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randomshyperson · 3 years

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Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your lost - Part I “I will grieve”.

Serie Masterlist here || Part II|| Read on AO3

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, hurtful behaviors, domestic wanda.

Chapter warnings: Heavy angst, death.

Author’s notes: Hello readers! I'm finally back to posting something, but I disappeared for a good reason, I was writing three new series. And here is the first of them. I really enjoyed this work and it's something I've been trying to write since I watched WandaVision, and only now I've managed to put it into words. I am not finished yet, but there is only one chapter left, so your reading will not be affected. Pay attention to the warnings, and good reading!

Tag list (let me know if you wanna be tagged)

@mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch

//-//

Chapter One - I’ll grieve.

You wished you could go back to sleep as soon as you opened your eyes. The sound of your alarm buzzed loudly throughout the room, and after putting it on snooze mode at least four times, you finally got annoyed enough to grab it and throw it across the room. But the sound continued.

Letting out a grumble of dissatisfaction, you pushed the comforter off you, and sat up in your bed. Your room was a mess, but you just skipped through the clothes on the floor to reach the phone, turning off the alarm through the new crack you made in the screen.

"Honey, are you up?" you heard your mother's distant voice calling you through the door, probably from the living room or the kitchen. "Don't forget your therapy today."

You sighed impatiently, running your hands through your hair. The damn group therapy.

Grumbling lightly, you forced yourself to take a shower, not wanting "poor hygiene" to end up on your progress report card.

A while later, when you were finished, you went into the kitchen. Your mother was using her laptop on the counter, and just waved at you.

"Are you going to take me?" You asked her with your hands in your pockets. Your mother took her eyes off the screen to evaluate the sweatshirt you were wearing, and you rolled your eyes at her disapproving expression.

"You know, you could try driv-"

"Mom" You cut her off in earnest, your heart racing momentarily. You don't drive. An she knows. Your mother sighs, putting her hands up in a sign of surrender.

"It was just a suggestion dear." She retorts as she stands up, reaching for her car key on the key rack exiting the kitchen. "But I'm busy with the store, you'll need to take the subway next time."

"Thanks for the support." You grumble as you step out in front and your mother lets out a wry chuckle.

You frown and let out a dissatisfied exclamation as you step outside feeling the sun's rays on your face.

"You're not a vampire, cut the drama." Mocks your mother by pushing you lightly to get you out of the way.

You grumble as you walk to the car. And when you are sitting on the seat, your mother is starting the vehicle and she asks:

"Are you sure you're not going to eat anything?"

Looking out the window, you just mumble that you're not hungry, and she shakes her head in disapproval before you back the car up. You don't speak any more on the way.

//-//

Your mother dropped you off in the parking lot of a gymnasium where the therapy group would be meeting. You sighed as you got out, and thanked her for the ride and the money she gave you to eat, even though you probably weren't going to use.

Resisting the urge to run away, you forced your feet to walk toward the place.

There were a few people at the door, but you didn't smile at any of them, entering the place with your head down and your hands in your pockets.

And then a woman greeted you, and put a little sticker with your name on your shirt when you gave her your papers.

Then she signaled the way you should go, and you ended up on the gymnasium court, where there was a wheel of chairs, and a table with food and drink, and several people scattered around, who you thought were part of your therapy group.

Sighing impatiently you made your way to the bleachers of the venue, hoping to be alone until the session started and you could leave.

Fortunately it wasn't long before the leader signaled for everyone to sit in the circle, and you sighed as you stood up. You ended up with one of the chairs on the far left opposite the therapist, which could be bad since he would see you clearly.

"Thank you very much for coming." Said the therapist smiling gently as his gaze roved over everyone in the circle. You kept your gaze on your shoes. He made a noise with his throat. "Who would like to start today?"

The silence lasted for a few seconds, but then someone was speaking. You forced yourself to come back to reality and pay attention.

"[...] and this is my fourth week around here." Said a woman in a leather jacket. You noticed the army lanyard around her neck. She was talking about an accident when you got distracted again. Lightly poking your eye with your finger, you tried to focus again, letting out a low sigh. And then the therapist was talking again.

"We have new faces today." He said and you felt your heart speed up. You absolutely did not want to talk in front of strangers. "Why don't you share with us, miss?"

You raised your gaze to meet that of the therapist, smiling gently at you. The rest of the group looked at you as well. Taking a deep breath, you began to wiggle your fingers on your leg.

"I don't... I've never been in a group." You say clumsily. "What should I say?"

"Whatever you wish to say." He answers with a smile. You swallow the urge to tell him you didn't want to talk at all. Realizing your lack of response, he is quick to add. "Why don't you tell us why you are here?."

You let out a dry laugh.

"I really didn't have much choice." You retort wryly. The therapist looks slightly surprised, but makes no mention of interrupting you. You let out a sigh before clarifying. "My psychiatrist, she...she didn't approve of my social ratings. She wanted me to talk to other people. People who... went through the same things I did." You count staring at the floor. When you look up again, the group still waits for you to continue, and you sigh, running your hands through your hair. "I haven't... I... I haven't talked to other people outside of my family in six months. Not since..."

You move your head, sniffling slightly as you straighten your posture. The therapist clears his throat.

"You just need to share whatever you are ready to tell us." He says gently, you nod slightly feeling extremely vulnerable. "But remember that this is a safe space. There is nothing to fear here."

And then he is talking about methods of easing the guilt, and dealing with the pain and you were distracted again. You would like to go back to bed. It must have taken a while, but the session is finally over.

The group dispersed around the room, and you went toward the therapist's desk to have him sign your schedule. He smiled as you approached.

"Miss Y/N/L, I was happy to hear that you would be joining us today." He said greeting you with a handshake. You nodded, taking the paper from your pocket. He chuckled, but accepted it. "You know, I'd like you to try to have a partner in the group, it's recommended for cases like yours."

"What do you mean cases like me?" You ask snidely, but he doesn't care.

"Doctor Harkness gave me your chart." He explained as he signed the paper you gave him while you frowned. "Extreme Social Anxiety in the first few months of treatment. Tendency to complete isolation, introverted..."

"Yeah I know my problems, buddy." You interrupt him with irritation. "You don't have to list them for me."

The therapist gives a lopsided chuckle, and holds out the signed paper to you. But he adds with a serious look:

"I'm here to help you, Y/N." He says. "Don't forget that."

You don't respond and take the paper, turning toward the exit.

//-//

Your week passes slowly and tortuously. Which is surprising because you barely get out of bed. And then it is group therapy day again, and you are making a new crack at your cell phone screen.

Your mother greets you with a pat on the back as you enter the kitchen, and she is walking past you toward her own room.

You know you have to take the subway today, and you are trying not to think about it too much. As you are walking out the door, your eyes pass quickly over your car key, and you think you have a flash of memory, but you shake your head quickly, pushing the thought away. And then you walk forward.

And you are late for the session, because you can't take the bus to the station, since your feet simply didn't obey you. But that's okay, you don't really care.

You weren't the only one who was late. When you went to enter the door, a red-haired woman bumped into you, also running to get in. She smiled slightly as she apologized, and you just made room for her to enter first.

"Sorry Stephen." She said to the therapist as soon as you two entered the gymnasium, "I had an emergency with the kids."

The man just shook his head with a smile, and waved for you both to sit down.

"And why were you late today, miss Y/L/N?" He asked you. You shrugged your shoulders.

"I didn't wanna come." You retorted and the group giggled, and the sudden sound startled you slightly, but you just sat with your arms crossed.

"Do you want to try again?" He retorted with light humor in his voice. And you bit the inside of your cheeks. And then you looked down at the floor.

"I couldn't get on the bus." You confessed next. Stephen looked at you tenderly, though, and you didn't like the feeling of your chest heaving slightly.

"And why do you think that happened?"

You shrugged, uncomfortable.

"I don't know. I... There were too many people." You said embarrassed. And then you started twiddling your fingers, feeling all eyes on you. "I just... I knew I'd have to say hello to the driver, and the conductor. And then I would pass strangers in the hallway, and one of them would sit next to me. And I just... I couldn't."

Stephen nodded slightly in agreement.

"It's okay, Y/N. " He stated. "No one is judging you here."

You let out a dry laugh, and Stephen blinks in surprise, which spurs you to explode.

"Everyone is judging me, Doc." You say through gritted teeth, swinging your leg. "It's as if I can hear the gears in people's brains forming opinions about me." You state with a sigh. "Like my mother for example. She...she...acts like I'm past the time of mourning." You explain with tears in your eyes. "Like there's a limit, and I'm extending her goodwill. Because it's been six months, and she doesn't want me to be sad anymore. But guess what? I don't know how to move on!" You state angrily. "I can't! If I don't miss her, what's left for me? If I don't... God, I can't do this."

And you stand up, wiping your tears away, and walk out of the gymnasium, heading for the restrooms. You feel your heart racing, and it's hard to breathe.

As you rest your hands on the sink, your brain starts to wander back to the day of the accident again. You choke, because it feels like you're sinking again. You see the water rising through the metal of the car. Your hands on the steering wheel, and then on the seat belt. You shake your head, pushing the images away, and rush to turn on the faucet in front of you and pour the water on your face.

You take a deep breath, trying to stop the tears. And then there is someone entering.

"Are you okay?" Stephen asks and you nod lightly, ignoring the trembling in your hands as you stare at him through the reflection of the mirror. "I gave a break to the group, wouldn't you like to walk with me?"

"I'm not good company right now." You grumble but he smiles, nodding slightly as if to repeat the invitation. You take a deep breath before turning around.

You walk silently and slowly to the outside of the gymnasium, and then he is speaking again.

"You were very brave today." He comments, and you let out a dry laugh. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I panicked today." You say. " It doesn't sound very brave to me."

Stephen smiles guiding you through the gymnasium entrance toward the parking lot.

"You talked about a trauma to a group of people." He says. "That takes a lot of courage, even if you don't believe it."

"I don't believe in anything." You grumble, but Stephen doesn't mind your hostility. He stays with his friendly posture.

"I would like you to accept my request from before." He said after a moment. "About a group partner."

You let out a sigh.

"I don't even know what that means." You retort with slight impatience as you reach the edge of the parking lot. You notice the garden a few feet ahead of you.

"It's like a therapy buddy." He explains with a smile. "We encourage socializing here. That's why Agatha recommended this group to you."

"Oh, of course you do. Agatha is a bitch." You wryly wipe your hands across your face. Stephen laughs lightly. "How does that work anyway? Do I have to hold someone's hand? Exchange friendship bracelets?"

"No, it's much better." He says with a chuckle. "You talk to that person. You exchange experiences with them. You learn to trust somebody else again."

"My god, it looks like a fucking Disney movie." You retort with irritation and Stephen lets out a laugh. And then you let out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders. "Okay, I'll do it. I have nothing to lose, and it seems that neither you nor Agatha will leave me alone if I don't agree."

"We want you to feel better. Don't take this as a punishment." He says, guiding you back to the gym. You nod slightly, thinking that it really does feel like punishment anyway.

//-//

You see Agatha the same week. Your appointments have been switched to monthly meetings instead of weeks as they were at the beginning of treatment, and while you appreciate the familiarity of seeing her, you can't help but feel irritated with her.

"Someone's grumpy." She comments as soon as you sit down on the couch in the room, to which you roll your eyes.

"You are always so very tender, Agatha." You mock as you cross your legs, hoping the time will pass soon.

Agatha laughs lightly, finishing tidying up a few things on her desk. And then she gets up and sits down in the armchair a few feet in front of the sofa where you are, carrying a small notebook in her hands.

"So, why don't you tell me how your your first two sessions in group therapy went?"

You let out a dry laugh.

"Like Stephen didn't tell you everything." You sneer and Agatha just smiles, waiting for you to speak. You let out an impatient sigh, before stating wryly. "It was amazing, doc. It only took two sessions for me to have a panic attack, so thank you for that."

"Why do you think that happened?"

You squeezed your eyes.

"I have no idea." You retorted. "I'm not the doctor here." Agatha laughs lightly, and then opens her notebook and starts writing something. You sigh impatiently. “Really, you're going to start that again?”

"If you don't talk, I write." She states simply, and you roll your eyes, shifting on the couch uncomfortably.

"Agatha, I just... I couldn't get on a bus, okay?" you tell her, and she closes her notebook to look at you attentively. You take a deep breath. "There were a lot of people. I don't mind walking anyway. It helps me think."

"You don't mind walking eight blocks?" She asks with a slight irony. "That's pretty athletic of you."

"It's weird that you know my address off the top of your head." You play lightly, and she just laughs, straightening her posture.

"Why don't you just tell me what you want to tell me?"

"Why don't you ask me what you want to ask?"

Agatha blinks slightly in surprise, and then she shakes her head slightly, opening her notebook again. You sigh.

"Okay, sorry." You say, and she looks at you for a moment before closing the object again. I... I thought I was drowning again.”

"Are your nightmares back?" She asks seriously, and you deny it with your head.

"I feel too anxious to sleep." You tell. "And then I black out from exhaustion in the night or in the morning. I don't dream anymore."

"Have you been taking your medication?"

You sigh.

"Of course I have." You say. "I don't... I'm having trouble keeping my mind still. Like the first few months, you know. Everything seems so noisy now."

Agatha nods slightly, becoming thoughtful for a few moments.

"I know it may sound strange to hear that, but that means you're getting better." She declares and you frown in surprise, then let out a dry laugh.

"How is my peak anxiety a good thing?"

She opens the book again, but before you can ask what you said wrong, she is reading.

"The first day you were here, you said you felt like you were empty." She narrated and you swallowed dryly. "During your first two months, you continued to describe that you felt like an empty shell. And that you no longer had any dreams, thoughts, or opinions. Without your wife, you said you were no longer here."

You felt your eyes fill with water at the mention of her. But you swallowed your emotions. Agatha turned a page, and read for a few seconds, and then looked at you.

"With your history of anxiety, your mind was remarkably quiet after the passing of your wife." She says. "But now that you're on medication, and therapeutic treatment, plus you're socializing even superficially with the world again, you're starting to feel things again. That's progress."

You look away from her, nodding slightly, trying to believe her words, and trying not to be so terrified at the thought of learning to live again. Without Nat.

You choke slightly, holding back a sob, and then Agatha hands you a box of tissues, but you refuse with a nod, wiping away the tears that have slightly escaped.

"What do you want to talk about now?" She asks after a moment. You take a deep breath, still trying to calm yourself.

"Last week I took a cold bath." You count. "It was snowing."

Agatha blinks in surprise at the information and then lets out a giggle.

"You want me to write it in the book don't you?"

You laugh, wiping away the last of the insistent tears. You just hope Agatha could help you.

//-//

You hate coffee. But you barely slept last night, and now you need to stay awake during the group meeting, so instead of walking to the chair in the corner like you used to, you detour your way to the food and beverage table as soon as you arrive at the gym.

There are a few members around, but you don't look at them, just sidestepping as you extend your arm to the coffee bottle. You pour some, and as you touch the cup, you notice. It's cold.

"Hey sorry about that." Said a girl you thought was named Val or something, as soon as she saw you touching the cup. "We mixed up the shifts yesterday and nobody made new coffee."

You rolled your eyes, picking up the cup and throwing it in the trash. Then you forced a wry smile on the girl and walked outside.

It was cold, but you are boiling with rage. It was just a damn cup of coffee, you thought as you closed your eyes and tried to reduce your anger. Just coffee.

You stumbled with fright when Stephen called out to you.

"We'll get started in a minute." He said looking at you curiously. You just nodded, following him after a few seconds.

You bit the inside of your cheek when you noticed the same coffee girl as before, now sitting where you usually sat. The universe was testing you today.

You just sighed, twiddling your fingers inside your pocket, and walked over to one of the free chairs.

After Stephen gave the briefing, he asked if everyone was all right, and the group lied in unison. You were almost asleep when he called your name.

"I would like to choose your partner today." He says and you feel your heart racing as you straighten your posture. "But I want to know if you have any preferences."

You blink in confusion, and roll your eyes.

"I don't know anyone here, but I'm sure they will all hate me equally, doc." You tried to joke, but Stephen only looked at you with concern.

"No one does or will hate you." He says and you swallow dryly, looking away as you mumble that it was just a joke. Stephen pauses momentarily before continuing. "You know that everyone here has their own experiences of loss and they are unique in their own way, even if they have similarities." He begins and you just wish he would speak soon who your partner is at once. "Usually we don't put new members together, but with the release of one of our members, the number ended up getting odd." He explains. "Anyway, I'm sure you and Mrs. Maximoff will get along very well together."

You frowned slightly at the whole explanation. Then you looked around the group, and realized that this Maximoff woman was the late redhead from the previous session who looked at you curiously. You looked away from her to Stephen.

"Thank you, doc." You said with a slight irony and Stephen just nodded smiling.

"Partners are grieving companions ladies." He says. "We will assess your progress at each session, and then switch partners once the necessary improvement has been achieved."

You grumbled in understanding, and looked away to your lap. When Stephen began to ask about the stories, your mind wandered to the departure time.

And when the session was over you wished you could go to sleep. But Stephen made a slight movement of his head in Maximoff's direction, and you understood that you should talk to her.

Ignoring the urge to show Stephen the middle finger, you just sighed as you got up from your chair and lazily walked over to the woman at the exit. She was talking to a man, and you were even more anxious to address not one, but two strangers.

"Hi." You greeted awkwardly, and both of them turned to you with mild curiosity.

"Hey, you're Y/N, right?" Said the man with a smile as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bucky. James Barnes actually, but everyone calls me Bucky." He said and you shook his hand, smiling awkwardly. Then he quickly pointed at the woman. "And this is Wanda Maximoff, your grief partner."

"Hi." Wanda said shyly as she offered her hand to greet you. You accepted as clumsily as she did.

"Sorry, I don't know how this works." You say. "Should we exchange numbers or something? Or is that just a therapy thing?"

Bucky gives a little chuckle.

"Oh believe me, they'll know if you're not making it work." He counters. "My first partner was Sam Wilson and we wanted to jump on each other's necks whenever we saw each other. And then Stephen asked us to move in together." He says and you blink in surprise. "We're married now, but that's not the point. I guess I'm getting off topic..."

"Bucky." Wanda interrupts with a smile, and he smiles half-heartedly as well. You frown, annoyed by Bucky's story. You didn't want to marry anyone. "I guess we'll make it work, I hope you don't mind having the company of two tiny restless creatures on our walks."

You look at her with confusion and then you understand, smiling shyly.

"No, it's okay." You say. "I like children."

"Really?" She asks in surprise.

You nod slightly. "Unlike adults, they tell the truth."

Wanda seemed to be thoughtful, but then Bucky lets out an exclamation.

"As group guide, I have to pass the to-do list to you ladies." He says pulling a small notebook from the back pocket of his pants. He pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to Wanda. "Partners need to develop these habits of socializing and coping with grief together. And yes, there is a test."

You sigh impatiently, tucking a loose string behind your ear.

"That sounds fun." You mock lightly making them smile.

"Anyway, good luck to you two." He says tenderly. "And Wanda, call me if you need help with Tommy. I know a good therapist."

You frown slightly, not understanding what he is referring to, but you prefer to stay out of matters that are none of your business. And then Bucky kisses Wanda on the cheek in farewell and waves to you smiling before leaving. You switch foot weights when you are alone with Wanda. Talking to other people is not exactly your strong suit these past few months.

"So..." You start clumsily when she turns to you.

"So." She repeats equally embarrassed. You then clear your throat and rush to pull your cell phone out of your pocket and hand it to her.

"Give me your number." You say. "That way we can arrange...whatever this is."

Wanda smiles weakly as she accepts the device, and you ignore the curious look when she notices the cracks in the screen. A moment later she hands the cell phone back to you.

"I gotta go." She says. "I need to pick up my kids from school."

You nod slightly and force a smile to say goodbye, and Wanda copies your movement before leaving.

You stare at your cell phone next, noticing the slight anxiety in your stomach as you read the contact "Wanda Maximoff" on the screen.

//-//

By the weekend, you are miserable. Just like the first few months.

You spilled some tea under your bed, and when you went to clean it up, you ended up taking the objects that were lying there. And then you found a crumpled piece of paper.

It was your farewell speech. The words you wrote down to speak on the day of the funeral. The paper you pulled out of your pocket when you got home from the ceremony and probably fell under the bed when you collapsed on the floor from crying so hard.

Suddenly your chest tightened and you couldn't breathe. But you didn't want your mother to worry, so you concentrated on remembering the exercises your therapist had taught you.

And when the room started to get too small, you left.

But because it was cold and rainy, you had just taken a hot shower and had decided to brew tea before you finished putting on a sweater, you had bent down to pick up your socks, and the liquid fell on the floor.

You went outside without your shoes, and your mother let out a worried exclamation when she saw you standing outside, staring at nothing.

"Honey?" She asked walking out the door after seeing you through the kitchen window. "Honey, what is it?"

You didn't answer. Your face was wet. Your mother's hands wrapped around your shoulders, and she gently pushed you inside, worried that you would end up getting hypothermia.

"I'm fine." You gasped as she led you inside, but she just shook her head. "I'm fine."

"No, honey." She retorted making you frown. "You're not."

"Mom."

"Sit down."

And then there were blankets around you, and socks on your feet. And your mother was in the kitchen, on the phone, but everything seemed stuffy. You began to be absent again. Thousands of memories flashing through your eyes.

An image of yourself on that living room floor, laughing while your girlfriend had her arms wrapped around you. Your mother was pouring a glass of wine for each of you, and you were happy to tell her about your engagement.

Then an image of you running across the room, trying to dodge the tickles your father tickled you while you laughed.

Then a puppy in your hands on the floor. You looked at it fondly, laughing at how cute it looked.

Looking down, you saw a hand on your thigh. It was your wife's, the ring on her finger. She smiled at you. You were happy because that was the day you told your mother about the house purchase.

You gasped slightly when you felt someone's hand on your shoulder suddenly.

"I need you to tell me three things you can see." It was Agatha. God, you should have been out of reaction long enough for her to get here. Wiping away your tears, you took a deep breath, trying to reason straight.

"I... I..." You started, but your brain didn't seem to obey you. You took another deep breath. You could see the carpet, so you told her so.

"Two more." Agatha asked tenderly, her hand caressing your back from top to bottom.

"The... table." You replied crying. "I can see the table."

"That's right, honey." She said. "Just one more now. Tell me what else?"

"My feet." You add breathlessly. "I can see my feet."

"Now breathe with me, okay?" She asks. "Like I taught you."

The exercises help you to calm down again. You apologize for scaring your mother, and for making Agatha drive to your house, but neither of them is upset with you. You feel exhausted, but the doctor wants to talk to you after she accepts the cup of coffee your mother offers her.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" She asks as you sit on the covered porch, fluffy pillows around you.

You lower your gaze to the floor, sniffling lightly.

"I found my grief speech." You count. "Under my bed. The next minute I was outside."

Agatha sighs.

"You ready to talk about the accident."

You raise your eyes quickly, frowning, because it wasn't a question.

"W-what?"

She takes a deep breath, crossing her legs.

"It's suffocating you." She clarifies. "You need to talk or these attacks will happen again."

"I-I don't..."

"It won't be today." She interrupts with a tender smile. "Tonight you need to sleep. But we won't prolong this any longer. You need to talk about it, even if it’s only to scream."

Clenching your jaw, you hold back your tears as Agatha takes one last look at you before getting up. She murmurs that she will see you on Monday, but you don't look at her.

//-//

You don't sleep well on Sunday. And it's definitely because you can't stop thinking about your appointment.

And it goes well for the first twenty minutes. Agatha doesn't pressure you, and agrees to hear about your week, without mentioning the incident on Thursday.

There is a pause after you have told her about the dog barking noise in the early morning and then you know it is time to speak up.

"I was driving." You say softly suddenly, ignoring the feeling that your throat wants to close up. Agatha has her hands folded in her lap as she listens to you. "She...she was sleeping in the passenger seat." You swallow dryly, trying to count and not get caught up in the memory again, your heart racing. Talking is almost like going back there. "I looked at her for a moment and I got distracted... and then... we just..."

You only realize that you are crying because tears fall on your hand. You blink, sniffling. Taking a deep breath, you continue.

"We fell into the water, and Nat...she just...I couldn't get her belt off." You gasp breathlessly. "The water just...kept coming up around us. And she looked at me, and... she just shook her head like she knew what was going to happen." You tell between sobs. Agatha's eyes water, but she doesn't interrupt. "I just...she pushed me. She pushed my hands away and she told me she would follow me. And god... my dumb brain believed her!" You confess angrily. "She told me she was right behind me! And I swam out and when I came up she wasn't with me."

You shut up, not being able to tell anymore through the sobs. You can't even see the office clearly because of the tears.

It takes a moment for you to speak again, your head down.

"When I swam back, the car was completely covered with water everywhere" You recount. "I...I was going to dive again.... I wanted to get her out of there. But the people who saw the accident jumped in after us. And they pulled me out of the water. And I kept thinking that if I hadn't been distracted, she...she would be...."

"No." Agatha interrupts by offering you a tissue. "Natasha had a stomach injury, don't you remember?" She counters and you gasp, the words echoing in your brain. "That's why you couldn't remove the belt."

And then you were remembering clearly now.

Soft music echoed in the car as you hummed the tune and drove to your friends' house. Your wife mumbled softly beside you, making you smile as you watched the sleeping figure. The red hair in front of her face.

"Hey sleepyhead." You called softly, looking away from the track for a moment. "We're almost there."

Nat muttered in agreement. You bit your lip, thinking she looked beautiful. And then you heard a noise, and a white light in the window. You barely had time to frown when the impact threw your car off the road.

Your body tensed immediately as you sat up, looking around with desperation. The car was sinking fast and you turned to Nat.

A wound on her forehead was bleeding, and she was clearly disoriented as you touched her hands. You hurried to unbuckle her belt, but it was jammed tightly in her waist, and you gasped in shock at the wound.

"N-no." You grumbled, trying to move the metal, but Nat gasped in pain, pushing your hands away. You could barely breathe in desperation. Your feet were freezing, because the water was already at your ankles. "Babe, move please. We have to get out."

Nat advanced toward you, taking off your belt. You tried to touch her, but she pushed your hands away again, intending to guide you out.

" Sweetheart, go! Open the door! " she commanded and you shook your head, the water on your knees. Nat forced a smile, the tears in her eyes made your stomach turn. "Don't worry love. I'm right behind you."

As you opened the door, the water moved all the way into the car, and you held your breath Nat repeated the words "I'm right behind you" one more time. And then you swam out.

When you reached the surface, you were alone.

Sobbing, you couldn't say anything else to Agatha, and she proceeded to stroke your back, trying to soothe you with words of affirmation.

"I need you to remember some things honey." She says tenderly. "You couldn't have helped Natasha. She got stuck. You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened." Agatha whispers to you, and you sob. "Remember the investigation, okay? The police said that the driver of the truck was drunk and hit your car after he fell asleep. It wasn't your fault." Agatha says trying to remind you. You gasp, countless memories flooding your head at once. "Say that for me, will you?" She asks and you gasp. "Tell me it wasn't your fault."

You sob, burying your face in your hands. It takes a moment, but you repeat the words.

"It wasn't my fault." You whisper breathlessly. "It...it wasn't my fault."

When you leave therapy that day, you feel different.

You think that it is the healing process that is beginning to work. You still have a long way to go, but you have the feeling that a weight has been lifted off your back, because you have started to believe your own words. You could not have saved Natasha.

There is still a deep sadness in you, but you still buy your favorite drink on the way home, and try to stay in the living room for a few hours before going to your room when you are inside.

#wanda maximoff #wandaxreader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda imagine #wanda imagines #sorry for your lost #wandaxyou

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kittydcoxx · 3 years

Text

Stay with Me.

KAEYA X READER.

Warnings: light angst/heartbreak but nothing bad (happy ending)

The tavern was as crowded as usual, and by that meaning almost completely baren for a rainy Wednesday afternoon. As you order a apple cider from Charles, the tavern door bell rings and you instinctively turn to check.

"Ah~ it is pouring out, I need a drink to combat the dissapointment of getting my fur cape wet."

Kaeya. Of course he wasnt the last person you'd expect to see open the tavern doors, he just wasnt much of a "afternoon delight" type drinker. Still, you stare as he tries to cooly swipe off the wet rain from his uniform as he walks towards the counter and takes a seat next to you.

"Well, well! Good afternoon y/n! What a suprise to see a beauty such as yourself here at this hour."

He raises an eyebrow and smirks as he turns to look straight ahead and run his fingers through his hair, not allowing time for you to respond before he has a drink in his hand.

"Afternoon Captain,"

You face him and smirk with the same intensity of flirty-ness as he just had.

"Of course you would be surprised to see me at this hour, you usually drink yourself to sleep before i order a evening drink."

You chuckle and look straight ahead and take a swig of your beverage, the confidence of your little witty come back replays as the cider burns your throat.

"Oh ho, well thats quite the attitude! I must ask, whats the purpose of this?"

"Hmm?"

"The occasion? I've never seen you drink three days in a row, I've been sober enough to pay attention to that."

The truth is, the last few days you've been at a bit of a crossroads. You know you and the Cavalry Captain share feelings, but you have a job offer in Natlan. This job is a dream to you, ever since you were a child. You could never dream of passing this opportunity, but you question if this possible romance could be the first significant one. You've been meaning to bring it up to him, but recently you just havent seen enough of him to bring up the subject. As a result, you turned to the more than occassional drink at the tavern to brighten your mood from the decision that faces you.

"Well then if you're interested, it actually... might concern you."

Your face is flushed red due to nerves, of course it doesnt directly concern him since nothing astronomical has occured in order to absolutely weigh your decision based on a man, but you didnt want to leave without warning.

"I see, well, we haven't..." His cheeks grow the slightest bit red as his eyes skip to look around then back at you.

"we haven't progressed to that yet, have we? I mean, you're not pregnant are you?"

"What?!" You're taken aback by the direct-ness of his statement, about the fact that he thought it could even have been a possibility. Was it confirming your suspicions of him returning feelings? "No, i- its not that! That is out of the question completely!" You yelp as you shake your hands as a frantic meaning of saying "Absolutely no way".

"Of course! of course.. i just figured i'd ask in case, but i guess drinking for a few days regularly isnt particularly healthy for a baby."

You roll your eyes and take another swig. Oh boy.

"It's actually more of an advice thing, i suppose."

"Ah~ well! lets discuss then, hm!" He happily takes a sip of his wine, his face surprisingly relieved.

"So? What do you need the great Master Kaeya's guidance on?" He smiles and giggles slightly.

"Actually, I'd like to take this outside."

"But its raining cats and-"

"Outside. please."

Your tone picks up more aggresively and he gets the memo. He takes one more sip of his beverage and you do the same with yours. You pay Charles and meet Kaeya right at the door.

"Get ready for the rain, sweetheart"

Your heart jumps as he grabs your wrist and swings open the door, pulling you with him down the street, stopping at a small archway behind a building, big enough to comfortably converse without being cramped or drenched.

"Now, where were we?"

"right.. well.." You look down and fidget with your thumbs, only to look back up at him and see him gazing into your eyes, examining your soul and what felt like your heart. Did he already know? It sure felt like it.

"I have a big decision to make, but i want to ask you before i come to a concrete decision."

He nods as a sign to continue talking, acknkowledging his position in helping you decide.

"I might have to move away. To natlan more specifically. I've recieved a dream~ job offer that i simply cant refuse, unless i was faced with new circumstances here in Mondstadt."

"Hm, And how do i play a role in this?" He asks as he folds his arms and leans back against the stone wall.

You explain to him his part, and he lets you talk until you are completely finished. you tell him your feelings, your worries, your doubts, and your hopes. Every single one that included him in the package. He looks at you sternly the whole time, but he looks hurt at the same time and you wonder why.

"Well, i honestly dont know what to say to this y/n. You know i cant leave Mondstadt if we were to persue eachother."

"I know."

"Then why bother telling me? Why not just leave, hm? Before damage could be done? before you told me all this, confirmed my hopes in our relationship but crushed it with the fact that you 'might' leave? You should have just spared me and left!"

He looks emotional and teary eyed, much more that you're used to seeing from a man who held such a cool composure 24/7. Have you hurt him that much? Does he hate you?

"I can always stay if you wan-"

"No. Its your dream job, and you shouldnt pass it off. I just cant promise that i'll wait for you."

He steps closer to you, inches from your face. His breath is warm and it contrasts with the cold rainy air. He slowly takes your hand and hold it in his, then lands a soft passionate kiss onto your lips. A few seconds of the kiss pass and he breaks for air and looks at you, making strong magnetic eye contact with you.

"Y/n, I can't wait for you."

"You dont have to. I can stay."

He runs his hands up your arms and grips firmly onto your shoulders and kisses you again, and when he pulls back he lets out a heavy sigh.

"There's no staying, just be safe. Please."

Your throat swells like a rock is stuck and your eyes burn hot along with your ears. You cant muster any words, you just stand there maintaining a sorrow eye contact for a few seconds.

As you both stare in silence, he slowly lets go of you, and as soon as his hands depart from yours, he turns and walks out and into the road. The further he walks and fades from your vision, the further you slide down the wall until your behind hits the wet floor as you curl up to your knees. Hard, Hot tears stream steadily down your cheeks as you hide your head in your knees, sobbing hard yet silently. Your heart aches and your stomach churns.

You want to run and look for him, grab him by the waist and embrace him in a hug from behind as you cry against his back, but he has already erased you from his plethora of memories as he sulks in his room with a drink. The night is weary and so are you. You walk home, replaying the scene in your mind over and over, and the instant you step into your home, you fall to your knees and sob once more.

You dont even close the door behind you. You cant do anything but cry, you had no idea you felt so strongly for Kaeya, but you had to put it all behind you.

He probably had.

What feels like an hour or two goes by and you barely made it to the couch, where you lay sprawled out, half on the couch and half not as you stare into empty space, thinking of nothing but everything at once. Why did his mood snap so quickly? Why did he cut you off? Was it self defense? What could he gain by pushing you away? You had no clue, but you didn't want to dwell on it and start crying again, so you just lay there trying to fall asleep.

Suddenly, a warm, slender hand grazes your back and rubs up and down softly.

"I'm sorry."

You jolt a little, but you dont get up immediately.

"How long have you been like this? Its almost night again y/n. Have you gotten up at all!? Your door was wide open, I was worried."

No response from you as you try to analyze the voice. It sounds like Kaeya, but you had remind yourself that he wanted nothing to do with you.

The man sighs and walks away. A hallucination for sure, you thought. The male comes back and lifts you by the shoulders. He sits on the couch and then lays your head onto his lap.

You look up and are met with blue eyes, one scarred and one as normal as you're used to seeing on him, though both glossy as if about to cry.

"Kaeya?"

"Mhm. Sit up Darling, you need to drink water."

You obey and sit close beside him, sipping the water he hands you with both hands on the glass like a child. He puts his arm around you and his hand on your head and gives you a soft yet quite long kiss on the head as you finish your water.

"Im sorry. We can work something out. I know that i shouldn't.. I can't push you away."

You dont fight his embrace as it gets firmer, and his body trembles slightly as if he is crying.

"Do you want me to stay?" you ask sheepishly.

"My dear, its up to you what you want. I'll follow you in whatever you decide. Im choosing to persue you, the rest is yours to seal."

"I want to stay." you state calmly.

"As you wish." He eyes your empty glass of water and gets up to pour you some more. When he comes back you sit against him again, and drink the glass empty, then put the glass on the coffee table and lay your head on his lap.

"Sleepy?"

"Mhm.."

He chuckles and holds you as you fall asleep, giving you tender kisses all over your face. When you fall asleep, he carries you bridal style upstairs to your room and tucks you into your bed. For a moment he stands there and ponders leaving you to rest, but the guilt of the words he said yesterday and seeing your state today convinced him to stay at your side. He walks to the other side of the bed and crawls in beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist and gives you one more peck before falling asleep.

You wake up once in the middle of the night to use the restroom, and when you come back to your room you're awake enough to process the fact that Kaeya was indeed in your bed. You crawl up into where you were in the bed before but this time facing him. You run your fingers along his face, feeling every bone and inch of his smooth skin, his tan beauty enhanced by the glow of the moonlight that peeked in through the window across the room from the bed. Your run your fingers down his hair and admire how his hair falls down his body. You've only been this close to him once, but never had you touched him like this. Your face was red and your smile was definitely pronounced, and as you stroke his cheek his eyes slowly open to see your expression.

"Good morning y/n~" he smiles and wraps his arms around you softly.

"How did you sleep?"

"Actually, its midnight."

"Oh, i see. Well, lets fall back asleep shall we? Or are you wide awake?"

You don't respond immediately but instead wrap your arms around him and hide your face in the crook of his neck.

"Back to sleep.."

He chuckles and brings you closer to his body, rubbing your back and stroking your hair until you both are hazy and about to fall asleep.

"I love you..." you whisper, half aware of what you just said and half not.

He pauses for a second, then gently squeezes your body as if to be his response back.

"I love you too.." he whispers back, his words echo in your mind as you drift to sleep, your dreams filled with nothing but happiness and him.

You would stay in Mondstadt, but occasionally take trips to Natlan for a few weeks, and would try to take Kaeya with you if he wasn't too busy. The two of you became inseperable, and quite the item for some time, the story of your romance left most who heard it in tears.

After every time you tell the story, he grips your hand and grabs your face softly making you look into his eye.

"I'm glad you stayed."

He says as he pulls you in for a tender kiss, which is usually embarrassing in public but you dont mind in this case, because it was of genuine emotion and not of his flirtatious teasing.

You really do love him.

NOTES!!!!!!!!!!!

This was my first fanfic LMAO

#genshin impact kaeya #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #tartagalia x reader #Spotify

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dumbikawa · 3 years

Text

Being Stressed About Exams & HQ Boys Comforting You

GN!Reader | Comfort/Fluff | Warnings: stressed reader

Characters: Atsumu, Oikawa

A/n: This is extremely self-indulgent as school has been kicking my butt and the future post-graduation is very terrifying lol

ATSUMU

You stare at the computer in front of you, the text you’re supposed to read for class beginning to swim together as your eyes fill with tears. Everything is happening too fast and you feel completely unprepared to take any of it on. What if you spent all of this time and money on schooling only to fail so close to the end? What if you finally do finish, but then can’t find a job in your field? Should you have studied something else? The questions become more exhausting and constant the closer it gets to exams.

Small droplets roll off your cheeks and begin to pool on your keyboard. You haphazardly wipe them away before powering off the computer and tucking it back in your bag. Out of sight, out of mind, you figure. It’s not like there’s any use in trying to finish it tonight when you can already feel another wave of stress induced tears coming on. Those have also become a regular thing.

You click the volume button on your phone so that the sounds of music fill the room before leaning back in the desk chair, testing the limits of how far you can recline before gravity takes over. Atsumu had made this study playlist for you when he first noticed how stressed you were. It contained a mixture of your favorite songs, his favorite songs, and a few ‘motivational’ songs he pulled from his work-out playlists. It was a bit of a weird Frankenstein mash up with the large variety of genres, but it quickly became one of your studying must haves.

Over the sound of the music, you couldn’t hear the shower click off and the door to the bathroom swinging open. When Atsumu steps out, he sees you sitting where he’d left you, although, in a more dangerous position than you’d been in before as he notices the way the desk char teeters back and forth. His attention is quickly caught by the music choice, though, recognizing one of the songs playing as a favorite of his he added to the playlist he made for you a couple weeks ago. A smile breaks through his face as he hurriedly jumps into a pair of sweatpants before approaching your quiet figure.

As he comes up behind you, though, he notices a slight glisten upon your cheeks and a few fresh tears that tumble from your closed eyes. His upturned lips quickly sink as worry floods through him. Exams had been taking a toll on you, it wasn’t hard to tell, but he would never get used to seeing you cry.

“Baby,” he whispers, gently wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “What can I do for ya? Food? Cuddles? Cry it out?” You nod, resting the chair back on the ground and practically launching yourself into his arms.

Atsumu catches you with ease, his strong arms holding you against his chest. His hand rubs up and down your spine, sending shivers racing down you back, but there's no ulterior motive to his gentle touches. He continues the soft touches as he guides you to the bed, only letting you go for a second before allowing you to bury yourself in his side again.

“What if I can’t do it?” you whisper, trailing your fingers across Atsumu's toned chest. “I’ve studied for so long, but what if it doesn’t work out? What if--What if I don’t actually know anything and I crash and burn and--”

Atsumu shushes you gently, placing a few comforting kisses to your forehead. He notices your breathing beginning to grow heavier as your anxiety takes over. There's a few moments of silence as you try to match your breathing to his, the two of you taking slow, deep breaths in sync.

“The future might be unsure and stressful, but I know you’re going to do your best and make it work. All you can do is continue to work towards your goals and handle everything as it comes. Not to mention, I’m always going to be here to remind you of how strong you are even if you don’t see it.”

A new wave of tears begins as his words echo through your ears. You bury your face in his chest as your arms wrap around his waist in an attempt to pull yourself as close to him as you physically can be. Somehow he knew exactly what you needed to hear and a part of you wonders if he’s ever repeated those sentiments to himself when things felt unsure.

He continues to whisper reassurances as you fully relax against him, your tears finally beginning to dry up. You lift your head and offer him a weak smile.

“Thanks for letting me cry on your abs,” you sniffle, allowing yourself to truly laugh.

Atsumu feels lighter as he watches you smile and joke, hopefully being able to forget about the more stressful parts of life for a while as he holds you close. There’s been countless times where you eased his worries about the future, so he’s just happy that he can return the favor and create a safe space where you’re allowed to simply be.

OIKAWA

The cup in your hand is warm and comforting as you trudge towards your bedroom, a sense of dread washing over you as soon as your eyes land upon the laptop you left sitting open on the bed. With finals coming up, you thought it would be a good idea to transfer the notes you had written down during lectures onto your computer, figuring it would make them easier to access and that the process of going back through the information would be a good way to ensure you remember the material.

What you didn’t realize, however, is how absolutely time consuming and exhausting it was going to be. Your neck hurts from constantly looking back and forth between the paper and computer screen, your back hurts because somewhere along the way you abandoned any semblance of healthy posture and decided to go full cave gremlin in the way you hunched over your work, and instead of absorbing the information for a second time it seemed as if your brain had completely abandoned you and gone on autopilot. Shoving the computer off the bed and taking a nap feels like the best course of action right now, but you know if you stop now there’s no way you’re going to want to finish later.

Begrudgingly, you settle back onto the bed and take a large swig of coffee before stretching your fingers and placing them back on the keyboard. It couldn’t take that much longer right? All you have to do is push through and get it done.

And, for the next few hours, that’s what you do. You jump back in where you left off and race through the next few, gruelingly long chapters. The daylight outside quickly dwindles away until you’re forced to turn on the bedside lamp when you realize the sun has sunk far below the horizon and is beginning to cast bizarre shadows around the room. It was no bother, though, because you’re so close to being done. The issue is that neither your brain nor your body could keep up anymore.

Your fingers keep hitting the wrong keys, typing made up words that have you constantly backspacing and starting sentences over again for a third of even a fourth time. The breaking point comes when you go to take a sip of your now cold coffee and look back at the screen after attempting to type an entire paragraph from your notes in one go. Little did you know your finger placement was off, yet again, and the entire paragraph is an unreadable mess that even spell check doesn’t want to touch.

The tears that sting your eyes make you feel stupid. It was entirely too dumb to cry over something as superficial as misspellings that could be easily fixed and cold coffee. But once the tears start they won’t stop. Suddenly, you’re not crying over the notes or even school work in general. You’re crying about the crushing weight of change that's soon to come once you finish with classes and how impossible everything has begun to feel.

You’re too exhausted to focus on anything anymore, letting the hot tears run down your cheeks freely, which is why you don’t hear the rushed footsteps of your boyfriend who could hear your hiccuping breaths from down the hall.

He doesn’t say anything when he sees you curled up on the bed, your face buried in your arms. Oikawa sits on the ground closest to you and lays his head near yours as he begins to run his slender fingers through your hair. It doesn't take a psychic to tell you've been stressed with the quickly approaching exams, and from the collection of notes littered all around to the half closed computer the dots practically connect themselves.

The slight dip on the bed near your head alerts you to his presence, but you don't move. His hands guiding themselves over your scalp is quick to relax your body, but your mind feels like it's about to burst any moment as the thoughts continue to race.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers against your temple, planting soft kisses after every word, “and you deserve to take a break. Remember when you used to have to tell me that all the time?" The feeling of his quiet laughter against your skin makes you smile, along with the memories of simpler times before either of you had barely begun to grasp how harsh the world could be.

"I picked up dinner for us, it was an apology for coming home late," he admits, kissing the top of your head. "But let's go heat it up and you can either tell me everything you're worried about or we can try to forget all about it for now and watch a movie. I'd really like it if you talked about it eventually, though. I know I'm not going to be able to fix it all, but that doesn't mean I can't try."

You turn your head to the side, exposing your tear stained cheeks that are quickly wiped away by Oikawa's calloused thumbs.

"I will," you say, voice heavy. "For now could you just hold me?" There isn't a second of hesitation as Oikawa slips his arms beneath your figure and presses you tightly against him.

"Movie it is," he announces, laying you on the couch with the remotes so that you could put on whatever you want. Your brain would never stop the constant anxious thoughts, but losing yourself in those chocolate brown eyes made it easy to imagine a future where it all works out somehow. Little do you know, Oikawa sees the same thing reflected in your eyes as he wonders about the right time, perhaps a couple years from now when you've both settled down in your careers, when he can finally buy that ring he's been looking at.

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pinkandgreenarepurpleandyellow · 2 years

Text

Semi-coherent ramble on Skull leadership

Ok so retroactively I take back my 'Kevin is an og' hc, the way they talk about him in Silent Night just doesn't add up with that.

To start with, there's this bit.

Now, notice the following details: a) there's no proper confirmation that he'd "been blooded" (whatever the hell that means, I'm assuming some more official type of fight), and he's sent three kids the infirmary (I suppose four, given the guy they're currently beating up at that point in the story). Why is this relevant?

It's established that pretty much everyone long-term has a decent record with fights. Now, it's also mentioned that Donovan has a few scraps under his belt with the Leopards

but there's also this very specific bit that stands out to me. Donovan is a self-described "nobody" in the prison because he's not affiliated with any gangs. At the same time, it's established that the gangs are frequently fighting until the cave-in, so it makes sense that after five years, Donovan still has significantly fewer fights than the average gang kids would. (Background it's established that one of the newest Leopard recruits already has several knife wounds on his face, despite being new enough that Donovan has no recognition of the kid).

So why does Kevin, so frequently described as a psychopath, and also the guy who is second in command at the main gang, have such a low kill/maim count? Two options:

He's a coward. Not impossible, but pretty unlikely, especially given how Ambrose backs his violence most of the time and it's canon that even the Skull leader himself fears Kevin's bloodlust.

He's relatively new.

Given the combination of rumors and position, I'd pin his arrival sometime in between a month and half a year ago. The low kill count would suggest more recent arrival, but position and the fact that there could be plenty of non/semi-lethal fights also factor in and probably give at least a few months. This may also explain some of their interactions.

Why does Kevin join the Skulls then, if he's new and extremely violent? Why not just kill whoever he wants?

Probably because of the above bit. Most of the tough kids join the Skulls because as tough as one guy can be, he can't really hold against a whole gang (Solitary gives us that 50 or so inmates went for the break and most of them were Skulls, so factoring in the ones who were there in Death Sentence the gang's numbers are ballpark low-mid 30s minimum). Kevin would probably have joined from both that and the fact that as a Skull, he gets to unleash that violence on other inmates.

Now I turn to Death Sentence for pining down a second Skull's rep. Specifically, Bodie. (Note: For this part, I do have the book with me and open to the pages, but I'm too lazy to type out the full quote and low-key I'm not sure I am even gonna be able to transcribe word for word bc I have not been sleeping "healthy" amounts.)

Bodie is established right off the bat in book 3 as a respected inmate when he manages to kill the entire prison riot's urge to off Alex and Simon with exactly one shot. The fact that he's "standing between [Alex] and the crowd" (174) to do so puts him directly into the line of fire (including from his own) and establishes his stance quickly. All of the inmates stop immediately and back off when he says they'll answer to him for killing the two.

The very next thing we learn is that Bodie speaks with "a lazy drawl that nevertheless carried an icy authority," (174). Silent Night had established that Kevin has a notoriously short temper and frequently targets the new fish.

(Brief tangent, but this for me adds to the theory that Kevin himself is fairly new here. He hasn't been around long enough to be respected properly by the old-time inmates but he can intimidate them with violence and cow the new fish into submission early on so they think he's always been here and always will be.)

Bodie does not do that. He doesn't need his lieutenants to grab anyone, or to yell directly in someone's face, to get attention. His phrasing is also decently important here, cause he establishes he understands what the others are feeling but that Alex and Simon are not to be hurt.

The fact that over a hundred inmates, many of whom are down there for legitimate crimes (Silent Night's epilogue establishes the framing of the newest inmates is a contrast to their usual intake) are all listening to Bodie almost instantly is a sign of actual respect and not fear. Fear would have been them ignoring the shotgun or simply killing Bodie and continuing their destruction.

Past that, there's the thing he says right after Alex misses on the first hit.

"You want another shot or you wanna let the professionals do it?" (183). Now that's not a great time-gauger, but Alex was in gen pop for I believe six weeks minimum (approx 1 week pre-first blood watch, about a week between that and the 'a month at most, if we're lucky' line, and then the month of prep) so I'm guessing 'professionals' means several months to years worth of experience, probably at least a year given that it's primarily gang kids working at the door in the moment.

The other big time marker I have so far is the unofficial funeral Bodie gives to the dead Skull and Fifty-Niner. "Knew them both from the street, soldiers then and always," (195). The odds of Bodie having known two different guys from two different gangs on the surface, and recognizing them if they were sent down at different times are low, as are the odds of the three of them ending up in the Furnace around the same time for any reason other than a gang war. When was the biggest gang war, you ask? The Summer of Slaughter, aka five years ago. At a minimum, this gives the knowledge that Bodie knew both of the inmates for a while, long enough to consider them men instead of kids and to remember them on the street, so it makes the most sense to think he's an og.

During his speech, there's the iconic bit we all remember about the them that say being the ones who get ended by them that play. But right before that we get " 'Yous all know the rules of the street,' Bodie went on. 'Well, those of yous who're in here 'cause of the game, that is," (211) which seems a helluva lot more like a line from someone who was involved in the game than an audience member.

Now with all that in mind, why did Ambrose choose Kevin as a lieutenant?

I'd say there's a handful of factors but the two biggest ones I can think of are dynamic and bloodlust.

Typically the best way to balance out leadership is actually contrasting personality. If one person is reasonable and the other is barely restraining their bloodlust, it's surprisingly effective as both an intimidation tactic and as enforcement. I have no doubt that if Donovan had pissed off Ambrose, he would have sent in Kevin.

Bodie and Ambrose are a bit too similar in the sense that they're relatively laid back, although from the descriptions we get of both (admittedly rather lacking) put Ambrose as a long-time fighter and violent person. But he's still more laid back than Kevin and putting the most insane kid available as his second-in-command adds to Ambrose's power more than Bodie would have.

(There's also the possibility that Ambrose didn't trust Bodie not to plan a coup or try to manipulate him, and thought that he'd be safe from that with Kevin but we never see them interact so this is complete speculation based solely on the line about how Bodie's been waiting to use his ability to persuade people of shit in the Furnace.)

But with all that being said, there is the possibility that Kevin joining wasn't just protection for him, but for Ambrose as well. From the way the events in the kitchen and the chipping room go down, Ambrose's offer to Donovan is based on both Donovan's potential use for the Skulls and the potential danger he could bring to the gang. Even if the kid standing up to the Skulls dies, it still sends a message to the other inmates of weakness.

Now instead of Donovan, who usually keeps to himself and avoids trouble with the Skulls when he can, substitute Kevin. There's a decent chance that he would have killed at least some of the Skulls, with Ambrose especially at risk as his cellmate. Inviting him in is a power play, placing Kevin under Ambrose on the hierarchy but still giving him a high position and relative authority. The intended outcome was most likely that Kevin's bloodlust would be redirected and Ambrose's position would be safe.

I suspect it's the conversations Ambrose has with Donovan in front of Kevin that changes this outcome.

Why would Kevin not want Donovan in the gang? There's a handful of reasons.

To start with, Donovan's an old-timer who already has an established reputation, even as a "nobody". Add in that it was his "idea" to off the Leopards via cave-in. Multiply by Adam and Ambrose having a certain level of passing familiarity (best guess would probably be they got along well enough in juvie but the slaughter crossed a moral line) and Donovan being big enough and strong enough to put up a good fight, even if he's overall a pacifist.

Kevin's thoughts are probably that Donovan joining shifts the dynamic. Ambrose would trust a prisoner who's been here longer more than he would Kevin, and Donovan has no bloodlust to speak of and prefers to avoid fights. This could mean loss of both power and violent outlets for Kevin.

Factor in the atmosphere of the Furnace. No one trusts anyone else properly. Friendships don't really exist most of the time. Everyone puts up a constant front to hide weakness.

The tree in Adam and Donovan's cell isn't just a little holiday thing, it's them pulling down the front and being vulnerable. Ambrose being even a little swayed by the tree is a sign of weakness. A sign that Kevin doesn't particularly like either way, and probably doesn't appreciate that it came from the same guy that Ambrose is already offering a place in the Skulls to, more than once. This could mean some major shifts in dynamic but more importantly, this weakens Ambrose's image in Kevin's eyes and therefore also weakens the respect and fear.

Clearly, the simplest way for Kevin to get things going his way are to kill Ambrose and take over the Skulls, who are unlikely to want revenge for that because of Furnace's rules about strengths and weaknesses. (The same reason they don't bother getting revenge for Kevin when Gary takes over). People who were here longer than him still know he's not above murdering all of them and new fish can easily be bullied into fear and obedience. (Separately, the way Ambrose and Kevin's beatdown of the new kid is described suggests that the usual hazing happens more naturally in the first few days, not with a welcome party the way Kevin did it, but that's also me really reaching so take that with some salt).

Then, why bring Bodie on as his lieutenant?

Probably because Bodie now balances the loose-canon and sanity dynamic. Bodie can handle messages, negotiations, and general maintenance and Kevin is free to keep up his reign of terror. Plus, Bodie's been in the Furnace for a long time and probably was an og Skull, so him obeying Kevin as leader (and not just as Ambrose's lieutenant) cements Kevin's new status.

Then, after Kevin is gone and Gary is gone and a decent chunk of the Skulls went off into Room Two and bit the bullet, who do the remaining Skulls turn to? The guy who's been here the longest, has some experience with being in charge under his belt, and isn't about to repeat Kevin's torture bits or Gary's full on psycho routine, ie Bodie.

This got really away from me but to sum up the concepts of my theory (tldr):

Kevin gets put as Ambrose's lieutenant despite being relatively new because a) it makes Ambrose look more powerful and b) puts Kevin firmly on the Skull's side.

Kevin obeys Ambrose while Ambrose is still sufficiently "strong" and the things he does/lets Kevin do are agreeable to Kevin.

Between the offer made to Donovan and the softening up around the tree, Kevin now thinks of Ambrose as sufficiently weak. It's easiest to kill Ambrose in his sleep, so Kevin does that.

With all of the lunatics gone, Bodie is now in charge in no small part because at this point everyone just wants relative normality and Bodie isn't constantly torturing people or insisting on killing for no reason, but can still maintain authority as an og inmate.

Two other bits of Silent Night I ended up using for references (aside from the ones above):

But yeah, this is my new lame-ass overthought concept and I have put waaaayyyyy too much faith in my ability to comprehend throwaway lines accurately

#escape from furnace #eff this #scattering braincelles #kevin arnold #gary owens #Ambrose pope #carl donovan #bodie #bodie (eff)#the skulls (eff)#leopards (eff)#worldbuilding #whole lotta thought for a whole lotta weird opinions in here but I am low-key proud of the attempted deep-dive here

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leviathans-normie · 4 years

Note

So, hi again! I didn't think I'd do this request but- aha Basically, can you do the bros with a MC that almost passed out for the first time in the Devildom? (Basically they don't pass out easily) it happened this morning to me and it was my first time so I didn't know what to do- I'm fine now btw

Holy- I'm sorry this took forever! And I'm sorry you went through that, hope you're better now. I've almost passed out quite a few times and it's awful. For everyone who hasn't gone through it, in case you're alone, sit down in the nearest place (preferable with shade/not a lot of sun) and when you can, drink some cold water.

I hope y'all are well and healthy and you won't need to go through that alone!

If it happens regularly/it was too severe/feel like there's a need, tell your doctor! I am no expert!!

I didn't have much inspiration for Satan ;-;

Warning: Depiction of fainting

THE BROTHERS SEEING MC PASSING OUT FOR THE FIRST TIME IN DEVILDOM

LUCIFER

→He isn't new to passing out because of work.

→In all honesty, he was so jealous that MC could handle everything while remaining perfectly healthy.

→So, you can imagine he was more than just shocked when MC just. Fell.

→Panik

→He dragged them on a couch and tried to put a bottle of cold water on their cheek.

→Their eyes were open, yet drowsy, and they were obviously unable to function.

→Their fingers lazily wrapped around the bottle.

→"Lucifer, I'm fine…"

→"Sure, and I'm best friends with Michael."

→He tried not to show how worried he was, but he basically did whatever he could.

→"How often has this happened MC? What am I supposed to do?"

→MC just shrugged. "it's a first.." they admitted, trying to get up and immediately feeling lightheaded.

→"You are not getting up. That's an order."

→Even after some time of this incident, Lucifer was still looking out for MC, even though he had no idea what to do to a human for this kind of situation.

MAMMON

→It all happened so fast, baby was so scared.

→One moment he was talking about whatever, and the next, MC was shaking and leaning back and forth with their body.

→"oi, MC? What are you-"

→They leaned and put their hands on his shoulders and chest to steady themselves.

→At first he thought they were faking it, as Levi had told him girls do in anime.

→But when he glanced at their face and they were white as a sheet? Boi was scared shitless.

→"MC WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WHY ARE YOU WHITE, HUMANS AIN'T SUPPOSED TO BE THAT PALE, ARE THEY, WHAT IS HAPPENING-"

→One of the other brothers heard the screaming and sat down MC. But then said brother left Mammon alone to deal with MC.

→Fucking prick.

→He went to grab some water and just… gave it to them.

→After a while MC was fine, but Mammon wasn't.

→"YOU CAN'T JUST SCARE ME LIKE THAT, HUMAN!"

→But at least he now knows what to do. Sorta.

LEVIATHAN

→He was ranting about his favourite anime in his room.

→he then noticed MC's face getting pale, but thought nothing of it.

→Not until they leaned forward and pressed their head on the crook of his neck for support

→Levithan.exe has stopped working, please restart your computer.

→"W-W-What a-are you d-doing, MC…?"

→"I'm not feeling well…" they mumbled.

→Oh no.png

→He tried to force them into his tank. Water helps in this situation, right?

→Yet again, they were almost unconscious. They would not be able to swim.

→So he just took water with his tail and threw water at them while lightly slapping their face.

→Ayo, Levi, what the fuck?

→MC came to her senses quickly, only to find Levi freaking out.

→"Levi I didn't even fully pass out.."

→"IrReLeVaNt!"

→Please help him, he's so lost.

SATAN

→He knew a fare share of things about it.

→So even if MC had no idea what to do, he gots their back.

→They didn't even manage to say anything, he had already sat them down and pushed a cold towel on their forehead.

→Brining them water, he sat on their side until the room stopped spinning for them.

→We stan.

ASMODEUS

→They were casually walking.

→Window-shopping, shit-talking, all that good stuff Asmo and MC did together.

→As they stopped dead in their tracks, Asmo gave them a worried look.

→"Honey!" he yelled as he saw their fave white as a sheet.

→Stumbling forward and holding onto him, they mumbled incoherent stuff.

→He got them somewhere to sit down.

→"Darling, you okay?!"

→Yeah, he didn't get much of a reply.

→After some agonisingly long minutes, they finally seemed to come back to their senses.

→"Oh, you're not dead!"

→"Water," they just responded.

→All ended well, but now Asmo always carries a water bottle. Just in case.

BEELZEBUB

→He didn't know what was happening.

→It was as sudden for him as it was for MC.

→They were casually eating food, chatting the day away.

→That's until MC put their hand on the counter.

→Their face seemed a bit paler.

→Beel was very concerned. He furrowed his eyebrows.

→"MC?" he called out, some food still in his mouth.

→Neither of them knew how to react, so he just silently panicked, while also texting his brothers.

→After the gave him some info on what was going on, he put the hot food away, and gave them some cold water.

→Everything went smoothly from there, but he was really concerned.

→Even after the whole ordeal, he still was a bit cautious. He wanted to make sure he knew what to do instantly, instead of waiting for his brothers to help like a lost puppy.

BELPHEGOR

→He was actually awake, searching for MC to cuddle.

→He saw them talking to someone, a small spark of jealousy forming in him.

→Yet it disappeared instantly when they saw MC leaning back and forth.

→Going quickly to their aid, he laid them down on a couch.

→Man was this close to cuddling, but decided to give them space.

→He was wondering whether they were dying.

→"I didn't kill them, did I? Oh fuck what if I did?"

→After a while, someone more knowledgeable noticed, and helped them out.

→Soon, MC was back to their normal self, even though a bit dizzy.

→He was so relieved they were actually alive.

→They tried getting up from the couch, but nope.

→That was as far as his kindness went.

→Now, they were obligated to cuddle for worrying him.

→Sorry, hun, I don't make the rules.

→Not that anyone complained

#obey me #obey me swd #om beelzebub #om leviathan #obey me headcanons #om lucifer #om satan #om mammon #om belphegor #om asmodeus #om brothers #obey me one master to rule them all #headcanons

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kerie-prince · 3 years

Text

the memory of you pt. 1

Gilderoy Lockhart x Healer!reader

requested: (anon) Omg thank you! If you want to write any kind of Lockhart scenario that suggests NSFW stuff then I'd totally be cool with whatever you come up with 😊 thanks again so much! ❤️

warnings: none

summary: After helping Gilderoy deal with his memory loss and get him out of St. Mungo's, you couldn't help but fall for his charm once more when he finds you on the streets of London.

a/n: I THOUGHT I QUEUED THIS 💀 i sat here at work thinking 'damn, no one liked my post? k 😭' anyways, i'm gonna break this into two parts before it gets too long lmao. bold italics are flashbacks

(gif not mine, cred to owner)

You worked with a certain celebrity for quite a while now. He was brought in one day without knowing who he was, where he came from, and how he ended up in a weird cave. His residence at St. Mungo’s where you worked lasted for a while. Other Healers declared that there was no way to recover his memory, but he didn’t seem to mind. Gilderoy was perfectly content with being happy and healthy even if he didn't know what was going on.

He was so sweet. Never gave you or any of your colleagues any trouble. He took his potions with ease, didn't make a fuss when bringing him from one room to another, and held conversations as normal. His family would visit him on occasion and it pained you to watch him not know them. But overall, he was happy.

After two years at St. Mungos, Gilderoy was let go considering that even though his memories were gone, he had enough mental stability to be out in public. Gilderoy had to go to a private academy to re-learn magic basics in adult classes. You remember the night before he left.

“So nice to start my life tomorrow,” Gilderoy had his signature smile on. He ate his dinner on his own without the help of Healers.

“Your life has already started, you just don't remember is all,” you corrected. You were preparing his bed for the last time. Since it's his last night, you were able to grab an extra pillow for him to be comfortable.

“Yes, but tomorrow I'll start a life I can remember. I'll make new memories.” Gilderoy stood up from his small table and walk to his hospital bed. He always loved the way you prepared his bed. How you fluffed the pillow, folded the blankets back neatly, and made sure the bed was warm. It wasn't special treatment as you did it for all patients, but he appreciated it all the same.

“Good night, Miss Y/L/N,” he said.

“Good night, Mr. Lockhart,” you replied.

Two years later, you're still working at St. Mungos. You've seen patients come and go since then. None quite as cooperative as Gilderoy, but they weren't all bad either.

The London streets were busy as usual today. It was slightly cloudy, but luckily it wasn't raining. And thank Merlin because you didn't have an umbrella with you. Cabs were driving right past you as you stood by the sidewalk trying to catch one. Once one stopped in front of you and you were about to climb in, another hand also grabbed for the handle. “Miss Y/L/N?”

Gilderoy stood next to you, eyes gleaming and wore his charming smile. He looked as happy as he always did. “Mr. Lockhart, hello.” It was a pleasant run in, and you'd love to chat but you had to be at work soon. It seemed that he noticed your uniform as well. “Oh, go ahead. I'll call for another one.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lockhart.” You opened the door but before you could close it, Gilderoy said one last thing. “I hope to see you again!” He waved at you as you left and kept at it until you were out of sight.

His wish was granted three months later; he was walking around the same street for probably the 4th time that week. He wasn't ashamed to admit that after that day he ran into you, he wanted to see you again. You were with a couple of friends at a pub one night celebrating a proper weekend off. Gilderoy followed you in, a bit of people that recognized him stopped him to say ‘hi’ but of course, he doesn't know them. They were fans of his before the memory loss. They took a few pictures and he went walking after you. You were seen sitting at a bar table by yourself waiting for your friends to come back from the restroom.

Gilderoy walked up to you slowly, “Hello, Miss Y/L/N.” You recognized him and by pure habit, you gave him your work smile and voice, “Good evening, Mr. Lockhart.”

“Please, call me Gilderoy,” he requested.

“Gilderoy,” you reached your hand out to shake his, “you can call me Y/N.” His smile changed, not one that you've seen in magazines and papers, but a more humble one. His cheeks became a bit rosy and he looked like he was flustered. “So, how have you been?” he asked. You took a quick sip of the water that was on the table before continuing the conversation, “I’ve been good! Just been working all the time. How about you? I bet so many great things have been going with you?”

“Not really. Since I didn't know much about my life before I was admitted in, I didn't know where to start. So I lived with my mother for a while, but now I’m on my own.” Seeing Gilderoy be so humble was a sight to see. A once self-centered, proud man has turned into a sweet, kind one. You almost wanted to thank whoever did this to him, not knowing it was actually Gilderoy who had accidentally done this to myself. “Well, are you working right now?” you asked him.

“No, I don’t really have anything to offer,” he looked down.

“That’s not true, you…” you stopped to think about what it was that Gilderoy could do. And unfortunately, it wasn't much. When word had gone out that he had actually stolen credit for all the things he had claimed to have done, people wondered if he was good at anything.

Gilderoy laughed at your blank expression. You felt bad. “Well, I’m sure you’re good at something.” You patted his shoulder gently across the table. Your friends came back from the restroom after what felt like twenty minutes. “Oh! It’s Gilderoy Lockhart, so nice to meet you,” each of them shook his hand. “What brings you here?”

Suddenly, he was embarrassed to say that he was spending weeks trying to find you. “Oh, I was just around. I walked inside and recognized Y/N. Thought I’d say hello,” he felt a bit nervous at that moment. “Well I best be going. I don't want to intrude. Have a good evening.” Gilderoy was about to leave until one of your friends called out for him, “No, stay! I’m sure Y/N would love to catch up with you, isn't that right?” You weren't sure if it would be appropriate to hang out with a former patient. Sure, it’s been a couple years since then, but you've never had any patients become even acquaintances, let alone friends. But the look in Gilderoy’s eyes that were basically begging you to say ‘yes’ hit something in you. “If you’re not doing anything else tonight, I'm sure we would like your company tonight.”

Gilderoy was funnier than he seemed to be. Being one of the Healers that worked with him for nearly four years, you never knew about this. He was telling the story of the first time he had used the levitation spell during his adult classes and he accidentally made his professor levitate and not the inanimate object on the table. Slightly tipsy, you and your friends laughed so hard trying to picture the situation. Gilderoy said he panicked and when he tried to let him down, the professor fell from ten feet in the air on his head and passed out. Luckily, he wasn't kicked out to the class but it was certainly something the professor never let him live down.

By the end of the night, your friends had gotten plastered and left for home. You were fine; your tipsy state was gone. You made sure your friends were set in the cab and told the cabbie their addresses. Gilderoy stood behind you and watched as you took care of your friends. It was different than when you worked, but it brought back memories when you took care of him.

When the cab drove off, you turned to look at the blond man. “Well, it was great seeing you, Mr. Lock– Gilderoy,” you quickly corrected yourself. You nodded and started walking down the street before he called for you again. “W-would you like to take a walk?” You thought about it, the same thought from earlier. But you've already shared a few drinks with him, so a walk wouldn't hurt. The sky was clear and although the stars were faint, there were a couple large ones that you could point out. You walked in silence for a couple minutes until you spoke up, “The weather’s nice.” He nodded quietly. It wasn't odd for him, but it was for you. It was odd to see him not as talkative as he used to be. You supposed that when you have your memories wiped, your personality could be affected as well. But he was still somewhat himself when he was a patient, so this change must have happened in the past two years. You hoped that nothing bad happened in that time.

It was getting later and later, but something about Gilderoy was different and you liked being around this sort of new him. He’s more inviting compared to how he was when he was a celebrity. The feeling of it being weird with him outside of work was gone, and something else started. You wanted to get to know him as a person again.

You checked the time on your wristwatch and decided that you should head home eventually. “It was nice seeing you tonight. I hope to see you again,” you grinned. His eyes lit up as he looked at you, “I would love that. Maybe we can have tea sometime?”

“I’d like that. Goodnight, Gilderoy.”

“Good night, Y/N.” He signaled a cab for you and like he did the last time, he waved until he couldn't see you anymore.

—

requests open!

#gilderoy lockhart #gilderoy lockhart imagine #requested #requests open #gilderoy lockhart fluff #gilderoy lockhart smut #gilderoy lockhart x reader #gilderoy lockhart x you #gilderoy lockhart x y/n

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spicycreativity · 3 years

Text

Howl- Ch. 3

Chapter: 3/10

Add'l Notes: Fic is posted in full on my AO3, WizardGlick

Chapter content warnings: Depictions of alcohol use

“Nothing,” Remus pronounced. His breath ghosted over Virgil’s ear and he shuddered, pulling away so he could look Remus in the face. Remus was still in his work clothes and he smelled, not wholly unpleasantly, of sweat and dirty water.

“Nothing?” Virgil ran his pointer fingers behind both ears, just barely resisting the urge to dig in with his nails and see for himself, dammit.

“I think you’d know if aliens had stuck a tracking chip in your head,” Remus said, his own fingers dancing across the countertop toward the basket of enamel pins by the register.

Virgil ran his fingertips across his temples, still feeling for something, some marking or scar. “But if it wasn’t aliens...”

“Far be it from me to be the voice of reason,” Remus said, “but are we sure you weren’t just sleepwalking? Or high on peyote?"

Virgil continued to track Remus' fingers as he stuck his hand in the basket. "If you steal anything, it comes out of my paycheck." Not strictly true, but it would make Remus pause.

"I wasn't gonna steal!" Remus exclaimed, holding up his hands. "But now I kinda want to."

"Please don't." Virgil sighed and put his face in his hands. He'd noticed a strange metallic taste in his mouth after waking up properly, and even the desperate mouthfuls of Monster he'd been forcing down his throat couldn't seem to touch it. It hadn't touched his exhaustion much, either. Whatever Virgil had been up to last night had not been a restful activity.

"Oh, c'mon, don't freak out." Remus' hand sat heavy on Virgil's shoulder, warming him through the thin fabric of his Baphomet t-shirt. "You were probably just sleepwalking. It happens all the time. Roman used to sleepwalk all over the place when we were kids. One time we even found him asleep in the yard. Naked, just like you."

Virgil peeked over his fingertips. "Really?" Remus was not the type to lie to make someone feel better, but this story seemed a little far-fetched.

"I swear," Remus said, eyes wide with childish solemnity.

The only customer in the store stepped up to pay, and Remus stepped aside to let Virgil deal with them. He made faces behind their back, contorted himself into absurdly sexual poses and stuck out his tongue and wiggled his hips like Elvis in his prime. Virgil pursed his lips to keep from laughing. It had been a hard decision to ask Remus for help with this, but Virgil was glad he had chosen him.

Patton was a big softie and nearly as prone to panic as Virgil was. If he didn't escalate Virgil's paranoia about aliens then he would probably end up pressuring Virgil to make a police report. A useless endeavor, since no crime had actually occurred as far as Virgil knew. Roman and Janus would just make fun of him for being a tin foil hat-wearing loony. And Logan… Well. He might judge. He might not. But Virgil didn't want to look stupid in front of him. Not to mention that Logan would ask questions, force Virgil to face something he wasn't ready to face.

So Remus it was.

"Thank you," Virgil said when the customer had left and Remus had stopped gyrating his hips. "I know I'm being dumb and it was probably nothing."

"Janus isn't here right now," Remus said, pouring out the basket of enamel pins. They scattered and clicked across the countertop. "But if he was, I think he'd say--" Remus shifted his weight and crossed his arms, "'Now what did we say about negative self talk?'"

Virgil chose not to remind Remus that Bienvenue was only a few blocks away and he could easily go get Janus if he wanted. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I know it wasn't aliens."

"But if it was peyote, you do have to share," Remus said, his attention already back on the pins. He poked through them with one dirty fingertip.

Virgil watched for a moment, then joined in, turning the pins to face Remus so he could get a good look at them. Remus seemed particularly fixated on one shaped like a death's head moth. "That one's six dollars."

Remus braced his elbows on the counter and clasped his hands under his chin, lashes aflutter. "You know how you could repay me for checking your skull for alien trackers?"

Virgil nearly reached for his wallet before he realized what Remus was actually getting at. He sighed, biting back his smile all the while, and made a show of turning to inspect the rotating sticker display. "Uh-oh," he said in an exaggerated monotone. "I'd better make sure all the stickers are properly organized. Gee, I sure hope no one shoplifts while I'm doing that."

There was a brief moment of silence. It was broken when Remus, presumably done pocketing the pin, said, "So bowling night?"

"Huh?" said Virgil, trying to find the dirty joke. Maybe something about balls?

Remus pulled his phone out of the pocket of his work pants and shook it at Virgil. "Pastor Patton's little group bonding venture?"

"Don't call him that," Virgil muttered, digging his phone out of his pocket. Sure enough, of the messages he'd been ignoring all morning, one was a new group chat. He read through the messages. "How did Patton get your number?"

"Roman gave it to him."

"How'd he get Janus' number?"

Remus grinned. "I gave it to him. No way am I suffering through some corny adult bonding shit without backup."

"Am I not backup?" Virgil asked, unsure whether he should be offended.

"You can't be backup," Remus said dismissively. "You're the bridge. You forced me 'n' Roman to reunite, you made us all hang out. You're the bridge. You won't be as mean as I need you to be."

"I'm mean!" Virgil said. "I'm so mean!"

"Say something bitchy about Patton right now. Quickly!" Remus began to snap his fingers.

"Um," said Virgil. "Uh. Sometimes-- Well, sometimes he can be kinda… Smother-y?"

"Oh, please." Remus rolled his eyes. "That was almost healthy communication."

"Fine." Virgil crossed his arms over his chest.

Remus let him pretend to be upset for roughly three seconds. "But you are coming, right? Or are you gonna spend the night playing with Data's joystick?"

Virgil's cheeks went hot. "Of course I'm com--" He paused and reconsidered his choice of words. "Of course I'll be there. And Logan will, too."

"Wonder if I can start a betting pool," Remus said thoughtfully.

The bells on the door tinkled and Virgil leaned over to see past Remus. "Hi, welcome in," he said in his best customer service voice, which wasn't very good. "Let me know if I can help you find anything."

"Just browsing."

"Alright."

"Well," said Remus, affixing the moth pin to his hi-vis vest. "See you tonight?"

"Yeah," said Virgil. "Please be nice to Patton."

Remus winked and started to back out. "Sorry! Hazing is mandatory."

He slipped out the door, leaving Virgil to marinate in his anxiety.

Although he was exhausted, Virgil went for a short walk after work. He wandered by Bienvenue and stared at the fancy suits in the window and wondered how Janus always had the audacity to dress like he was attending a funeral at a high-end night club. His feet took him forward and he smiled a little. If there was one thing Janus had in abundance, it was audacity.

He stopped again by the reflecting pool at the Plaza and read the plaque. It had very little information and devoted barely half a sentence to the supposed curse. A shiver ran down Virgil's spine. He took a deep breath and carefully did not panic. As Logan would say, he shouldn't jump to conclusions. He needed more data.

Virgil didn't want more data. He would happily chalk his misadventure up to sleepwalking and banish it forcefully to his subconscious, if only it would never, ever happen again. He shivered again despite the balmy weather and muffled a yawn behind his hand. Time to go home and get whatever sleep he could before the inevitable disaster of bowling night.

He managed to get home without hitting any potholes. Whatever stormy weather had threatened Vaillant earlier in the week seemed to have passed, and he was treated to a spectacular view of a great blue heron flying low over the road. He even managed a few hours of sleep before he had to wake up and get ready.

He chose his outfit with care, scrutinizing it through Logan's eyes. What would Logan like? What did Logan like? Virgil had no idea about his preference in men or how he slotted into it. Was it his height? His body shape? His eyes? What should he play up to make Logan like him? So Logan wouldn't regret choosing to be with him?

He dithered over this until he made himself late, and chose an outfit that he felt good in: long sleeves, long pants, the reassuring weight of his hoodie on his shoulders.

He kept it zipped up to his neck even after he entered the warmth and light of Vaillant's singular bowling alley, Gator Lanes. His friends were already seated. Waiting. For him.

Despite the wash of guilt, Virgil slowed and surveyed the scene. Patton and Logan sat on one of the low, pleather couches with a pair of bowling shoes between them. That left Roman, Remus, and Janus wedged on the other couch. They all looked like they were getting along, which was good. Roman and Remus were speed-eating French fries while the others talked.

Virgil approached from the back, gesturing for Patton and Logan to be quiet. He didn't miss the way Logan's eyes lit up; it sent a pleasant little rush of adrenaline all through his veins. When he was close enough, he leaned over and stole the pineapple off the rim of Janus' hurricane glass. It was dyed red from grenadine and tasted vaguely of rum.

"It's fine," said Janus, casually flipping Virgil the bird. "I wasn't saving that or anything."

"Guess you'll have to get another one," Remus said.

They started bickering about how drunk was too drunk for bowling night, so Virgil came around to Patton and Logan's side of the table. He kissed Logan hello while Patton explained about the shoes: "They were out of your size, so I got a size down instead of up, because I know you wear those really thin socks and I didn't want you to slip."

"Thanks, Pat," Virgil said. His hand found Logan's, somehow, and he smiled. "I wouldn't have put that much thought into it."

"That's why you have me!"

"Can we start now?" Roman asked, wiggling in place.

Patton stood up to fiddle with the control, and Virgil forced himself to nuzzle Logan's jawline with his nose. He wanted to do it, but the idea of being witnessed while he did so made his skin crawl.

Logan turned his head so they were nose-to-nose and smiled before pulling away. "Do you want me to order you a drink? We were going to, but we weren't sure what you'd want."

Roman threw a straw wrapper at them. "We're just about to start!"

"You're up second, too," Patton said cheerfully, flopping back down on the couch. "I put us in alphabetical order."

"I'll go, then," Virgil said. He squeezed Logan's hand and let go of it, stood.

"Don't forget to put your bowling shoes on," Janus said, eying Virgil's ratty leather ankle boots. Janus himself had somehow done the impossible and matched the colors of his suit to the dull red and blue of Gator Lanes' bowling shoes, making his whole outfit look deliberately tacky.

"When I get back."

"I'll go with you!" Roman got to his feet. "I already know I'm gonna lose. What's one more drink?"

"That's the spirit!" Remus said.

"Ha," said Patton, "I get it."

They turned to go, Roman bumping Virgil with his hip to prompt him forward. "So you and Logan, huh?" he said once they were out of earshot. "How's that going?"

"Fine," Virgil said, feeling the blush crawl onto his face. It was a short walk to the bar, but it suddenly seemed like miles and miles.

"You sure keep things close to your chest, don't you? Didn't say a word to me." Roman crossed his arms and looked sideways at him.

"I didn't think I had a chance!" Virgil exclaimed. "Wait. Did he say something to you?"

Roman winked at him, shushed him, and bellied up to the bar so he could order. Virgil hung back, one hand on his wallet, but Roman waved a hand. "Janus has a tab going," he said, turning back to Virgil.

"Does Janus know he has a tab going?" Virgil asked.

"Uh, yeah, it's not like I stole his card."

"It's not you I'm worried about," Virgil said, thinking of Remus and the moth pin.

"Ugh, you worry too much."

"This shouldn't be news to you, Roman, I have 'Worry Too Much' Disorder." Virgil flicked at his zipper pull. "Wait, so did Logan say anything to you?"

Roman smiled, even laughed a little. "Uh, yeah, he practically asked me and Patton for permission to ask you out. He made us promise not to tell you. Honestly, it was kinda cute how nervous he was."

"Nervous?" Virgil repeated. It was obvious now, but it hadn't occurred to him that Logan had lost just as much sleep over Virgil as Virgil had over him.

A harried-looking bartender popped up behind Roman, slid their drinks over, and vanished again practically before Virgil could force out a 'thank you.' Roman passed him his vodka Red Bull. "Let's go."

"Alright." Virgil sighed. It was probably better not to try to wring the details out of Roman, especially since he'd said that Logan had told him not to tell.

They reached their lane and he scooted in next to Logan, snuggling up a lot closer than was necessary, especially given that Patton was currently up to bowl. "Welcome back," Logan said.

Virgil set his drink on the table and began to change his shoes over. "Having fun yet?" he asked Janus. He was still a little resentful that Remus and Janus didn't think he could be mean anymore. Just because he didn't want to shit-talk Patton behind his back. Sure, Remus had been the one to say it, but Virgil had no doubt the sentiment originated with Janus.

"Sure, I guess there's a sort of primal thrill in hurling a 14-pound ball at a target," Janus said primly.

"10 pounds," Logan said.

Virgil bit down on his lip to hide his smile.

"I'm sorry?" Janus tilted his head.

Logan gestured at the bright yellow ball sitting in the ball return. "10 pounds, not 14." Patton's ball came back, followed shortly thereafter by Patton. "16 pounds," Logan said.

"Pat's strong," Virgil said, elbowing Patton as he sat down. Janus bit down on an ice cube. "By the way," said Virgil, feeling a spark of pure evil manifest inside himself. "Have you guys made cutting boards yet?" To Janus, he said, "It's kind of a tradition."

"I'd heard," Janus said, shooting him a covert dirty look.

Virgil smiled at him and turned to Patton. "Janus would rather die than say so, but I can tell he's excited."

"Oh, good!" Patton said. To Janus, he said "I was actually a little worried you wouldn't want to do it."

Virgil's killing strike was delayed slightly by Remus' reappearance and Roman's subsequent disappearance, and he knew he had to act quickly or Janus would wiggle out of it when Virgil was taking his turn. Remus finally sat and stopped crowing about his spare, which no one had witnessed. Virgil pounced. "Bienvenue is closed on Sundays, isn't it?" he said to Janus, as though the shop hadn't kept the same hours for years. "Maybe you guys could do it then."

"The weather should be clear, too," Logan chimed in. Virgil looked at him, trying to gauge if he had picked up on the game, but his face gave nothing away.

"Works for me!" Patton said. "I'm putting the finishing touches on a coffee table for somebody down south, but I can make time on Sunday."

"Great," said Janus with a plastic smile Virgil knew he usually reserved for difficult customers. The daggers in his eyes promised a thorough bitching-out later, but Virgil didn't even care. So he wasn't mean anymore, hm?

"All you," said Roman, tapping Virgil on the shoulder.

Virgil nodded and took a long swallow of his vodka Red Bull. It was stupid, but walking up to bowl always felt like walking out on stage. He knew full well none of his friends were paying attention and even if they were, their friendly teasing was nothing to worry about. They knew when to stop. But still, his heart quivered as he approached the lane. By sheer luck, he managed not to get a gutter ball, then turned and hovered awkwardly as he waited for his ball to come back.

Logan caught his eye and winked at him, not even pausing in his explanation of the physics of bowling. Virgil smiled back, and suddenly everything seemed that much lighter, that much more bearable. He really had to stop worrying so much.

#ik the aesthetic boards are reminiscent of mid 2000s livejournal fic covers but whatever it's camp and i like doing it #sanders sides #analogical #virgil sanders #spicywrites #spicywrites howl

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accidentally-a-writer · 5 years

Note

Ohhhhhh I will never, ever get tired of reading your whump stuff! That list is amazing! I'd like to see something with poison and hallucination with a side of blackmail? I could see maybe Hamilton eating/drinking something poisonous intended for Washington (or even worse Washington gave it to him as a thank you/good job), and he has to try to bargain with the enemy for a supposed antidote...

“Sir?” Washington looked up from his supper at the uncharacteristically shaky voice of his aide. Worry furrowed his brow as he watched the boy sway.

Then, he collapsed.

“Hamilton!” The general rushed from his place at the table, kneeling next to the fallen boy. He was convulsing and unresponsive. “Someone get help.” George looked around at the callous and unmoving forms of their hosts and servants. “What are you doing? Get help!”

The lord of the manor wiped his mouth casually, regarding Hamilton as if he were mildly interesting and not dying.

“Interesting,” he mused, much to Washington’s frustration. “This, I had not expected…”

“What the Hell are you talking about? He needs help!”

And it suddenly dawned on Washington. He’d seen this before, the convulsing, and the sweating and- the wine, spreading around Alexander like it were blood.

“Oh my God,” Washington whispered, his voice sounding disbelieving and almost devastated. “You’ve poisoned him.”

“Not exactly.” A new voice rang from the corner of the room, startling Washington, who protectively tightened his grip on Alexander. “He was merely paid to play host, quite handsomely might I add, and the boy was not our intended target. Tell me Washington, does he make a habit of switching your wineglass with his own?”

Washington closed his eyes, the poison was intended for him. That single fact devastated the general, not because someone had tried to kill him, but because Alexander was suffering for it. He finally tore his eyes away from the still seizing form of Hamilton to look at the new addition to the dinner party.

Redcoat, about the same age as Washington, handsome, dangerous, psychotic; he was enjoying this.

“I mean, if you ever doubted his loyalty, you can now be assured that he would truly die for you,” he taunted with a smirk. The lord who Washington had foolishly trusted stood and left them to their business.

“What comes now? Are you going to kill me too?”

“Oh Heavens no, that’d be no fun at all.” The man removed his gloves and pistol, handing them to the servant waiting for his orders. “The game’s just begun.”

“This isn’t a game, he’s dying,” the general cried. Washington hated how his voice broke. It was only more leverage for these sadists to use.

“Yes, he is, and I’m sure you know exactly how. You’ve seen this poison work before, it can take days Washington, and it is a slow and painful process.”

“Who are you? What do you want?!”

The man only smirked, moving around Washington and sitting at Alexander’s place at the table. Casually, he began to eat what Alexander had left before collapsing. Washington gaped at the obvious madman, his thoughts whirling rapidly in his mind.

“It’s Belladonna, general,” the man reported, still sounding amused. “And you won’t find any antidote for miles, by the time you actually find a way out of here, and get back with the antidote, your boy will be cold.”

Washington glared at him, wishing for his pistol so he could shoot him dead right here. Hamilton began to still, and for a second Washington panicked. However, Hamilton’s heart was still beating, far too fast, but it was beating.

“It’s quite potent, and with how he reacted with it, I’d say six, maybe seven hours. He’s doing remarkably well. You should be proud.”

“Enough of these games,” Washington hissed, “what do you want?”

The man rolled his eyes and went back to his (Hamilton’s) meal. “Yes, yes, yes, you want answers.”

“Is that what you want too? Information?”

“Smart boy.” The man sounded genuinely impressed, but in such a way that it was like he was talking to a dog and not a person. “It’s certainly interesting to see… Our original plan was for you to take the poison, we could have our fun with your pretty-boy aide, take whatever information he would give to make it stop, and we’d have killed two birds with one stone. I like this better, don’t you?”

“He’s dying.”

“Yes, but you can save him.” The man laughed at Washington’s hopeful expression. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial of black liquid. “It looks quite sinister, but it is in fact the only thing that can help your boy.” The redcoat completely shifted his demeanour, suddenly completely professional. “Now, come sit with me, and let’s discuss the matter at hand.”

Washington reluctantly did as he was told, loathe to leave Alexander on the floor as he was.

“What’s your name,” the general asked, stiffly lowering himself into a dinner chair. His eyes kept wandering back to the prone form sprawled on the floor.

“Smith,” the man answered, as if he were truly at a dinner party. “I always thought a first impression should be as strong as your character, did I make a strong first impression, George?”

Washington refused to answer.

“I wasn’t asking out of jest,” Smith continued, “I truly want to know; does he make a habit of switching your wineglasses?”

“Sometimes,” Washington grit out, his fist clenched in front of him on the table. “He knows I don’t like him doing it.”

“With good reason,” Smith absently cast his gaze towards the boy, smiling at his form. “I can get someone to clean him up if you wish.”

“Don’t you dare touch him. You’ve done enough.”

“The boy did it to himself. Now, what would you be willing to sacrifice to save him?”

Smith watched Washington for his reaction. The British general was skilled in the art of reading into people’s unspoken responses rather than their spoken ones. And Washington’s response was that he would do anything that they asked.

“I’m not a fan of cold-blooded murder.”

“That isn’t an answer, general,” Smith chastised. “I expect an answer when I talk to you. You aren’t in control here, I am, and I have rules.” He smiled a Cheshire smile. “Firstly, you obey me, unquestionably. Second, when I ask you a question you tell me the truth, the full truth, immediately. Thirdly, know that that boy is now our property, and what we do with him is our choice; not yours. So, what are you willing to do to make sure we don’t decide to let him die?”

Washington promptly closed his mouth, not willing to risk making this man angry enough that he does something drastic.

“Alright,” Smith slammed his cutlery against the table, Washington jumped at the hard sound. “If you won’t answer me, I suppose we’re done here. Have fun watching the whelp die.”

Before Washington got his first plea past his lips Smith was up and gone, locking the door from the outside. Information may have something to do with this entire scheme but it certainly wasn’t the only reason. Smith enjoyed toying with them, he liked the control, and he had drastic mood swings. This all made him a very dangerous man.

Alexander groaned, refocusing the general onto what was important. He kneeled next to him as he began to retch and convulse. Washington quickly turned him onto his side as Hamilton violently got sick.

“That’s it Alexander, that’s it, get it out.” The general carded his fingers through his aide’s hair, hating how Alexander moaned pitifully.

There were very few people who had earned the hatred of George Washington; the fiends that had poisoned Hamilton were on that list.

Suddenly, like new life had been breathed into the boy, Alexander heaved a gasp. His eyes shot open, dilated beyond healthy and unseeing.

“We have to go, we have to leave,” he gasped.

“What? Alexander, it’s okay, you need to calm down.”

“No! Don’t you see the water? The water is everywhere, it’s filling up the room and the door and we’re going to drown!”

Washington looked around in confusion, “Alexander there’s no water.”

“Don’t you see it? We must go, or we will surely die!”

Washington grasped his arm, causing Hamilton to let out a shrill scream and scramble backwards until his back hit the wall. He attacked his arms trying to fling imaginary insects away from his body.

“What Hell is this?” Hamilton cried, scratching at his skin. “Where did the spiders come from? How have they invaded my skin?”

It was at that moment Washington remembered that Belladonna caused vivid and extremely distressing hallucinations. Cursing himself for not realizing sooner the general gently kneeled next to Alexander, taking his hands in his own as gently as possible. He held them together, trying not to look at the bloody scratches Hamilton had left on his own skin.

“Son, I need you to look at me, yes?” The general murmured into his ear, pulling the aide a bit closer into his chest. Alexander did so, his eyes going wide and his breathing picking up in fear. “I know it’s scary, and I know you’re confused, but you just have to tell yourself it’s not real, okay?”

He got no response, but he felt Hamilton try and calm his breathing. The shaking returned, much to George’s dismay, but did not escalate into full convulsions. Yet. He continued to get sick, and occasionally spasming with pain.

Washington held Alexander close for nearly an hour, his inner thoughts in turmoil. It was awful, seeing Alexander like this. He cared for the boy, he cared far more than he ever thought was possible.

So seeing him in this state was like driving a dagger through Washington’s heart. He was helpless to do anything except watch as the boy who he loved like a son die, all because he was too loyal for his own goal.

“I’ll do anything you want,” Washington finally begged, screaming at no where in particular, hoping someone would hear him. “Please come back, I’ll do whatever you want! Just help him.”

The door finally opened and Smith entered with a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face.

“Come here Washington,” he ordered, pointing to a chair at the table. “Sit down and do exactly as I say, and the antidote is yours.”

Washington did as he was told immediately, only pausing to place a light kiss on the top of Alexander’s hair. The boy was flickering in and out of consciousness, Washington left him on the ground, making him as comfortable as he could.

Smith watched him cross the room, his crocodile grin never fading. Washington sat in the allotted chair tensely, never taking his eyes off the enemy. The British general’s fingers slithered over Washington’s shoulders, squeezing them lightly before retracting. A quill and a parchment were produced, both offered to Washington without a glance.

George stared at the tools blankly, too careful to ask what he was to do with them. Luckily, his question was answered without him asking.

“Write down the name of all the most important spies in the British army, and where they are stationed. Then I want where you keep your supplies and ammunition hideaways and trading routes.”

Washington froze. He couldn’t give them that information, no matter how much he wanted to, that would effectively kill hundreds of men and lose multiple battles, if not the war, for the revolutionaries.

“Are you hesitating, General Washington?” Smith mocked him, “Does the boy not mean as much as you said he did? What happened to ‘doing anything we wanted,’ hm?”

“I ca-can’t tell you what you want to know…” George’s voice shook as he spoke, knowing the response would not bode well for either Hamilton or him.

Smith’s whole demeanour changed, scaring George without end.

“Oh, you can’t, eh? Perhaps I was right then, maybe the kid doesn’t mean as much as you let on. Let’s just finish this now then, right?”

George didn’t even have time to move before the pistol was out and pointed at Hamilton’s prone form.

“No!”

The gun was cocked. “This is the more humane death anyways, Washington, you should be glad. And since you’re not willing to give me what I want…”

“Please!” Washington was out of his seat, making a mad rush for the gun in Smith’s hold. “I’ll tell you whatever you want, just don’t kill him.”

Smith backed off, putting the gun on the table languidly. He regarded Washington carefully and smiled. “You just broke two of our rules, and I do believe I warned you what the consequence of the third would be.”

Washington felt tears flush his eyes, violently and suddenly, just like Alexander’s convulsions.

“I’m begging you…” he whispered desperately.

“I know,” Smith replied. He removed the antidote from his uniform and promptly smashed it to the ground.

Washington screamed.

#writing #whump prompt #fanfiction #hamilton fanfic #alexander hamilton #not edited lol #not medically accurate #whump #washingdad #george washington #poisoning #blackmail #angst #requests are open #follow for more

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thetrueenemyofhumanity · 5 years

Note

Hi I'd like to request a self indulgent imagine/hcs with Moira, Sym, and Hanzo where they find out their s/o has cancer?

Oh sweet suffering fuck I am so sorry I am only seeing this now. Please excuse the fact that only Symmetra’s really adheres to the request. Moira and Hanzo are more how they cope with the news later on.

Also if everyone could send good vibes and support to my wonderful friend as they deal with cancer that would be A1. They are a genuinely such a loving, kind, funny and amazing person who I love dearly. I cannot express my love for you enough dear but you’re one of the strongest people I know so kick cancers ass.

Moira

Moira’sgaze had always been firmly set on the future. To her the present seemed soinsignificant compared to the future she wanted to build. She was not one tostop and smell the roses. But that all changed with you. When she was with youshe wished time could stand still. She tried to stretch every moment together intoan eternity, but they were always too fleeting. And since the bitter reminderof mortality came into your lives it hit her just how fleeting these precious momentscould be. When your tests came back indicating cancer her heart crumbled, butshe couldn’t let you see that. What right had she to despair when it was youthis curse inflicted? Still, her moments of sobbing in the lab hadn’t goneunnoticed by her associates. They wisely feigned ignorance. When she came hometo you she seemed supportive, yes, but oddly detached. And then she begancoming home later and later up to the point you feared she was avoiding you. Afterweeks of this coldness you decided enough was fucking enough.

You had given up watching the agonizingly slow clock but youestimated it to be some time after 4am when the front door finally creakedopen. Pale moonlight spilled in and stretched the shadow of her long formacross the floor before the door closed with a soft click. She hovered at thedoor momentarily and let out a frustrated sign. Another day of failure and shehad the cheek to return to you? These dark thoughts that swarmed her mind rapidlyevaporated as the room was flooded with light.

“Good morning, darling,” you greeted, ice in your words. Youpulled your hand away from the lamp to cross your arms, glaring daggers at her.Meanwhile Moira was clutching her thundering chest after receiving the frightof her life.

“Christ almighty, where the hell did you pop out of? And whatare you doing awake at this hour?!” she demanded, “You need to be resting, you aren’twell.”

She crossed the room and her slender fingers gripped yourshoulders to usher you up but you shrugged them away.

“Not until we talk. And you’re not worming your way out ofit this time, O’ Deorain. Why are you avoiding me? I know my cancer is an inconveniencefor you but I didn’t exactly ask for it!”

The red head closed her eyes and took in a shaky breathbefore gently seating herself beside you. You both sat in an awkward silenceuntil she tentatively reached out and pulled you against her. She held yourhead against her chest and her other hand ran through your hair.

“I… I cannot see how you’d want me around. Not after mymonumental failure.”

“What the hell are you on about? What ‘monumental failure’?”

She barked out a bitter laugh at that.

“You’re joking, right? What kind of geneticist can’t spotthe signs of cancer? I should have spotted it earlier. If I weren’t so stupidyou wouldn’t be suffering now. If I wasn’t so stupid I’d have found a way tofix my mistakes but every night is the same. I fail you over and over and overagain. I can’t…”

She was forced to stop and choke back a sob. Your anger ather had ebbed away and your arms wrapped around her slim torso.

“Moira this isn’t your fault. This isn’t on you. You’vegotten me the greatest doctors so just let them do their job. What I need youto do is much more important than locking yourself in the lab for days on end,”you replied softly.

“What do you need, mo chuisle?”

“You. I just need you by my side.”

Her lips pressed against the top of your head before beingreplaced by her cheek.

“You’ll regret saying that. Because I’m highly tempted tonever release you.”

Symmetra

As soon as she heard you enter Symmetra ran to you and threwher arms around you, giving you a firm hug before pressing a quick kiss to yourcheek.

“Afternoon, darling, how did the appointment go?”

She finally released you and at seeing the solemn expressionon your face her bright smile dropped and her heart felt as though it was beingheld in a vice. A thousand horrific thoughts crossed her mind, each one asterrifying as the last. This was supposed to be just another routine doctor’scheck-up. You had even waved her off this morning joking and teasing about it.

“Symm, mind if we sit down for a second?”

The tone in your voice lead to her heart plummeting fasterbut she nodded and allowed you to lead her to the couch and sit her down. Sheprayed you were playing some cruel prank on her. Yes she would likely murderyou herself if it was, but a twisted joke would be far more welcome thansomething seriously being wrong with you. Tears were already pricking her eyeswhen you took her hands in yours and she was beginning to tremble.

“So, uh, I’m still trying to wrap my head around all thisbut there were some tests today and well… I have cancer, Symm.”

All it took was that one word for her world to fall apart.Hell, you were her world. After a brief moment of disbelief the reality of whatyou had said came crashing down upon her. A wave of nausea hit her and sheripped one of her hands from your grasp to clamp it over her mouth. Fat tearsrolled down her cheeks and she struggled to even breath, let alone findsomething to say. You were still talking, explaining that doctors were alreadyworking to treat you, but she was deaf to your words now. She could see yourlips moving but no sound came. You were cut off when threw herself against you.Holding you now tighter than ever before, her grip so ferocious you’d swear she’dcrack a rib. She clung to you as if you’d drift away from her like smoke at anygiven moment. You returned her embrace- albeit without the bruising force- and feltyour own tears beginning to spill. You held each other as you cried, bothtrying to properly process this harrowing news. Once her sobs subsided ever soslightly and she was able to take even half a breath Symmetra made you a simplepromise.

“No matter what happens, I am with you. And I will love you withevery step of this journey.”

Hanzo

Your nose crinkled as the foul smell of the tea (if youcould call it that) invaded your nostrils. You blew the steam away and took asip, only to immediately slam the cup down on the table as you resisted theurge to gag. You sat back to try and distance yourself from whatever hideousconcoction Hanzo had just presented you with.

“Absolutely not!” you protested, “Send that shit back to whatevercircle of hell it came from.”

“It is healthy, drink it,” he urged. His stoic mask slippedfor a second and an expression of slight disgust formed as the smell hit him. Hiscomposure was quickly regained but you had been with him long enough that nothinggot past you. You held your breath as you leaned forward and pushed the cup towardshim.

“Alright, you drink it then.”

His hesitancy didn’t go unnoticed by you either. Eyebrowcocked and smirk dancing on your features you looked between him and the drink.Rather than be deemed a hypocrite he finally took the tea and drank. Only toimmediately spit it back into the cup. You pressed your lips into a thin lineto stop your laughter from breaking out, but not even that could stop the uglysnort that escaped instead.

“I suppose it is an old recipe,” Hanzo concluded as he gotup to dump the tea out so it’s foulness could not inflict another person.

“Hey at least we have a new torture method in case we everneed to extract information from somebody.”

Hanzo returned a moment later and seated himself beside you.He placed something onto your lap and you looked down to see a red box toppedwith a velvet bow. Promptly ripping the lid off you found it full of yourfavourite sweets. Not exactly healthy, but delicious.

“I had intended on gifting these to you tonight. But I thinkthat taste needs to be washed away. Immediately,” he explained.

There was no argument from you as you ripped into thetreats, the divine taste wiping away any trace of that bizarre tea.

“I do appreciate the sentiment, Hanzo, but I really don’tsee how poisoning me is gonna help get rid of the cancer,” you said betweenmouthfuls, “Unless you’re planning to off me before cancer gets a chance.”

“I just wish I wasn’t so helpless. As torturous as thatbeverage was it can never compare to the torture of seeing you ill. You are thesun and I just the moon. Without you I am nothing and my life is dark. Empty.”

He cupped your face in his hands and rested his foreheadagainst yours. A strand of his raven hair tickled your nose and his warm breathmingled with your own.

“I am yours and anything you need will be done,” he pledged.

“Okay I do have one request,” you whispered gently.

“Anything, my love.”

“Never make that tea again.”

#astuli #oh my god im so sorry im just online now i cannot apologise enough #youre so spectacular and i love you #moira #hanzo #symmetra #symmetra x reader #hanzo x reader #moira x reader #moira writing #hanzo writing #symmetra writing #drabble

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trancowboy · 7 years

Note

Hi Charlie, I'm making a thing and I was wondering if you could help me by shraing your view about steve rogers and bucky barnes, as individual characters as well as your view of their relationship together, headcanons and such, is totally okay if you can't, but if you do I'd be eternally grateful! Thanks anyway

Pal, you basically just invited me to write a whole entire essay about these two assholes, so… I’m sorry? This is gonna get long and most likely sad.

Steve Rogers:

Steve is an asshole, through and through. He’s got a heart of gold and being a good person is in his nature, but my god is he an asshole.

He will fight anyone who does him or anyone he cares about wrong. He won’t hesitate to pick a fight and he would much rather throw some punches than have a verbal conversation/discussion.

Steve Rogers talks with his fists. He’ll fight until he physically can’t stand anymore and even then he will stand up and push himself just that last little bit.

(”I could do this all day.” Steve, my angry baby, have a seat and take a nap.)

Steve is the bisexual we deserve. I think he’s always been aware that he’s attracted to both men and women, but he never told anyone about it back in the day. He didn’t need people to have another reason to beat him up, so he kept it quiet.

(And if he paid a little more attention to certain drawings of a certain boy, then that was his business.)

I don’t think he knew there was a name for what he feels until he woke up in the future. But once he found out and learned more about it, I like to think he’d be a Proud Bi and just tell everyone he comes across because it’s okay now and he can do it.

Sure, it gets a little tiring when he answers his phone with, “Steve Rogers, proud bisexual. Hello,” but his friends get used to it and strangers get past the confusion quickly.

Steve swears. A lot. Like a whole fucking lot. I actively ignore the whole “Language” line (unless it was a joke that Steve only told because he’s tired of the ~grandpa~ jokes, which, ok, I can get behind that) because Steve Rogers has the mouth of a fucking sailor.

Steve can swear up a storm but compliment him or flirt with him or be extra nice or anything and he’ll blush like a tomato and become so awkward he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Even after all these years, Steve still feels a bit awkward in this new body of his. He doesn’t miss being skinny and sickly and tiny and on the brink of death all the time, but sometimes he doesn’t like being big and muscle-y either. Sometimes he doesn’t like how he can’t make himself invisible as easily as he used to.

Sometimes he just wants to curl up under the covers of his bed and hide from the outside world that has painted him as a person he’s not; a world that sees him as a soldier and Captain America™ rather than a human being.

He lives in a world he doesn’t recognize where everyone he ever knew and cared about are either dead or only remembers him half the time. This deleted scene from The Avengers shows just how detached to the world he feels and honestly, I have way too many feelings about that three minute video.

Steve throws himself into danger (jumping on a grenade without thought, crashing the Valkyrie, jumping out of a plane without a parachute, etc) because he doesn’t really care whether he lives or dies. He never feared death because death has loomed over him like a shadow since he was a child.

And maybe he wants death to take him sometimes. He definitely wanted to when he crashed the Valkyrie. He could have fought more, could have figured out a way to save the world and still survive, but he was tired and he just wanted it to end, so he stopped fighting.

And then he woke up 70 years later to more fighting and he just never slowed down or took a break, because if he did, he’d have to deal with how he was feeling and he couldn’t handle that. He didn’t want to deal with it because it was too painful.

While extremely heavy on the angst, Einherjar by thecommodore_squid perfectly portrays Steve’s depression. Steve in that fic is pretty much exactly how I see him.

MOVING ON TO HAPPIER THINGS, SHALL WE?

Steve is a Disney nerd. He probably didn’t get to catch up on all the new Disney movies between TFA and CW, but between giving up the shield and becoming Nomad (@ marvel let me have bearded!nomad!steve pls and thanks) he probably took a breather for the first time in years and started on the list.

(Does he sit with a laptop by Bucky’s cryo freezer and watches them with him??? haha shoot me)

Steve will fight for what he believes in, no matter what. He proved that in CW when he gave up everything for Bucky without thinking twice.

And then, of course, there’s my headcanon that Steve is trans but if I dive into that, this thing is gonna end up 100k on Steve alone.

Bucky Barnes:

Bucky cares so much. He’s the guy who stood by this skinny, little punk’s side when no one else did. He’s the guy who probably worked his ass off for hours and hours just to get enough money so Steve could get healthy (or healthier) again.

He’s the guy who went through torture and trauma and had the opportunity to get an honorable discharge after what he went through, but he didn’t. Instead he followed his best friend back into war and it cost him his life and freedom and self.

But I’d bet my left foot that he’d do it all again, because he’s Bucky and Bucky cares so goddamn much about everyone but himself.

Bucky is gay. Yes, he was with women back in the day and yes, he kissed them and fooled around with them and probably got off a little, but I think he did it just because it was expected of him.

If it wasn’t because it would be suspicious to everyone else, he would probably just stay home with Steve and pine every single day.

Bucky is such a giant fucking nerd. He finds science and technology incredibly exciting. I mean, he did spend his last night before going off to war dragging Steve to the Stark Expo (and their dates but eh).

Imagine his reaction to all the science stuff he missed while being used by Hydra? He’s gonna light up like a child on Christmas. God, I love my nerd son so much.

Bucky is smart as hell and no one can convince me otherwise. I mean, “[…] having been an excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom” is proof enough.

Bucky has been through hell and back several times. He’s been wiped of his memories and himself until he was a blank slate for Hydra to do whatever they wanted to with, and it’s happened probably more times than he’s been able to keep track of. And every time he started regaining just a little bit of himself or just one little memory, the torture would start all over again.

He’s been through hell, so it shouldn’t surprise anyone that he suffers from a severe case of PTSD.

Bucky Barnes is a man who cares and protects and when he’s made into a weapon who kills and murders and destroys – when he himself becomes the danger, he locks himself away because he thinks that’s the best thing for everybody.

Steve + Bucky:

There’s no Steve without Bucky, and there’s no Bucky without Steve. Steve and Bucky have always been SteveandBucky, and one without the other means they’re never really whole.

They’re their own person, sure, but they’re better together. They make each other better. Bucky makes sure Steve doesn’t kill himself with his stupidity and recklessness, and Steve makes sure Bucky gets protected and cared for too.

Steve will give up everything for Bucky, no hesitation and no questions asked, and Bucky will do whatever it takes to protect Steve, even if that means hurting him in the process (ie going into cryo).

Bucky is Steve’s dark side and Steve will do anything for him.

I have mixed thoughts on who fell in love with who first. My first instinct is to say Bucky fell in love with Steve first because of all the obvious pining in TFA, but then I think about little Steve Rogers who everyone beat up and disregarded and didn’t care about getting saved by this wonderful boy who doesn’t look down on him and treats him like an equal and I think it was easy for Steve to fall in love with Bucky, so I’m just¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

It doesn’t really matter who fell in love with who first though, does it? What mattes is that they love each other unconditionally and ‘til the end of the line (and beyond cause c’mon. That kinda love is never gonna die).

To end on a lighter note, I’m gonna give you some fluffy headcanons cause I have A Lot.

Steve is the big spoon. He always has been. Bucky loved when there was a skinny octopus clinging to him and barely being able to cover him and he loves it when he’s surrounded by pillowy muscles and warmth.

Bucky was Steve’s favorite subject to draw. And even after everything, even when he hadn’t seen him for years and thought he was dead, Steve still drew him because he never wanted to forget the face of the man he loves.

Whenever Bucky talks about science stuff, he gets all excited and extra cute, and Steve always falls in love with him a little bit more.

Same for when Steve talks about art or literally anything he’s passionate about. Steve could talk about poop and piss for an hour, and Bucky would be making heart-eyes at him the whole time.

Steve used to wear Bucky’s shirts all the time. His excuse used to be that he was too lazy to do laundry, but really, he just liked wearing Bucky’s clothes. (Bucky never minded.)

Clothes sharing is a Thing with these two. It’s a Thing that happens a lot and no one can convince me otherwise.

Bucky loves having his hair played with and Steve loves to play with Bucky’s hair.

Bucky has always loved dancing. That doesn’t change over the years, and he will make Steve dance with him again. (”I don’t care that the serum didn’t fix your two left feet, Stevie, dance with me.”)

When they finally do get together (whether that was before the war or after TWS doesn’t matter) Steve never wastes an opportunity to tell Bucky he loves him, and Steve takes every chance he can to kiss him because now he can.

Steve was probably the one who made the first move.

Steve is a little shit and Bucky loves him even when he’s being Extra and Dramatic and even when Bucky’s exasperated with him. Steve can be as much of an asshole as he wants to, because Bucky will always love him.

Bucky loves flirting with Steve just to see Steve blush bright red. (Sometimes Bucky will just casually put his hand on Steve’s butt or boob and Steve will become Captain Tomato.)

Steve will fucking fight anyone who says anything bad about Bucky.

Conclusion: Give these boys some hugs and a happy ending, please and thank you.

Anyway, I’ve got a ton more Thoughts but this is already so stupidly long, so I’m gonna stop there. Hope this was helpful (was it??? idk) and thank you for letting me ramble on about these two fuckers.

PS, tell me more about your thing or link me, maybe, if you wanna 👀

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #stevebucky #stucky #otp: till the end of the line #anonymous #answered #this distracted me for a while #which i really needed #so thank you

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randomshyperson · 3 years

Text

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your loss - Part II "I will try"

Serie Masterlist here || Part I || Read on AO3

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction pining, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, domestic Wanda, hurtful behaviors.

Tag list: @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia / @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch

//-//

Chapter II - I will try

You hate waking up.

Because your bed is empty on the right side.

Grumbling slightly, you push the covers away from your body and get up, running your hand over your face.

It is therapy day.

After brushing your teeth and putting on a sweatshirt that smells like fabric softener, you walked downstairs.

"Good morning, honey." Your mother greeted you as soon as you entered the kitchen, a cup of coffee in her hands. You mumbled the greeting back, walking over to the cabinets. She let out a disgruntled exclamation when she saw you take out a box of cereal. "As much as I think it's great that you're eating again, why don't you try something healthier today? I'm getting worried about the amount of sugar you're taking in these last few days."

You rolled your eyes, but obeyed as you put the package back in the cupboard. Ever since you regained your appetite, your meals, especially in the morning, consist of sweet things. Bread, cereals, and even chocolate. You were eating again, but the chance of diabetes was very high.

"Do you need a ride?" Your mother asks a moment later, when you are already sitting at the table, pouring yourself some orange juice.

"Agatha thinks I should try the subway."

"And what do you think?"

You laughed humorlessly.

"That's a new one." You retorted without taking your eyes off the newspaper in front of you. "Someone asking what I think."

Your mother sighs.

"Don't be like that." She says and then rises to kiss your forehead, the car keys in her hand. "Call me if you need anything."

You bite your tongue, stopping yourself from whispering the words "I need my wife," because you didn't want to cry over coffee.

After eating, you looked around. You hated empty houses. So you hurried to get your wallet and left after locking the door.

//-//

With headphones, the subway was not so scary.

The music on the latest volume muffled the ambient noises very well. And even with a fast heartbeat, you managed to walk correctly, and keep your breathing under control until you reached the city downtown.

You walked from the station toward the building where the therapy was taking place, humming softly the music you were listening to.

Startled slightly when someone touched your shoulder, you turned, only to see Bucky standing beside you, smiling gently. You took off your headphones, moving away from his touch, he didn't seem to notice.

"I called you a few times, but I don't think you heard me under the headsets." He commented amiably. "I think we came from the same subway."

"Okay." You said simply, not knowing what to add to this conversation. Bucky smiled however, and you started walking side by side.

"You know, if we arrange the time, we could come here together next time" He says and you frown slightly. "I wish I had someone to laugh at my comments about the man in the cowboy hat who hangs out at the Sixth Avenue station." He jokes and you force a smile, trying to think of how to decline the invitation. But then you remember how Agatha insisted that you make new friends, and you are letting the words of agreement escape your mouth. "Really? I'm glad you like the idea then. We can meet in any of the first stations and come the rest of the way together."

"That'll be great." You mutter to the man who smiles contentedly.

When you arrive, Bucky waves to a few people and says he will say hello, so you walk into the gym alone.

You try not to feel so nervous about your first session with a therapy partner.

//-//

Stephen is almost late. He apologizes to everyone even though he didn't, saying that he had a minor conflict in traffic. You were already sitting in the circle, waiting for the meeting to start, when the other people came in and sat down.

Wanda sat in the chair in front of you, and you smiled awkwardly at her, who repeated the gesture before looking away from you to Stephen.

"I hope you all had a good week" Stephen began next. "Today I will be handing out the schedule of duo activities, and I expect all of you to accomplish these goals within six to eight months. Of course, no pressure." He jokes last, making the group laugh. You frown, because you are curious what kind of activities these are. "Jessica, take one and pass it to the side, please.”

Stephen asked handing some papers to one of the girls in the group who was sitting next to him. As each member took one, Stephen again spoke of the importance of communication between pairs, and how he would like to monitor everyone's progress closely. You stopped paying attention when the paper came into your hands, focused on reading the words.

Your hand rises in the air a moment later.

"Y/N, do you have a question?" Stephen asked as he interrupted his own speech when he saw your hand. You had your heart racing when you asked.

"It says drive a car here." You replied looking at him. "I don't... I don't drive."

You know that some members exchanged glances with each other, but you kept staring at Stephen.

"You can leave this activity for last. At the end of the treatment....

"No." You interrupted with a dry laugh, running your hands through your hair. "I'm not driving. I don't..."

"Would you like to share why that is?" Stephen asks tenderly, and you look around. Everyone looks at you curiously, and you feel your face heat up. Then you stare at the paper in front of you. Taking a deep breath, you try not to crumple the paper so hard as you tell it.

"My wife died in a car accident." You narrate, trying not to be bothered by people holding their breath for your confession. It was awkward to talk about it, and it was even more overwhelming to deal with the reactions of others. "I was driving, and... I can't anymore since the accident." You explain. "It's like I'm back in the car again."

You fall silent, unable to hold back your tears. The group says "thank you for sharing" next, startling you slightly. Stephen smiles at you as you look at him.

"Would you like to add anything else?"

"I would like you to tell me that I won't need to do that."

Stephen laughed. And then he denied it with his head.

"It's the opposite of that actually." He says. "I think you do need it. Maybe more than anyone else here."

You sighed, looking down. He spoke again after that, but you paid no further attention.

//-//

You swallowed your nervousness when Stephen called for the pairs to begin the first exercise.

Getting up and walking over to Wanda, you kept your gaze on the floor.

"We're going to try blind trust today." Stephen explained as he opened a small box, and began handing out black blindfolds to the pairs. He handed one to you. "You will blindfold your partner, and lead them around the gym for two minutes. And then switch who is blindfolded and repeat."

You blinked in confusion, taking one last look at the object in your hands.

"Right." You mumble, raising your eyes to the woman in front of you. "May I?"

Wanda hesitates a second, but then she nods. You turn around her, placing the blindfold under her eyes gently, and tying it to the back of her head. Wanda holds her breath momentarily, probably getting used to the lack of visibility.

" Can I hold your hands?" You ask softly as you circle her again, watching her blindfolded face. She looks... cute. The same second the thought hits you, you push it out.

"Yes." Wanda sighs raising her hands at chest height. You smile, interlacing your hands together.

"Well, we were in the circle, right?" You begin. "Come this way so you don't bump into the chairs."

Guiding Wanda through the gym, you stand close and with your hands interlocked so that she doesn't get scared of bumping into something. You catch a quick glance at Bucky, who was guiding his own partner as he passes your side.

Two minutes later, you exchange.

You hold your breath when the blindfold is on your eyes, but Wanda's hand is soft as she guides you around.

When you stumble slightly because you thought she said right instead of left, it's the first time in six months that you really laugh. It's short and quick, but it's a real laugh. Wanda laughs too, squeezing your hand lightly to get you back on the right path.

You feel a little lighter when the activity is over.

"I liked today." You comment with a shy smile after the meeting is over, and you and Wanda walk out of the place together. She smiles in agreement.

"Yeah, me too." She says. "Now we only have another twenty-four activities ahead of us."

You let out a nasal laugh, putting your hands in your pockets.

"About the homework, I can meet you when you have time." You start to say, remembering the information in the booklet, and how you probably had much more free time than a mother, and it would be kinder for you to follow whatever schedule Wanda had. "You can text me anytime you are free."

She looks slightly surprised at your words, and looks down at the floor a moment before speaking again.

"Actually, I'm free now." She says, and it is your turn to be surprised. Seeing your expression, she quickly adds. "But it's okay if you're not, or if you don't want to..."

"No, it's fine." You interrupt with a lopsided smile. "I can. I'd... uh... I would like to too."

Wanda nods frantically, and then you are silent for a moment, before turning shyly toward the street, walking side by side.

"What are we going to do first?" You ask looking forward. Wanda bites her lips, thoughtful.

"Are you hungry?"

Not much, but you don't tell her that. You just shrug, and Wanda smiles, saying that you could try the lesson of sharing a meal together.

This is how you end up in a cafeteria for lunch.

Wanda is sitting on the bench in front of you when she speaks again.

"So...do you want to have a normal conversation or do you want to follow the script of questions?"

You blink in surprise, and give a short laugh.

"Wait, is that for real?" You ask fiddling with your pockets, Wanda looks at you curiously. You take out the pamphlet you got in class, then read the back, and let out a giggle. "I hadn't seen that part. Wow, that would have been so helpful at so many times in my life."

Wanda smiles, watching you read the pamphlet.

"So you're not good at talking to people huh?"

You place the flyer on the table, looking at her.

"Are you?"

"No." She says shrugging. "Socializing has always been much more my brother's thing than mine."

You make a noise with your mouth in agreement, and Wanda's cell phone on the table vibrates. She lowers her gaze to the device, and lets out a light sigh.

"Speaking of him." She mutters as she raises her finger to the screen. She reads the notification, but does not touch the device again.

"I would like to have a brother." You count next, and Wanda looks at you. "I think it would be nice to have someone growing up together with me. Sometimes it's pretty lonely being an only child."

"I'll lend you mine if you want." Wanda teases with a smile, and you laugh lightly, looking away momentarily.

" How many siblings do you have?"

"Two." She counters. "Pietro is my twin. And the youngest is Lorna."

"How are they like?"

Wanda sighs, thoughtfully.

"Pietro is loud and nosy. And Lorna is blunt and judgmental." She says and you nod in understanding, but Wanda adds a second later, smiling, "They're amazing, really. Pietro is...very caring. He looks after the boys for me. And Lorna lives in Sokovia, but she's always calling and asking how we are, as well as visiting whenever she can."

"That seems nice." You reply. The waitress attends you two next, and after ordering, you both wait in silence for a while.

"Why haven't you asked me about my loss yet?" Wanda asks suddenly, and you look away from the wordplay that was drawn on the table to look at her with a frown.

"What do you mean?"

"I shared my loss with the group the week before you joined us." She counters. "You never asked me who I lost."

"Do you want me to ask?"

"I don't know." She replies staring at you as a mixture of confusion and surprise. "It's just... that's usually the first thing people want to know."

You nod looking away.

"Well, I just want you to tell me whatever you want to tell me." You say. "I know very well what that feels like. I don't think I could talk to any of the people I know without them asking me about Nat every time they saw me."

Wanda makes a noise with her mouth of understanding, and you fall silent again. She checks her messages next and makes a slight grimace, you can't hold your curiosity and let the words "everything okay?" escape your lips.

"Yeah, it's just... Monica." She sighs running her hands through her hair. She types something next, and looks up at you. "Monica is my brother's wife, She is... pushy."

"How so?"

"She just...she wants to help. But she wants too much, you know?" Wanda begins. "She has the best of intentions, but she just suffocates me sometimes." She counters by tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, as you look at her intently. "She lost her mother when she was younger. And since... since Vis died she just... she wants me to talk to her about it. But I can't."

You nod in acknowledgement, hesitating between what to say next, because the mention of this Vis guy seems to have left Wanda quite shaken, as she quickly wipes a tear from running down her cheek. She forces a smile, shaking her head.

"Sorry about that. It's not the best thing to cry at our first lunch." She then remarks, and you smile shrugging your shoulders.

"Don't worry, I can cry at the next one and then we'll be even." You retort and Wanda laughs. You like the sound more than you should.

When your food arrives, you and Wanda thank the waitress and talk again the next moment.

"Accordingly to this, what is our first question?" Wanda asks you nodding lightly to the pamphlet you have left on the table. You eat one of your fries as you look at it.

You lower your hand to the paper, and then let out a chuckle as you actually read the questions.

" This is ridiculous." You observe, making Wanda look at you curiously. "All the questions are death related, see: If you died, how would you like people to remember you?" You read. "Or, what song would you like played at your funeral. My god, this is a joke." You grumble as you fold the flyer, and put it back in your pocket while Wanda giggles. You look back at her next. "I am decreeing that we will not talk about death on our outings, Mrs. Maximoff. It's a rule."

Wanda smiles at you, agreeing.

"Wanda." She then adds and you look at her with confusion. "You don't have to call me Mrs. Maximoff. Wanda is fine."

You smile, nodding in agreement.

"So, Wanda, where do you live?" You ask with interest in your voice, biting into your burger next.

"Queens." She replies. "Two blocks past Bucky's apartment, who lives in Brooklyn."

"You are friends then?"

"Yeah, he's the one who introduced me to the group." She explains as you eat together. She chews some of her salad before speaking again. "And you?"

"Staten Island." You retort. "But it's actually my mother's house. My apartment is in the Bronx."

Wanda doesn't pressure you to tell her why you are living with your mother. A part of you thinks she knows why, but you are grateful that she just waits for you to share what you want, just as you do with her.

"What do you work with?" she asks next, and you sigh, biting back a smile.

"Nothing at the moment." You say, and she frowns with confusion. "It's just that I write. I’m actually a writer. With a publisher and everything. But, I'm not writing anything right now."

"I don't think I've ever met a writer before." She comments with a smile. "Do you like it?"

You look away, playing with your fries.

"I used to." You confess, but not wanting to make the conversation sad, you quickly add. "What about you? What do you work with?"

"I own a flower shop." She tells and you let out a low exclamation, finding it amazing. "I haven't been going there much lately, but I like it. It's always been what I've wanted to do since I was little."

"I'd like to visit someday."

Wanda smiles, assenting.

You spend lunch talking about the most diverse subjects. It is the lightest you have felt in a long time. Wanda tells you about her family, you learn that she lives in a big house with her two twin five-year-old sons, Billy and Tommy, and that her father was spending time with her since she lost Vis, who you figure is her husband, because Stephen mentioned that you had things in common, and it's not hard to connect the dots, even if she doesn't talk about it.

She also tells you that Pietro and Monica are helping the flower shop to keep running, and that Wanda's children love to stay at their house because Wanda's niece, Luna, is the same age as the boys.

She tells you some of her tastes, and you do the same. You both smile when you discover that you used to study at the same college, but Wanda graduated a few years before you.

When you leave the restaurant, you are not quite sure how to say goodbye to Wanda, but you don't mind her kissing your cheek and telling you that she enjoyed her lunch. You enjoyed it too, much more than you expected. She nods and turns away, and it takes a moment for you to do the same.

//-//

You decide to fix the broken screen of your cell phone.

It is because you now receive notifications of messages from Wanda, and you want to read them correctly so as not to get confused with the locations of your meetings for group activities.

You also enjoy the company of Bucky Barnes now. The first time you went to therapy together, it's a little awkward because you didn’t quite knew what to say, but he was friendly and kind, and you learned to trust him. Soon it becomes easy to share and laugh at his jokes.

In the second week with grieving pairs, Stephen brings in question and answer games. You and Wanda do very well, because it is surprisingly easy and comfortable to talk to her. You don't have lunch together, but she invites you to have coffee with her the next day, and it is very nice to see her out of therapy for once.

In the third week, you cook together. Stephen contacts a local restaurant owned by a friend, which is closed for the day, and they lend their kitchen. You and Wanda try to bake some cookies, and as you work together, the job is decent. It is probably because Wanda is a much better cook than you, and you are happy to obey whatever she tells you to do. You have lunch together again, and you find yourself suggesting that you do this whenever possible, and Wanda smiles when she agrees.

In the fourth week, there are obstacle competitions in the group. It's noisy, and it requires physical effort, but it's fun. It's the first month, so Stephen wants to see how everyone is progressing. It's only when he talks to you that you realize all the positive changes that have been happening.

You have been eating properly, and going for walks. Your nightmares have stopped since you started texting with Wanda, because she is usually busy all day and can only text at night. There is still work to be done, because you still can't talk about everything. You are still not sharing as you should, and you haven't gone back to work. But Stephen is proud, and he hands you a little progress brooch.

"I think you guys can start with the activities outside the group." Stephen suggests as soon as you accept the brooch.

"What do you mean? We have lunch together every Wednesday." You count, and Stephen laughs through his nose.

"Yes, and this is excellent." He says. "But it's still after therapy. You and Wanda have been getting along well haven't you?"

You think about the lunches. Yes. It's been amazing. You nod in agreement, and Stephen smiles.

"Why don't you invite her over for something on the other days of the week?" He suggests and you frown thoughtfully. "You could try outings that you both enjoy. Or just get to know each other's family."

"Why would we go and meet each other's family?"

"Friends do that." He says and you sigh, feeling your heart racing slightly. "Take Bucky for example. I suggested that he and Sam move in together and..."

"Wow, I'm not moving in with anyone."

Stephen laughs, touching your shoulder gently.

"I didn't tell you to do that." He says. "It was just an example. What I mean, is that socialization outside of the therapeutic environment is essential. I'd like to see you having fun excluding the activities I put on here, too."

You sigh, agreeing. It's not really a bad thing, you like Wanda. It's just weird to let people into your life again.

When you tell Wanda about Stephen's idea, you get too anxious and fumble with the words. She laughs as she raises her hands to your shoulders, asking you to breathe and repeat. She thinks the idea is very good when she understands.

Then the next week, you go to Central Park. You walk together, drink juice, and talk. You thought you would make things awkward, and not have anything interesting to say to keep Wanda's attention, but she is kind and thoughtful, and pays attention to every word you say, and finds your jokes funny. And the next thing you know, you've been talking and walking for six hours, and she has to run because she has to pick up the boys from music class.

It didn't take long for you to establish a rhythm of outings. At least twice a week outside of the therapy day, you did something together. Be it walks, or trips to the park, or sharing a meal.

You didn't want to admit it, but Wanda became your favorite person very quickly.

//-//

It was February when you met Wanda's family.

Wanda invited you to the birthday party of Luna, Pietro's daughter. It was going to be the first party you had attended since Nat's death, and to say you were feeling anxious was an understatement. But as long as Wanda was by your side in the atmosphere, you thought you would be fine.

Your mother gave you a look of mixed surprise and pride when she saw you leaving the house in an outfit other than a sweatshirt, but she didn't say anything, and you hurried to catch the subway.

It took a while to get there, but when you did, there were already a few people around the house.

You took a deep breath, and walked to the front door that was open. It was a very nice house, and you tried to find Wanda as quickly as possible.

"Hey, you came!" It was Bucky, who saw you arriving from the kitchen. He was wearing a very nice set of jeans, and smiled encouragingly at you. The two people he talked to looked at you curiously, but Bucky hurried to introduce you as "a good friend of his and Wanda's" and you felt your cheeks blush. "This is my husband Sam and this is his sister, Sara."

You smiled politely as you greeted people.

"I'm looking for Wanda." You say to Bucky, and he makes a thoughtful expression for a few seconds.

"Try the garden, I think she was helping Pietro with the snacks." He says as he puts his hand on your shoulder, and turns you in the right direction. "Follow straight this way and you'll get there."

You thanked them and waved to the other two before heading outside.

It took two minutes to find Wanda. She found you actually.

"Hi." She greeted you shyly with a smile as she approached. You mimicked the gesture. "So glad you could make it."

Wanda hugged you quickly, and you were a complete mess. Disguisedly, you smiled awkwardly, telling her you were glad to be here and wished you could meet her brother.

"Pietro is upstairs changing Luna's dress. She spilled juice on the other one." She counters and you mumble in understanding. Wanda's gaze races around and then she lets out a low exclamation. "Come, let me introduce you to Monica."

"Hey, Mon, I want you to meet someone." Wanda says as soon as you two reach a woman at one of the outside tables, wearing a very pretty blue dress. She seemed to hand out some napkins on the table.

"This is your mystery friend I imagine." Says the woman cheerfully, extending her hand to greet you.

"Hi, thank you for having me." You say clumsily as you accept the greeting. Monica doesn't mind your clumsiness one bit, and smiles, and thanks you for the small package you hand her. You were always taught that one should bring a gift if you were going to the party after all.

"It's so nice to finally meet you honey." She says smiling. "Wanda won't stop saying how funny and entertaining you are."

You cast a glance at Wanda, who just has red cheeks as she looks away.

"Here comes Pietro." Monica then exclaims, waving to someone behind you. "Come on babe, it's Wanda's friend."

A tall man approaches you, a little girl on his lap wearing a princess dress.

"Hello." Pietro greeted you politely as he stood at his wife's side. "We finally met you. We were beginning to think Wanda made you up."

You let out a half-hearted laugh, and Wanda grumbles that suddenly everyone has decided to tease her with flushed cheeks.

"Daddy, can I go play now?" The little girl asked. She was adorable, and looked a lot like her parents.

"You'll be careful, right?" Pietro asked her. "No other princess dress for you."

The girl nods and Pietro sets her down after kissing her cheek.

"I need to greet the other guests, but make yourselves at home." Monica then said, touching your shoulder lightly before leaving. You thought she was very gentle.

For the next few minutes you were basically interrogated by Pietro, but in the most polite way he could manage. Wanda stayed by your side though, so you didn't bother to tell him what you did for a living, where you resided, or with whom. He was sensitive enough not to ask about who you lost, and you were very grateful for that.

"What's he doing here?" Wanda exclaimed suddenly, interrupting Pietro's talk about his job as a seller. She had her gaze in the opposite direction from where you were standing, and Pietro sighed.

"Wanda, it was a last-minute invitation." He began, and Wanda turned her head to him quickly, a mixed look of anger and hurt. But then she took a deep breath, and forced a smile, making you frown at the whole scene.

"No, Pietro. It's okay." She says. "Don't worry, it's a party, isn't it? We're here to have fun."

A man with a thinning beard reached you all next, and you were slightly surprised when Wanda grabbed your hand, but you didn't say anything.

"Wow, it's amazing to see you guys again." The man said smiling encouragingly. Pietro rushed over to hug him quickly.

"Good to see you too, Tony!" he greeted smiling, but he also looked slightly tense. You didn't know what the story was there, but clearly Wanda was not very comfortable in the stranger's presence.

"Wanda, look at you, my little sister-in-law!" Tony said excitedly extending his arms. But Wanda didn't move, squeezing your hand lightly. The man didn't seem to mind, moving forward and hugging Wanda anyway. He pulled away quickly however, still smiling, "And who are you?” He asked you next.

"I’m..."

"Leaving." Wanda cuts you off, ducking her head as she pulls you away with her. You hear Pietro sigh lightly, imagining that he would apologize for whatever this was.

As you two walk back into the house, you consider asking, but Wanda is looking around, clearly searching for someone. She lets out a low exclamation when she finds Bucky in the living room.

"Hey, Wanda." He says as soon as he sees her. "You've seen him, right?"

"You knew he was coming?" she asked, letting go of your hand, looking annoyed. You were starting to get very uncomfortable.

"Yes." Bucky confesses looking upset, and Wanda lets out an exclamation of indignation and surprise. "I told Pietro that it wasn't a good idea, but he still needs help with the Vis business..."

"No." Wanda interrupts by closing her eyes momentarily. You blink because she seems on the verge of tears at any moment. "I just..." She starts and takes a deep breath. Bucky steps forward with his hands in the air to touch her, but she forces a smile, denying with her head to signal him not to. "We're not going to make a scene, are we? Nobody's going to want that. I just... I just need a moment."

Wanda walks upstairs next, leaving you and Bucky behind. You really didn't understand what happened, and started to consider going after her, and as if reading your thoughts, Bucky patted you on the shoulder.

"Leave her alone for a few minutes, okay?" he asks. "She just needs to get used to the idea of seeing her late husband's brother again."

You swallowed dryly, nodding in understanding. Bucky smiled weakly at you, nodding for you to join him in the small circle of people he was talking to earlier.

//-//

Every minute without Wanda at your side with a bunch of strangers was like torture. Your heart was racing and you thought you were going to hyperventilate at any moment. Bucky was probably the only thing familiar, so you stood static next to him, trying to disguise yourself as much as possible while listening to people talking.

"Thor, I'm waiting for the invitation to your wedding!" Sam joked in the middle of the wheel, drawing laughter from everyone. The tall, blond man next to him looked mildly embarrassed.

"Tell that to Jane, she's the one who's postponing it." He replies in the same tone. You don't want to hear about engagements and weddings. So you mutter to Bucky that you need to use the bathroom and he points you in the direction.

Pietro's house is easy to get lost into. You are looking for a secluded corner to stay in, and as you pass through the empty hallway, you hear a noise that attracts your attention. It sounds like loud breathing.

Confused, you walk toward the sound, carefully opening the door to what appears to be an office. You find the switch, and your eyes widen in surprise when you find a child. It is a small boy, sitting on the floor with his head between his knees. It takes a second for you to realize by the height of his breathing what is happening.

Closing the door behind you to muffle the sound of the party, you rush to kneel beside the child.

"Hey, kid." You whisper tenderly but he just sobs. "What's your name? Hey? Try to say your name for me okay?"

You bring your hands to his and he raises his head, his face stained with tears as he breathes hard.

"T-Tommy" He gasps and you nod, squeezing his hands lightly.

"Okay, Tommy. I want you to breathe along with me now okay?" You ask as you signal with your hand the movement of your breath. "In and out like I'm doing."

"I-I can't." He cries, but you insist, squeezing his hand lightly.

"Tommy, in and out. This way." You repeat firmly, until he imitates. "All right, kid. Keep going. Breathe."

When Tommy manages to start breathing properly again, you smile at him. "You see, you did very well. Want me to give you a hug?"

He nodded, and you stepped forward, hugging him tightly. He didn't let go for long moments, and you began to think he might have fallen asleep, but he moved again, and you let go.

"I'm sorry." He asked weakly, and you held his hand.

"No, honey. It's okay." You say gently, crossing your legs to sit more comfortably in front of him. "Do you want me to stay here with you?"

He nods, looking at you quickly. You wipe away his tears afterwards.

"I don't know you." He says a moment later, and you smile slightly.

"I don't know you either."

"My name is Tommy." He replies with his hands folded in his lap. "This is my aunt and uncle's house, but I've never seen you at a party before."

"Wow, you are Wanda's son." You realize with surprise. Tommy blinks.

"Who is Wanda? I'm Mommy's son."

You laugh, nodding in agreement.

"Well, Tommy, your mother's name is Wanda." You explain, and he lets out a sigh of understanding. "I'm her friend."

"Okay." He says simply. He sighs lightly then. "I'm hungry."

You look at him curiously.

"Do you want a hot dog?" You ask, and he nods frantically, smiling. "Do you want to go outside and get it, or do you want me to bring it for you here?"

Tommy is thoughtful for a few seconds, and looks at the door for a moment.

"I want to go."

"Okay."

You get up first, and then help him to stand, and keep your hand in his to comfort him.

"Hey, is everything all right?" You ask as soon as you open the door. He has his thumb in his mouth, but nods, his eyes attentive to his surroundings.

Fortunately the kitchen is empty, since the house seemed to get warm enough for everyone to go outside. You sit Tommy down at the kitchen counter and prepare a hot dog for him.

"Do you like ketchup?" you ask and he nods smiling. After handing the hot dog to him, you made one for yourself. You smiled as you both took big bites of your food. "Does your mom let you drink soda?" You ask a moment later, and Tommy looks thoughtful. "Don’t lie."

Tommy grimaces mischievously, and nods his head in denial. You laugh and reach for two glasses, pouring some grape juice for you.

"Thanks." He says thank you as soon as you hand him the cup. You think it's adorable how polite he is at this age.

"There you are, Tommy." Pietro spoke as he appeared in the kitchen. He watched the scene with curiosity. "I've been looking all over for you."

"Sorry, Uncle." Murmured the boy lowering his head. "My head was hurting again."

Pietro sighed and you exchanged a look with him. He nodded in understanding before helping Tommy down from the countertop.

"Billy and Luna are eating candy in the backyard, honey." He says as he bends down to the boy's height. "Go ask Aunt Mon to give you some too."

Tommy seems content to leave after that, but he turns and hugs your legs quickly, muttering a "thanks for the hot dog" before running outside. You place his cup of juice in the sink along with yours before turning to Pietro.

"Where did you find him?" he asks leaning on the counter with his arms crossed. You mimic the position on the opposite side.

"In the office down the hall." You count. "What does he have?"

"We don't know yet." Pietro says. "He won't turn six until November, and the diagnosis can't be made before then." The man explains, running his hand through his hair for a moment. "But I've had anxiety since I was a kid, so his doctor thinks it's the most likely possibility."

You grumble in understanding, biting the inside of your cheek.

"He's been pretty nervous lately." Pietro continues next. You don't want to interrupt him. "I guess that makes sense. I got worse when my mother died, too."

You swallow dryly, really not being intimate enough to know what to say next. But Pietro doesn't mind, he smiles, shaking his head and reaching up to pat you on the arm.

"Sorry, I don't mean to make the subject morbid." He comments humorously. "Thank you so much for helping Tommy. Come have a drink outside."

You laugh half-heartedly, denying with your head.

"Thank you, Pietro." You say. "But I think I'd better go."

Pietro blinks in surprise.

"Are you sure?"

You nod, your gaze quickly going to the stairs before returning to him.

"Yes, I'm... I'm tired." You say. "Crowded environments are quite difficult for me."

Pietro nods in acknowledgement, and then smiles, thanking you again for coming and hugging you quickly.

You smile awkwardly before heading for the exit just as he returns to the garden.

Ignoring the urge to climb up the stairs after Wanda, you leave.

//-//

When you get home, there is a message on the refrigerator door from your mother, telling you that she is going out after work and that you shouldn't wait up for her. You grumble slightly, sending her a message to use protection, before leaving your cell phone on the counter.

After taking a shower and putting on the most comfortable and warmest set of sweatshirts you have, you go back to the living room, looking for some entertainment on the television.

It must be about eight o'clock at night when a knock at the door startles you.

You are surprised to have Wanda at your front door and she hesitates as soon as she sees you.

"Hi." You say.

"Can we talk?"

You make room for her to enter, closing the door afterwards.

Wanda stops in the doorway of the room, holding her purse tightly.

"I'm sorry I left you alone at the party." She begins and you look at her attentively, noticing her nervousness. "It wasn't polite of me."

You blink in confusion, but don't interrupt her. She closes her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before looking back at you.

"It was not the right way to behave and I am sorry. I hope we continue to be grieving partners" She says.

"Wanda, why are you here?" You ask with a frown, trying to understand exactly what you are witnessing. Wanda blinks in confusion.

"To apologize."

"Yeah I'm not buying it." You retort. "I don't care about the whole manners thing, I wouldn't treat you differently just because of the party. What's going on?"

"I don't... I don't know what you're talking about." She says shaking her head slightly, her eyes wide. You look at her in disbelief, she seemed on the verge of an outburst. "I just came to apologize for not being a good hostess, and not even a good friend. And..."

"I don't give a damn if you weren't behaving as you should." You interrupt seriously. "You don't have to pretend to be okay with me. I saw the way you were forcing yourself to smile during the party. What was all that about? Why are you pretending?"

Wanda let out a humorless laugh, holding up her hands, her eyes filled with tears.

"I don't know what..."

"If you're going to lie you can leave." You interrupt seriously pointing to the door. Wanda swallows dryly, looking at you in surprise. "I'm not like those people, Wanda. I don't want to see your version of the perfect housewife, who pretends everything is fine while it's falling apart so others will feel better. Either you tell me the truth, or we' re not going anywhere."

Wanda stares at you for several seconds, then looks away, tears streaming down her face. You sigh, uncrossing your arms to walk toward the door. As you begin to open it, however, Wanda rushes in and pushes the wood with one hand, the noise and movement startling you momentarily.

"Please." She begs throwing herself against you, her arms clutching around you as she buries her head in your chest, her tears wetting your shirt. "I can't lose you too."

You sigh, hugging her back in the same intensity to calm her.

"Breathe, Wanda." You say. "I'm right here."

When she stops crying, she breaks the embrace, and you give her a smile even though she is looking at the floor. You bring your hands to her face to wipe away her tears, moving closer to give her a kiss on her forehead before pulling away.

"Let's have some tea."

As you prepare the drink, Wanda sits down on one of the stools in the kitchen. You join her after lighting the fire.

"Do you want to talk now?" You ask next, swinging your seat slightly. Wanda gives you a weak smile, nodding her head. She sighs before she begins.

"My husband died last year." She counters with a lost look on her face. "That man at the party...his name is Tony. He is my brother-in-law. He... My husband died in an accident. He..." Wanda paused, probably overwhelmed by the memories, you reached out for her hand on the counter, and she sniffled before continuing. "Tony is an alcoholic. He...he needed someone to pick him up. So he called. And Vis... They... They argued outside the bar, and someone thought Vis was a cop. And then someone had a knife and..." Wanda stopped in a sob, releasing her hand to cup her face. You stood up, hugging her by the shoulders, and she buried her face in your neck, crying heavily.

"I'm sorry." You sighed, squeezing her. Wanda cried, hugging your waist. You only let go when the kettle beeped.

She wiped away the remaining tears as you went to turn off the fire.

"Do you want to go on?" You ask as you join her again, holding her hands. Wanda gives you a tired smile, denying it. "Let's drink our tea, then."

//-//

"Can I sleep here?" The question doesn't surprise you. After you had finished drinking tea, and you tried to distract Wanda with some small talk, you stood up to take the mugs to the sink, and her voice invaded your ears with the question.

You bit the inside of your cheek, but when you turned around, you didn't hesitate to agree.

And that's how you ended up in your closet doorway, looking for extra pillows.

Wanda walked around, observing your room with curiosity. You mentally thanked your mom that it had only been two days since her monthly cleaning, and your room was not messy.

"Who is this?" Wanda asks as she holds one of your frames in her hand. You have an extra comforter in your hand as you walk over to her to look at the picture.

"This is Bruce." You say looking at the photograph for a moment. Ignoring the wave of guilt that fills your stomach, you walk over to your bed. "We've studied together most of our lives. And the girl next to him is Carol, she was my maid of honor."

"Are they the friends you don’t talk to anymore?" Wanda asks as she returns the picture to the headboard. You mumble in agreement.

"Done, Wands." You say as you place the comforter on the bed. "You can have my pillow, I'll use the cushions on the sofa anyway."

Wanda frowns in confusion.

"Aren't you going to sleep with me?" She asks and you laugh in surprise, feeling your heart race.

"W-what?"

"I thought..." She starts and seeing your reddened face she looks away, clearing her throat. "I'm not going to make you sleep on the couch."

"It's okay, really." You assure her with a smile. "I'll be downstairs and if you need anything you can wake me up."

"Y/N..."

"Good night." You interrupt with a smile, moving closer to place a quick kiss on her cheek before turning and leaving the room, your heart racing.

You haven't slept in the same bed with another woman in many months. That is absolutely not going to happen tonight.

When Wanda finally lies back against the sheets, she grumbles softly. Your scent is everywhere, and she knows very well what it means when her body shivers and she feels a small warmth at the pit of her stomach. Pushing these thoughts away, she closes her eyes, hoping that the tiredness of the day will be enough to make her sleep.

#sorry for your loss #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wandaxyou #wandaxreader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff reader #wanda maximoff you #marvel imagines

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