, he lies on his front, before the area where his appendix was removed screams in protest and he’s forced to roll onto his back. He tucks his body under the soft duvet, feeling a thick sense of coziness overcome him.

He reaches a hand out- won't be fully comfortable until he touches your skin, confirming that you're there. In his drowsy state, he struggles to find you. He groans, moving even closer to where he thinks you are, fingers scanning the bed, only finding chilled sheets. He opens his eyes, squinting at the other side of the bed and sees no shape that even resembles you. You simply weren't here.

Were you sleeping somewhere else? 

He sits up, rubbing an eye so that he can see a little more clearly, turning to flip on the bedside lamp to confirm that you really weren't next to him.

Yeah, definitely not in bed.

He stands, sways, groans, pads his way to the living room to find it empty, then searches your office, then his. He says your name, but the only thing that answers is the silence.

He grabs his phone, looking into the almost too bright screen, trying to decipher words that help him find your contact. He squints, pressing the call button before waiting.

Your phone rings and rings and rings and no one answers.

It's then, that Billy begins to feel the panic. He takes a deep breath, calling your number again, searching his house for anything he might have missed, anything at all that tells him where his wife had gone.

He calls for you, all sleep erased from his mind, he does a finer walk through of his place, looking for items out of place, signs of struggle.

If you'd left, someone would have seen you and told him, right?

What if you'd been kidnapped?

Billy feels his lungs seize up.

He looks down at his phone again, hands shaking, opening up the location app he'd installed just in case. He'd told you about it, told you how to disable it if you really didn't want to be found. This would help him narrow down what kind of situation he was in.

He lets a breath out when he sees your little symbol pop up- you'd chosen the image of a black cat for some reason- he zooms out, eyebrows drawing together when he sees where your phone is.

He closes the app, calls Frank.

“Whad'ya want, Russo?” Comes Frank's sleepy voice after a few rings.

“Is my wife in your house?” Billy asks, a lot calmer than he feels.

Frank says your name in question.

“Yes, Frankie, ask Maria.”

He hears some shuffling.

“It's four in the morning Bill, I'm not waking my wife for that, I'll just check the guest bedroom.”

Billy waits, listening to Frank's slow breaths, his hand gripping his phone tightly, his other hand curled into a fist.

“Oh yeah, there she is.”

Billy sags with relief.

You were okay.

“I'm coming.” Billy announces.

“Use your spare, I'm going to bed.” Frank grunts, before ending the call.

Billy grabs his coat and the keys to his fastest car and nothing more, leaving his apartment quickly, wide awake now more than ever.

He breaks every speed limit possible, makes it to Frank's home in half the time it usually takes. His body hurts as he has to move slowly now, quietly so that he doesn’t disturb the peace in the house.

He uses his spare key, locking the door behind him, double checking Frank's security while he's here. 

He finds the guest bedroom easily, having stayed here countless times, he knows this place like he knows his own.

His stomach twists, he wonders why you left. Did you not want to be around him? Had something else happened? He knew that the chances of you running away were low, ever since he'd shamelessly listened to the conversation between you and Dominic (He'd bugged the office of course) he'd had an inkling that maybe you were growing to love him as much as he loves you.

The door clicks shut behind him, and he feels a sense of ease wash right over him at the sight of your sleeping form. 

He pushes his coat off his shoulders, torso bare underneath as he climbs into bed and hovers over you.

His hands cup your face, waking you with a little start.

“Billy?” You hum, voice so tiny, his little wife disturbed from slumber.

He can't help it, leaning in to kiss you softly, followed by him wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“Why'd you leave home, baby, hmm?” He asks, cheek pressed to the top of your head.

Your voice is muffled in his chest.

“Was lonely.” You say.

It damn near breaks his heart.

“I'm sorry.” He sighs, and he means it with every bone in his body.

“S’alright, you're here now.”

And he is, crawls under the sheets, wraps you in his arms, and feels the stress drip right out of him. Only then, does he allow sleep to take him.

.

He wakes to laughter. He blinks, sitting up, an automatic response to the sound.

Hearing laughter while he slept was never a good sign. In the group home it meant that some poor kid's face was being written on. In the military, it was shaving cream on your hands, or dirt in your bed.

He bolts up, looks around, determines no danger before he relaxes.

He smiles, slips out of bed, and goes in search of one of the shirts he keeps around for situations like these.

.

“Honestly,” Maria says enthusiastically, uncapping the milk she just pulled from the fridge, “I thought we were goners, Billy was still recovering from that gunshot that almost made him bleed out in the desert, and Frank had several grazes, but even injured like that, the burglars never stood a chance.”

Your eyes are wide in suspense.

“Where was Lisa?” 

“In bed beside me, Frank shook me awake and we hid in the bathroom. Ten minutes later, he came and got me cause the fight was over.”

“Holy shit, that sounds terrifying. I've had some almost run-ins with burglars as well at my old place.”

“Really? What happened?” Maria asks, really interested, concern in the undertones of her voice.

“It was close to Christmas and almost everyone in the building was out visiting family, but I was studying for an exam the next day for my old job.” You think back to it, deep in thought, “I remember hearing heavy footsteps in the hall, and then the sound of doors shaking. I had my lights off because they’d made my eyes burn and I was just using my lamp lights, so it maybe looked like I wasn’t home. The person was trying each door, shaking them hard. I can still hear the rattle. I texted Nic, and he’d told me to hide, but before I could call the police, the rattling just stopped. I sat in silence for a long time. I was kind of shocked dumb, and I didn’t call the police because it seemed like he left without any real harm being done. I probably should have, but also I really needed to study for this stupid exam. I did tell my landlord though, and she tightened security and it never happened again. I really regret not calling the police though.”

Maria nods, relating to you.

“Fear can really hold you in place. I’m sure whoever it was, got what they deserve, don’t stress about it too much.”

You smile, mimicking her nod. She really understood you, and you find yourself hooked to the Castles just a little bit more.

Just then her smile widens as her eyes flit behind you for just a second.

You turn to look back curiously when suddenly you get pulled into someone’s arms. You know it’s him from the moment you touch, you grin widely at the way he squeezes you.

“Excuse us for a second, Maria,” Billy says, hand gripping your wrist to tug you in the direction of the guest bedroom, “I need a moment with my wife.”

She nods, before remembering something.

“There are kids in the house.” She warns sternly, locking eyes with Billy.

“Wet blanket.” He shoots back as he tugs you around the corner and out of the room.

The door to the guest bedroom can only slink shut before you’re pressed against it. Your eyes fall shut as his mouth meets yours, your heart fluttering so surely that you’re sure it’ll fly soon. He kisses like he’s starving, hands holding your face, mouth eager against yours, you copy his fervour, pulling him closer by the shoulders, the delight of feeling your passion mirrored isn’t lost on you.

You smile up at him happily when the kiss breaks, only for him to drop his head once again, ever eager for just one more kiss.

“Is everything alright?” You whisper softly, confused about his feverish kisses.

“I’m sorry.” 

“...For?”

He touches the tip of your nose softly with his.

“Where do I even fucking begin? I’m sorry I left you alone, I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to sneak out, I’m sorry that I’m the reason you have no friends-”

“-That one wasn’t really all you,” You interject, “They didn’t even give me the benefit of the doubt.”

He shakes his head.

“I’m just… sorry for all the pain I put you through.”

You can’t bear to hear him say it, your throat squeezes tight at the very sound of the words.

“It’s alright,” You reassure, rising onto your toes to kiss him, “We’re alright.”

.

You peek at him while he drives, wondering if now was the best time to talk to him.

He catches you looking, raising an eyebrow curiously, eyes turned back to the road.

You think that maybe there’s no time like the present, and you take a deep breath, reaching out for his hand before you catch yourself, moving your hand back to your side.

Before you can get fully there, he reaches out, taking your hand in his. You turn your head to look at him in surprise.

“Notice you’ve been doing that a lot.” He murmurs, tugging your hand up to his mouth so that he can kiss the back of your hand, “Reaching for me and stopping halfway. Making fists with your hands to stop yourself. Why?”

“I just, don’t want to annoy you is all.”

He huffs in amusement, you feel his warm breath on the back of your hand.

“You’re funny.” He hums, giving your hand another kiss.

“I’m serious.” You whisper.

His lips part, eyebrows drawing together as he slows his driving a little to look at you.

“You’re serious?” He echoes, “You think you could annoy me?”

“I think I could annoy a saint.” You grumble.

“You know that I’m… obsessed with you right?” 

“Are you? I hadn’t noticed.” You say dryly.

He huffs out a breath of amusement for a second time.

“Do you know what that means? It means I’ve seen your medical records.” 

You glance at him, shock running down your spine.

“And?”

“And I’ve done background checks on everyone you’ve ever met.”

You try to swallow but your throat has gone dry.

“And?” You whisper, his hand is still in yours, holding on to you.

“And I know where you went to school, I pulled your student records, I’ve scoured the internet for your face and I’ve probably seen photos of you that maybe you don’t even know existed. I’ve wanted you since the day we met, and nothing could have stopped me,” He turns to look you in the eye, “Not even you.”

“I’m sorry to scare you, but if you think that I don’t know how needy you are, how touch starved, how badly you want to be held, what makes you cry, you’re lying to yourself. I know all of these things, and I want you because of them.”

You close your eyes, trying to process his words in a reasonable way.

God, there had to be something seriously wrong with the both of you. Him, for saying those things, and you, for managing to somehow feel reassured by them, even if there was a little fear mixed in.

You don’t say another word to him the rest of the way back.

There’s a silence all around you as you follow him into the apartment, a whirring in your ear that sounds like waves of static, disconnecting you from reality.

You reach out, gripping his arm tightly. He turns, looking down at you with an unnameable expression.

“I need you.” You say softly through half-gritted teeth, pulling him roughly, feverishly toward the living room.

He doesn’t say a word, and you’re grateful for that, he’s said enough already.

“Take it off.” You breathe, reaching for your own pants, pulling them off, followed by your shirt. He catches the intention behind your movement, and drops his coat easily.

When you get yourself naked, you lie back on the couch, not having to wait long before his naked body covers yours.

“Do you need me to-” He offers, and you silence him by pressing a finger to his lips.

You shake your head, reaching down, pumping his hard cock a few times before guiding him into your dripping wet core.

Billy gasps in surprise.

“Shocked?” You tease, “I thought you knew everything about me.”

His eyes darken, something terrifying crosses his features. He moves his arms, braces one on each side of your head. Your eyes flit to the snake curled over his shoulder.

“I don’t know everything about you,” He hums, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement, “But I will.”

.

.

.

A/N: Happy Holidays to you!

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #the punisher #billy russo smut #dark!billy russo #accidentally on purpose #frank castle #Maria castle

[8bitscarlet]

Sun To Me

Summary: You don't remember a single winter where you weren't either stuck outside in a blizzard or stuck inside during a blizzard. Neither was ever fun to be in. But just this once, the blizzard may be the thing you always hoped for.

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Fluff (mention of alcohol, alcohol consumption, suggestive moments, mention of strip poker)

Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: SURPRISE! I carved out some time between doing work things, (neglecting work things) for a day and wrote out a little bit of this series. This weekend I have absolutely nothing to worry about for work so I've decided to sneak in this "little" chapter of AOP. Definitely not little, consider it reconciliation for being away (tho I am leaving again). Happy Reading everyone! 💕 And Happy New Year!

*please do not repost or translate my material or claim as yours. reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!*

___________________

"Can I borrow your phone?"

A hand glides across your shoulders, your eyes slowly rising up from the words you read. You guide a fork of food up to your mouth as you see the redhead notice the steaming cup of coffee you made for her. She peeks over at you with a soft grin,

"I forgot to plug mine in last night."

You hum unconvinced, pointing noiselessly to the counter as you chew on the breakfast she made before jumping in the shower. You flip to the next page of the newspaper, knowing that you plugged in her phone after she passed out halfway through the season you were watching. She just doesn't want to make the short journey back to the room.

She mutters out gratitude as she walks past you and as she leaves your sight, you feel your throat close. Choking on the food you were trying to swallow, you jump to your feet as you try to yell at her to wait.

As you turn, hacking up a lung and blinking away tears, you're too late. Wanda stands there, shaking your illuminated phone screen at you. Your eyes lock on the photo from when the two of you were undercover during a Brazil summer, you never experienced humidity like that before. You look like a tourist in your sweaty tank top with an incredibly loud and unbuttoned shirt flowing above your board shorts.

The smile on your face was real, you could see the crinkling around your eyes as your peace sign showed up behind Wanda's head. She was leaning against you, acting exhausted. Which you both were, bloody knees and covered in dust and mud, but you were both alive.

"I give Cap a run for his money in that photo," you clear your throat as you try and play off your sudden jumpiness to get some juice.

Wanda narrows her stare, "If anyone looks that good in the photo, it's me."

A chair scratches out behind you as you let out a casual chuckle, but you stare inside the fridge as you feel your heart beating heavy. You take down an entire glass, keeping your eyes away from Wanda as you pour another.

"Speaking of, Nat and Steve are still in the clear. This incoming blizzard is probably helping that,"

You nod, almost forgetting that the two of you were out in the middle of nowhere for a mission. You were supposed to be the chauffeur once Nat and Steve got a hold of some plans Yelena needed to do some black market trade on information for Strucker. It was a boring mission and easy to forget, especially when those green eyes were always across from you. They were all you could think about.

Turning, those eyes sit across the table as you take your seat. She has her legs curled up onto the seat, cabin socks pulled up high onto her calves and her cheek leaning on her knee with a soft grin as she watches you. Her eyes almost seem to brighten when they catch yours. You can feel a warmth on your face but you take a sip of the juice in your hand. 

“What demise have you planned for me today, Maximoff? Monopoly? Clue?”

She chuckles, flicking aimlessly through the sports section she took from your newspaper, “Seeing if you noticed the poison.”

You glance up at her, “I did. That’s why I’m eating it.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, finding your weather app and staring at the radar, “How long do we have until that storm comes in?”

“According to my calculations,” you stab your fork into the paper, “Should be picking up within the hour.”

“Well, at least we don’t have to be out there.”

You make a face, “Oh yes, because I enjoy just sitting here and listening to those static radios all day.”

Wanda slides your phone back to you, floating over the last pancake on your plate to her hands. You clench your brows but she starts to talk before you can steal it back, “Don’t be a party pooper just because you suck at card games.”

Your mouth falls now, first the pancake attack and now an attack on your pride. Standing up, you throw your plate away and start to wash the breakfast dishes, “There is no way you got to UNO so quickly,” you mutter the last of your words beneath your breath, “I’d win if it was strip poker.”

She stands up and bumps you out of the way, making you dry and put away the dishes, “And what’s your definition of winning? Having the most clothes or having no clothes?”

You shrug, leaning back against the counter as you spin your towel covered hand inside a cup, “Depends on the company.”

Wanda chuckles, “I’m sure it does. And today, you can play it by yourself. While you go get more wood.”

You groan and extend your arms out across the table, pressing your cheek against the newspaper.

“You’re the one who’s always cold. You get the wood.”

Green eyes flash to yours, cocking her brow as she takes her fork and softly jabs it into the center of your palm. You clench your brows together, feigning excruciating pain and let out a whisper of a scream. Peeking through one of your shut eyes, you see her nose scrunch and eyes crinkle with her smile. 

“Didn’t know torture was a hobby in your kingdom, princess.”

The fork digs ever more into your palm and you cringe at the stinging, wrapping your fingers around it and yanking it from her grasp. Wanda leans back into her seat, 

“You should see what I can do with a spoon,”

Standing, you throw all the dirty dishes into the sink, “Pretty unoriginal if you just scoop out my eyes.” Peeking out the window, you see the clouds starting to darken. If you were going to refill the logs for the fire, you’d have to work double time.

“Promise you’ll think of something less boring by the time I come back,” you start to slip into all your layers, trying to get your foot into your boot.

“Only if you promise to also not be boring,” The words mutter out from the side of Wanda’s lips. 

You frown, slamming your foot down into your boot, “I’m going to lock you outside in that blizzard.”

“I’m not making hot chocolate tonight,”

The grip you have on the back door tightens and you can hear the metal creak and dent beneath your fingers. Slowly, you turn and close the door to the whistling wind. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” you narrow your stare as those green eyes narrow back at you,

Wanda shrugs as the steam from filling the sink, “Try me.”

With a sigh, you place your hands on your hips and watch her for a moment. Casually scrubbing plates and cups. 

“I’ll bring the wood for your fire,” you give in to her soft glances and grin that teases at the corner of her lips, “And I guess I’ll make it too.”

As you open the door, you feel the warmth of something land on your face. Glancing over, you feel the same warmth as Wanda flicks water at you. 

“Don’t take too long,”

You give a snarky grin, “You’ll miss me?”

“Ha! No, I’m cold and that fire is way too low. If you take too long, I’m going out there to make sure you weren’t mauled by a bear.”

Waving away her laughs, you make your trudge out into the blistering cold. You let out audible grumbles but you have a smile that spreads along your burning cheeks and warmth through your body that you hope stays.

__________________________________

You huff out as you trudge through the snow, chuckling to yourself as you watch your breath escape in a frozen cloud in front of you. Bending down, you pick up another fallen log and add it to the sack of other logs you toss over your shoulder.

“Y/N, are you laughing right now? Do you realize how cold it is and how far we are from warmth?”

Adjusting the bag to your other shoulder, you start to jog forward with a grin, “I can see the house from here. And you wanted to come help.”

Wanda groans as you pass her with a laugh, “Because you kept letting all the cold air in when you left for wood. God, it’s so cold. My feet are frozen!”

You stop, dropping the firewood into the snow and trudge back to her as you slip out of your jacket. Throwing it over her shoulders and buttoning it to stay, you feel the cold run down your spine as you quickly snatch the bag up again. 

“You’d be absolutely terrible to go out on a lam with you know? Thank god you’re a hero.”

Trudging forward, dragging your feet along to try and make a walking path in the snow for the slow poke behind you, you hear complaining noises behind you.

“Can’t you carry me?”

You whip around, “Carry you?”

Wanda nods, adjusting some of the wood in her arms, “Aren’t you plagued with super strength. Just throw me over your shoulder.”

“What am I, Santa Clause? You’re the magical being here. Fly back to the house.”

You hear her let out a humph as the wind starts to pick up now, howling around you as you pick up your pace. You get to the door and rush inside, brushing off the snow from your now soaked through sweater. Ripping it off, Wanda stumbles through the door and lets out a violent shiver.

“How you doing? You okay?” You ask and she looks at you, knowing that tone, “Ten minutes in the elements. You need your last rites?”

“I want a towel, that’s what I want. You ass,”

You grin and take the little logs she managed to bring in and carry them over to the rest of the wood you had been gathering. Deciding Wanda will stay alive for the next five minutes, you go back to your room and quickly change out of your soaked clothes. The dry fabric instantly warms you as you tuck your sweatpants into your socks. There’s a loud creaking in the piping and you stop, kneeling down and pressing your hand against the vent. 

Slowly letting out a breath, you don’t feel any warmth blowing out onto your hand. This will certainly be a fun announcement, you think and wonder how Wanda is probably gonna set this whole house on fire to stay warm. You peek your head into the den and let out another sigh, there’s still no static coming through. You tried already to knock some snow off the antennae, with mixed results on your descent. This blizzard’s already knocked out vital equipment and it hasn’t even hit full force.

Trudging down the hallway, you come around the corner with an amazing slide on your socks. Opening your mouth to let Wanda know the situation, you stop as you hear Wanda whispering in front of the fire. Feeding it more wood as she tells it to grow bigger and warmer.

“Are you talking to-?”

“I’ve seen how stroking your ego makes your head bigger, figured it would make the fire bigger.”

You point at her but let her have this when you see her teasing grin, reaching out for the bottle of whiskey on the counter. Tossing a towel at her, you start to pour some of the amber liquid into the coffee mugs you had this morning. Wanda squeezes the water from her hair as you hold up one of the mugs, 

“This should keep you warm.”

Wanda hums and floats the mug towards her outreached hand, the warmth of her magic tickling up your arm, “And make bad decisions.”

You shrug, “I won’t let you run out into the blizzard naked.”

She scoffs as you slowly make your way to her, never taking your eyes from hers. You stop at the back of the sofa, eyeing the wood and wondering if it’d be better to move it all to a bedroom. A smaller space to warm. 

“Why am I going to be naked? Is that why you’re keeping your distance?” She glances at how you’ve sat awkwardly against the couch edge, “Or was it cause you’re afraid of me for talking to the fire? I’ve heard being sociable is wildly attractive.”

You glance down at your whiskey as you swirl it around after a small sip, “I’m sure people have a lot of reasons to think you’re wildly attractive.”

There’s a soft silence between you, forcing your eyes to rise and see a playful grin on her face, “Does the alcohol reach your brain that fast?”

“Is that how you always sit on a chair?” you counter, seeing her sitting on the arm rest, as if she’s prepared to take off at any moment. 

You both stare at each other, sipping from your mugs together and grinning. The wind howls outside and snow swirls around the windows but inside, there’s nothing but warmth. A comfort. You would never admit it, but you’re thankful for this blizzard. An unexpected lengthening of the mission. Wanda lets out a hum as she slithers into the seat, curling her legs up. 

“What,” you chuckle, “I didn’t plan this. And I didn’t sign that mind reading waiver.”

Wanda sips on the whiskey, “You’re telling me you can’t control the weather?”

“Innocent,” you hold up your one free hand as you follow Wanda’s move down into your own seat, “Get Natasha on the radio right now, she’ll tell you. Well.. you could if the storm didn’t knock out our comms.”

Her brow rises slightly, seeing that you’re still hiding something. You take another sip of whiskey and hide behind the mug, “And our heat.”

“Oh yes, I see. Far too much work to alter the atmosphere, cut off all our communication and have our heat taken away. I’m not important enough to go through all that trouble?”

You breathe in carefully, “You…,” leaning forward onto your knees and feeling the warmth of the alcohol running through your limbs, “Have no idea how important you are.”

Wanda places down an empty mug, “Don’t I?”

You grin, a confidence she always hid running off of her, “You are more important than that North Star.”

Her green eyes widen, a slow breath filling her lungs as she rolls one of the rings on her fingers, “You paid attention.”

“To you? Always,” you have your eyes follow your movement as you place down your mug, “Wanda?”

“Yeah?”

Clearing your throat as you try to get a chuckle out, you massage the stiffness from your fingers, “I’ve heard of another way to get warm.”

Wanda raises a brow, “With how you’re talking, I’m a little worried.”

“I read in a book once,” you start jokingly, and Wanda turns her head, covering her mouth to keep herself from mockingly asking that you can read and looks at you with gleaming eyes, “It’s easier to pass body heat when there isn’t clothing interfering.”

“How about we use that as a last resort, after your beloved strip poker. Because you can make a fire in here,” Wanda laughs as you watch her walk off to the bedroom, the wood floating behind her. Your chuckle falls short as you make a face at the scene. Wondering why she didn’t do that out by the shed and bring over all the wood. You shake your head but smile like an idiot to yourself, knowing she just wanted to be there. 

Leaning against the doorway, you watch her try to set up the logs. She’d been watching you for the past week, asking questions and being so close her touch and smell intoxicated you more than the whiskey ever could. Wanda’s fingers set up the twigs and rolls the newspaper as she floats the light up to her hand and starts to try and get this fire roaring. 

Working your way inside, you watch her in silence and grin at the seriousness on her face. Moving the logs to the holder, you hobble after one that rolls away from your grasp. You watch it get engulfed in an iridescent red glow and slowly float towards and then past you.

“Why are you limping?”

You tie up the bag of extra logs and toss it in the corner, “What?”

Wanda watches the fire for a moment and then looks back to you, “You’re limping. What did you do?”

“Oh, you know,” you shrug as you try to hobble quickly out of the bedroom and to the kitchen in an escape. She calls out your name but you’re fast on this throbbing ankle. But as you reach the kitchen and push up the sleeves of your shirt, Wanda is already there. She runs her hands down your arm and gently looks at the scratches on your hands.

“What happened?”

You sigh, “I climbed to fix the comms this morning. And it was really icy up there,”

“You fell off the roof?!” she exclaims, smacking you for not telling her before. You swat away her hands before they actually hit one of the forming bruises on your body. 

“The snow doesn’t provide much padding, I’ve learned,” you grimace out as the soreness in your shoulder is finally appearing as you lift the filled kettle. 

“Jesus,” Wanda whispers and yanks you away as the water starts to heat up, “Come here,”

Her yanking is insistent. She’s not asking permission to shove you down into the chair. And she’s certainly not apologizing for making you shout out in pain when your weight falls onto your hip. 

“That hurts!” You flinch away from her touch as she tries to look you over for some probable internal bleeding. A damp towel floats into her hand and the warmth is soon dabbing at the swollen scratch on your cheek that was hidden from the redness caused from the wind whipping outside. Her leg rests on your thigh, providing her support and you can feel the pressure slowly start to turn into pain. That was where you landed directly on a camouflaged tree stump and buried your face into the frozen ground to muffle your yell. 

But you have no frozen ground to muffle this yell, “Ow!” you shout directly in her face. 

“Well dammit, Y/N! What doesn’t hurt?!”

You look at her, “Why? You have some voodoo magic? A Sokovian old wive’s tale you swear by?”

She raises a silent brow, telling you in a simple stare to watch your tone. She didn’t make you fall off the roof and she didn’t cause the embarrassment you’re feeling for no reason. With a sigh, you lean back into the chair and point towards your shoulder, “Here,”

Wanda rolls her eyes and mockingly kisses her hand and presses it against the throbbing shoulder. You can feel the warmth without seeing the muted red that escapes her palm, “The building isn’t that high.” 

“The ground is that hard. Here,” you point to the top of your head. Her lips press softly against her glowing palm as she gently pulls off your beanie and presses the warmth against the injury free part of your forehead. 

She leans close, your breaths merging together as you can still smell the whiskey on her breath. Her eyes glance over you, searching for hidden scratches. Gliding over your stare and finding their way to your lips. She pulls in a deep breath, fingers gently running across your neck, 

“How do you feel now?”

You watch her eyes find yours again, your hands resting on either side of her thighs. Feeling how gently she sways, how close she lingers. Your body is warm, as if every square inch of you is being massaged out of every kink and knot. It comforts you in a way you’ve only found from this witch. A comfort that’s only grown more addicting with each passing day, each passing moment. 

A violent whistle explodes through the house. Both of you jumping and any thoughts of finding more comfort ends. You lean back into the seat as Wanda glances back at the screaming kettle. Leaving your side to silence it, you push off of the seat and limp around her.

There’s nothing but silence between the two of you as you work in unison. Handing her mugs that already have each of your favorite tea’s tossed inside. Wanda pouring in the boiling water as a floating spoon puts in the exact amount of required sugar. It was a perfect concert of movement and thoughts you’d never expected to share with anyone. And as you look over at the red head, you know she hasn’t read a single mind in your head. All of this being simple subconscious, your conscious thoughts racing with other contemplations.

_____________________________

Blankets are thrown and a hood is pulled taut around your face. Feet are slammed into slippers as you shuffle quickly across the floor and a hiss follows after you. 

“I’m keeping the fire going!” you call back to her, as you quickly stack the logs to keep the fire fed for hours to come. The bedroom is warm everywhere the orange glow touches but the cold fingers of the dark close in as the evening continues. Threatening to make your breaths reappear. 

“You’re letting all the cold air in!” Wanda rolls herself in the loosened covers as you climb back into the bed. You yank the stolen sheets back to you, dragging her closer to you as she doesn’t dare let go of the warmth. 

“I should’ve just moved my own bed in here, blanket hog,” you mutter and try to hibernate your whole body beneath the blankets. 

But cold has snuck its way in as you feel a sharp chill on your bare arms, vulnerable after you shoved up your sleeves so they didn’t burn with the fire. You jump from the chilling fingers that wrap around your arms. 

“Wanda,” you shiver out and yank down your sleeves, “Where are your freaking mittens?”

“I lost them in the snow, stop moving the sheets!” she yells through gritted teeth and pulls more of your sheets, surprising you with this hidden strength. 

You groan, moving with the yanking and flipping yourself over onto your other side. Taking your hands from your hoodie pocket, you wrap your arms around her. Wanda tenses, rolling away and shoving you back to your side. 

“What the hell are you doing?” her green eyes flicker around your face, her words coming out nearly breathless.

“Do you want them to find us frozen to death in here? It’s just getting colder.” Wanda narrows her stare as you continue, “Or I can keep these little hand warmers to myself.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, “You ass,” flipping back over and pulling your arms back around her. You rub the hand warmers together before pressing them against her, feeling how cold she had been even with all these blankets. She lets out a quiet moan and you're silenced as your breath catches in your throat. Slowly, her body stops the beginning of its shivers and her chattering teeth have stopped. 

“Thank you,” she whispers as she scoots herself further into you, your arms wrapping ever so slightly tighter around her. 

“What letter plan is our last resort? L? Q? Cause if we die of hypothermia I’m going to blame you,” you mutter into her neck and she shivers a little bit. 

She knocks her shoulder back into you, “Don’t do that,”

“What. I’m just talking, Maximoff,” you breathe out heavily and watch the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Before you can pester her more, she whips around and presses you down onto the bed, her fingers wrapped tightly around your hoodie. 

“I’m going to murder you before the cold does,” Her hand smashes you down into your pillow,

You nod your head side to side for a moment, “That’s smart. I could be a good food source. I’d eat through the leftovers we have first, though.”

“Shut up,” she says and when you look up, you expect her rolling eyes and her to flop back onto the bed. But neither of those things happen. Her grip on your hoodie has softened, the palms of her hands resting lightly on your body. Wanda rests on top of you, her eyes flashing down to your lips and up to your eyes. You clench your brows, fingers creeping up to her wrists, “Just…”

“Just what?” you chuckle nervously, unable to read what’s happening in front of you, nothing but complete seriousness on her face.

The palm on your chest now hovers over your face, her thumb tracing along your face. You breathe calmly, finding her studying eyes as her thumb slides carefully across your lips. 

“I think you should just kiss me,”

You feel the shock first. Your body nearly falling limp as all of your senses explode. Feeling exactly how she rests on top of you, where each of her fingers presses down onto your body. The smell of firewood smoke and lavender wafting off of her and into your nose. The flashes of firelight that show how wide her pupils have exploded in her eyes.

It’s a quick paralysis. The part of your brain you’ve had chained finally getting the permission it’s long been waiting for.  You grip the back of her neck and slam your lips against hers. She straddles your lap as you press yourself up against the headboard, lips moving in unison. Her lips are as cold as the air around you but you can feel the warmth of her breath as her lips part in a sigh. 

Pulling apart, she rests her forehead on yours as you both pant out into the darkening evening. You feel her fingers grip onto your hoodie tightly, pulling herself towards you, closer than you thought could be possible. And you watch the grin on her lips form ever so softly. 

“We should’ve done that sooner,” she breathes out with a chuckle, but you don’t chuckle with her. 

“Wanda-,” she presses her fingers to your lips. 

Her lips gently find yours again as your hands glide across her thighs. You're intoxicated every moment she touches you, any discipline you had all these months forgotten with a single kiss, a single glance. Your hands rest at the edge of her sweater, pushing up the fabric and your lips parting for only a moment as it rises above her face. Your fingers trace along her silk skin beneath the long sleeve she has under. Her fingers grip your hair tightly as you guide your lips down her neck. Spending time at the tender pulsing point under her skin, listening to the quiet moan that escapes her lips. 

“I swear to god,” she sighs out but pulling you closer, “If you give me a hickey, I’m-,”

“Uh huh,” you mutter, “Ripping my limbs off.” You peck her lips, “Blah,” and again, “Blah.”

It’s nearly cold enough to see each other’s breaths perfectly as you pant out into the darkness. You don’t mind the chill. Both of you undressing until there’s barely anything left but the electricity coursing through your veins. 

The fire burns brightly behind you now. The glow curling around in a comforting warmth, lighting up the woman in front of you. Cupping her face with a careful touch, you part yourself from her lips and listen to the whining moan that comes from her. 

“You’re not supposed to stop. We’ll start thinking,” she warns you, but doesn’t yank you back to her. 

Your eyes study her, the flickering of the flames and the glowing of the moon that comes through the waning clouds. Staring at her now, there’s a feeling of weightlessness inside of your chest as your limbs begin to tingle. Your fingertips explode with sensations with each trace down her arms you drag. 

“Are you-,”

She can see the worry on your face, the thoughts you hide and the desperation in your eyes to not let this be a one time thing. But it’s a secret you try to hold, yet you know how well she can read all of them. Her green eyes wash over you, memorizing you with each slow blink. You don't want this to be like all of your other times. Animalistic and feral, ripping clothes off. You’d rather it never happen at all then to happen like that. 

“Yes, Y/N.” she whispers, “Are you going to kiss me again or do I have to do it myself?”

You grin at her, “Yes ma’am.”

       Those green eyes become hidden as you press a soft kiss onto her lips Her fingers grip your hair tightly as you softly guide your fingers down her neck, admiring each curve and line on her body. Not wanting to miss a single mark on the woman in front of you. 

            You hook beneath the straps of her bra, as you guide your mouth down her soft skin. Kissing along her collarbone, you plant a long kiss against her shoulder. You know that these shoulders hold more than just these straps every day and you hope to help her slide it aside. They've carried the memory of her family upon them. The world that thrives because of what she’s done, what she’s sacrificed. She holds everything so effortlessly. Never a complaint to the world, but you’ve seen the weight nearly destroy her. You know her. If you can, you’ll help take it all away for just a moment. 

She arches towards you, running her nails down your back before she grabs your face and brings your lips back to her. You sit up to work at the final layer on your body but she grips you tightly, her eyes begging you to stay close. To look into her eyes and see her. 

And you do. 

You hover over her as her fingers slowly unbutton each button with her delicate fingers. As you look into her eyes, you don’t want to hide anymore. One by one, they come undone just as you come undone in her eyes. You know these eyes have seen your insecurities, your fears. One by one, they showed themselves to her. 

Slowly, she slides the soft fabric down your back, feeling the way your muscles clench against the cold touch. Nails turning white as you grip her tighter, not letting her stray from you. 

“Drop it, Y/N.” she whispers as she pulls the fabric from your hands. You clench your brows softly as she runs her hand down your back again, “You’re not just carrying the weight of that button down.”

You breathe out carefully, slowly lowering yourself as you wrap your arms around her. Pressing kisses against her lips. Not feverishly and forceful like before. You aren’t desperately grasping at this moment to keep it from slipping away. You’re holding on deeply to have it last. 

Gripping the blankets the two of you were fighting over, you throw them over your bodies as you grip Wanda’s waist. Guiding your kisses down her body, you cover every inch of her sweet body with your lips. Caressing her curves with the tips of your fingers as you soak in her beauty. It feels like you’ve waited all your life for just this single moment, an inescapable feeling of being whole. 

You were constantly reminded that nothing was perfect, everything has its flaws. But as you memorize every part of the woman in front of you, how soft her skin is beneath your fingertips, the lavender that wafts from her and intoxicates you, how her fingers hold you so close, to her quiet sigh, you realize something. That if nothing was perfect, then she was absolutely nothing. 

“You’re so warm,” she sighs out, her fingers reaching for you. You intertwine her fingers in yours as you climb up from her thighs, slowly kissing her jaw. 

You freeze, hovering just above her lips and wait for those green eyes to flutter and rest on yours. She smiles when she sees you there, her hand resting on your cheek. 

“You’re…” you breathe out a heavy sigh, grinning over how she’s taken away every ability to be irritating. “You’re gorgeous. You have no idea how beautiful you are.” you tell her, pressing a deep kiss onto her lips. Wanting to stay just like this.

Her hands hold onto you tightly and her sighs fill you with a warmth you’ve not felt in years. A brightness that you swear you can see shine from within her. And you wonder, if this was the only time you’d ever be able to let that light shine without messing it up. How each of these moments together has been in darkness. Can you only feel her in the darkness? Were you still hiding?

You remember a time where you lived in the light, but now you’re worn out. Scared of what that morning light could bring as it swept away the darkness of the night. The night that you could hide behind. You knew that she’d be there through the night, a single bed and a fire made it certain. But when the morning light came, nothing would hold her there. 

You could be everything she needed in the night but for her to stay in the morning and for you to exist beside her, your hope couldn’t reach that high to lie and say it was possible. 

“Y/N,” she whispers against your lips and you feel your chest constrict as she speaks your name in such a way. Your palm pressing against the cold skin of her stomach, listening to how she gasps at your warm touch. “Don’t leave.”

You stare down at her and swallow tightly, would she wait for you to wake from the darkness? You take your hand and glide the back of your fingers across her cheek, stroking away a fallen tear. 

“Wanda,”

“When we get Sturcker. Don’t leave. Stay.” her voice barely reaches your ears, but when it does, it’s like a jackhammer on your chest.

Looking down at her, you see her. You’ve always seen her. Sitting outside your cell, she was never a witch. She was the woman with emerald sea eyes that peered so deeply into you. You’ve seen her and you know her. Every physical inch of her and every emotional inch.

She knew this, she bared her fears and vulnerabilities to you. And you’d done the same. You see everything you need right here. You realize that you don’t care where you are, as long as you’re with her. That’s all that matters to you now. 

You shake your head, “I’m not going anywhere.”

She sighs and closes her eyes tightly, the slightest grin forming on her lips. 

“Hey,” you whisper to her gently, pressing against her dimple as you wait for her to look at you, “Wipe that grin off your face and kiss me.”

____________________________________

You hear the soft beeping of your alarm. 535 in the morning. It was time to start your day and you could feel a tightening in your chest that was never there before. You’re terrified to open your eyes. Wondering if she was still there. If wanda laid there still next to you or if it was all a cruel dream. 

As you reach out for your water to quench the dryness in your throat, you feel a weight on top of you. Unfamiliar to any other time you’ve woken up. Opening your eyes slowly, you see that Wanda lays across you. You eye the completely empty side of her bed with a grin. It was warm inside the bed, you could stay in here a little longer before you face the blistering cold. The day would keep moving so you stay anyway. 

Arms are tied around each other and your legs are numb as hers wrap tightly around your knees. The sun sneaks through the window blinds onto her face as you look down at her. You grin, grateful for the rising sun that burned against closed eyes and woke you a second time. If only to see this. 

The sunflower intricately weaved into the chain around her neck. She truly was the sun itself. 

The sun that shook the frost from you. That had you not acting so angry all the time. Or keeping it all inside. You try so hard to tell her how much you care for her everyday but you don’t even know what that means. That you care for her. You don’t have any words yet, as you reach forward and swipe a stray hair from her face. 

She sighs in her sleep, scooting closer but her grip loosens. Freeing you to finally get the day started but you continue to stay there, for just one moment more. Every breath you take with her reminds you that each day is now yours. A hopeful thought as you rise out of the bed, ensuring the blankets keep Wanda nestled in their comforting warmth in your absence.

Sneaking back inside, you hear her starting to wake up as shake the chill from your bones and the snow from your feet. The smell of coffee fills the house and you ensure her coffee is made exactly to her liking. As the fire begins to reawaken with the logs you feed it, you place Wanda’s mug onto the bedside table. 

“Are you still alive?”

There’s a muffled groan and a half asleep voice comes from within the pillow, “Depends who’s asking,”

You crouch down in front of her, swirling the coffee underneath her nose. She scrunches it, much to your amusement. 

“I’m asking.”

She grins, trying to hold down her giggle, “Then no,”

You roll your eyes, “Oh come on. I see that little grin. You’re not even trying to hide it!”

Wanda looks out through one eye at you. She grins at your smile, the first sight of the day and you feel the warmth it sends through your chest. 

“Oooo, coffee?”

“Yeah, you know. To hide the morning breath,” you grin as you take a sip of yours. 

Her hand comes from beneath the sheets in a sneak attack, slapping your arm, “Yours is way worse.” That attacking hand reaches out again, this time grabbing your shirt and pulling you to her, “C’mere.”

You quickly place your mug on the bedside table before you’re both burned and you get lost in her kisses. You chuckle into her lips as she rolls to try and keep her lips on yours as you climb over her and clamber back underneath the covers. You flop onto your stomach, still halfway on top of her as she lazily runs her fingers around the back of your thigh. 

“You fixed the heater, didn’t you?”

You make a noise of affirmation, eyes feeling heavy in this warmth. She runs her cold hand up your shirt, a perfect contrast as you feel her fingers trace the scars on your body. 

“Wasn’t it cold?”

You shrug and then tense when you feel her lips touch your skin. Her kisses press against your scars all along your body. 

“If I could,” her breath brushes against your skin, “I would kiss these all away.”

Wanda presses a kiss against your cheek and her hair falls over you in a soft curtain as she lays next to you. 

“I’m glad for them,” you murmur into the pillow, your eyes still closed as her nose gently strokes yours. 

Her brows clench softly, “Really?” she whispers and you slowly open your eyes. 

“They got me here,” you say and see her grin, fingers stroking down your face, “Good morning.”

She raises her brows, “Indeed. How’d you sleep?”

You hum out, feeling her kiss your nose, “Did I snore?” Wanda nods and you feel it. You chuckle, “Then I slept perfectly. It was a long night though. 

She chuckles and sits up, wrapping herself in the hoodie you laid on the comforter for her and you open your eyes to her sipping on her coffee. 

“Last day on mission,” she whispers, blowing against the steam of her drink.

You make a noise, disappointed that it’s the truth. 

“How do you think everyone will take it after hearing about this?”

You sigh, “I say we just don’t say anything. How about that?”

She nods, staring into her coffee, “What happened in a snowed in cabin stays in a snowed in cabin?”

“Oh no,” you chuckle and squeeze the pillow, “I think we have a few things to talk about,” Your voice was light and joking but Wanda’s fingers stopped tracing along your arm, her eyes looking straight past you. 

Wanda breathes in carefully, “Jokes aside, we do have to talk this through don’t we? I… I meant it when I said you can’t leave.”

You lean forward, pressing your lips against her fingers, “I told you I had nowhere to go. But we’re already having the talk?”

She rolls her eyes, “You know, I don’t think you blaming being a mercenary for making you single is true. It’s just a talk, coward.”

You sigh, feeling her leg rest on top of yours, “I just slept with the strongest Avenger. I’m impervious to your insults.”

“Flattery isn’t going to get you out of this.”

“But,” you grin over at her, “It doesn’t hurt, does it?” And you’re right, your grin growing as you watch her nose scrunch and her cheeks grow red. 

The way she looks at you, the shock that jolts through you each time you see her and the flipping of your stomach when you hear her voice. It feels like it should be obvious what you should be feeling right now. But something feels wrong. Something inside of you is keeping you from latching onto her with no regrets and complete devotion. Something pushes you away and as she looks down at you, you know she can see it. She can see you.

With a silent nod, Wanda brushes back some of your hair, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. For now,” Lips press against yours as you breathe in deeply, “Thank you for fixing the heater.”

You hum out, feeling her fingers start their tracing once again and start to lull you back into a comfortable sleep. They trace over your scars and you just sink deeper into the bed, knowing you’ve told her about almost all of them on your body by now. But her finger runs against a rather new, raised gash. Over and over again, inspecting it with a careful stare. 

“That’s the one I gave you isn’t it?”

Chuckling, you glance behind your shoulder and point to a jagged gash on the side of your thigh, you remember your thigh was ripped to shreds that mission, “I’m surprised you didn’t go for this one.”

“Please,” Wanda rolls her eyes, “I’m humble.”

You hum, “That’s the one. A little to the left and you would’ve caught my artery. Talk about messy.”

She makes an intrigued sound but leans over to kiss it before sliding beneath the covers, “I thought about it.”

“I’m sure you did,” you press a soft kiss to her lips as she squeezes the pillow to her liking, “I’m glad you didn’t do it.”

“So am I,” she whispers, but you know there’s no period at the end of that sentence. There’s something eating at her still as her hand glides down your arm and the other settles beneath her head. Her fingers gently wrap around yours and your thumb slowly strokes along the top of her hand, an action you don’t even think about until you’re already doing it. 

You stay silent. Raising your brow gently, waiting for her to speak. You hope it won’t take long because you can feel yourself sinking into the bed as you let out a quiet yawn. 

“Do you hurt?” she whispers and you stare, waiting. “I don’t mean pain but your past. Does it hurt you?”

Taking in a deep sigh, you ponder for a moment and glance away with a burning feeling of shame for how you’ve lived your life, “Now that I've truly looked at it, I suppose it does.”

“Do you regret it?”

You pick your eyes up and stare into her, finding no judgment in those emerald eyes as she offers you more time to think, “Being a mercenary?”

You breathe in slowly, jaw clenching and grasp on her hand growing ever so slightly tighter. “It’s hard to regret something you didn’t choose. This… it was all I knew.”

“But if the choice had been yours, what would you have done instead? Could learn any trade? Would you be a farmer?” A smile expands on her face as she realizes something, scooting closer into you, “An astrologist?”

 You chuckle, remembering the chilly night on that cold bench, “Maybe I could find the Little Dipper.”

Wanda laughs, a sound so heavenly and sweet but her eyes intently wait for your answer. And you give her one. 

“But if I ever thought of being something else… Something that… I’m not. It happened so long ago. I don't remember.” Your voice is getting lower as your eyes grow heavier. Your body is so calm. You don’t know if you’ve ever truly relaxed as much as you have in this moment, “Did you dream of being a hero?”

Wanda thinks for a moment but soon the answer finds her, “I didn’t have much choice either.”

You turn your head more towards her, letting out a soft sigh, “Did you always want a family like this?”

“I lost my family,” her green eyes glance away from you, thinking of what could’ve been, “And I found another but… I dreamed of becoming important to someone. One day.”

The battle has been lost as your eyes fall, a hum coming from deep within your throat. A chuckle gently pulls you back for a moment, 

“Do I bore you?”

You open your eyes slowly, seeing the humor in Wanda’s eyes. You grin, eyes closing once again when you see she isn’t angry, “Of course not. I’m just listening better.”

She laughs, fingers just skimming your arm and leaving behind a radiating feeling with each pass, “Have you ever been in love? Been important to someone?”

You sigh, clutching your pillow tighter as you wonder if this would be the moment, “I thought I was, That scar on my chest is… well, I thought wrong. And the knife proved it. Never could let my guard down again.”

Wanda hums quietly, brushing the hair from your face and resting her hand on your forearm. Seeing just how much of your guard was let down right now, on a mission of all places. Gently, you open your eyes and look at her. A soft stare as her blown out pupils look to you, fingers running down and over the scar you mentioned. So vulnerable, she could kill you without a single thought. But all you feel is warmth. And you wish to let her know. 

“Before we met, my days were planned down to the hour. They were calm. My nights were restless, gathering enough energy to go get through the day. Sleeping on floors,” you grin lightly but her eyes haven’t left your half exhausted face, “But now, my days…” 

The world around you is losing physical form as your consciousness starts to slip away and so does your control on your tongue, “… You’re important to me.”

As you start to relax into dreams, you can feel a cold touch on your skin. Running across your forehead, you relax the wrinkles between your brows as the chill touch slides down the bridge of your nose. It rests on your jaw, a soft caressing along your cheek as you let out a soft sigh. Warm breath washes over your face and you feel the smallest grinning kiss press against your cheek. 

“The past has passed,” she whispers against your skin, “Let’s stay in right now.”

As her fingers trace along your body, it’s just you and her, and there’s nothing more you want. She’s everything. And you know exactly why your heart flutters each time her eyes find you, why your skin burns every moment her cold hands touch you. Whenever she’s near, you were right where you needed to be. And right now, it all became crystal clear. 

You didn’t need the night to be alive anymore. You could live on your own. But Wanda in the morning time makes you glad you’re still alive.

———————Chapter 17

#wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda marvel #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #accidentally on purpose #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda fluff #wanda imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda mcc

[jhsharman]

Ornaments

I leave it up to you to decide which stripe color pattern works better on Betty's tights, or explain why the scene had to be moved back (particular issues in reproduction as it was another one of those two pagers -- bringing the number of those I had had at five up to six -- and tipping the scale to Betty). But under her shoe there is the box reading "Concept by --" a credit to reader submission.

What was Tiffy's stated concept? "I think you should have Betty hang up ornaments of her friends above stockings for them, but maliciously drop Veronica's, but while feigning innocence"?

#Archie Comics #Betty Cooper #Christmas #decorations #fire place #seasons greetings #accidentally on purpose #broken ornament #Veronica Lodge #Tiffy Pugliese #Dan Decarlo #1991 #Archie Andrews #Jughead #Reggie Mantle #chimney

[hammill-goes-fogwalking]

aha Glover interesting-

#Deep Purple #Roger Glover #Ian Gillan #80s #Gillan & Glover #Accidentally on Purpose #things I should have posted in *April #romantic

[megankoumori]

Are we sure Jones's lawyers leaked his text messages "accidentally"? Because if I were his lawyers I'd totally squeeze every penny I could out of him and then expose him too.

#alex jones #anti alex jones #schadenfreude #real life #sandy hook #alex jones trial #accidentally on purpose #squeeze the fat one!

[larentslovechaos]

so idk why i'm thinking this lately but i'm gonna share it as you guys know, i'm no stranger to chaotic thoughts.

but it's making me a little ....sus that harry & louis have both been posting on their instagram stories recently 😭

#idk why i'm thinking ... is that the move?? #is that gonna be the move is one of them accidentally posting something on their story? 😂 #like how ridiculous would that be 😭😭 #accidentally on purpose #hopefully not an actual accident bc i would feel bad genuinely #don't come at me for this post p l e a s e skdkfkdsk

[pokedcheck]

matt murray: post pusher

#accidentally on purpose #leafs lb

[rvros]

Sobering up after a binge is so rough

#rvro rambles #well if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions #the slump is slumping #I'm breaking my brain #accidentally on purpose #i wish i was different

[smash-or-pass-objects]

#objectum #misc #homestuck #<- tagging this to thwart accidental-homestuck #now its purposeful

[unfinishedslurs]

aware of his bisexuality steve (steddie, buckingham)

“Is that a hickey?” Comes out of Steve’s mouth without permission. But there it is, bright purple and red against the slope of her neck. She’s been walking kind of funny this morning, too. He’d assumed her period came early, but… “Rob, did you—“

Eddie fumbles the coffee mug he was pulling down. Chrissy freezes, face turning white with fear. Robin whips around, face bright red, and slaps a hand over her neck. 

“Bathroom!” She yelps. “Bathroom now!”

“Wait,” Eddie says, setting the mug down with trembling hands. “It was me. Sorry, man.”

Steve stares at him, unimpressed. Why the fuck would he lie about—

He looks at Chrissy again, who takes a nervous step back, and it clicks. 

“Right,” he says, nodding quickly. “You. You gave Robin a hickey. Had totally awesome sex that she didn’t even tell me about.” He directs that last bit at Robin pointedly. He told her almost immediately when he lost his guy-ginity. Traitor. “Yep. Sure. Got it.”

Eddie blinks, confused. Robin buries her face in her hands. 

“Oh my god, calm down,” she groans. “That’s not going to work. Steve’s cool.”

“Cool?” Chrissy asks, still looking ready to bolt. 

“Super cool,” he assures her. “The coolest. So incredibly cool, even if my best friend didn’t even tell me when she lost her virginity.”

“Steve!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says. “But I am going to need details, Buckley. We can go over what worked, and what needs more oomph.”

“Oh my god, can we talk about this anywhere else,” Robin groans, at the same time Eddie asks, “What, so you can get off on it later?”

“What,” Steve says. 

“You think two girls are hot, is that it?” He’s got a sneer on his face now, but Steve’s more observant than Dustin gives him credit for. Even if he wasn’t, it’d be hard to miss how hard his hands are shaking, the nervous tilt to his mouth. 

“Ew.” Steve’s face screws up. “Dude, no. It’s Robin.”

“Hey, fuck you,” Robin breaks in, from where she’s started comforting Chrissy. “You thought I was hot for at least a summer.”

His mouth drops open in betrayal. “We agreed to never talk about that again!”

“Can’t help being sexy,” she coons. Chrissy giggles wetly. “You wanna get married, Harrington? Have my babies? Stay home and raise six little nuggets while I bring home the bread?”

“I hate you,” he informs her. “Hate you so much. We’ll have a nice, heterosexual wedding and share a sad, heterosexual kiss, and you’ll carry me over the threshold of our nice, heterosexual house, and we’ll have boring, heterosexual sex that gives us nice, heterosexual babies, because we are so heterosexual and happy in our suburburban house in our nice little heterosexual town.”

He’s honestly kind of proud of himself for saying heterosexual so many times. Usually he fumbles words with that many syllables, especially after that many times in a row. 

Chrissy is outright laughing, now, endearing little snorts making their way between giggles. Eddie is looking between them like they’re a puzzle he can’t piece together. Robin grins.

“I’ll cuck you with the secretary.”

“Not if I cuck you first. You’ll be away all day in that office of yours, and I need someone big and strong to carry all the new furniture I ordered.”

“I knew it! I knew Timmy wasn’t mine!”

“Oh, but I couldn’t help myself,” he swoons. “Mark was just so sweet, with his bulging biceps and hand flexes, all hot and sweaty from helping poor little me while you were away! You know I’m weak to curly hair and brown eyes, Rob, how’s a man supposed to resist?”

“Fag,” she says, not without affection. 

“Dyke,” he shoots back. 

“Cocksucker.”

“Carpet—“

“Okay,” Eddie breaks in, clapping his hands. He and Robin both startle, and so does Chrissy from where she’s been watching them like a particularly interesting tennis match. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Robin lost her virginity and didn’t even tell me,” Steve says immediately, like he’s tattling to the principal. 

“Steve doesn’t seem to understand the concept of waiting,” Robin retorts. 

“I told you when I had gay sex,” he whines, and Eddie chokes. “I hate you. See if I ever give you tips again.”

“Oh, is that what you meant?” Chrissy asks. “Please don’t stop. They were good tips.”

Robin flushes all the way down to her toes. 

“You like boys?” Eddie wheezes. 

“Oh,” Steve blinks. “Yeah? I thought you knew.”

“You thought I—how would I know?”

The fuck is that supposed to mean? Steve’s been flirting with him for months!

“Robin always says we can sense each other! You sensed her.”

“You told him?” Eddie’s mouth drops open, and Robin looks sheepish.

“She didn’t have to,” Steve snarks. “You’re flagging in Hawkins, man. Was I supposed to miss it?”

“You know what flagging is?”

“Again, in case you missed it, I fuck men.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters. “Fuck! Christ, I can’t believe this. You’re, like, the epitome of heterosexual. I spent half of high school having to hear about how much pussy you were getting. Why are you not straight?”

“Wow, Eddie,” he deadpans. “Are you saying just because I like men and woman, I’m not queer enough? That’s kind of homophobic of you, man.”

“Yeah, Eddie, wow,” Robin says. “I thought you were better than this.” 

“Fuck off,” Eddie says. “I feel like I need to lie down. My entire worldview just shattered.”

“I have a couch?” Chrissy offers shyly. “Or a bedroom, if you need a minute away.” Fuck, Steve kind of adores her. Especially since she’s apparently vicious n bed, if the five other hickies he counts just from Robin bending down a little to whisper in her ear are any indication. Good for her.  

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Robin says, with a glint in her eye that means he’s either going to love or hate what comes next. “If it helps, Steve’s never fucked a man in his life.”

Eddie’s brow furrows, looking between the two of them. “So…you’re just making fun of me?”

He looks a little angry now, and Steve can’t make heads or tails of this conversation because, “What the hell, Rob, yes I have—“

“Oh, so suddenly you’re the one doing the fucking?”

“Stop making fun of me for taking it!”

Eddie lets out an honest to god moan that he immediately slaps his hand over his mouth to cover up. “Right,” he says fervently. “Okay. I need to lie down, like, for real.” 

They watch him stride down the hall, so fast he’s almost running, and slam the door closed behind him.

“I could totally top,” he mutters to Robin as something that sounds vaguely like muffled screaming echoes down the hall. “I top girls all the time. It’s not my fault prostates are a gift from God.”

“Uh, you top because all the girls you fuck are from small town Indiana. If one of them brought out the strap you’d drop to your knees so fast—“

“That’s—I like topping!”

“Your favorite position is cowgirl. Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

“I will show Chrissy your baby pictures,” he hisses. Robin makes a face at him. Chrissy nods excitedly from where she’s still tucked under Robin’s arm. 

“Oh what’s that?” Robin practically shouts. “You like being pressed against walls and ravished? You want someone to tie you up and have their filthy way with you? Is that what you said, Steve?”

Another noise from the bedroom. He narrows his eyes at her. “What are you doing?”

“Helping,” she says sweetly. “You’re both hopeless.”

“I told you he’s shy!”

“Eddie?” Chrissy asks. “Shy?”

“Yeah, okay, I was confused too, but I figured it was the romance! He told me he hasn’t actually been in a relationship before, I assumed he was nervous to take that step.”

“Yeah, but dingus,” Robin says sweetly. “You’re missing a puzzle piece here. He thought you were straight. He thought he was flirting with his straight best friend he didn’t have a chance in hell with, and then he finds out that said best friend likes taking it up the ass and men with brown eyes.”

“Oh,” Steve says, realization dawning. “Oh, fuck. What if he doesn’t like me like that?”

Robin smacks the back of his head. “Why are you stupid?”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Chrissy says. “Like, really don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m not coming over tonight,” Robin says. “I’m gonna stay with Chrissy again. Er…if that’s okay?”

“That sounds amazing.” Chrissy beams, and Robin turns red again.

“Yeah, I’m going to stay with Chrissy again tonight. You are going to invite Eddie to stay the night when he gets done with his little crisis, and then we’re getting lunch at the diner tomorrow and you can tell me about it before our shift.”

“Right,” Steve says. “Right, I can do this. I’ve invited guys over before, how hard can it be? It’s just Eddie. But that was hotel rooms, not my house and my bedroom with my shitty wallpaper. And it’s Eddie. Fuck, what if I’m shit at it? Robin, what if I’m actually bad at sex and everyone who’s ever said I was good was lying because they didn’t want to hurt my feelings? Oh my god, I’m totally bad at sex.”

“Woah, dingus, slow down. I think we took the mind meld too far, you’re turning into me.”

“If it helps, I don’t think you’re bad at sex,” Chrissy says. Steve and Robin look at her, and she flushes. “Because of the tips! Not because—I’ve never slept with you, but some of my friends did, and I got three orgasms out of last night, so…”

“Oh thank God,” he breathes. “I was worried for a minute.” Then he raises an eyebrow at Robin, and holds out his hand for a high five. She slaps it, begrudgingly proud of herself, and then takes the hand to pull him into a headlock that’s honestly more of a hug than anything. 

“You’re fine,” she whispers in his ear. “You’re great at sex, as you keep telling me. What’s more, you’re funny, charming, handsome, brave, caring—“

“Aww, Robin, are you getting sappy on me?”

“Plus Eddie literally moaned in front of you when he found out you bottomed. I really don’t think there’s a way to fuck that up.”

Steve grins. “He did do that. I’m going to make so much fun of him later.”

“So,” Eddie says with a smirk, “men with brown eyes?”

“Hey man, don’t look at me. Blame Jonathan.”

Now Eddie looks stunned, mouth dropping open. “Byers?” He says, sounding betrayed. “You have a crush on Byers of all people?”

Steve feels offended on Jonathan’s behalf. “What’s that supposed to mean? Jonathan’s a good guy!”

“I guess.”

“What do you mean you guess? He’s sweet, passionate, good with kids, nice eyes. Can pack a punch. I mean, what’s not to like?”

“Uh, didn’t he steal your girlfriend?”

He waves that off. “That was, like, years ago, man. We’re cool now.”

“Right, okay,” Eddie mutters. “Well have fun with Byers, I guess.”

It clicks. “Oh,” he says. “Oooh. You’re jealous.”

Eddie splutters. “Jealous? I’m not—I don’t—you’re jealous!”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes,” Eddie says resolutely, not looking at him. 

“Right,” Steve agrees. “Well, if I am jealous, maybe I should know that I got over Jonathan years ago, and have since moved on to brighter, hopefully more attainable pastures than my ex’s ex.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“A different man with brown eyes?” He suggests. “Who is also good with kids, and passionate, and…” he trails off, suddenly realizing all those times Robin made fun of him might not be based on nothing. “Oh my god, I have a type. Shit, I have to tell Robin she was right.”

“I figured that was a common occurrence.”

“Shut up. Where was I going with this? I had a point.”

“You were telling me how awesome I am?”

“Oh, suddenly it’s you we’re talking about?”

“I mean,” suddenly Eddie looks shy, and Steve can’t help but think even with the change in context he might have been right when he told Robin Eddie was nervous about being in a real, romantic relationship, “isn’t it?”

He feels himself smile, slow and wide and probably more revealing than he means it to be. “Yeah,” he says, in a tone he knows Robin would call soppy, “it is.”

#technically all my bi steve fics have him aware he'd bi but for the purpose of naming we'll call it that #aware of his bisexuality steve au #i am ALWAYS jonathan was steve's awakening truthing #steddie #buckingham #i think that's their ship name? #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #accidental outing #i'm not really a bottom steve truther but i thought it would be funny for this #stranger things fanfic

[ryllen]

Happy April 1st, have silver ↔ sebek body swap

#twst #twisted wonderland #sebek zigvolt #twst silver #twst grim #twst yuu #twst mc #fanart #lilia vanrouge #i just saw silver idia body swap post on tumblr recently #is the trip accidental or in purpose #no one knows only lilia does #body swap

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

With All That I Am

Billy Russo x Female Reader

Part 7 of my Accidentally on Purpose Series

Warnings: Hospitals, injury recovery, cockwarming, oral (f receiving), angst, hurt/comfort.

SIX MONTHS AGO

There's something about Dominic Saintclair that Billy had never liked.

He could never put his finger on it. Maybe it was the pretentiousness of his actions, the way he looked like he'd never had a hard day in his life, the lackadaisical way he treated things as if they were replaceable.

The way he didn't understand that the most valuable thing he had, was the one thing he was mistreating right now.

"I swear, she doesn't know when to leave me alone." Dominic says loudly in the opulent bar, a place that was more red velvet seats and accented gold ornaments than anything else. It was somewhere Billy brought the clients he could impress easily, ones that didn't understand what the best brand of gin for a negroni was, or that whiskey shouldn't be served with ice. It was simply a place that glittered, gorgeous on the surface with no real substance... or character... not unlike the man in question.

Billy looks down at Dominic's cloned phone. All you had said was that you hoped he was having fun. 

"Maybe you're just not fucking her enough." One of his friends joke.

"Oh fuck off. I fuck her more than enough, maybe that's why she's so needy." It gets a round of laughter from his friends, and a disgusted frown from Billy.

At the bar, only a few tables away, Billy's hand tightens on his glass of whiskey, his back is to the group, and he's positioned in a dark enough corner to be unnoticed while still being able to hear the conversation.

"Anyways, enough about that, finish telling me about the red head." Dominic says, and Billy is forced to listen to him talk about other women when he has the best one.

Billy thinks about how stupidly simple it would be to kill your boyfriend, but doing it now would create more problems. You wouldn't know how much of an asshole he really was, for starters, you'd probably convince yourself that you'd been deeply in love with him before his untimely death. People tended to put dead loved ones on a pedestal, forgiving them unless their crimes were truly heinous. 

No, you had to see Dominic for his true colours first. Then, and only then, he would wipe your stain of a boyfriend from the earth.

Billy listens to Dominic say some more vile things, fully understanding his hatred for the man now. Dominic was manipulative, showing you one face, and yet secretly thinking something else behind your back. With a frown, he scrolls through your older messages.

You always seemed to be reaching for him, supportive of the things he said. He never voiced his support for you in return. 

What a fucking waste of space. To have someone as precious as you, and to take you for granted.

If he had you... he'd worship you. Without a doubt, Billy would kiss every inch of your skin, kneel at your feet if you asked, kiss you at every waking moment.

When another text comes in from you, he smiles.

As predicted, you text a second time after you've seen his read receipts and no response has come in from your idiot boyfriend.

'Are you alright?' You text.

The corner of Billy's mouth lifts, he wishes you were sending texts like this to him.

Dominic responds.

'Yes. I'm fine. Stop bothering me.'

Billy's smile drops.

You don't respond, but you see the message. He knows that you're hurt by it.

Billy's thoughts go violent again.

Anonymously, Billy has bought round after round of shots for the men, until they're wasted, and their lips are loose and he can soak in all the information possible. He plots while he listens, and he learns so much, until he could pick apart any man there in his sleep.

Their numbers dwindle, until it's just two men there, and he waits patiently for Dominic to stand on inebriated feet and head off to the bathroom.

Billy knows that Dominic is barely functional right now, having taken shot after shot, Billy is aware that Dominic will not remember any bit of whatever is happening right now.

With that information, he texts Dominic's companion from the cloned phone.

'Feeling better now, ordered an Uber, you can go ahead without me.'

Billy watches his friend read the text, finish his drink and then leave.

Too easy.

Dominic is so far gone that when he returns to his seat, he barely notices that his friend's things are gone, and Billy acts fast to stop Dominic from realising that anything is amiss.

"Saintclair." Billy greets, whiskey in hand, looking around to make sure that no one is looking, "Drinking all by yourself?" 

Dominic looks up at Billy and squints.

"Mister Russo?"

Billy hums the affirmative.

"Got room for company?" The words are bitter in his mouth.

Billy doesn't wait for an answer, pushing the inebriated man deeper into the booth and sliding into the space next to him. He hates this place, literally just designed for showing off, he glances at Dominic, who's lost in his own head, staring at his drink.

Nothing this man was thinking could ever be worth your time.

He raises his hand to the bartender, calling for another round of shots.

Dominic only has time to adjust his body, from his slumped, hazy demeanour, to appear like someone with all their critical thinking skills functional.

Billy spikes the drink with a little bit of melatonin, it's more than enough at Dominic's current level of intoxication.

"Wasn't drinking by myself, but the rest of guys have already left." Dominic slurs, and Billy raises his eyebrows, extending the spiked shot to the already drunk man.

He gives Dominic the opportunity to decline the shot, doesn't force it into his hands, just holds it out expectantly and watches the younger man choose his own self-destruction.

He kind of delights in it, the anarchy he's capable of. Each person has a role to play and it's always nice when they do it as expected.

Dominic throws back the shot with him and internally, Billy begins his internal stopwatch.

"I hope the job's treating you well." Billy hums, uncaring of what the man next to him has to say. He just has to make small talk for fifteen minutes, before the drug kicks in.

Billy asks about some of his coworkers, and then his phone pings, alerting him to a message. 

"Clingy." Is all Dominic has to say, looking at his phone when Billy inquires casually.

His eyebrows raise, watching his employee yawn, the drug beginning to take effect.

"If you don't like her that much, then why are you with her?" Billy asks, trying to keep the anger out of his tone.

"Why not?" Is the last thing Dominic says before he slumps over onto the table, asleep.

Billy blinks, an angry sneer growing on his face. What a careless piece of shit. He reaches for Dominic's phone, unlocks it and opens your messages the way he's done a hundred times before.

'At least tell me you're okay.' You'd texted.

"Prick." Billy swears, typing out a message to you on Dominic's phone.

'I'm alright sweetness, just getting ready to go home.' After a moment, he sends another message.

'I'm sorry about that last message, you don't bother me.'

He finds himself smiling when your text bubbles appear almost immediately.

'That's alright! I understand that you probably just wanted some time with your friends.' You say.

You were so quick to forgive, it made Billy's heart sour with the thought that Dominic didn't deserve your forgiveness.

'How was your night?' He asks, smiling fondly when he gets a picture of you wearing a fluffy robe and face mask.

'Very pretty, baby.' He replies, which earns a little '😳' face in response.

How sweet you were, saccharine and sticky, Billy could find himself eating you up quite easily.

'I mean it. I think you're fucking gorgeous.'

It takes a moment to get your response.

'How much have you had to drink exactly?'

Billy grits his teeth, looking over at the unconscious fuck. He barely ever tells you how pretty you are. It's why you think he's drunk now.

'A bit, but that doesn't make it any less true. You are beautiful.'

You don't respond immediately, Billy spends five minutes refreshing Dominic's phone until he gets a very shy 'Thank you,' in response.

He smiles, pockets Dominic's phone.

"Time to get you home, Saintclair." He says to the unconscious man.

He gets someone from the bar to help him get Dominic into the back seat of his car, uncaring of how he's placed, thanking the larger man with a hefty tip before getting into his car.

'You didn't tell me what you did today.' He sends before driving off.

He hears several different message notifications while he drives, and he can't help smiling, because for once, you were finally talking to him, and not as a stranger, but as someone familiar.

It was much harder to get Dominic to his apartment due to the lack of help he'd had from earlier, yet Billy made do with tossing the unconscious man over his shoulder, and then putting him down when they were in the elevator.

Billy really could have left Dominic anywhere, at the bar, or at the front steps to his apartment, or even at the door, with his keys in hand to have him wake up there in the morning horrified that he was so drunk he couldn't even make it inside.

But Billy drops Dominic on his bed instead, after accidentally bumping his head on a few door frames, he decides that he'd keep the drunk asshole safe this time...for you.

After, Billy sits in Dominic's living room, and opens up his phone once more.

'Okay, this doesn't mean anything but I went to a jewellery store today. I was looking at earrings and then I couldn't help looking at the engagement rings.'

Oh? Billy thinks.

'They were all shiny and even though I like shiny, they didn't feel like me you know? I feel like if we ever... uhhhh.... you know.... get married, I'd want something more unique you know?'

'Hello? Are you there? Did I scare you off? This isn't me asking for a wedding, I'm just saying.'

'Dominic?'

Billy sucks in a breath.

'I'm here, sorry, just got home.' he replies, tries to ignore the pain inside of him that worsens with the thought of you getting married to anyone other than him.

'Oh... Hi' you respond.

Billy smiles.

'Hi, do you have any ideas of what you think might be for you?'

He can almost see your excitement.

'Are you sure? If this is weird, you can say so.'

How cute, the way you care.

'I'd really like to see them.' He answers.

You send a link, and indeed, they're beautiful and unique and Billy can't help the thoughts of wearing it, and having you wear the other.

'These are the ones I've always dreamed of.' you add on with the attached pictures.

He bites down on his bottom lip, closes his eyes, and imagines how perfect your hands would look linked together, decorated with matching rings. The thought makes him hard.

'They have to be custom ordered though, really expensive, I'm sure we can find something cheaper.'

Absolutely not.

'They're beautiful. Tell me your ring size so that I can surprise you.'

He makes note of it when you send it.

'I can't wait to marry you.' He says.

'Well now I know you really are drunk.' You respond.

Billy has a quick moment of realisation when he remembers that you think you're talking to Dominic.

His smile drops.

'I am drunk. But you're still the most amazing person on the planet. I think you might be it for me.' And Billy means it. He means every word. He plans to marry this sweet girl that waltzed her way into his life and believed in him after two conversations.

'I love you.' Comes your reply.

Billy smiles.

'I love you too.' 

He stays with you until you fall asleep, telling you all the sweet things he's ever wanted to say, dodging personal topics that he doesn't know the answers to. When you're finally asleep, he stands, checks the time, and goes back to Dominic's room, dropping his phone onto the bed beside his sleeping form.

Billy almost considers hitting him, enjoying the thought of giving him a black eye in the morning, but that had the possibility of scaring him into not drinking again, and Billy couldn't have that.

So he leaves, walks out of your boyfriend's apartment, and does not set it on fire like he wants to. 

.

NOW

You stare calmly at the elevator doors. The smell of hospital filling the air around you. In a way, there was an ease to it, a comfort in the sterile cleanliness, a place designed to turn chaos into order.

You sip on your coffee, feeling refreshed after popping back home for a quick shower and supplies for Billy. You didn't want to leave, but you knew you wouldn't be able to stay while the nurses changed his bandages, the wound too fresh to introduce any foreign bacteria. So you'd decided to make yourself useful in the meantime.

Frank was still here somewhere, waiting for you to return so that he could leave. You'd both had tentatively agreed that Billy should not be left alone under any circumstance, surprised that you and his best friend had been on a similar wavelength when it came to caring for him.

Frank's in the waiting room taking a call when you see him. He gives you a little nod, and a gesture of his head that tells you it's okay to go see him.

You do exactly that, making your way to the nurses' station to sign in before heading to his room.

You stop short when at the door, you hear the sound of female laughter. 

It's not laughter exactly, it's... giggling.

It's obviously flirtatious, in that pitch that's just too high to be normal.

You hear Billy's voice next, too far away to make out what he's saying but he sounds polite.

Followed by more giggling.

Pure jealousy rears its head. 

You had only been gone for an hour and someone had taken the opportunity to begin flirting with your husband? 

Something dark blooms inside you, and you take a deep breath, and walk through the doors with your head high.

Two pairs of eyes turn to look at you.

"I'm back." You say calmly, smiling.

Billy smiles at you, his hair askew in every direction as if he hasn't ever heard of a brush. It's adorable, makes him look so much more boyish than usual. Your eyes go to the young nurse, that's currently taking Billy's blood pressure, quietly sizing her up, deciding if she was worth any sort of trouble at all.

"Hey baby, did you get one of those for me?" He asks, referring to the cappuccino in your hands.

You look down at him, close enough to see the tiredness under his eyes although you know this is the most amount of sleep he's ever gotten.

"Sorry, doctor said no." You respond.

Billy lets out a pained groan, and you can't help it, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his temple.

He sighs, reaching up to take your hand in his, you watch his eyes linger on your wedding ring.

"I was just explaining to Becca here how easy it was to ignore the pain for so long."

Becca?

Your eyebrows raise in amused displeasure.

"Yeah," she adds in with a wistful smile, "If he didn't pass out from the pain he probably wouldn't have gotten help in time."

Great, a reminder that you weren't there when he'd almost died. You're pretty sure that the only expression you show her is one of disdain.

'Careful,' you think maliciously in her direction, 'If he likes you enough he'll cage you like a bird.'

"How are his vitals?" You ask blankly, trying to get her out of here as soon as possible, ignoring the way Billy looks up at you in confusion at your clipped tone.

"They're uh, they're good! But-" She begins to say, but stops short and presses the back of her hand to Billy's forehead. You blink, clenching your teeth together. You're pretty sure this wasn't medically professional, and you suck in a slow breath to stop yourself from smacking her hand away from your husband.

"Are you feeling okay Bil- Mister Russo? Your heart rate is a bit high." she continues.

You glance up at her monitor in question, and sure enough the little number on screen next to the pulsing heart symbol was just a little above one hundred.

You knew that his heart shouldn't be going at near a hundred beats per minute if he was mostly stationary in bed.

Billy lets out a nervous laugh. You look down at him in confusion.

"Yean, that's- I'm fine- It's just... well... her." He explains, glancing up at you for a second.

Me? You think incredulously, blinking.

His heart is beating fast because you were near him?

Your anger dissolves as fast as it had appeared, stomach fluttering, you try to fight the smile pulling at your face but you inevitably fail.

He doesn't look up at you, so you grip his jaw, tilting his head up.

Absentmindedly, you're aware of the nurse excusing herself from the room.

You press your lips to his swiftly, delight spreading down your body when he groans against your mouth. You deepen the kiss and he accepts it eagerly.

After a moment, you pause, turning your head to look at the little monitor, His heart rate having gone up to one hundred and twenty.

"Still jealous?" he asks, with a cheeky smile.

You don't answer, leaning in to kiss him softly once more.

. 

"Please." Billy begs.

"No." You whisper, bumping your nose against his, adjusting your body under the sheets so that you're both fully covered.

"Just a little bit." He tries to bargain.

"You move, and I'll stop. You cum, and I'll stop." 

He lets out a harsh breath.

"You're being really mean to me." He pouts.

"If you rip a stitch, I won't touch you until they come out."

He groans, frustrated.

Unable to resist, you clench around his cock.

"That's not fair." he gasps desperately.

"Sorry, this isn't entirely easy for me either."

Currently, you were both under his sheets, on your back, both legs draped over his hip, while he lies on his left side facing you. It was a position that had made it very easy for him to slip himself inside of you, allowing you to keep his cock warm. 

He swallows, looking at you with warm eyes.

"You feel so good around me. You know that?"

How was he allowed to say things like that while literally stretching you open? God, you could feel the tip of his cock nestled snugly in the very deepest parts of you, every inch of your cunt sighing in relief at finally being so full of him.

You feel yourself get smaller under his gaze, soft, gentle, unnameable in its unfamiliarity.

"If it feels half as good as it does for me, then yeah, I know." you reply easily.

He smiles, it causes butterflies to flutter in gentle circles within you.

"You're beautiful." he murmurs softly.

It's your turn to swallow and look away.

Your eyes are drawn to his bare chest, and the snake tattoo that resides on his shoulder. He could not be real with the way he made you feel, like all the air in the room had simply vanished by his command, held even further out of reach by the thickness of his cock sitting still inside you.

"You really mean that?" You ask, your insecurity gaining a foothold in your head.

He reaches for your left hand, raises it up to his face so that he can lay a swift kiss onto your wedding ring.

"I do." 

The door swinging open has your eyes widening from your shared spot under the sheets. Thankfully, you were still mostly clothed, where Billy was fully naked.

"Bill?" comes Frank's voice in question from his spot by the door.

Billy winks at you, before moving the sheet off your top halves to reveal you both to the open air.

"Hey Frank." Billy greets.

Frank takes one look at your positions and lets out a tired sigh.

"You two are fucking, aren't you?" The exasperated sound of his voice drawing a smile from you.

You can't help the laugh that leaves you, giving everything away. 

Frank's disappointed expression makes Billy laugh too.

"Alright. I'm walking out this door, I'll be back in five minutes, your pants better be on, Russo."

"Make it ten!" Billy shouts just as Frank gives another disappointed shake of his head, and leaves the room.

.

Clothed now, in long blue linen pants, Billy kisses your temple, one arm wrapped securely around you as you lie beside him.

"Thanks for being here with me." He says softly, his hands gripping onto any available part of you he could reach, anything to pull you closer to him.

"What? Is Frank not good enough company?" You tease, beginning to laugh when you feel the scratch of his beard as he kisses your throat.

"Frank is usually in the bed beside me." he says into your neck, and you laugh at the imagery.

"Plus," he says in a softer, more serious tone as he pulls away for a moment. You turn to look at him curiously.

"I've never had someone worry about me the way you do."

"Ever?" You ask.

He shakes his head, looks down.

You're not sure what he's thinking, but it looks like guilt, all soft lines and sadness and you ache to make him feel better.

You lean forward, cupping his jaw. His eyes are so open for you that you think you can see his soul in them- a dark web of shadows, that glitters with vulnerability the more you look. 

You wanted his vulnerability, you wanted him to open himself up to you, and share everything he was, everything he could be, until you were full of him.  

Until you could taste him in your mouth, even when he wasn't around.

"I'm here now, and I'll worry. I'll fight anyone that stops me from getting to you. Including Frank Castle." You promise.

His frown grows into a smile.

"You're sure you don't wanna ride me? I'll stay really still." 

You groan.

"No, no vigorous activity for at least four weeks."

"You riding me isn't vigorous."

"Yes, but I'd consider your orgasms vigorous." You reply, contemplating the way the muscles of his abdomen tended to tighten up when he came.

"Wait," Billy says in horror, "I can't come for four weeks?"

"You'll be fine." You huff.

"No I won't be." He protests.

"Just let me take care of you."

He couldn't argue with that.

. 

"You hate me don't you?" Billy asks.

You try not to grin.

You turn to face him, clad in only your plainest underwear as you get ready for work. Somehow, he still saw beauty in you, even when you weren't trying. It was exhilarating.

Unfortunately you couldn't stay with him, a meeting had been scheduled that you didn't want to push back due to the difficulty in actually getting the meeting in the first place.

"Why? Is there something wrong with it?" You ask, turning playfully to show him the back and the front.

"Everything's fucking wrong with it," Billy grumbles from his spot in bed, head tilting back for a second in what looks like a plea to God himself.

"When I get these stitches out, you're gonna be in so much trouble." he says with a little grunt.

You hum, in thought.

"You know, now that I think about it, I don't think I'll wear underwear today." You taunt.

Billy groans loudly.

Something delightful blooms within you.

. 

Wrong.

This was supposed to be wrong.

The more you think that, the more you know that this is the most right feeling in the world.

There was nothing in your old life that could ever possibly compare to him.

Usually, people coerced into marriage were subjected to inhumane treatment, impossible and abusive environments, that sucked the very living soul out of them.

The most soul sucking being done to you was when you'd been forced to deny Billy the pleasure of tasting you last night.

The pleasure of tasting you... because to him... it really was a pleasure.

You swallow, sitting at his desk, tense in his comfortable chair. You'd become someone he'd wanted.

Or maybe you'd always been. When had he decided to marry you anyways?

You blink, shock spearing through you.

What if your feelings weren't real? But simply a defence response to your circumstances.

A tired sigh leaving your lips. A shake of your head.

Would you want him if you weren't trapped by him? 

The question eats away at your sanity. You spin it around and around in your head and still you can't find an answer.

You're scared by it. By the notion of losing him.

You're also scared by the idea of staying with him, still not fully understanding what he was capable of.

Which fear was right?

And which one would break your heart? 

. 

Billy says your name in question when he hears a door slam shut.

"Just me, Bill." Is Frank's answering voice.

"Where is she?" He murmurs, throat dry, looking up at the ceiling. The pain meds held him in a state of mild confusion, spaced out so that he wasn't in any pain, but unable to truly focus on the things happening around him.

He hears the slow pour of water, peeks an eye open to find Frank beside him. He struggles to sit up, tucking a second and then third pillow behind him for support and gratefully accepting the glass of water from Frank.

"It's only two, her meeting just started so you'll see her a little later."

Billy nods, ignoring Frank's gaze as he sips the water.

"I've never seen you so down bad before."

Billy's laugh bubbles in the glass he's holding.

"What can I say? I'm a romantic." He answers flippantly.

Frank snorts loudly in knowing disbelief. Billy frowns.

"You don't think it's fast? Is she... does she have something on you?"

Anger spears itself through Billy, some at Frank, most at himself.

I'm a monster, he thinks.

He turns away, not wanting Frank to read the expression on his face, wondering if his look of guilt alone will put the pieces together in Frank's head.

"It's not like that." He says easily, thinking to himself what a sick fuck he must be to coerce someone so glorious, so awe-inspiring, into marriage against her will.

He thinks he hates himself for it.

"She told me you got accidentally married. I can't imagine a version of you, however drunk, that would accept marriage."

Frank was getting too close. Billy had to say something to appease him.

"I'd met her before, at... a company party or two. I liked her, but she had a boyfriend."

When Billy doesn't continue, Frank is forced to prompt.

"And?" 

Billy stares down at the sheets. The very sheets you'd slept under last night.

"And when I met her in Vegas, they'd just broken up, and I wanted something with her, and I don't remember how, but the next day I woke up married to her and I was so happy."

It's mostly the truth, the best tale he can spin in his state.

"I know it doesn't make sense, Frankie, but when I'm with her... I'm the man I've always wanted to be."

Frank is quiet for too long now, and Billy is forced to turn his head and look up at his best friend curiously.

Both men stare at each other in silence for a moment.

"Alright, okay, I'm sold, bring her around to meet Maria and the kids." Frank says finally.

If anything, this was Frank Castle's ultimate seal of approval. Introducing strangers to his family was not an occasion to be taken lightly.

Billy grins up at Frank.

"I can't believe I had to lose my appendix to get her invited to a Castle family dinner. You're so gullible, Frank." Billy teases.

He's rewarded with a gentle smack to his shoulder.

. 

You run your hands over the fabric of your dress, deep in thought.

Was it too much? You think you might be overdressed.

It was a lovely beige colour, maybe tan, knee length with a vintage design and little puff sleeves. You'd liked how it looked in the store. Now? You honestly felt like it was a little much.

Maybe Billy would be able to help you decide.

You call his name, walking out of your shared closet and toward the living room where you saw him last.

You spin the corner and find him already coming toward you.

"Are you okay?" He asks, dressed casually in a grey shirt and black pants.

You stumble over your words, your brain spinning too fast for you to keep up.

"W- yeah- I was coming to ask your opinion, but I am so clearly overdressed." You turn on your heel to go back into the bedroom.

"Oh no you don't." Billy says, and before you know it, he's grabbed a hold of your wrist, pulling you into his body.

You gasp, eyes widening on his face as he presses you against the wall of the hallway.

Your heart pounds in your chest at his proximity. Your need for him outweighs rational thought until you have to remind yourself that he's still recovering. If he touched you right now though, he'd find you already wet, and eager for him.

While you've been fighting your aching desire, he's taken the time to run the tips of his fingers across the apple of your cheek.

"God. You're so pretty." He whispers, warm eyes spilling euphoria into you.

He couldn't mean that. Could he?

You glance away, only to be forced into looking back at him when he grabs your jaw roughly.

The tension between you feels like an electric charge, that heightens as he gets closer. 

It's like he's never touched you before, like the sensation is brand new, and not months old. 

"I should change," You whisper, "This dress is too much."

He takes a deep breath, his hand glides from gripping your jaw to curl around your throat. Your breath stutters at the feeling. Something flutters low, an ache to be filled rears its head.

"You're gorgeous. In anything you wear. I'd want you in a ball gown or a potato sack."

Good lord.

When you smile, he brings his fingers up to press against your lips, exploring the shape of your smile, appreciating the softness.

"You mean that?" You ask, a little unsure.

His dark eyes devour you, unfocused as he looks at you, balancing on the precipice of admiring you and imagining just exactly what he wants to do to you.

"Why don't I show you?" He offers.

You reach to grip his elbows when it seems like he's going to kneel.

"No, we- you're still recovering and I don't think it's fair that I get to cum if you can't."

He lets out a low grunt, pressing his body roughly against yours, his palms against the wall on either side of your head, his forehead and nose pressed to yours. The intensity of his gaze makes you turn your head to look away, he's got the demeanour of a man starved, desperate, borderline unhinged.

He doesn't let you move far, fingers curling around the back of your neck to bring you back to face him.

"Little wife," he says so deeply that you're not sure if it's a promise or a threat.

"Lift your dress up for me, or I'll tie you up and lick your cunt anyway."

You gulp. The very thought of being helpless while he-

Fuck, but you didn't even have the time, Frank would be expecting you in an hour. 

You let out a breath, feeling more than seeing the smile that forms on his face as you begin gathering the materials of your skirt into your fists.

"Good." he says finally, and you can only feel your body throb with heat in response.

There's the gentlest kiss to your mouth, something of a promise, a pledge that when he's done with you, you won't remember how to walk.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he kneels, you know that when he reaches up to tug your underwear down the length of your legs, that he'll see the desperation he causes.

He swears when he sees it, drawing out the syllables as he witnesses the way your arousal clings to the little piece of fabric protecting your modesty.

You swallow, the materials bunched in your hands no doubt wrinkling with the force.

He takes his time, tracing coarse fingers over your calve, behind your knee and up your thigh, pulling gently to guide one of your legs over his shoulder. 

He doesn't bother to touch your centre, circle your sweet bud with his thumb like he wants to, he uses his tongue right away.

You take in a sharp breath at the contact. The tip of his tongue meeting your clit affectionately, like old friends reuniting.

A shiver goes down your spine, you crush your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Billy." You whisper softly, tilting your head back as his tongue flattens on you.

He takes it slow, remarkably gentle on your hypersensitive body, having gone relatively long in recent times without an orgasm, you feel like just the right move will pull you apart at the seams.

You let out a little groan, sighing as his pace quickens, his tongue pushing deeper, so that he can get a taste of you directly from the source.

It's primal, soft, ritualistic in the way that his tongue worships you, your eyes rolling back in your head as he draws you close to your peak.

There's an obscene sucking sound, followed closely by a hum of pleasure from between your legs. You feel your body tense, coiled tight on the precipice of bliss, thighs trembling as he keeps his tongue focused on your clit, lapping gently, and then a little harsher, to be gentle again.

His beard scratches your thighs, and even that is an aphrodisiac by itself, reminding you constantly that it's his mouth on you, his tongue on your cunt, his head between your thighs.

A sharp whine of warning, your stomach tightens, your breath stutters. 

A groan of approval from him, the soft twist of his fingers on your skin, as if to encourage you, to tell you how good you're being for him, and all you ever want to do now is be good for him.

Being deconstructed by his mouth should be a lot harder, and yet, Billy makes it look like a basic endeavour.

Your toes curl, head knocking the wall, you feel like you're coming apart, atom by atom, the force of your pleasure barely contained within your skin. You feel the walls of your cunt clamp down into a tight vise, as wave after wave of bliss fills every square inch of your body.

You barely make more than a quiet gasp- too inebriated on his tongue to even scream. 

He keeps licking you gently, lazily, trembling shudders working through your system until you're forced to tap his shoulder for a reprieve.

Another obscene sound when he pulls away, looking up at you, his mouth and beard shiny with your release.

He puts you back on two feet, but your knees buckle once the full weight of you is on them.

He stands swiftly, arms wrapping around you to pull you to his body keeping you upright, a small grunt leaving him.

You blink, struggling to restart your brain.

You realise his grunt is one of pain, as he tries to hold you up, it's what kickstarts your brain into working.

You grip his biceps, straightening your legs under you and willing them to stay that way.

"Sorry." You whisper, trying to take a deep breath.

"It's alright. If I could, I would have picked you up myself." He whispers back, and you raise your head to look into his eyes.

Something unnameable passes between you, you can't put a finger on it- but it feels like quiet appreciation for each other. 

He helps you to the couch, sitting you down before disappearing into the bathroom.

When he re-emerges, it's with a clean face and a damp washcloth. 

He encourages you down to the car after cleaning you and redressing you. You try to tell him that you're capable- but he won't have it.

He slides into the back of the car beside you, and almost immediately tucks your body against his, pulling your legs over one of his for comfort.

You sag, still fatigued from such a powerful orgasm.

Jesus, was it always going to be like that? All mind-consuming and explosive?

You smile when he kisses your forehead, tilting your head up to let him kiss you softly on the mouth.

Delightful, consuming, everything about him was just so... tantalising, you wanted to spend hours learning him, take days to map every thought in his head, every idea in his heart.

He was a dangerous enigma, a slippery slope.

And you were falling. 

. 

When Frank pulls the door to his house open, he gives you both a very suspicious look.

After a moment, he lets out a long sigh of disappointment.

"You two better not fuck in my house." He threatens.

"How can you even tell?" Billy asks in disbelief, reading into the quiet accusations being made by Frank.

"Isn't it obvious?" Frank asks, opening the door wider to let you in.

"Hi Frank," you say in greeting as you walk past him. He says your name, with a small nod of acknowledgement.

You take a moment to appreciate their house, it's warm and cozy, with lots of baseball trophies lining the mantle over the fireplace. There's a lot of pinks and beiges, a cozy line of couches near the fire.

Before you can do more looking, you hear a woman's voice.

"Is that them?" She asks, spinning into the room.

This must be Maria, you think, as you watch her take Billy into an aggressive hug, giving him a kiss to the cheek before letting him go in a flourish, a look of violation comically painted on his face.

When she turns to you next, you gulp.

She's very pretty, with lovely auburn hair. You notice a large scar curving from the corner of her eye down to the edge of her chin.

You only get a second of awareness before she's taking you into a hold just as violent as the one she'd trapped Billy in. 

You can't help but giggle at her blatant showing of affection.

She says your name in greeting.

"I hear you kneed Frank in the balls. Well done."

You splutter for an excuse.

"I'm sorry-"

"-Don't be," she interjects, "I wished I'd seen it myself."

You smile, looking over to Frank, who is mid-roll of his eyes.

"That'll cost you later, big boy. Come! Dinner is almost ready." Maria says quickly, turning away and you let out a little chuckle in response to Frank's apologetic face. 

"Billyyyyyyyyy." You hear someone shout, and you watch in horror as a small blur begins racing to your husband.

Your mouth opens, subtly stepping in front of him, ready to catch said blur.

Frank beats you to it, grabbing his son under the arms and picking him up for a second before putting him back down.

"Woah there slugger, take it easy on Uncle Billy, he just had surgery." 

You sigh, moving away from Billy so that he can hug his godson in peace. You catch Maria staring at you. You give her a smile of apology before looking away.

"Frank, I want you to meet my wife," Billy says, turning the younger Frank's body in your direction.

You can instantly see the suspicious look on his face.

You tell him your name, extending your hand politely in greeting.

He takes it, shaking your hand politely, it's the best you can hope for, being a stranger in their home.

"You're not a gold digger are you?" Frank Jr. says suddenly.

It's met with lots of scolding from his parents. You can't help laughing at everyone's shocked expressions.

"Where did you even learn that word?" Frank says, exasperated.

"In school." Younger Frank answers honestly.

Billy straightens, gives you an apologetic look.

"She's not with me for my money, junior, I'm with her cause she's sweet." He wraps a hand around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest.

You can't look at him, leaning in and accepting the comfort.

You meet Lisa next, Frank's older daughter, she's polite, but you can also see the accusation in her eyes.

You figure it's nice, that at least there are people looking out for Billy, though, you almost want to shout his crimes so that you stop being treated so abrasively.

Billy had warned you that the Castles could be protective, that they'd like you once they got to know you.

You'd hoped that were true.

.

When Maria asks how you and Billy met during dinner, you both pause in horror as the answer comes to mind.

You let out a long sigh.

"We met a couple of years ago, at a Christmas party, my boyfriend at the time was working at Anvil." You say with a smile.

Maria nods eagerly in understanding. You can see how bad it looks.

"Alright," you say, finally having enough. Your fork clatters onto your plate and you watch Billy turn his head to you in alarm.

"Cards on the table. No, I'm not with him for his money- and I'm not pregnant either if any of you are thinking it. I like him. I like his stupid face and his stupid laugh and I feel safe around him and I never really had that before." You pause for a second, taking a sip of water before continuing.

"Sure, how we met wasn't the best, and how we got married was even worse, but I like him."

Billy reaches over, taking your hand in his, you glance up at him, your stomach tying into knots as you meet his eyes.

"He's my best friend." You finish.

You feel his hand squeeze yours.

Billy leans forward, his other hand cupping your cheek and hiding your mouths from view as he kisses you softly.

The entire table erupts into groans, mostly from both Franks and you can't help laughing into his kiss.

It lightens the mood though, and there's less tension in the air by the time dinner is finished. 

.

Everyone helps with cleaning up, and you find yourself drying dishes next to Maria while the rest of the family clear the table.

"He's not someone we'd ever thought could settle down." Maria murmurs.

You look up at her curiously.

She sees your confused expression and tries to explain.

"He's always just been so focused on himself, there were a lot of bad things about his childhood, and more in the military, and we just never thought he could be in a spot where he could live with someone. He tends to push people away after a while. Even us."

You look down, letting out a long sigh, wondering what you would do if he ever tried to push you away.

Accept it, you guess. What could you really do if he decided he didn’t want you anymore? Nothing.

“But don’t worry.” She interjects, you look up at her, eyes settling on her wicked scar for a second before you look down at your dish, “He likes you, he really does, maybe you did have a rough start, but I have faith in both of you.”

Your mouth pulls into a smile, you thank her for her kind words.

.

You play Jenga with them next, laughing and tickling Billy’s left side affectionately to distract him while he moves.

He grins, his hand remains remarkably steady while you torment him with your fingers. Everyone jeers, encouraging his loss, booing him when he manages to get the block on top of the tower without toppling it.

Your turn is next and you smile happily as you lean forward to make your move. You feel his hand on the small of your back, rubbing affectionately as you pick your piece. He doesn’t try to shake you or cheat like you did while you pull your piece out. The rest of the Castle family boo you in funny ways, and you have this moment of realisation that this is what family feels like.

When you get your wooden brick seated next to Billy’s, he kisses you on the temple, murmuring a ‘Good job, baby.’ into your ear in a low voice that has your body responding eagerly to him.

There’s a look that passes between you, something warm and electric, the silent guarantee that if you were alone right now, you’d be ripping at each other's clothes.

It’s Frank that drops the tower, after Maria whispers something into his ear quietly, and you smile at the way he looks at her in half betrayal and half adoration as everyone cheers for his loss.

You see it, you understand why these people are so important to him, the humanity inside each Castle is a unique thing, that makes the whole family unit just work so easily.

You’re glad to have met them, and you’re also sad when you have to bid them goodbye at the end of the night.

Maria hugs you both, Frank gives you an almost friendly pat on your shoulder. There’s a bittersweetness to it that you’ve barely felt before, a real family that you can be a part of, a promise to reunite soon that sparks hope inside of you.

You leave, hand in hand with Billy, a little bit happier than you were when you first arrived, feeling like you understood your husband just a little bit more.

.

In the car, he lets out a slow breath, tilting his head back. He’s in pain, you realise.

“My scar is starting to hurt.” he confesses, turning his head to look at you.

Your heart squeezes in your chest. 

“We’ll get you home and get some medicine into you, okay?” You say softly, leaning into him, till your nose rubs affectionately against his.

He nods, eyes drooping as he feels your hand move to cup the healing area of his abdomen over his shirt gently. He leans into you, resting his head into the crook of your neck, your other hand moving up to play with his hair.

You feel him sigh in bliss.

.

You tug your heels off so that you have better balance to support him, encouraging him to lean into you a little so that he’s in a little less pain while you get him up to your apartment.

His pain has worsened by the time you sit him in bed and rummage through your cabinet for his medicine. 

You get it to him first, making sure he finishes the glass of water you gave him before you begin taking his shoes off.

“You don’t have to-” He tries to sit up, “I can-” He grunts in pain when he curls forward too much.

You push him back gently, giving him a kiss to his forehead.

“Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You stroke his cheek with the backs of your fingers while you wait for him to respond.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

You tug his shoes off, and then undo his pants, giggling slightly when he struggles to lift his hips to help you.

You can’t help touching him, feeling over his thick thighs as they’re exposed to you. You kiss his happy trail when you see it, giggling when he groans.

“Tease.” He pouts.

You kiss his pout too.

Only after you strip him down to his boxers and carefully check his scar, do you tuck him into bed, moving to dress down for the night too. 

When you struggle for too long with the zipper, you sit on the edge of the bed beside Billy and ask him for help.

He kisses your exposed back when he gets the zip undone.

When you’re finally in your silky PJs, you slide into bed beside him, noticing that he’s still awake, but blinking slowly.

“Are you still in pain?” You ask, tilting your head to observe him.

“No pain.” He answers, “Groggy.”

You sigh in relief, sliding closer to him, till you’re pressed to his side. Your hand slides into his rough one, and you quietly enjoy the feeling of being next to him until he speaks.

“I’ve never had this.” Billy whispers. You raise your head to look at him, noticing how unfocused his eyes are, staring up at the ceiling, blinking slowly, as if to remind himself that he’s still awake.

“The old me would have never confessed to anyone that I was hurting.” 

He turns his head, glassy eyes focusing on you.

“But you… The way you fight for me makes me want to trust you more and more each time.” He swallows, “It’s scary.”

He raises a hand, cups your cheek and you can’t help leaning into him, closing your eyes in hopes that it puts him at ease, that he doesn’t feel stared at while he opens himself up to you.

“No one has ever taken care of me before. Not like you have. You look at me- and I- I mean something. You know?”

You open your eyes then, staring at him for a long moment, finding that your throat has closed up from your abundance of emotion.

“You mean a lot.” You whisper, your hand raising to cup his.

His eyes are glassy, almost on the brink of tears.

“I didn’t know.”

.

You’re in the kitchen making coffee two days after, scarily deep in thought. 

In the quiet of the morning you think about everything that’s happened. From Dominic dumping you to the despair you felt when your annulment request had been denied. You think about it all, and you think about your mother, whose call you had ignored yesterday after walking out of her house when you found out Billy was sick. 

You didn’t know how to approach her, or what you would say when she asked you the question she’d asked before.

Before you can think yourself into a downward spiral, an arm wraps itself around your waist. His hand is broad, spreading over your tummy and leaving warm tingles behind, his touch so comforting that you can’t help but smile and lean into him a little.

“Good morning, Mrs. Russo.” He grumbles softly, letting you know exactly what he thought of waking up alone in bed.

“What can I help you with, Mister Russo?” You tease, smiling as you both sway together.

There’s a moment of silence, filled only with the sounds of your shared breaths as you enjoy the presence of each other.

“I would like you to come back to bed. It’s a Saturday and you haven’t cuddled me for nearly long enough.”

You grin, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah? And what do I get if I come back to bed with you right now?”

He hums, nose pressing against your ear, one hand on your stomach and the other rising up to cup your jaw securely.

“I can think of many imaginative ways to thank you.” He murmurs, the heat of his breath tickling your ear gently.

It’s something you could never even think to dream of.

.

.

.

A/N: Sorry I've been so inactive... bad things have happened, just popping in to post this cause I don't want it to sit in my drafts for any longer.

#accidentally on purpose #accidentally on purpose married billy #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #frank castle #my writings #billy russo smut

[8bitscarlet]

Winter Solstice

Summary: When the sun was taken without notice, your world was plunged into a darkness you almost didn't recognize. But as you sunk deeper into the shadows, you remembered why you'd given it up.

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Angst (mention of blood, canon fighting, use of knife, mention of torture)

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: AOU Wanda here because there's no Wanda in this story, since you know ehehe. Here’s chapter 18 of AOP. 😂 Happy Reading everyone! 💕

*please do not repost or translate my material or claim as yours. reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!*

_________________________

“I’m having your vest checked before you leave!”

You watch as Stark grabs the tablet from his suit jacket hanging on the coat rack near the door. He came around as soon as the alarms started to blare. What he came home to nearly doubled him over. It took him some time to get back to his joking ways, along with everyone else. Trying to deal with what happened only hours ago. 

Everyone except you. 

“Whatever,” Yelena rolls her eyes but points towards a gadget on one of the tables she walks past, “Your stuff isn’t even cool, Playboy.”

Her green eyes watching Nat nod that she’ll steal the parts for her. Yel looks over at you, sliding a granola bar across the table. You glance down at the wrapper, a chocolate chip granola bar. She looks at you with a hopeful grin but you don’t eat it. You just spin it around as you wait for her to tell you who you’re not allowed to kill. 

“Four mercenaries checked in at that checkpoint,” your eyes wash over the map with numbered outposts scattered around the landscape, “They’re heading to a resting place, assigned to the General’s protection unit. This restaurant,”

Yelena slides all the information she got from her contact casing the business, “It’s a front. A place to grab gear and weapons before they switch positions.”

“They’ll know where that asshole is,” you grumble, smashing the granola bar into the table with every slow stab of your thumb. 

“I’m just waiting on Rick to give us information on where they're stopping next. We'll swing in after them and steal some uniforms and codewords,” Yelena gives Natasha a look, ensuring that you see it but you don’t give it a second thought. They can see exactly what you want to do to every one of these soldier's wearing this patch.

They could think whatever they wanted about you now. They knew your true colors. If they’re surprised, it should be over that you’ve hidden them for so long. 

Natasha sees how you grind your teeth and turns to Yelena, “What that cost you? Five cases of Stoli?”

“Only four. I’m his favorite Russian spy.”

You ignore their arguing as you flip through the file further. It’s a simple plan. Corner some soldiers and work your way up the pay grades. Eventually someone would know where the General was and he worked closely with Strucker. 

“We’ll call you guys when we’ve got a location,” you stand up abruptly and look towards Steve, “Just make sure you have Clint by then,”

The door behind you opens and Stark rushes inside, not bothering to hold it open behind him as you see how wide his eyes are. 

“I tried to stall,” he turns on his heels and all of you watch as a greying and mustached man in a crisp suit steps through the door that closed on his face. 

Ross clears his throat as he pulls against his sleeves and carefully looks over everyone. Half of the people in the room are weary and exhausted from the mission. The other half stare cautiously, collecting papers behind their backs. Only one stares with a fury that the man has never seen before and because of this, speaks to you .

“You’re not operating.”

Your jaw clenches so tightly, you’re surprised it doesn’t completely shatter. Each paused stare along the politician’s body are places you know would completely ruin the rest of his life. Steve sees the way you roll your wrists, your breath elevating. Your fingers crack beneath his iron vice grip and you grimace as Stark attempts to negotiate with Ross. The words buzz around your head. 

Treaties. Agreements. Violations. War. 

You chuckle, drawing some attention your way but Stark quickly draws it back to him. You’ve been at war longer than Ross could know. At war with Strucker. With your own mind. But he couldn’t care less about those wars. They weren’t important. Finding and killing Strucker wasn’t important compared to the obscure agreements he had pulled up by an assistant. 

They wouldn’t be important to him until it was too late for everyone else. 

You didn’t utter a word as you moved past him, your shoulder cracking against his. He slammed into the door with a grunt. One of his guards stepped in front of you and he flew across the room into the railing of the staircase, not realizing how quickly you could move. The second guard half steps away from you as the pistol that was printing against his jacket comes out. 

Holding out your hands, you wave your fingers towards yourself, “Go ahead, buddy. Make my day.”

The trigger depresses just slightly and you grin, you just need a reason. There’s movement from your side and Nat stands in front of you, looking at you like you’ve lost your mind. And you can’t deny to her that you haven’t.

“Stop being stupid,” she whispers harshly, grabbing your wrist and whirling you around. 

Your face slams into the floor but you don’t struggle. You just watch your breath fog up the tile as your body contorts to Nat’s will. Her apologies to Ross don’t make it past the ringing in your ears. There’s a pressure in your shoulder and your knees come up beneath you, your feet following behind them. 

Stumbling towards the back room, you remember this route. It was the walk you made every day back to the holding cells. The cells you tried so hard to convince yourself that the enemy surrounded you. That any day your meal brought by a redheaded witch would be sedated and you’d be taken within inches of your life. 

“Don’t be mad,” Nat tells you as you stare down at the same bed you sat and watched Wanda chew on her pens, “This is just for show. Ross is out of his mind, we’re going. I’ll exhaust my Rolodex. I’ve got favors to use up.”

There isn’t much warning and even less for Natasha when the dull numbness subsides. You sink down onto the floor, your back pressing against the frame of the bed and exhale sharply. Pressing your stinging eyes against your knees, you let out an uncharacteristic noise. A wailing sob that burns your throat. Your body shivering with shaking breaths that used to only wake you from nightmares. 

And then you realized. Your nightmares had become your life. 

_______________________

Your fingers play with the corners of the menu in front of you, eyes scanning words that you don’t comprehend. The only thing on your mind is the number of people inside, the paths around the tables and exits around you. Leaning against the wall behind you, you watch the waitstaff exit the kitchen from your right. 

“You know I hate eating out with you. Do you know why?” You pull your eyes away from a man sitting alone at the bartop and glare at the blonde in front of you, “Because you always want to sit next to the kitchen and anytime a plate comes out, I think it’s mine.”

Your grimace grows into a scowl, “You don’t know what you ordered?”

“Of course I know what I ordered,” she almost looks offended, as she crosses a leg over her thigh, “I just think it smells good and I’m starving and you’re making me sit here when you made me rush out of the hotel breakfast.”

You stare in silence before glancing back down at the menu, taking a sip of the odd tasting tap water in your glass. A slow breath gets pulled in across the table and you brace yourself for more complaints. 

“Do you ever realize how grumpy you get?”

She’s met with more silence. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. You’re not grumpy, you’re pissed off,”

You cock an eyebrow and watch her grumble down into her menu, “Times a million.”

The waiter makes their rounds again, oddly bypassing your table once again. Your brows clench slightly when he stops at the bartop and talks to the lonesome man. 

“I’m sorry,”

The words catch you off guard and you look back across the table, “What?”

Yelena fiddles around with the bag on her lap, drawing your attention but holding the conversation with ease, “That you actually listened to my advice. About being vulnerable.”

You sigh and adjust the piece of metal digging into your stomach, “She’s part of the team, Yel. I’d be worried either way.”

She hums and you sigh before looking her way again, “When are you going to stop lying to yourself? You wouldn’t be a part of this team right now if it wasn’t -,”

“We’ve been made,” you stop her from psychoanalyzing you any further and carefully watch more suited men enter the building. 

The waiter isn’t as subtle as they keep glancing your way, practically pointing at you. You push your shoulders back, it was inevitable. You weren’t regulars here. The two of you were bound to be noticed. And at least you could say now that you didn’t start the fight. 

Yelena stands up, stopping the waiter who just decided to walk out of the kitchen. You hiss at her to stop as she pokes and prods at the food. The three suited men are walking towards you, two already have their hands tucked inside their suits while the other has their knuckles lined with metal. 

“Yel!” you whisper at her. 

“Don’t bother taking this back to the kitchen, it’s trash!” she yells and whips the tray from his hands and slams it into the group behind her. 

You yell, punting the table away from you, knocking a few of the suited men on the floor. A few start stumbling to their feet amongst the shattered plates and sauces. Yel wraps her legs around the unsteady man who was knocked in the head with a ramekin. As she flips him to the ground, your breath is rushed from your lungs as you’re bulldozed back into the kitchen. 

Slamming your elbow into the top of his shoulder, you try to loosen the tight hug the man has on you. It loosens. After you back clangs against one of the many stoves in the kitchen. You grunt, shoving yourself down to the floor and frantically slapping your arm. 

Your shirt smokes after pressing directly against one of the burners. Your back throbs as you hold up a hand, 

“One second,”

The man waves his hand at you, “Thought you were supposed to be a problem. Don’t know why people are so scared,” His knee slams into your face and you’re knocked back onto the ground as the stove door slams between your shoulders, “Get up!”

“Careful,” you cough, trying to move the arm you swear you heard a crack from, “You’ll ruin your dinner,”

Reaching back, you pull yourself up with the help of the stove. Your eyes catch the sight of scallops cooking in oil. With a grunt, you swing your arm and throw the hot oil behind you, feeling it slightly burn your neck with some flyaway droplets. 

The man screams, holding his hands against his face as you smack the pan against the top of his head. His screams end as he collapses to the floor. The pan clangs next to him, 

“You got something in your eyes,” you say before you grimace from the unyielding pain in your shoulder. 

The kitchen door swings open and you see another man walk in. He doesn’t wear a suit like the other men. It’s a dark uniform and you can see the patch on his shoulder. His belt is lined with different knives and you let out a sigh, you really didn’t want to have to shoot anyone today. 

He pulls one of the long blades from its sheath and tosses it with a quiet grin from hand to hand. The blade reflects the light in every direction as it spins and flips through the air. You sigh, going to lift up your shirt but stop as the emergency door is cracked open. The talent show in front of you pauses for a moment as Yel waltzes inside, rubbing her reddened knuckles. 

“Room for dessert?” she asks, and eyes the man take out another knife with a grin.

“You’re the one who was starving,” you remind her, trying to get feeling down into your numbed fingers. 

She sighs, walking forward without hesitation towards the clanking blades. She grabs a simple chef’s knife from a counter she passes, not slowing her pace. The man swings his arm around, going in for a backhanded stab and is only met with air as Yelena sidesteps without a thought. Her foot slides around gracefully as she ends up behind him. 

She leans forward as the blade slices underneath his arm, pulling a yelp from his throat and the knife in that hand clattering to the floor. She ducks between his frantic swings, making it look like a dance as you look around for where they keep the ice. Spinning on her knee, Yelena presses the blade to his upper thigh and pulls her arms up without much resistance. 

Standing up, she steps around the shocked man and places the knife back where she found it, now dirtied with blood. The man collapses to the floor with grunts, trying to press his hands against the cuts that are profusely bleeding. 

“Hit the arteries. He’s got twenty seconds.” she says as she pulls out a bag of frozen peas, “They said always fresh, never frozen. This place sucks,”

Pressing the cold vegetables to your shoulder, you follow her out into the dining area. You see that she fought more than the two suited men that came for you both. The Hydra soldiers you two were waiting for finally arrived and their uniforms were now ripe for the taking. Tearing some of the unneeded clothes, you make a makeshift wrap to keep the frozen peas in place. 

As you folded up the uniform you’d be taking, you handed over one of the shirts that would fit Yelena better. She goes to take it but you hold onto it for one second longer,

“Thank you,” you say, watching as her eyes look at you with her mouth slightly agape, “I listened to you and stopped lying to myself. Now I’ve got three people to worry about.”

“We’re going to get her back. Alive and safe. And we’ll make sure Strucker draws his last breath, too.” she tells you, wiping off a mustard stain before looking up at you, “Wait, you worry about me? You know sweets ruin your dinner.”

You grin, “Speaking of, I saw some macaroni in the kitchen,”

“You ever dine and dash? That dude is definitely dead in there, we won’t get caught.” Yelena excitedly jogs back into the kitchen to get some road trip snacks and leave you alone to the thoughts that fill your head as the sham of a smile falls from your face. 

You hope both of her promises come true but you know you’ll be lucky to have only one come true. And this unending cycle will continue. Tapping the boots against your thigh as you walk, you wonder how much collateral you have to your name.

________________________

Your fist slams forward, over and over again. Making contact with a fury that leaves his nose cracked and blood to pour from split brows. With a grunt and one more crack, you whip your arm down and extend your fingers. They practically groan from being clenched for so long. You stare at the reddening of your skin, wiping away the blood that isn’t yours. You glance over to the soldier’s friend, waiting patiently in their chair as they stare at the wall. There’s soft mutterings coming from them and you wonder if they’re practicing their lies. 

With a sigh, you turn back to the soldier in front of you, his face bleeding and his left eye already swollen shut. You glance down at his dirtied name tag, Fisher.

“Tell me where they are, Fisher. Come on, you were there being a good little soldier. Where is Strucker?” you squat down in front of him, resting your arms on your thighs and attempt to hold onto your patience a little longer this time. 

He huffs and puffs but doesn’t give an answer, you grin at how loyal he is to this madman. You sigh, picking up the pipe you had previously ripped from the wall and used to make his arm slightly crooked. 

“Listen, I don’t have all this precious time and you’re not the only one I need to talk to so,” you swing the pipe with a strong twist of your hips right into his shin, watching as he conceals his screaming into his shoulder. 

“Okay! They, goddamit! I only know where the General is.”

“Keep it coming,” you say, pacing in front of him and manipulating the cold metal between your hands. 

You listen to his directions, the description of the hideaway the General uses for all of his vices. You grunt, knowing you’re sure to find the worst bachelor pad of your life. Fisher continues to babble on, telling you where you can find mounds of cash in the walls and all kinds of classified documents. You’re bareilly paying attention until he brings up a certain scientist. 

“Strucker… he’s trying to do something. Brainwashing or some crazy magic from this staff. I don’t know, please let me go.”

His voice cracks as he leans as far forward as his tied up body lets him. You stop your pacing and look at his miserable face, his lip now starting to swell. The blood mixes with his sweat and you feel a whole new level of hatred. You know what he’s talking about but you wish you didn’t.

“What?” you ask, making sure you heard him right.

He swallows roughly and you watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down, “You can’t save her.”

You clench your jaw, the metal creaking in your hands as he stares in fear, “What is he doing to her,”

Fisher grimaces and stares past you. He shakes his head, he’s done talking to you. He’s looked into your eyes and knows he’s not getting out of here alive no matter how much he tells you. You wish you could lie to him, stroke his ego that he’ll heal from his wounds and live a normal life. All you do though is shake your head at his decision. He’ll recover from his wounds but his face’s natural color is going to be blue from this day forward. Pulling back, your joints practically creak as you clench your fingers into a fist. 

“I’m a nice person,” you whisper and watch him shiver away from your breath, “I’m going to let you think about what you’ve done. And when I come back, we better be on the same page.”

Turning, you replace the pipe with a glass of water and take a sip from it. You realize how thirsty you’ve become and you wonder how much longer you’ll be upright. You’re exhausted and starving but every hour you waste, is another hour Wanda is subjected to hell. You remember clearly what happened when you both were captured. You know it’s only worse with that scientific madman. 

Wiping your bloody knuckles against your pants, you walk to the other soldier. They’ve been having a nice time relaxing and dreaming but they forgot to set their alarm. You toss the glass of water at them, shocking them awake. You watch them cough out the water they inhaled with their gasp and casually grab a chair. Pulling it in front of them, they shake at their binds, probably having gotten lost in their happy dreams. Sitting down casually, you’re hoping that this will be a nicer chat. 

Price has nothing more to say to you than their pal Fisher over there. They spit at you, your jaw clenching when you feel the wetness smack you on the face. She chuckles as you slowly wipe it from your face, flicking it down to your boot. You don’t let the rage show on your face as you look up at her calmly. 

“You feel like talking while your friend takes a rest?” you ask her quietly, crossing your foot on top of your knee.

She stays silent, glaring at you. 

“Tell me where the woman is,” you give her one more chance to offer you something useful.

“What woman, asshole? There’s only some freak of nature,” she sneers at you, thinking she can play games. 

You look Price dead in the eyes. Your graciousness continues, you won’t kill her just yet, “One last time. Where?”

“Fuck you,” she spats out once again and you groan. 

You nod with a smile and don’t blink as you slide the knife from your belt and slam it into her shoulder in one fluid motion. As soon as the blade cuts, her scream fills the cabin and the front door opens. You grab the handle tightly and quickly shake her, 

“You tell me where she is or so help me, you’ll never use this arm again!”

“I don’t know!” she screams, gritting her teeth against the pain, “I don’t know!”

Before you can twist the blade, your arm is twisted behind you as you’re shoved towards the front door. You don’t fight against them but you stop your feet to grab the jacket you left on the coat rack. 

“She knows. She knows where Strucker is,” you tell Nat, sliding your arms into your coat. Looking up, you see the worry in her green eyes and for a second you freeze. 

“Reign it in,” she tells you harshly, “You know how this works. You’re just finding an excuse now.”

You slowly button your jacket, “We need to find her.”

“And you’re not finding her if you’re becoming that,” she slaps the patch on your shoulder roughly, “Again. Go get some air, now.”

Stepping through the door, you slide your hands into the uniform jacket and glance down at yourself. The uniform is filthy, covered in dirt and food from the scuffle you had when you ambushed the place. Dried blood and sweat from the conversation you were having with the two survivors. You climb into the car with a sigh, what the hell was Natasha talking about. She knew as well as you that some things required certain tactics. Maybe you were right all along. She had gotten soft.

Yelena peers back at you from the front seat. She shakes a box of granola bars in front of you but you wave her away, listening to her mumbling about how you’re going to pass out. You run your fingers along your knuckles, feeling a stinging pain you hadn’t felt in a long time. A time you always told yourself you wanted to forget. But here you were, purposely living in the past. 

Glancing up, you see green eyes carefully watching you through the rearview. You raise your brows. 

“You okay?”

You stare at the front door you were pushed out of, “I’m fine.”

“Y/N,” Yelena sighs. 

“What do you want me to say?” you snap, watching the green eyes stare one moment longer and then look away. 

There’s a prolonged silence until a noise has you jumping out of your skin, “That you’re scared.”

Nat’s voice carried in from the open window and you watch her climb into the passenger seat, gently closing the car door. You look her over, she doesn’t have a single drop of blood on her and her face isn’t flushed from exertion. She nods quietly to her sister, the car starting to reverse and leaving dust behind all of you. 

You stare out the window, not giving her the answer she already knows. 

“We’ll find her. The General will know where she is and if he doesn’t, the files on his desk will.”

“Are we going to find her alive?” the real question you’ve been thinking of explodes from your mouth and it’s met with the exact answer you knew it. A heavy silence. “You promise me that and I’ll stand aside.”

“You know we’re doing everything to make that happen. So trust us, she's coming home.”

The car ride quiets until you hear the rumbling of your stomach. With a sigh, you lean forward and grab a few bars out of the box that Yelena had offered you. 

“When we get to the General’s safe house,” Nat peers over her shoulder to look at you properly, “Come in after we clear it. Please.”

You look at her, her eyes flashing down to your split knuckles. How hard they shake as you try to open the simple packaging of the granola bar. You think back to what she said to you in the house and realize the night is lasting much longer than you intended. You let yourself hide back into the darkness and you see that there isn’t always a light to rely on. You’d have to be ready for the light. 

If it came down to it and only one of you made it out, you wouldn't want Wanda to remember you with the things you did to find her. You didn't want her to remember the person that she met for the first time but the one she ended up loving.

Biting into the chocolate chip, you give a small nod, “Fine.”

______________Ch. 19

#wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda marvel #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #accidentally on purpose #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda fluff #wanda imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda mcu

[sonic-adventure-3]

sheriff shadow of floating rock world take 2

#cowboy air shoes >:] #my art #prime #sonic prime #shadow #shadow the hedgehog #sheriff shadow of floating rock world #sheriff shadow #sth #sonic the hedgehog #i spent so long on this but it was so fun #also in the process i accidentally created an epic really experimental version of this #i’ll post it separately and explain how it happened so i don’t forget. i wanna do it on purpose #gun tw

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

There is a platonic explanation for all this. Right?

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #[accidental kiss] is a purposeful misspelling to reference an old meme. I will blast anyone who tries to correct me with the crunchiest png #The kiss looks like wwx is biting lwj's cheek....It *does* have the consistency of a soft marshmallow so he's not in the wrong. #Once again: wwx was never *ever* oblivious to the implications of the situation. On the contrary: this entire scene + the prior shows- #that he very much understands that this looks gay to the viewers. #He just doesn't think its possible to be loved like that. *Especially not by Lan Zhan.* #Do people forget that LWJ had 13 years to process his feelings VS WWX's (give or take) week? #This is the moment he realizes wwx has feelings and he HATES HIMSELF FOR IT. He feels like he's betraying lwj's trust! #The demi feeling of having spent so long in a comfortable platonic relationship and then getting struck by the 'oh shit' moment. #Its not a soft 'Oh' - Its a 'Oh god they are going to hate me and I can't bear that. I need to be so normal about this or else'. #Pour one out for all of us who've had to go through the trials of trying to conceal the painful realization of deeper affections. #Anyway. *both* lwj and wwx fall in love kicking and screaming and miserable and clawing at the walls about it. #Continuity acknowledgement: wwx's hands are unbound at this point but I had a hellish time with blocking and this was a bit easier.

[loverboy-lover]

absolutely go crazy for the house tie switch trope. like the idea that it was common knowledge that if you wore a house tie from another house you are basically telling the world you and another person are absolutely getting down? fuck yeah give it to me now

#like james accidentally wearing a green tie #james PURPOSELY wearing a green tie #i need to read this someone give me recs #marauders #jegulus #marauders era #james potter #regulus black #starchaser #sunseeker #dead gay wizards #i love them so so so so much oh my god