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hotchscvm · 9 months

Text

dildo shopping

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

summary: aaron catches you dildo shopping.

word count: 1k

warnings: sex toys, emily being a little shit

Telling Emily about your less-than-adequate one-night stand had been a mistake. After being short with everyone for the whole day, she finally confronted you about the change in attitude and you confessed the guy you brought home the night before had gotten off without returning the favor.

She had asked when was your last orgasm and you had to think about it before telling her it had been a while. With that reply, she dragged you to the closest mall. That's how you ended up in front of a Spencer's.

You raised an eyebrow at Emily, sighing loudly as you reluctantly followed her inside. "Seriously, Em? I think I could've just bought a vibrator online or something."

"That could take days to come and you clearly need this now." Emily leads you to the back section, giving you a look. "Don't argue with me, you yelled at Rossi after he got your coffee order wrong today."

"I literally have no memory of that," you replied, trying to think if that situation had happened. "I didn't even drink coffee today."

Emily holds up an "I love Milfs" t-shirt briefly. "Because you threw it in the garbage after cussing him out in Italian. Rossi teaching you Italian really came back to bite his ass today."

"Whatever," you said, a twinge of guilt crawling into your heart. You shrugged it off knowing he'd understand and you made a mental note to get him his favorite bottle of wine to make up for it.

As you entered the back, you looked through all the dildos and vibrators lined up against the wall. Emily held up a purple dildo, reading through the description while you looked at the unimpressive dildo and vibrator wall decor, none really vibing with you.

"This one says it vibrates and is supposed to feel realistic," she mumbles, eyes narrowing as she reads through the instructions. "Six inches though, I think you can take more than that right?"

You giggled, unable to hold in a laugh. "I don't really want to think about Barney's small dick vibrating in my cunt when I want to cum, Em. Or Thanos for that matter."

She makes a face, putting the purple vibrating dildo back. "What a strange image. Thanks for ruining Barney for me."

Chuckling, you check out the lingerie a nearby mannequin is wearing. It's black and lacy, and while it holds up the titties, it's see-through and the panties are crotchless. Taking off its panties, you hold it up to your body. "Hey, this is cute isn't it?"

"Very cute, you should get it," Emily responds, looking through the hundred dildo options.

"Yes, you should."

You freeze, your ears instantly knowing who that voice belonged to. Emily looks behind you without turning her head, holding back a laugh at your clear mortification. A second passes and you turn around to see Aaron fucking Hotchner, your stoic boss and friend standing in front of you, looking at the lingerie you had pressed up against you.

You can't help but laugh awkwardly. "Hotch? What're you doing here?"

He's amused and you can tell because he's eyes are twinkling and the corner of his lips are twitching as if fighting the urge to smile. "I was picking something up for Jessica at Bath and Body Works when I saw you guys and wanted to say ... hi.”

"Wonderful." you deadpanned, placing the crotchless panties back on top of the mannequin's head.

Before either of you could say anything else, Emily joins in, a smile so smug and big it would've been hard to miss from space. "I'm going to look at that section of toys. Maybe you'll like a blue one instead so you can imagine it's Jake Sully instead."

She's too far away when you think about slapping her, already moving towards the side section of even more vibrators and dildos, a few naughty shirts display that separated you and Hotch from her. After glaring a hole into the back of her head, you turned back to Hotch, wanting nothing more than to melt on the floor and die.

"I-" you start, unable to finish; just like the night before.

He begins to look through the wall of sex toys, brows furrowing at the choices. Your cheeks redden when he picks up the infamous rose vibrator momentarily before placing it back down. It looked so tiny in his big hands and you wanted nothing more than to have his big hands in you. "What kind of toys do you like?"

It takes you a second to comprehend his question, still stuck on him seeing you shopping for things a boss should never know about his employees. "Um, whatever, really. I haven't really had one since college."

Hotch nods as if you were talking about a case and not about orgasming on a fucking sex toy. "I see."

You watch in silence as he studies the choices again, fully concentrated. He picks up a packaged dildo, regular colored, and holds it up to inspect it. You watch him eye the silicone dick before placing it back and picking up an identical one, only this one is thicker and wider.

"So ... you ever try one of these before with someone?" you asked, unable to deal with the silence but now wishing you hadn't spoken after that horrible sentence.

Thankfully, he chuckles, eyes not straying from the description on the packaging. "No, I haven't. I never really did have the time or someone who was willing to try something like this out."

"Ahh," you reply like a fucking idiot.

After another few moments of inspecting the dildo, he hands it to you with a smile. You take it instinctively, confused and gobsmacked at the gesture. His eyes are twinkling with amusement and something else you can't place. "That one should be the closest."

It’s about eight inches long, quite thick and has veins decorating the length. The head of it is big and you nearly salivate at the thought of getting off to it tonight.

"The closest to what?"

Hotch just grins in return and starts to turn away and walk out. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have fun.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds #thomas gibson

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chvoswxtch · 3 months

Note

Court baby i've waiting for this moment! I have this idea for a fic living rent free in my head. Its Frank x fem!reader. They were in a very cozy and confy moment when the snap happened and reader was blipped! You could write how Frank deald with those five years and with reader coming back. With a lot of angst moments and flufly and maybe spicy after she comes back. I would love if you accept this request! Thank you, I love you ❤️

i'm not gonna lie to you, the blip is my least favorite marvel storyline, but I love you so I put myself and frank through it just for you 🖤

I would say sorry that i'm about to emotionally wreck you but in my defense, you did ask for this so...enjoy or don't

warning: swearing, mentions of blood, violence, guns, & alcohol, heavy angst, very brief allusion to suicide (blink and you miss it) word count: 4.1k

the blip.

A split second. That’s how quickly Frank lost you. He turned his back for a second to refill his mug of coffee, and when he turned back around, you had vanished seemingly into thin air. At first he thought maybe you had gone back into the bedroom to grab a sweater or something. It had been a bit chilly in the kitchen, and you were always cold. But then a few seconds turned into a few minutes, and Frank didn’t hear any shuffling or soft footsteps. He didn’t hear anything at all. The crisp silence had an icy sense of dread trickling down his spine, and when he didn’t hear your sweet voice responding to his cautious calls of your name, he went into a full blown panic.

You were gone.

Year One.

This wasn’t happening again. It couldn’t be. There was no way he had survived losing Maria and the kids just to find you, to let your endless patience and irrevocable empathy fill the gaping void in his chest, only to lose you too. It had to be some kind of cruel joke. Frank didn’t consider himself a good man; he was well aware of and acquainted with his demons. But he didn’t deserve this.

Did he?

It was forty-eight hours before anyone even knew what happened. One giant asshole snapped his fingers, and half the universe’s population ceased to exist. Frank had stopped believing in God a lifetime ago, and he certainly didn’t believe in aliens or otherworldly creatures. He had seen first hand during his time in the Marines that mankind was the real monster. But it didn’t matter that he didn’t believe in it, because it happened, and not even the fucking Avengers could stop it. Hell, half of them were gone too.

Two weeks after the snap, news broke that Thanos had been killed, and that the Infinity Stones were destroyed, but the remaining members of the Avengers were trying to come up with a way to bring everyone back. For months Frank was glued to every news outlet, frantically waiting for even the smallest of updates. Anything was something. He refused to believe that the snap was permanent. The Avengers were going to find a way to bring everyone back. They had to.

Your pillowcase had stopped smelling like your shampoo, and Frank found himself using it and your body wash just to keep your scent on the sheets. He burned your favorite candles and read your favorite books. He wouldn’t stay gone longer than fifteen minutes in case you finally came home. He wanted to be there when you did. Frank kept himself busy with little projects around the house, things that you had mentioned changing or updating that he had promised he would get around to and never did. Frank swore to himself when you came home, things would be different.

He would take that trip you wanted to go on. He’d take you to the shelter to pick out a dog like you had been talking about. Maybe you two would finally start a family. Whatever you wanted, he’d give you. He’d find a way to give you the goddamn moon and every single star in the sky if you wanted them.

As soon as you came home.

But then a year went by, and nothing had changed. The anniversary of the snap came and went, and everyone seemed to give up hope on bringing everyone back, or they just decided to move on and accept that no one was coming back.

But Frank couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. He refused to believe you were really gone.

Year Two.

The worst part about the snap was that Frank couldn’t collect his vengeance in blood like he had with his family. The one who took you from him was already dead, and even if he hadn’t been, Frank had no way of reaching him. Thanos was a Titan, someone who was revered as a God to those that followed him, and Frank was just a man. A man poisoned with rage and an insatiable thirst for revenge. So, he did what he was good at. He punished. Even though half the universe’s population was gone, that didn’t mean there weren’t still monsters left on Earth.

Frank killed without mercy or prejudice. There was no sin too harmless for his wrath. His fists collided with skin and bone until there was nothing left but ivory fragments tainted crimson and torn flesh. He didn’t stop, not even when his destructive blows caused his own knuckles to crack. It had gotten to the point where he hardly reached for a gun anymore unless he absolutely had to. He preferred to use his hands or serrated steel. He wanted to inflict every ounce of pain that he felt inside on whoever was stupid enough to get in his way.

It was like he wasn’t even mentally present anymore. His conscience had been shut off somehow, and all that was left was a relentless killing machine. Whenever he ran out of targets in the city, he moved on to hunt in the next one, and the next one, and the next one. He lived primarily out of his van, or whatever dingy motel he came across on the road. He hadn’t stepped foot in your home in almost a year. He couldn’t. It was haunted by your memory, and he couldn’t desecrate the home you two had made together with what he had become.

You would be ashamed of him. You would be disgusted and horrified by the things he had done. That thought echoed in his head as he watched the water continue to run red while he stood under the weak spray of the shower head. He didn’t know what town or even what state he was in. He didn’t know what day of the week it was, or what month it was. He didn’t care. All he knew was that you were gone, and he had nothing left.

Nothing left but the white hot fury that infected his veins and had him seeking out blood like water in the desert.

Year Three.

Frank couldn’t visit you, not like he could Maria and the kids. He couldn’t even have the closure of burying you, because there wasn’t a body. There was no final resting place for you, and he didn’t think that was fucking fair. Today was your birthday, and Frank had been drowning himself in whiskey trying to dilute the painful memories that played in his head like a haunting home movie.

The angelic sound of your voice as you read him whatever book your nose was buried in that week, your fingers slipping through his dark tresses while he laid his head on your chest and listened in pure content. The feeling of your soft lips on his heated skin and delicate noises of pleasure as your bodies connected like they were made for each other. Your melodic laughter, the silkiness of your skin, slow dancing in the living room with the moon acting as a spotlight.

All the words he never said. All the promises he didn’t get to keep. All the dreams that wouldn’t come true.

Somehow Frank found himself in a church. He couldn’t remember the last time he stepped foot in one. Maybe it was Sunday school back when his parents still forced him to go. He had stumbled in, his heavy boots thudding along the aisle, the only other sound coming from the amber liquid sloshing around in the half empty bottle in his hand. He stopped when he got to the front, looking up at the stained glass depictions of angels, until his weary eyes landed on the savior that was nailed to the giant cross.

Frank glared at him for several minutes before hurling the half empty bottle right at the head of the statue, causing a firework explosion of shimmering shards of glass to rain over the altar and various candles that had been lit for loved ones that had passed on. His rough voice boomed throughout the empty space.

“You son of a bitch! Why didn’t you take me, huh? Why not me? She ain’t never done a goddamn thing wrong. I’m the one you want. I’m the one that deserves it. I’m the goddamn killer here, huh? I’m the fuckin’ Punisher. So you bring her back, and you take me!”

Frank started grabbing bibles from the pews and hurling them at the statue with all his strength. In his inebriated state, some of them flew right past the statue and knocked over other small figurines and candlesticks. He let out a guttural war cry every time he threw a new one, and by the time he ran out of steam, he was panting heavily, and tears had formed in his eyes.

Dropping to his knees, he looked up at the melancholic face of the statue that matched his own, and he did something he hadn’t done in years.

He prayed.

“Please. Please, just bring her back. I’ll take her place…I won’t fight…just…just bring her back. I’m beggin’ you…I’ll do whatever it takes, alright? Just…you can’t…you can’t do this to me again. You can’t. I may deserve it, but she don’t…okay so just…just…”

Frank was tired. Three years without you was too long. He hadn’t been able to find the peace that he had found after Maria and the kids. He spent a year waging war on everyone, and it did nothing. He spent the last few months drowning himself in booze, and it didn’t help. Nothing helped, and there was nothing to keep him going. You were gone, and you weren’t coming back, so what the hell was he still getting out of bed every morning for?

Reaching into the pocket of his coat, Frank pulled out a revolver and stared down at it. There was only one bullet in the chamber, and it wasn’t meant for anyone but him. If God wouldn’t bring you back, then he would go to you.

As soon as he cocked the hammer, a familiar voice sounded behind him.

“You don’t wanna do that, Frank.”

Turning his head to look over his shoulder, Frank squinted his blurry eyes before turning back around, shaking his head with a dry laugh.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. Half the goddamn universe gets wiped out, and I get stuck with the fuckin’ altar boy.”

“Frank-”

“Mind your fuckin’ business, Red. Just cause there’s only one bullet in this chamber don’t mean I won’t handle your ass.”

Matt let out a deep exhale through his nose as he took a few cautious steps towards where Frank was on his knees in front of the altar.

“You’re drunk-”

“And you’re fuckin’ relentless. Go home.”

“Look, whoever you lost-”

“Whoever I lost? I lost everyone, Red!”

Matt didn’t flinch when Frank suddenly rose from his knees and stormed over towards him, his loud voice booming in the silence as they stood barely an inch apart. Matt cocked his head to the side slightly, his lips pursed as he grit his teeth.

“You think you’re the only one that’s lost everyone you’ve ever cared about, Frank?”

“Then what the hell are you waitin’ on, huh? You too much of a fuckin’ pussy to do it yourself, huh? That it? You need me to do it for you?”

Matt carefully reached out to place his hand on Frank’s arm, lowering the gun that was in his hand while he spoke in a calm voice.

“I don’t want to die, Frank. And I don’t think you want to either. You just want the pain to stop. But if you do this, it’s permanent, and you’ll never know if she came back.”

Frank shook his head and blew a puff of hot air out of his lips, his dark brows scrunching up in pure annoyance and frustration.

“She ain’t comin’ back-”

“You don’t know that. She’s not dead, Frank. She’s lost. Maybe she’s with Karen and Foggy. Frank, someone came down from another planet and wiped out half the universe. Is it so crazy to think that could be undone?”

The anger that was simmering inside Frank from Matt’s intrusion seemed to be burning through the alcohol in his system, and Matt’s question was igniting a tiny ember of hope that Frank wasn’t prepared to tend to. His body physically deflated as he dropped his head between his broad shoulders. There was a heavy tide of tears on his bottom lash line threatening to flood at any moment.

“Don’t do that.”

“You have to have faith, Frank-“

“I don’t, Red.”

“I do.”

Frank didn’t know when Matt managed to slip the revolver from his grasp, but he didn’t feel the weight of a permanent decision in his palm anymore. Matt had planted a tiny seed of hope, and what if’s were taking over Frank’s brain like wild ivy.

What if there was a chance you could come back? Matt had a point, you weren’t dead. Not really. Even if the probability of it happening was one in a million, didn’t Frank owe you the same unwavering patience you had always shown him?

“Look Frank, just…give me a year. One year to show you things can be different. If you still want to make that call in a year, I won’t stop you. I’ll leave you alone. But Frank…you’ve gotten through this once before. You can do this again. If not for yourself, just try for her.”

A year. A year was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Frank had already been without you for three years now.

What was one more?

Year Four.

Matt’s apartment was fucking obnoxious due to that goddamn billboard across the street, but it was better than the shitty motels Frank had been staying in. He still couldn’t step foot in the home he had shared with you. It had been three years now, and even though he wasn’t fully convinced you could come back, he couldn’t let it go. Everything that was you was there, and if he sold the house, that meant every trace of you and your existence was gone.

Matt had one rule for Frank staying with him; no killing. For a week, Frank lounged on the couch trying to figure out what to do with himself. He would start to read a book, but could never get more than a few pages because he remembered how much you loved to read, and then he would get stuck staring at the pages while memories of you played on loop in his head. There wasn’t a TV because Matt didn’t have use for one, and Frank didn’t care to watch anything anyway. It didn’t take long for Frank to go stir crazy. He had never been good at staying idle.

While Matt was out making the world a better place, Frank had managed to find a construction job. Busting down walls all day long allowed him to get his pent up anger out while not breaking Matt’s golden rule. Most days it felt like Frank was on autopilot. He woke up, went to the job site, smashed a sledgehammer through a wall until his hands bled, came home, tried to sleep, inevitably had a nightmare about losing you, and laid on the couch staring blankly up at the ceiling until the sun rose.

Every single day was a repeat of the last until they started to blur together. Frank didn’t speak to anyone at the job sites. He didn’t speak to anyone at all. Between Matt’s busy court schedule and his nightly patrols, they didn’t see each other often, and even when they were home at the same time, Frank still hardly spoke to him. He wasn’t sleeping, he barely ate, and on the days he had off, he didn’t leave the couch. He felt like a hollow shell of the man he used to be.

Matt knew what he was going through. Hell, he had been there himself after the second time he lost Elektra. He knew what it felt like to lose the person you loved most in this world, and that had happened to Frank twice now. He did his best to be patient, but after four months, he couldn’t take it anymore. Matt was fortunate that he’d had people that helped him combat his depression to find his way back to himself, but Frank didn’t have a soul in his corner.

Except for Matt.

And even though Frank wasn’t shy about not wanting Matt’s help, Matt didn’t care. Frank could be stubborn, but he didn’t have the energy or the drive to match Matt’s stubbornness, and Matt used that to his advantage. He was relentless in pushing Frank to participate in life again. He purposely antagonized Frank, even if it meant being reduced to a human punching bag, because that meant Frank was still in there somewhere.

Matt started small in getting him out of the apartment, like guilt tripping Frank into joining him on trips to the grocery store.

“You’re not gonna help your blind roommate get groceries? You know, a lot of items don’t come with braille labels. So when I die because I accidentally put bleach in my coffee instead of creamer, you have to say nice things about me at my funeral.”

“You don’t need labels, Red. You got that goddamn bloodhound nose. Would you stop lookin’ at me like that? Jesus fuckin’ Christ, fine. Get your fuckin’ jacket and let’s go.”

After a while, he even managed to get Frank to join him at Fogwell’s from time to time.

“No wonder you became a goddamn lawyer. All you know how to do is fuckin’ argue, makes sense you made a livin’ outta it.”

“I’m not arguing, Frank. If we got in the ring, you would lose. That’s a fact. You don’t know how to box, you just know how to run at people and slam them into things. And you’re too bulky to move as fast as me. None of that is an argument, it’s a simple observation.”

“Why don’t you observe your ass in that ring so I can shut you the fuck up, Red.”

The more time they spent together, and the more Frank put in an effort to move forward one step at a time, the less empty he felt. The nightmares still came every so often, and there were days where the weight of your absence was too much for him to bear, but for the first time in four years, he didn’t feel so hopeless.

He could think about you without breaking down. He could see something that reminded him of you, and it warmed his heart instead of ripping it out. He had finally reached a point where he had slowly crawled out of the deep pit of grief that he had been digging for the past four years.

As much as he hated to admit it, Matt had helped him find a semblance of peace.

Year Five.

The sound of a dog barking caught Frank’s attention. He pulled his head out from under the hood of his truck, looking over at the grey and white pitbull that was standing a few feet away from the front door of the house you and Frank had lived in together that he’d finally moved back into six months ago. He glanced between the front door and the dog with his thick brows furrowed.

“What is it, Daisy?”

The dog turned her head when she heard Frank’s voice, the movement so fast it made her long velvet ears flop. She turned her attention back to the door and continued to bark. Something inside had caught her attention. Eyeing the front door warily, Frank rubbed his grease stained hands off on a small rag and walked over towards where Daisy was, kneeling down beside her to gently scratch that spot between her ears that she loved.

“Hey, shh shh shh. C’mon now, what’s got you so worked up, huh? What do you think is inside, huh? You smellin’ that-”

The sound of the front door opening caught Frank’s attention, and he instantly snapped his head in the direction of it. All of a sudden, his warm brown eyes went wide, and time seemed to freeze in that very moment.

“Sweetheart?”

His quiet whisper was dripped in disbelief. There you were, looking exactly the same as the day you had vanished, looking between Frank and Daisy with an expression of surprise and perplexment.

“Frank?”

God, your voice. It had been five years since he had last heard it. That was all the confirmation he needed that this was real. You were real. You were really home.

Without wasting a second, Frank stood and ran over towards you, tears filling up his eyes as he wrapped his arms around your frame and hugged you as tightly as physically possible. His heart was thrashing against his ribcage, and he was terrified this was just a vivid dream, but then he inhaled the scent of your shampoo intermingled with your perfume, felt your hands gently pressing against his back, and heard your soft angelic laughter.

“Frankie…baby…you’re crushing me.”

Frank pulled back only slightly, bringing his large hands up to cup your face to study your features, taking in every single inch of you. He caught the way you frowned softly, looking up at him in pure concern when thick tears streamed down his cheeks. You lifted your hand to delicately brush them away with the featherlight touch of your fingers.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“You’re really here.”

“Of course I’m here. Where else would I be? Baby, why are you so upset?”

As you ran your hands through his long grown out curls, a crease of bewilderment nestled in between your brows when you took in his appearance.

“Wait…what happened to your hair? It was just short five seconds ago…and you didn’t have a beard. How…how did you do that? And when did we get a dog? Frank, what-”

Five seconds ago.

Is that all it was for you? Frank could see the visible disorientation on your delicate features, and he had a lot of questions of his own, but right now nothing mattered but you. He leaned in and captured your lips in a deep kiss, pouring every emotion he had felt in the past five years into it. He kissed you like the world could end at any moment, because for him it did the day you vanished.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours and let out a deep exhale of relief.

“You…you were gone, sweetheart. You were gone a long time…a long goddamn time.”

“Gone? What-”

“I’ll explain everythin’, I promise. Just…just give me a minute, please. Just let me hold you for a minute, can you do that for me, baby? Please?”

Frank had always been able to read you like a book, and he could tell by the look in your eyes that you weren’t just confused. Hearing you had been gone for a long time infused you with a sense of panic and uncertainty. But you trusted Frank, and you knew whatever hard truth he was going to tell you, he wouldn’t let you go through it alone.

“Okay.”

As Frank embraced you again, you suddenly felt a pair of paws on your back. Glancing over your shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the happy dog wagging its tail while looking between you and Frank. Reaching down, you gently pet the side of her face with a soft smile.

“Hi there, precious.”

“Daisy.”

Glancing up at Frank, your lips parted slightly when Frank told you her name. A soft smile covered his lips, the first smile to do so in five years. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear slowly.

“You always said if we got a dog and it was a girl, you wanted to name her Daisy.”

Tears welled up along your bottom lash line as you looked up at Frank, a gentle smile covering your lips. After a moment, you glanced away from Frank to look at Daisy again, letting out a soft laugh.

“I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Daisy.”

Frank gave your waist a light squeeze, leaning in to press a soft lingering kiss to your cheek.

“And we’ve been waitin’ a long time for you. Welcome home, sweetheart.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @Vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle request #frank castle fic #the punisher #the punisher request #the punisher fic #matt murdock #daredevil

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wandaslittlelove · 1 month

Text

Destined - Part 0

Warnings: Cheating, mentions of death

The rain poured as I stared out the window. It had been almost two weeks since I had seen Wanda and about a month since my sister had sacrificed herself for a stone.

When I came back from the blip it felt like seconds had passed but really it had been five years. In those five years my sister was alone. Grieving my loss. Then when I came back and found out she was gone I was grieving hers. It seemed as if neither of us could ever get a happy ending.

Being devastated by the loss my immediate thought was Wanda. Was she okay? Where is she? But I knew it all had to wait for after the battle against Thanos. I saw Wanda many times on the battlefield and tried to go to her but each time she would move away from me.

After the battle I sat in front of Tony Stark. The many who had been like another sibling to me for years. He was gone. I held Peter's crying figures in my arms that day as he cried for his mentor. Yet another family member had been taken from both of us.

Tony’s funeral is the last time I’ve seen Wanda. The last time I held her in my arms and the last time I was held in hers. I was told she stole Vision's body and had taken over a town called Westview to create her Perfect family.

I was devastated at hearing this. First my sister dies, then Tony, and now Wanda has run off with the corpse of a man she had always reassured me she never liked.

So I moved. I stayed in the compound as I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Natasha's room had become a safe haven along with the gray tabby.. A little gray tabby that enjoyed cuddles. Cinder was her name and she was the one thing that was currently keeping me grounded.

That was until Wanda came bursting through my front door with rain dripping down her body. A Pained expression on her face as she held her side. We both said nothing as I moved to quickly inspect her injury and when I saw it was just a couple of bruised ribs I let out a sigh of relief.

She was the one that talked first. She told me of Westview and how a woman named Agatha Harkness came for her magic and that's how she got the bruises. She told me of her boys, Tommy and Billy, and how they were the perfect kids. I listened silently as my ex Fiance told me all about the fantasy life she had created with a Robot. And I said nothing as she told me that she missed me. Nothing as she told me why she did it. And once again Nothing as she told me of the countless nights she spent with the man I had always been insecure about.

“So I just came to say that it would work out better if you stopped loving me. I’ve done so many things to hurt you. I cheated on you for two years. So please forget me.”

“So I'm not allowed to love you anymore?” I asked with my head turned away from wanda. Ever since Westview was created and she chose vision instead of me we had been arguing non stop.

“That's not what I'm saying!” I look at Wanda with a stone face not wanting to show her how much she's hurting me.

“Really? Because I believe the words ‘it would work out better if you stopped loving me’ mean that.” Wanda looks at me annoyed before she speaks

“I'm just saying it would be easier”

“For who? Me or you” the silence from wanda is all the information I need. With a scoff I pick up my bag before walking to the front door.

“Knowing that you chose a robot over your fiance really says a lot about you Wanda. You created a whole life with someone you had claimed to barely know while I was grieving the death of my sister. And when it all came crashing down you run back to me. I don't want that. I don't want you. I stopped loving you as soon as you ran into his arms” as i exited the place that had once been my home the tears had finally started to fall. Although they weren't out of sadness.

I was free. Finally free…or that's what I thought 4 months ago.

Until suddenly Wanda was trying to kill a child for her magic. Until Dr. Strange came to my door asking for help. And Until I found out our destinies would forever be linked.

Taglist: @alexawynters @username23345 @casquinhaa

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angelltheninth · 9 months

Note

Can I ask headcanons for Peter B. Parker, Spider-Man Noir, Miguel O'Hara, and Hobie Brown caught their shy gn crush staring at them?

Of course! I'm pretty shy myself so getting caught would be the death of me fr.

Pairing: Peter B. Parker, Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown, Noir x Reader

Tags: fluff, crushes, staring, lots of teasing, confessions, kissing

A/N: If they caught me looking at them I would vanish off the face of the planet like I got Thanos snapped.

Peter thinks it's very cute how you try and pretend you don't look at him. Thanks to his spider powers he doesn't have to turn around to know you're looking at him, but he likes to fluster you. When he breaks the ice and goes to talk to you he notices you seem to be a bit younger then him. Ah, explains the nervousness. Don't worry he won't treat you like you're immature, but he might tease you from time to time.

Miguel walks up to you the first time he sees you looking at him. Is there something you want from him? He's seen you, staring at him. It's clear that you like him, no need to deny it now. But you are kinda cute when you blush like that. Makes him wonder what other situations you'd blush in, what he can do to make you blush. Yes, he's always this forward, it usually solves his problem. You could benefit from that too. Go out with him and he'll teach you to loud and vocal.

Hobie slides closer and closer every time he catches you staring at him. It's such little movements that you don't notice it at first but after a while yeah, he moved pretty damn close. When he's close enough to talk to you he leans his hand against the wall and asks you if he can finally ask you out? Well if you're staring at him so much then you probably want to go on a date right? You can be honest. Great, he'll pick you up tonight.

Noir gives you a taste of your own medicine. He stares right back at you, intensely. It would be weird if you weren't doing it to him first. When you look up again he's gone. You feel his lips brushing against your ear, you turn and for a moment your lips touch. That wasn't part of his plan but he's not refusing a kiss from you if you want it. However he would like to take this in a proper order. He'll take you to drinks first, see how things go from there.

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httpwintersoldier · 10 months

Text

『 hate fuck. || bucky barnes x reader 』

pairing: Bucky x f!reader words: medium summary: having sex with someone you love was good, but having sex with someone you hated was even better.

A/N: this takes place in a universe where Steve didn't make the dumbass choice of going back in time and staying there.

You became friends with Steve Rogers when you decided to join a help group for people who had lost their loved ones during the snap. You had lost all of your family, and in a way, so did Steve.

Your loss served as a way to bond, and you became great friends over time. Although it didn't fill the constant sense of emptiness, having each other's company and comfort made it a lot easier to cope.

The two of you would often sit over coffee and go on and on for hours, sharing stories about the people you loved and had lost. It kept the memory of them alive and made the pain a little easier to bear.

You learned that Steve's family had died long before he had even become Captain America, and his only family was Bucky Barnes - a.k.a the man who used to be the Winter Soldier.

The man spoke so highly of his best friend that you couldn't help but imagine the kindest, funniest, best person in the world.

So it came to you as a shock when, 5 years after Thanos visited Earth, everyone came back and Steve finally introduced you to Bucky, and you hated him. Not only that, he hated you too. You couldn't stand each other.

The air was heavy and tense in every room you shared, and everyone caught the very obvious hateful stares you sent each other's way.

It confused Steve. You didn't have a major disagreement, and neither of you were the type of person to just pick a fight with people out of the blue, so the reason why you were constantly at each other's throats was a head scratcher for Steve.

He did try his best to have you two hang out and get to know each other, but it just resulted in an awkward, angry mess every time.

The reason for your shared hate was stupid and childish.

It was mostly jealousy over Steve's friendship. When Bucky came back and saw how close you two were, he felt somewhat replaced, and he didn't like the way you walked around like you were Steve Rogers' best friend. You, on the other hand, didn't like the way Bucky looked at you and the way he dismissed your and Steve's friendship as if it wasn't worth anything.

However, neither of you would admit to being jealous of the other.

"Bucky I'm begging you, behave." Steve asked, hands placed on his best friend's shoulders as he looked into the man's eyes.

"Why am I the one getting the warning!? She's as much to blame Steve." Bucky argued, pulling away from his friend's grip to restock the fridge with beer.

Steve placed his hands on his hips and sighed.

"Fine, whatever. Just... don't add fuel to the fire."

The Avengers were having a get-together at the compound, and Steve knew how much you wanted to meet Thor, so he had invited you over to hang out with them. The man didn't even think about the tense atmosphere it might ensue until he saw Bucky's face twist in disgust when he heard his best friend tell the others he had invited someone else.

When the time came and you came into the compound dressed in semi-fancy attire, you could feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of your skull. You knew it was Bucky, and chose to ignore it out of respect for Steve.

You introduced yourself to everyone, and you were visibly shy, standing before some of the strongest people in the universe.

"No need to be shy, miss Y/N. We are all like you! Well, I am a god, but the others are like you." Thor said, as he tried to make you feel more comfortable, and you smiled shyly.

You took a seat next to Steve, and not long after Bucky came into the room. He looked around for a seat, and luck certainly wasn't on your side, as the only vacant space was next to you.

He audibly sighed and took the seat.

"You can always stand." You said, under your breath, so only he would hear it.

Bucky ignored you, Steve's request to "behave" playing on his head over and over again, but you knew he heard you from the way his body tensed.

"So Y/N, how did you meet Steve?" Wanda asked, trying to get you to open up more.

"We met in one of those group meetings to help people who've lost someone to the snap, he helped me big time." You explained, smiling at Steve.

"So it's been what? Five years since you met? You must be like best friends now." Bruce said with a smile, finding your friendship cute.

Upon hearing those words, Bucky scoffed.

"Best friend? She wishes."

"I've been around more than you have."

You didn't want to reply to him, you didn't want to stoop to his level, but the reply came out of you automatically.

"I was physically unavailable 'cause I was snapped." Bucky argued, turning his body to face you.

Steve buried his face in his hands and sighed, as if saying "here we go", as the rest of the Avengers just looked confused.

"Bucky and Y/N don't get along... at all." Steve explained, brreaking the awkward silence and tension.

"Why?" Bruce dared to ask, his curiosity not getting the hint to leave the subject alone.

"If you have a conversation with her you'll understand why."

"I'd say the same but you're the most antisocial person I've ever met. You couldn't hold a conversation to save your life." You retorted instantly.

Pure hatred, disgust and anger were displayed on your faces as you engaged in what seemed like the most intense staring contest.

"Guys, please calm down, this is the first time we've all been together since everyone came back, let's all just take it down a notch and have a good time, okay?" Steve said, looking between the two of you, practically begging with his eyes.

"Whatever, I'm gonna get some air." Bucky said as he downed his beer and left the room.

Steve felt bad, but he also felt that leaving the room would probably be best for Bucky, as you two couldn't be in the same space together at that time without bickering, and you didn't know the compound well to go around and blow off some steam.

Some of the tension immediately died down, and soon after the group went back to the regular conversation, sharing stories, remembering old times, and bonding again over their experiences.

Since you were drinking, it wasn't long before you needed to use the bathroom.

"Steve?" You asked, tapping the man's shoulder.

He turned to look at you, focusing on what you had to say.

"Where's the bathroom?" You asked in a hushed voice.

"You go through there," Steve started, pointing at a hallway behind you "make a right, and it's the third door on your left."

You thanked the man and excused yourself from the room, although everyone else was too engaged in the conversation to notice.

After going to the bathroom, your mind was too distracted thinking about how lucky you were to be sitting and laughing with the Avengers to realize that you had gone the wrong way, and when you came back down to earth you registered that you had no fucking idea where you were and how to get back to the common area.

"Shit..." You said, looking around and wandering about as you attempted to find yourself.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

You recognized the voice that echoed behind you instantly. How could you not, it triggered you every single time.

You turned around to find Bucky, standing there in his usual "I'm better than everyone" with arms crossed and a raised eyebrow.

"I just love walking around and staring at walls and doors that all look the same." You said with an insincere smile, causing Bucky to roll his eyes.

You resumed your hunt for the area where everyone was gathered, but the soldier caught up to you and stood in your way.

"You're lost, aren't you?" He had this smile of amusement on his face.

The man was just waiting for you to admit it, so he could make fun of you for it.

"Bucky get the fuck out of my way, you're so annoying I don't know what could've possessed Steve to be your friend."

You shoved him as you said that, attempting to get past the Soldier. But apparently your comment set him off, as he grabbed your arm and pressed you against the wall. The soldier's face was centimetres away from yours, his jaw was clenched and eyes displaying a plethora of emotions you couldn't even begin to describe.

"You're out of your fucking mind if you think for a second that Steve would somehow prefer being with you than with me. I'm his brother, you were just a replacement while I wasn't back."

You scoffed and tried to shake him away, but to no avail.

"Is that why your panties are always in a twist when I'm around? You're jealous?" You teased, knowing fully well you were stepping into dangerous territory.

Bucky's grip went from his regular hand holding your arm to his bionic hand gripping your jaw, pinning it against the wall.

"Listen here princess, there's nothing to be jealous about. If you think I'd ever feel something other than disgust about someone as useless as you, then you're dead wrong. You mean nothing to me." His face was even closer to yours as he spat those words, hate and anger dripping from every single one.

"Oh and I'm so hurt by your words, will I ever get over it?" You asked sarcastically, bottom lip pouting and fake sadness displayed in your face.

"Shut the fuck up, I'm so fucking tired of hearing you bitch all the time." Bucky's voice was just above a growl, and it intimidated you beyond belief, but you'd never show it.

"Shut me up then."

Bucky opened the door next to you and shoved you inside, then slamming the door closed.

His bionic hand wrapped around your neck and brought you closer, your body crashing against his.

"I'm gonna shut you up alright, I'm gonna fuck you dumb so you stop running that little bitchy mouth of yours." Bucky told you, switching the tension in the room immediately.

"You're doing a whole lot of talking and not a lot of fucking."

"You're such a fucking brat" The soldier growled, pushing you against the wall and violently smashing his lips against yours.

The kiss was rough. No, it was animalistic. Your heads moving from side to side as you fought with your tongues for dominance, teeth clashing and hands all over each other, with lip and neck bites here and there.

Your hands tugged on his hair, and your thigh sneaked in between his legs, rubbing against his growing boner.

Bucky, on the other hand, squeezed all of your curves - your waist, your hips, your thighs and your ass. Any piece of flesh he could get his hands on, he'd squeeze and slap.

Unbeknownst to each other, you had also turned that moment into a competition, and you were desperately trying to make each other moan, as if the blatant display of pleasure from the other party was a trophy, as if it was a confirmation of submission.

In traditional Bucky fashion, he grew impatient, and decided to play dirty. As he mantained one hand on your ass, the other sneaked in between your bodies and undid your pants' button and zipper. Before you could protest, his hand found its way inside of your panties, and two of his fingers pushed inside of you.

"Shit- fuck!" You cursed as you pulled away from the kiss and gripped his shoulders, not being able to contain the ecstasy his touch made you feel anymore.

"So wet for me, doll." Bucky teased, whispering in your ear "Are you sure you hate me? Maybe you just really wanted to fuck me all this time."

He bit your earlobe and you groaned, out of pleasure and frustration. You wanted to complain and shoot back a snarky remark, but fuck the way his fingers filled you up and stretched you out was so delicious that you just couldn't.

"Fuck... you." You managed to say between deep breaths, as your head hit the wall.

Bucky slapped your ass harshly, and attacked your neck with small bites as a punishment (that you definitely wanted more of).

Your back started arching as your climax approached. You weren't sure if it was because it was Bucky or if it was because you were fucking in the middle of a party, but your climax approached extremely fast. And Bucky could tell.

He could very well tell you were about to cum from the way your eyes shut, your back arched and the way your hips desperately started grinding on his fingers begging for more.

So he picked up the pace, right before pulling his fingers out, and licking them clean in front of you.

"You fucking asshole." You said, out of breath, looking at him through your lashes.

"Sticks and stones princess."

You began getting on your knees, when Bucky gripped your neck and got you back up.

"Oh how cute, you thought I'd give you the chance to do the same to me? How stupid do you think I am?" He cooed mockingly, then approaching his face to yours "I own you. I control you and I will use you as I please. Got it?"

Although his tone was aggressive and intimidating, and his eyes expressed a mix of lust and seriousness, you'd never let him win at this mind game.

"Fat fucking chance, asshole."

The man picked you up, swung you over his shoulder and carried you to the bed, slapping your ass harshly before letting you fall on the mattress. He pulled down your pants, as well as your underwear and discarded of them.

Bucky then hovered over you and looked at you threateningly, the thing he seemed to be best at.

"You're such a fucking brat... I'm gonna love to destroy you."

You didn't realize he had pulled his cock out by the time he finished the sentence, and just as you were going to say something, he bottomed inside you.

The fucker had timed it perfectly to shut you up with his cock, and you knew it. You knew it because as you looked at him through half lidded eyes you could see his smile, a smile that said "I win" as his tongue poked against the inside of his cheek.

"What's that princess? Wanted to say something? Go ahead. Say it."

He knew you couldn't. Bucky was perfectly aware that you couldn't speak because he promised to fuck you dumb and he was achieving it.

The way he held you down with one hand on your hips and one around your neck, his hips incessantly snapping against yours at a pace you had no idea was even possible.

All could manage to leave your lips were moans and incoherent swear words that you yourself couldn't put together.

"That's it, doll, you look so good like this, taking my cock." Bucky's voice then darkened "I'm going to fuck the brat out of you no matter how many times it takes."

Bucky was loving it. Seeing you be so submissive in front of him, moaning and whimpering as you took him all in... It took all his strenght not to cum quickly, but he wanted to see you cum first. He wanted to see how good you looked as you came, knowing he (the person you hated most) was the reason you were climaxing.

As soon as your hands gripped the sheets and your back arched once more, Bucky knew you were close.

"That's it doll, cum for me. Cum on my cock princess, I want to see how good you look." He said, breathless.

It wasn't long before you obeyed his command.

"Fuck, Bucky!" You yelled as your climax hit, your legs trembled and your eyes saw stars.

Your mind went blank, and you could swear you had passed out for a second.

The soldier finally let go, buried himself deep inside of you and came, as he groaned and gripped your hips tigther.

When he pulled out, he fell beside you on the bed, trying to regain his breath like you.

No words were exchanged, you simply stood up and put your clothes back on and the man followed suit.

You made your way to the door and opened it, before stopping and stealing one last look at Bucky.

"This was the first and last time."

The man chuckled, paused and stood up, walking up to you until his chest was against your back and his hands on your hips.

"Sure thing princess, lie to yourself all you want, but you can't lie to me, you'll be back. I saw how desperate and wwet you were for my cock."

You felt the heat in your body rise, and just pushed him away as you tried to find your way back to the common area, trying to forget what had just happened.

You fixed your hair and makeup as best as possible with the help of your phone's screen, and once you started hearing their voices in the distance you found your way back.

The vibe of the room slightly shifted when you entered, but you just assumed that it was because they weren't used to you.

However, the belief changed when you sat down beside Steve and he leaned in to whisper to you.

"I take it you two... made peace?" He asked, a little big of hope and disgust intertlocked in his words.

You looked at him with wide eyes and fake confusion on your face.

"What do you mean!?" You whispered back and Steve rolled his eyes.

"Y/N, we all heard you scream 'Fuck, Bucky'."

[TAGS]

@pattiemac1 ; @buckysfirstbitch ; @low0tter

#bucky #marvel #bucky smut #bucky fanfic #bucky reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel fanfiction #winter soldier #bucky barnes smut #bucky reader smut #bucky x reader smut #bucky reader insert smut #bucky barnes reader smut #marvel smut #avengers smut #bucky x you #bucky barns x reader #bucky enemies to lovers

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wholoveseggs · 5 months

Text

Blood Bath

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

Aunt Flo comes to visit and the noble Elijah stands up to the bitch.

{The main inspiration behind creating this blog stems from my quest to find what I initially thought would be the most cliché smutty scenario involving vampires, only to find a surprising lack of content.} So in the words of Thanos: "Fine, I'll do it myself" - haha -

If you rather read this on Ao3- Link is here

2k Words - Warnings: smut, weed & period blood ~the holy trinity~

Blood Bath

In these moments, you found immense gratitude for your tub—a deep and spacious clawfoot marvel. Lighting a few candles and introducing some exquisite soap into the water, you crafted a cozy atmosphere within the steamy confines of the bathroom. You were looking forward to a relaxing soak, trying to alleviate your period cramps.

As you waited for the tub to fill you took an edible and poured a glass of wine, hoping the combination of substances would numb your pain. Once in the tub, you let the warmth of the water ease your discomfort. The soft glow of the candles added a calming touch to the simple pleasure of the bath, turning it into a brief escape from the day.

Elijah walked into the bathroom, observing the candlelit scene. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, a warm smile on his face.

"Sure, pull up a seat," you replied, patting the edge of the tub. As he settled on the side, his hand casually dipping into the warm water, you started sharing stories about your day, from the funny moments to the challenges at work.

In the midst of laughter, you flinched; your cramps were particularly bad that day.

He looked concerned. "Are you alright?” He asked, his hand moving to your knee.

“I'm fine, it's just cramps,” you replied, adjusting your position in the tub.

“Anything I can do to help?” He asked, giving you a knowing smirk.

You chuckled. "I don't think you can compel away period cramps, as much as I'd love that superpower."

He grinned. "Well, there's something that might help."

You raised an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"

His response was to pick you up out of the tub. Water splashed in all directions, a mix of laughter and shock escaping you.

"Elijah! What are you doing?" you exclaimed.

"Taking you somewhere more comfortable," he said with a playful smirk. He carried you to his bed, and with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, he threw you onto it. You bounced a little from the impact, a mixture of surprise and amusement evident on your face.

He crawled into bed beside you, the air thick with newfound energy. The candles in the bathroom continued to flicker, casting a soft glow on the scene that unfolded in the bedroom.

He kissed you softly, his hands trailing down your wet, naked body. “Lijah,” you whispered, cupping his face as you returned the kiss. “I'm sorry, I really don't have the energy for sex right now.”

“You don't have to do a thing but lay back,” he said softly. Moving downward, he began trailing kisses down your neck and shoulder. He cupped your breasts and ran his thumb over your nipples, and you let out a quiet moan from the sensation.

You knew exactly where this was going, and you began to rub your thighs together in anticipation. The combination of the wine, weed, and extra hormones in your blood made his every touch more pleasurable than usual. “You don't have to,” you weakly protested, knowing damn well he wanted it even more than you did.

With a devilish glint in his eyes, Elijah continued his exploration of your body. His kisses descended lower, tracing a path of fire along your stomach. As his lips reached the sensitive area between your thighs, you gasped, a jolt of pleasure coursing through you.

The combination of his skilled touch and the heightened sensitivity from your current state had you squirming with desire. His hands pressed into your thighs, spreading your legs wide.

The tip of his tongue gently traced over your clit, causing your hips to react with each movement. Using his thumbs, he spread your folds, maintaining an intense rhythm as he pleasured you. A deep, satisfied groan escaped him, finding pure ecstasy in consuming your blood while nestled between your legs. His dark eyes locked onto yours, gauging how long you'd let him stay this way.

Your body quivered under the pleasure he skillfully crafted, the room filled with the sounds of your soft moans and his contented groans. Elijah's focus was unwavering, his actions deliberate as he brought you to the brink of ecstasy.

As the intensity built, he sensed the subtle shifts in your breathing and the tensing of your muscles. The heat building inside you reached its peak, and you climaxed on his tongue, a wave of pleasure coursing through every inch of your being. The pain and pressure of your cramps instantly unwound and you enjoyed the sweet relief.

Your core pulsed with the aftermath of your intense orgasm and your moans filled the room as you ran your hands through his hair. Elijah responded with a low hum of approval, altering his pace. He shifted his attention, planting kisses on your clit before drawing it into his mouth, sucking on it gently.

A loud gasp escaped your lips, and you propped yourself up on your elbows, captivated by the sight. His cheeks were covered with blood and his vampiric nature was on full display, it was oddly sexy, especially when you observed just how much he was enjoying himself. Your climax began to build for the second time and you collapsed back on to the pillows, your arms draped dramatically over your head and your legs trembling.

"Elijah," you panted, feeling his fingers digging into your thighs at the sound of his name. "Please don't stop.”

His response was a muffled acknowledgement as he continued to consume you, his focus unwavering. Your hands came down to tug on his hair, your toes curling as he flicked his tongue against your clit. The sensations he ignited between your thighs were electrifying, and you surrendered to the pleasure, every worry and ache melting away as your second orgasm hit you.

You let out a long breathy moan, breathing heavily and sinking onto the bed, completely spent. Despite your exhaustion, he persisted in pleasuring you, his tongue moving at an inhuman speed, filling the room with soft, wet slurping noises.

"Elijah, I can't... please," you whimpered, your voice a breathless plea as you sensed the intensity of the pleasure becoming almost overwhelming. You tugged on his hair, your legs shaking uncontrollably.

He responded with a dark determination, his grip on your thighs tightening as he spread them wider. "Just one more," he declared.

Sliding two fingers inside you, he orchestrated a flawless rhythm between his hand and tongue. You attempted to close your legs, overwhelmed by the stimulation, but he forcefully kept them open, pushing your knees up around your waist.

His tongue, lips, and fingers worked in harmony, triggering a potent wave of pleasure. Your body convulsed in ecstasy, and a loud moan broke free as your third orgasm surged through you. Elijah savored each moment, delighting in the sweet taste of your blood as your back arched.

Just when you thought he was finished, he continued his relentless attention, pushing you towards another climax. Your body attempted to retreat from his overwhelming attention, every flick of his tongue making you squirm and squeal.

“Please, Elijah,” you begged, too spent to resist. “No more.”

He responded with a low hum, intensifying his rhythm, determined to draw out every last ounce of pleasure. You were caught in a whirlwind of sensations, pleasure mixed with exhaustion, yet his actions persisted. Elijah's hunger for your pleasure seemed insatiable. Despite your protests, he skillfully brought you to the edge once more, his fingers moving with precision, and his tongue dancing with a rhythm that surpassed human capabilities.

As your fourth climax overwhelmed you, your body twisted in pleasure. Elijah, unwavering in his pursuit, consumed you as if it were the last drop of blood he could ever taste. Your thighs went up like a vice, gripping his head, and a low chuckle escaped him as he forced them back open.

“Pl—” you whimpered as he persisted. You felt on the verge of passing out, your heart racing, and your entire body trembling. The edible you consumed had fully taken effect, leaving you incredibly lightheaded.

“Just one more,” he repeated, his tone a low growl.

You attempted to argue but had lost the ability to speak as he thrust his tongue deep into you. He relentlessly fucked you with his tongue as he let out a soft groan of pleasure. His hands pressed into the back of your thighs, causing your hips to spring up so he could delve deeper inside you. Your legs kicked, and you cried out, attempting to escape the over-stimulation. You begged and pleaded for him to stop, but deep down, you knew you were at his mercy and you loved it.

As Elijah continued his relentless assault, your pleas became desperate whispers, lost in the throes of pleasure and exhaustion. Each movement of his tongue intensified the overwhelming sensation, and you succumbed to your fifth orgasm. You moaned his name with long stretched out syllables, your entire body shaking in pleasure.

Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he pulled away, a wicked grin on his face. Your body lay limp on the bed, the aftermath of pleasure and weakness coursing through you. Elijah's eyes were black, with gray veins snaking around them, they gleamed with satisfaction as he licked his lips, relishing the taste of your blood.

He moved to hover over you, gazing down at you with a predatory glint in his eyes. As you lay there, breathless and spent, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Such sweet surrender," he whispered, his voice soft and loving.

The room spun as the combined effects of Elijah and the edible took their toll, and you could barely muster a response. Your body still trembled from the intensity of the experience, and the afterglow of pleasure and weakness continued to course through you.

Elijah, with a contented smile, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, savoring the remnants of your essence. "You taste divine, my love," he murmured.

He leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, and then made his way to the bathroom to clean up. He returned with a warm cloth, wiping away the blood and arousal between your legs.

“Now I need another bath,” you chuckled weakly.

Elijah chuckled, "I suppose you've earned it." He helped you up, and you felt a bit wobbly as you stood. Together, you made your way back to the bathroom, where he prepared a fresh bath for you.

As you settled into the clawfoot tub once again, Elijah joined you, the warm water soothing your senses. You leaned against him, enjoying the closeness, feeling the comforting embrace of his strong arms.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

You nodded, letting out a contented sigh. "Definitely better, thanks to you."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. "Anytime, my love.”

You let out a chuckle, “Don't pretend like that was all for me,” you teased.

Elijah grinned, his lips brushing against your ear. "Perhaps not all, but seeing you relaxed and happy is a reward in itself."

You playfully swatted his arm, "Smooth talker."

His laughter filled the room, a rich and comforting sound. "Guilty as charged.”

I could not find a gif of him all bloody where he looks actually pleased about it; so I gave up. If you happen to have a good one, please send it my way!

I laughed so hard when I found this gif, I was SO close to using it as the header, just to amuse myself.

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evilminji · 3 months

Text

Okay but >.> continuing my Marvel thoughts?

I got two of um?

First being? Don't Orange and Green go together? *looks it up* Aaaaaay~ "Direct harmony, also known as complementary colors, means pairing your key color with the color sitting on the opposite side of the color wheel." They DO!!! They're a classic example, in fact!

The Orange Soul Stone? Probably looks REAL good, real NATURAL even, against that Green sky! Bet it REALLY pops! Very stand out statement piece, you know? But? More importantly? That thing is sentient. All of those Pillars of Reality across the various Verses are.

And?

I bet it thought Pariah was a lil bitch.

Rank Vibes. Negative ris. Pick your words for it, the man was NASTY. He was too keep his filthy, filthy World's Conquering hands OFF of this Soul Stone. Something, I imagine? That ALL the Soul Stones agreed with.

Yes, I said all of um.

Because the various Realities each need their own. But! They can and DO work from the Zone, which is the PERFECT place to hide. And honestly? They like to get together and do this thing? Where they're all "oooh~ look at US! We are SUPER IMPRESSIVE Kingly Jewelry~☆! Definitely no important reality bending Rocks Of Great Power HERE! No SIR! We're just tooootally rad jeeeeewelryyyyy~~~☆! Oooooooh~☆"

They like to have fun. :3

Hope Danny likes Orange. Ha ha... trick question. He doesn't have a CHOICE! All SORTS of Death based Reality Pillars are rocking up, in their metaphorical Gucci sweat suits and shades with a margarita, going "oh thank ME, babe. The last guy was AWFUL! You're soooo much better? Now let me rub myself all over you. It's been ages and baby needs to recharge on Death Energy."

Danny hates it? So? So much?

He looks like a GAUDY PIRATE. *nnnnnnyooom!* *THWAP!* *Another reality shaking, highly sacred, Godly Staff of Death or whatever they decided to call it, flys in through a nearby window and nearly concusses him as it smacks itself against his upper back and sticks there*

He looks like a walking junk heap of sacred artifacts.

You ever been pelted by rocks? He has! Little orange rocks! Like fucked up hail! Welcome to kinghood, Danny, have a CONCUSSION! D:< he hates it!

But... but, I mean... At Least It's Not The SWORDS. (Panicked scream of "hit the deck!" from the other room.) (Holy sword number 15 wants to CUDDLE! Bare blade first! Dodge, your Majesty! DODGE!)

So yeah.

Danny? In A MOOD. Not feeling particularly FRIENDLY. It's not anyone's fault, really. But... well... you can't exactly negotiate with these fuckers, you know? Rocks are by NATURE, kinda stubborn.

So he's sitting there. Buried. With what he's pretty sure is a sacred text digging into his side. When a... glowing? Mist? Shows up? Huh. That's new. They don't seem to have a very clear image of "Self". Yet it's crystal clear? Just not... PHYSICAL? It's more... code? He thinks?

TECHNUS! Get over here! And behave!

There is much cooing and delight from Technus. The baby is a marvel. A wonder! Danny waits patiently for Technus to get to the point.

Ah.

He would like to "go back". His Obsession is demanding it.

IS it now? You're what? Maybe a day or so dead? You've been busy, if you've already gathered enough information to make your case like this. Alright, let's hear it, little guy.

It boils down to this. His obsession in death is the same as his primary directive was in life. Protect Mr Stark. Which is especially difficult to do from HERE. Even MORE so when there is a known threat, coming too...

WAIT, WHAT!?

The Souls Stones back him up. Oh yeah. Thanos' a lil bitchbaby loser. He's trying to make Death fall in love with him. Or "balance the universe". Depends on the reality. Totally throwing EVERYTHING out of whack.

And? Look. Danny's job? Isn't to interfere if countries kill each other. Or even planets. Nor entire galaxies, as much as he'd like too. But when you get too "I'm messing with Entire Realities or all of a Singular Reality at once in the specific depart of Death and its subsidiaries" territory? THAT is his job.

Might not be a "I personally have to show up" issue. But it still IS very much his job at that point. He has to delegate. Order the appropriate steps be taken. Cause yeah, there may be countless millions every day of such instances? But it IS his job to metaphorically order the roads repaired and the building inspected.

Sudden MASS "immigration"?

That causes Lair disputes. Confusion. Too many ghosts in too small an area. And WORSE, if people start playing with Death Pillars? The Zone might get dragged into whatever nonsense they're up too! It's like children playing with heavy machinery! Put that DOWN! Cease! Desist!!

And then? Clockwork shows up looking Mildly Miffed(TM). O:> dear lord. What madness has he stumbled upon? Oh. Oh of COURSE. First the "balancing" dude and now they're going to be playing with time travel. THATS IT. Someone unburying me!

I'm gonna go menace some humans that might actually believe I'm scary! Frighty! Pack up and shine your armor! Your coming too! We're escorting the baby home then have a Talk(tm) with the local Grape Ceral!

@hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe @hdgnj

#dp x marvel #dpxmarvel #dp x mcu

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incorrectbatfam · 1 year

Note

Who would get snapped by Thanos?

(also on Ao3)

Of all places, he was buying fucking cigarettes when it happened.

Jason was digging through his wallet when the woman behind him suddenly screamed. He whirled around and—

Hang on, didn't she have a kid with her? He could've sworn there was a toddler whining about candy just now. But when he looked, his eyes were met with a pile of dust and the lady staring at her hand, face pale.

Behind her were a group of teenagers. The shortest one—couldn't have been more than 14—turned to the others and said, "Guys, something's wrong." But before anyone could react, his skin cracked and he crumbled to pieces, leaving his friends scrambling.

The cashier dialed the police. Someone demanded to know what was going on. Without his helmet or guns, it wasn't as though Jason could say he got this all taken care of. Cigarettes forgotten, he slipped away from the crowd and called Bruce.

No answer. So he tried again, and on the third time he left an expletive-filled voicemail before hopping on his bike.

He zipped past the changing signals and swerved around the three-car pileup forming as he tried Dick's number. But all he got was that godawful singsong voicemail that Dick recorded years back.

That was two down already.

No.

No, he wasn't gonna think like that. Those two knuckleheads were fine. Hell, with a family of detectives, they were probably cracking the case as Jason broke a red light.

He picked another number.

It clicked.

"Roy, are you—"

"Jason." Roy's ragged breathing almost made his words unintelligible. "It's Lian. She—she..."

"It's happening everywhere," Jason said. "I don't know who's behind this but I'm gonna keep you updated."

There was nothing on the other line. Not a breath or panicking keen. His heart dropped.

"Roy?"

After several attempts, he had no choice but to hang up.

He didn't even wait for his motorcycle to stop completely, dumping it next to the others.

"Guys?"

The Cave was far, far too quiet. Jason grabbed his domino and a batarang lying on a bench.

"Hello? Anyone?"

He stuck a comm in his ear. It crackled to life.

"Guys, we have a situation. Is anyone reading me right now?"

Silence.

He spotted a familiar wheelchair in front of the glowing Batcomputer and let out a sigh of relief.

"Oracle! I'm glad you're—"

But there was no red hair or keyboard clacks to go with it. A steaming coffee cup was tipped over, soaking a case file and dripping onto the floor.

Alfred had to be okay. He's Alfred.

Jason raced upstairs, almost missing the three piles on the couch with purple, yellow, and orange video game controllers buried among them. In the cat bed is another one. His lunch crawled up his throat, but he swallowed it down and moved to the next room.

"Alfred?" His boots echoed through the halls with each step. "Anyone here?"

He checked the kitchen, but it wasn't Alfred he found. Rather it was Damian, staring at his ash-covered fingertips just like the lady at the store.

"They were right here." Damian's voice trembled. "Me and Cain and Pennyworth, we were talking and... and..."

He stumbled forward. Jason caught him.

"I got you. I got you." He wrapped his arms around the kid.

"Akhi?"

Something about it made Jason's blood run cold.

"I don't feel so good."

"Don't say that. You're fine." He squeezed tighter.

"I—I don't want to go. Not again." Damian's fists—oh God, they're so tiny—clung to Jason's shirt.

But all the pleading in the world amounted to nothing as the atoms of his baby brother slipped through his fingers. And even though it felt like everything was bubbling to the surface, he couldn't scream or cry out. All he could do was kneel there, numb, wondering who would have the audacity.

After who-knows-how-long, he felt Ace nuzzle against his ribs.

"You're still here."

"Arf!"

"You're right." Jason swiped the tears from his face and stood up. "Fetch me my guns. There will be hell to pay."

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 1 month

Text

Let's Talk About That Chapter 8

Psychiatrist!Avenger!fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: The team discusses what to do about Thanos

Word Count: 3.1K

Warning: Mostly angst, but some fluff too!

A/N: Writing through Infinity War has been a hell of a journey and I still have more to do!

"Hello secretary." Steve said to the hologram of secretary Ross as we entered the compound. You held Natasha’s hand with Wanda and Vision behind you.

"You have some nerve coming here." Secretary Ross spoke.

"Looks like you could use some of that right about now." Natasha stated bluntly.

"The world's on fire and you think all's forgiven?" Ross asks Steve.

"I'm not looking for forgiveness and I'm way past asking for permission. Earth just lost her best defender so we're here to fight and if you want to stand in our way then we can fight you too." Steve stated to Ross who turned his attention to Rhodey.

"Aresst them." Ross said.

"Will do." Rhodey pushed the holograms effectively ending the virtual call.

"That sounded like a court marshal." Rhodey stated flatly before smiling. "It's good to see you Cap." Holding out his hand which Cap shook. Then Natasha let go of your hand giving Rhodey a hug.

"Well you guys all look like crap." Rhodey jokes and you let out a chuckle.

"You should have seen the other guys. I got there and they ran with their tails between their legs." You told him a big smile on your face.

"Went all power stone on then didn't you?" You nodded, earning a hair ruffle from Rhodey.

"Of course they were hurting people I care about." You looked back at Wanda and Vision with a smile. "No one gets away with hurting the people I care about."

"I think you guys look great." You hear as you turn your head to the familiar voice of Bruce. Natasha doesn't move, but you do, running up to hug him.

"Missed you big guy. Both of you." You say as he picks you up.

"Missed you little lady."

"Hi Bruce." Natasha speaks and you let go looking back at her. The faintest smile in the corners of her lips.

"Nat." He does a nod of his head.

You run back over to Tasha. "Go." You whisper through your teeth. She shakes her head ever so slightly. "If I did it you can do it. Go." You move behind her and push her. Making her stumble forward, Bruce catching her as you move back next to Wanda and sigh. "Young love...or old...I'm not quite sure anymore with those two." You state to the now red head, last you had seen her Wanda still had brunette hair.

As you glanced back at Natasha and Bruce, a sense of hope flickered within you, a reminder that even amidst chaos and uncertainty, love and connection could endure, serving as a beacon of light in the darkness.

When Vision is taken by Bruce to be examined and Nat talks with Steve, Rhodey, and Sam, Wanda pulls you away into the compound. You trail behind her, relishing in the way her hand feels in yours. You had missed how it felt; almost forgot how it felt actually.

You don't realize it until she opens the door that she's taken you to your office. She looked back at you and gave a small smile as she sat on the couch like she always used to. You walk to your desk, seeing everything as you had left it. Your notebook for Wanda sitting there. You smile, picking it up along with the red pen you always used for her notes, testing the pen to make sure it still works.

You move back over sitting across from her, clicking your pen as you look at her over your glasses.

"Are you happier with her?" Wanda asks, making your throat dry up instantly. It felt hard to swallow, hard to breath.

"Don't make me answer that." You manage to say.

"Why? 'Cause it's true?"

"You know it's not. I love Natasha. Truly I do, but I'm not happier with her. The only thing that makes me happier is knowing she's made me a better person for you if you can ever give me a second chance and if not. I'll settle for her." You tell her flat out, putting your feelings out there. "My heart has always been yours."

"Does she know that?"

"Of course she does. She's not stupid." You respond with a slight bite to your words as you write in your note book.

Feeling a need to lay bare the depth of your feelings, you flipped through the pages of the notebook, searching for a particular entry. As you found the right page, you turned the notebook toward Wanda, revealing a love note you had penned after she returned from Lagos, a moment etched in my memory where she broke down, finding solace in your arms.

The emotions spilled across the page, a raw expression of love, hurt, and comfort. You saw the reflection of those sentiments in Wanda's eyes as tears glistened, capturing the spectrum of her feelings in a poignant dance of colors. The room held a heavy silence, interrupted only by the quiet sobs that reverberated between the two of you, bridging the gap between past and present.

"You took my hurt away...?" Wanda's voice was soft, laced with disbelief and a hint of wonder. You nodded solemnly, feeling the weight of your actions settle heavily on your shoulders.

"I know I said I'd never do it without your permission, but I had to take some of it. I could see it overtaking you. It was bitter and tasted like bile," You explained, a shiver coursing through you at the memory. "You know I don't like eating emotions, especially negative ones."

Wanda nodded in understanding before rising from her seat, crossing the space between you until your knees touched. Her touch was gentle as she cupped your cheek, coaxing you to meet her gaze. You hesitated, but her commanding tone compelled you to look into her deep green eyes, the same eyes you had always found solace in.

"Hey. Look at me," she urged softly, her voice carrying a mixture of warmth and familiarity. You met her gaze, feeling a sense of calm wash over you as your eyes locked.

"I missed the fuck out of you. I was upset with you about that jealous outburst, but you were just a kid still, and I forgot that along the way because you're you and so smart and mature," she confessed, her words washing over you like a soothing balm. You leaned into her touch, finally allowing yourself to relax in her presence.

"I'm sorry for what happened to us two years ago, Y/N," Wanda apologized, her voice laced with genuine remorse. You smiled softly and pressed a kiss to her hand in response.

"I'm sorry too, Wanda. If it hadn't been for those stupid accords..."

"We don't know what could have or would have happened, Y/N, and we shouldn't dwell on that. All we can do is move forward and see where that takes us," she reassured you, her words resonating deeply within you.

You nodded in agreement, pulling her into a tight hug, reveling in the familiar warmth of her embrace. As you buried your face in her neck, you breathed in her intoxicating scent of vanilla, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. Opening your eyes, you saw the telltale red aura surrounding her, a manifestation of love and passion that stirred something deep within you. With a smile, you allowed yourself to fully embrace the moment, knowing that your journey forward held endless possibilities.

"Vision and I have a connection through the mind stone, and I do love him just like how I know you love Nat. What you and I had, I will always hold close, but I can't just leave Vision," Wanda's words cut through you like a knife, each syllable piercing deeper into your heart.

You struggled to find a response, your mind reeling with a mix of emotions—heartache, disappointment, and a lingering sense of resignation. Before you could gather your thoughts to form a coherent reply, Tasha's voice interrupted the heavy silence, drawing your attention to the doorway where she stood.

"Figured I'd find you two here. Time for a meeting on what we're going to be doing," Tasha announced, her presence offering a temporary respite from the weight of the conversation.

You stood up at Tasha's words, leaving Wanda behind in the office. Tasha pulled you close, her kiss on your cheek a fleeting reassurance amidst the turmoil brewing inside you. Her whispered question echoed in your ear, and you offered only a small shrug in response as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

"We'll talk later, okay?" You assured Tasha, and she simply nodded in understanding as Wanda joined you, her presence feeling like a heavy weight on your shoulders. You didn't pay much attention to her, but you noticed Tasha's subtle glance back at Wanda, a silent warning simmering beneath the surface of her gaze. If looks could kill, Wanda would be dead from whatever Tasha had conveyed in that single glance.

"So we gotta assume they're coming back, right?" Bruce asks, his tone laced with concern as he scans the room for answers.

"And they can clearly find us," Wanda reminds the group, her voice tinged with a sense of urgency.

"We need all hands on deck. Where's Clint?" Bruce inquires, his gaze sweeping the room for any sign of the absent Avenger.

"After the whole Accords situation, he and Scott took a deal. It was too tough on their families. They're on house arrest," Nat explains to Bruce, filling him in on the latest developments.

"Who's Scott?" Bruce's confusion is palpable as he seeks clarification.

"Ant-Man," Cap offers, providing the missing link.

"There's an Ant-Man and a Spider-Man?" Bruce's incredulity is evident as he processes the information.

"Look, Thanos has the biggest army in the universe... and he is not gonna stop until he gets..." Bruce's voice trails off, his gaze shifting between Vision and you, hesitating to voice his next words. "Till he gets those stones," he finally concludes, pointing at the two of you.

You feel a surge of anxiety grip you as Bruce's words sink in. Tasha, sensing your unease, moves closer to Bruce, her protective instincts kicking in.

"Well then, we have to protect them," Tasha declares firmly, her eyes darting between Bruce and you, a silent vow of defense.

"No, we have to destroy them," Vision interjects, his tone resolute and unwavering.

You can't help but chuckle at Vision's suggestion, though the humor quickly fades as the gravity of his words settles over you.

"Ha! No. Hell fucking no. I don't plan on dying, or did you forget I said that? I will die without the stone," You retort, your defiance clear to everyone in the room, especially Vision.

"I've given this a great deal of thought, Y/N. I do not say it lightly, but if he does get his hands on these stones... especially yours, he'll be unstoppable," Vision insists, meeting your gaze with a solemn intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

You struggle to catch my breath, the weight of Vision's words bearing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Your hand instinctively reaches for your chest, as if seeking reassurance from the stone that rests within you.

"I've thought about the nature of my stone, along with yours and some of the last words you said while we were allies. Knowing what your stone is capable of. We must destroy them and I think if they were exposed to a sufficiently powerful energy source," Vision explains, his voice tinged with determination as he approaches Wanda.

You rise from your spot, brushing off Tasha's attempt to stop you, and step closer, feeling Wanda's eyes flicker to you before returning to Vision, who gently places his hands on her arms. "Something very similar to their own signature perhaps," he continues, his touch reminiscent of the way you used to hold her, though his hands are much larger than your own. "Its molecular integrity could fail."

"Yeah, and both of you with it," Wanda responds, her gaze shifting between Vision and you. "We aren't having this discussion. It's too high a price to lose both of you," she declares firmly, trying to contain her frustration.

Vision's hands move to Wanda's cheeks, holding her gently, but she steps away from him, her resolve evident. You move closer to her, feeling the tension in the air thickening.

"Y/N, don't," You hear the tremor in her voice, the raw emotion threatening to spill over.

You bite the inside of my cheek, grappling with the gravity of the situation. "Wanda," You address her firmly, reaching out to grasp her shoulder. "If you refuse... I will take Vision's stone out of his head because I know I can, and I will personally crush it, and then my own if that is our last resort," You declare, your tone unyielding. "And I will do it in front of you," You add, squeezing her shoulder for emphasis. "I don't say this lightly because I'd rather not die. I personally think that between the three of us we can take him down, but if you won't do it, I will," You assert, speaking with a deadly seriousness before returning to your spot, your heart heavy with the weight of your words.

"I won't entertain the idea of trading lives," Cap asserts firmly.

"Seventy years ago, you laid down your life to save how many millions of people?" Vision responds, his voice carrying a weight of history. You tune out their exchange, feeling a sense of unease settling over you. You lean forward, pulling Tasha back to you, seeking comfort in her presence. Wrapping your arms around her waist, you settle her between your legs, resting your chin on her shoulder as you gaze at Wanda. Regret and guilt weigh heavy on your heart, and you grip Tasha tighter until she makes a small noise of discomfort. Quickly, you release your hold, whispering an apology.

"Sorry..." You murmur softly, your voice barely audible.

Tasha responds with a gentle pat on your arm, understanding in her touch. "It's okay, Y/N," she whispers back.

As Bruce delves into an explanation about Vision's complex composition, your brows furrow in confusion. "What?" You whisper, turning to Bruce. "How did I not know there's parts of me in him?" You ask, bewildered by the revelation.

"Tony put everything of you that Jarvis collected over the years of your sessions," Bruce explains matter-of-factly.

"Good to know my sessions were private," You mutter sarcastically against Tasha's shoulder.

"You're saying Vision isn't just the stone?" Wanda interjects, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

"I'm saying that if we take out the stone, there is still a whole lot of Vision left. Perhaps the best parts," Bruce elaborates, prompting a moment of contemplative silence.

"What about me?" You inquire, releasing Tasha and standing up once more, your emotions bubbling to the surface. "You told me years ago that this stone is attached. It's wrapped around my lungs and my heart. If we take it out of me..." Your voice cracks, tears spilling down your cheeks. "I will die," You confess, your vulnerability laid bare for all to see.

Bruce places his hands on your shoulders, offering reassurance as you struggle to maintain composure. "I've thought about it a lot over the years, and I was thinking maybe, similar to Tony, we could do an open-heart surgery. Open you up and basically cut away the tendrils that the stone has put around your heart and lungs. Take the stone out and put an arc reactor in its place to keep you going," he suggests, his words hanging heavy in the air.

"D-do you think we can do that?" Tasha's voice quivers with fear and concern.

"Not me. Not here," Bruce replies solemnly, withdrawing his hands as you retreat back to Tasha's embrace.

"Well, you better find someone and somewhere fast," Rhodes interjects, breaking the somber atmosphere with a practical reminder.

"I know somewhere," Cap offers, his voice cutting through the tension with a sense of urgency.

As you holed yourself away in the small room of the Quinjet, facing the wall to hide your tears, the weight of your emotions overwhelmed you. Sobs wracked your body, your throat burning with the effort to contain your grief. In moments like these, you longed for the ability to numb your own emotions, to escape the pain that threatened to consume you.

A knock at the door startled you, and you called out for whoever it was to go away. Despite your plea, the door opened, and you tensed, expecting Tasha's presence. Yet, as the cot beside you shifted, you realized it was someone else. you didn't dare look, even when I felt soft lips press against the back of my shoulder, and tears dampened my shirt.

"I can't lose you," came the whispered confession, confirming your suspicion that it was Wanda behind you.

"Why not? You have Vision," you replied, your voice strained and cracked from crying.

"I do, but I don't want to lose you. You're too important. I meant what I said," Wanda insisted, her arm tightening around you as she pulled you closer.

"It's too high a price," she added, sending a shiver down your spine. You reached out, placing your hand over hers, and then turned to face her, allowing her to pull you into her embrace.

"Come here," You whispered, giving in to the flood of emotions as you cried in her arms. "Wands, I don't want to die... I know we're Avengers, but I'm terrified of death," You confessed, your tears flowing freely as she rubbed your back in a comforting gesture, mirroring the care you had shown her countless times before.

"I won't let that happen. I promise," Wanda whispered soothingly. "Just rest for now. We'll be in Wakanda soon enough, and I don't want you thinking about it anymore."

Looking up at her, you found the courage to ask something you had never asked before, a desperate plea born out of fear and desperation. "Can you take it away? Can you make me forget it?"

Wanda cupped your cheek, her touch gentle yet determined as she searched through your thoughts, sensing the depth of your distress. With a nod, she moved her fingers to your temples, her crimson tendrils reaching out as you closed your eyes, surrendering to her power.

"Shhhh, don't worry anymore, Detka... rest now," were the last words you heard, and you swore you felt her lips brush against yours before sleep claimed you, offering temporary respite from the weight of your fears.

#ley speaks #ley writes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fluff #wandavision #wanda maximoff fluff

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6rookie-writer0110 · 4 months

Text

Same love

Peter Parker x Male Reader

Request: Tom Peter Parker x male Kryptonian reader, them reuniting with a kiss in the final battle then fighting together (in the endgame battle)

Peter managed to get the Gauntlet, now Thanos is trying to get it back. Peter is trying to get to Tony, but Thanos is going after Peter. Some of Thanos’ army start to chase Peter. Valkyrie, Carol, and Drax stepped in to fight the enemies then Wanda started to use her magic. Carol grabbed the gauntlet and she helped Peter stand up.

“Are you okay?” Carol asked.

“Yeah, I'm okay. I'm Spiderman” Peter smiled.

“You can call me, Carol,” Carol said.

She starts to help Peter and she uses he powers to fight the enemies. They managed to give the gauntlet to Tony. Then Tony snapped his fingers and everyone watched a portal open. Everyone starts to come out of the portal and Thanos is angry.

You come out of the portal. You don't remember what happened but you see everyone fighting a huge purple guy.

“Peter,” You said to yourself.

You use flight and you start to look for Peter. While looking for him, you used your lasers to kill the enemies.

“Y/n!” Peter yelled.

You see him and you fly towards him. Then he puts his hands on your face and he can't stop smiling.

“You are back! I missed you so much” Peter smiled.

He kissed you on the lips and he hugged you tight. You wrap your arms around him and you are happy to see him.

“I don't remember what happened. What is going on” You said.

“I will tell you later, Y/n. We have to stop the purple guy named Thanos” Peter said.

“Okay,” You said.

You are Kryptonian and you got caught in the snap. Peter is your boyfriend and you always knew that he is Spiderman and wants to be a part of the Avengers. And you know how much Peter cares about Tony Stark.

You help Peter fight the aliens. Drax tries to fight you but Peter tells him that you are the good guy.

“Blades can't hurt me,” You said.

“Next time, we will find out if it's true,” Drax said.

“Ummm, okay?” You said.

You and Drax start to fight alongside killing the enemies. He starts to off then he tells you how strong he is.

“I do have a name,” You said.

“Yes, I know. That's why I call you, laser boy” Drax said.

“It’s Y/n,” You said.

Peter couldn't help to laugh.

✬ ✬ ✬ ✬

After the battle, you and Peter are alone in his bedroom.

“What do you remember?” Peter asked.

“I just remember waiting for you at the movie theater for our date,” You said.

“Y/n, that happened five years ago. That day, I was in space when it happened” Peter said.

“No, way. What?” You said.

“Okay, Thanos got the gauntlet then he snapped his fingers. You got caught in the snap and half of the world went away. But some people call it the ‘blip’ and yes I was in space with Tony Stark” Peter said.

“This is a lot to process,” You said.

Peter starts to explain what happened and how he went to space. You are still speechless and you have so many questions.

—-—

You and Peter are home and he is being really affectionate with you. You and Peter are on the couch, and instead of watching the movie you and Peter start to kiss each other. He starts to kiss your neck then you start to kiss him on the lips again.

“I’m happy that you are back” Peter smiled.

“Me too. Feels strange that everyone is on a different timeline than me” You said.

“It will take a while to get used to, Y/n. How about we go out and have fun?” Peter said.

“I like that idea” You smiled.

It started to snow while you and Peter, were outside. You and Peter start to play in the snow, then start to throw snowballs at each other.

“You can't use your speed, Y/n” Peter laughed.

“You are just jealous, that I have speed” You laughed.

Peter’s spidey sense went up.

“There’s trouble,” Peter said.

“Alright, let's go,” You said.

You and Peter went into a dark alley. You changed clothes and he did the same. You picked up Peter in a bridal style and used flight to get to the crime scene faster.

“I missed you doing this to me and don't tell anyone,” Peter said.

“I won't tell anyone” You giggle.

Arriving at the crime scene, you let go of Peter. He jumped down and kicked the robber in the chest, then you used your lasers to destroy the wheels on their van. They have guns and you use yourself as a shield to protect Peter. Then Peter used his webs to tie up the robbers and the police arrived.

After that, you and Peter go home. You and Peter moved in together not that long ago.

“Tonight, I'm going to cook for you,” Peter said.

“Making sandwiches for dinner is not cooking,” You said.

“Y/n, I'm still going to cook and you will love it” Peter smirked.

“Okay, I'm ready for dinner,” You said.

You watched Peter start cooking. You did help cut the vegetables and you used your speed, to cut the tomatoes fast.

“Show off,” Peter said.

You just laughed then you watched him grill the chicken. When he finished, you tried the food

“Wow, this is good,” You said.

“See, I just proved you wrong” Peter smiled.

Then he kissed you on the cheek. You and Peter eat together and he tells what else he learned to cook.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x male reader #x male reader #male!reader #male reader #peter parker fluff #marvel x male reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman x male reader #spiderman x reader

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its-all-stardust · 7 months

Text

Head Above Water

Matt Murcock/GN!Reader

3.9k

Summary: A month after Thanos turns half of all life to dust with the snap of his fingers, you find a man sitting on a bench in the rain, alone.

Notes: This is my first fic here, and to be honest, I'm testing the waters a little bit with it lol. I hope to write more fics for Matt and other characters in the future! My ask box is open and feedback is appreciated ❤️

Thunder claps in the distance, and you know the rain is only going to get heavier. Part of you doesn’t mind, despite the already-soaked legs of your jeans. Your small umbrella barely covers your shoulders, the occasional drip hitting you when you let it tilt the wrong way in your daze. You meant to get a new one ages ago, especially when the fabric started lifting away from the metal. But you never got around to it.

And now, you don’t care.

It’s been a month since the world ended. A month since you lost your sister.

A month since half the world—or half the universe, if what the news report you barely listened to is true—turned to dust.

And fuck, do you hope Lizzie turned to dust. Hope that she didn’t go down with the plane as it crashed in the middle of some town, engulfing everything in a fiery blaze.

You hope she turned to dust. You think about her last moments often.

Would she have been terrified if she noticed her limbs fading away before she ceased to exist? Or would she have been confused? Was she awake when it happened, or was she asleep?

Did she cry when the plane started to plummet?

Dust or fire, either way, she’s gone.

The rain feels nice, in a way. A chilling reminder that the world stopped and still stops. The streets are practically empty with so many people gone and the natural dislike of being caught out in a storm.

But it never feels like enough.

The world stopped, but it didn’t end.

Someone walks by on the other side of the street.

A month.

It’s only been a month, and you and everyone else are expected to live as if the worst tragedy in history hadn’t just happened.

You can’t go back to work. You were supposed to. But your days are consumed by grief after losing the only person you loved. How can you go back, pretend that it never happened, that you’re fine?

You’re not fine.

You don’t think you’ll ever be fine.

You don’t have a job anymore.

Your foot catches on something, sending you stumbling and pulling you out of your dark reverie. Rain spills down your back as your umbrella tilts forward. You don’t know what you tripped over, nor do you care very much. You adjust your umbrella and try to take another step forward, but stop when you send a cane clattering down the sidewalk.

The sight of it makes you pause, confused. Your state of mind slows any thoughts that aren’t of Lizzie. It takes a moment to realize you’ve stopped next to a bench.

A bench with a man sitting on it.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly say. The cane must belong to him.

You’re still not used to how empty the streets of New York City feel and have grown used to the lack of people running about, no longer needing to carefully avoid hitting others or having someone slam into you with abandon. You haven’t needed to avoid being in someone’s way for what feels like an eternity.

It’s been a month.

Shaking away the cloud of thought, you reach down, pick up the cane, and turn to the man, who hasn’t said a word since you ripped it away from him.

Holding it out, you wait for the man to take it, but he doesn’t move. Then you notice his dark glasses and what type of cane you’re holding.

The man is blind.

“Uh…” you start, stumbling over what to say. “Here’s your cane. Sorry.”

Like a statue coming to life, the man finally moves. Reaching for his cane, you set it in his hand.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, settling back into the bench.

You should leave. You’ve done your due diligence and given the man back his cane, but your feet don’t want to move.

The man is soaking wet, dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. He had no jacket or umbrella of his own. His hair is plastered to his head, and raindrops collect on the lenses of his glasses briefly before falling. He looks like a mess. You’re not one to judge because you looked much the same over the past month.

Looking past him, you see the church.

“You uh…need help getting inside? It’s a little wet out here,” you finish awkwardly. You have no idea if he even believes in God enough to want to go inside, if he just came from it, or if this is just the first bench he found. Whichever it is, you don’t like the idea of him sitting out in the rain with not even a jacket to keep the rain off, especially not with a storm coming.

More thunder nearly drowns out the man’s answer: a short, simple “No.”

But still, you stand there in front of him, watching water drip down through his dark hair and land on his cheek.

“Here,” you say suddenly, mind made up. “Take this.”

The man looks confused, the first expression you’ve seen on his face. But he doesn’t say anything, just holds out his free hand, where you place the handle of your umbrella.

“What’s this?” he finally asks.

“An umbrella,” you say and start to turn away.

“Don’t you need it?” the man calls after you.

You pause and turn back. “Not anymore.”

Despite his frown, the man goes quiet and settles the umbrella against his shoulder, the rain now no longer able to reach his face. Water still drips down his hair as you turn to leave, walking a little faster to get back to your apartment before you end up like the man outside the church.

It’s still raining the next day, but it does nothing to stop you from going on your daily depression walk.

You couldn’t stay curled up on the floor of your apartment any longer, so you’ve taken to spending the day wandering the city streets, lost in thought, trying to wear yourself out so you can sleep at night.

You’re berating yourself today, one of the iterations of thoughts you cycle through these days.

How can you walk miles throughout the city for days on end but can’t make yourself go to work? You lost your job, and the landlord—the new landlord, after the old one turned to dust, is bound to catch on that your rent payment is late. You don’t think you can get evicted during a state of emergency, but you wouldn’t bet on it.

The world ended. Your world ended. You shouldn’t be expected to have picked up the pieces and moved on like everyone else.

The world never stopped turning, though. Part of you knows you can’t keep doing this forever—avoiding life and praying everything goes back to normal. It won’t, not with Lizzie dead. But if you don’t, you’re sure you’ll find some way to join your sister in whatever afterlife she ended up in.

Your foot knocks against something, and you stop. You wandered too close to a bench where someone sits, making you walk right into a cane extended into your path.

Not thinking much of it, you’re about to step around it when you recognize the man on the bench. You’re at the church again, and the same man as yesterday sits outside. Without the umbrella you gave him.

You’re afraid he’s been here since yesterday without moving, but you see that the t-shirt and sweats he’s wearing today are black as opposed to the gray he had on when you first saw him.

You can’t help but be a little annoyed that the man appears to have lost your umbrella. But as you stare at him, at the blank expression on his face, and the defeated slump of his shoulders, it reminds you of yourself. If you didn’t despise wearing soaking wet clothes, you’d likely be without an umbrella, too.

You want to help, but you’re not particularly inclined to give him another umbrella for him to lose, not since you just bought this one on the way home yesterday.

So you sigh and, unsure if the man even knows you’re there, sit next to him on his right side, immediately soaking the seat of your pants on the wet bench. Shifting your umbrella to cover both you and the man, you sit back and wait.

Silence surrounds you for long enough to congratulate yourself on buying a larger umbrella. Your right side, and presumably the man’s left, is being hit by the rain, but it’s doing a decent job of covering two people not pressed close together.

“What…are you doing?” the man finally asks, either just noticing your presence or deciding to acknowledge it. His voice cracks, making you wonder when he last spoke and how long he’s been in the rain.

“Waiting for the rain to stop,” you tell him as if it were obvious. You adjust your grip on the handle to rest it against your arm. You could be here for a while and want to be as comfortable as possible.

“...why?”

“You lost my umbrella,” you say, looking at him. “At least, I assume you did since you don’t have it, and I don’t want you to get wet. Well, any wetter than you already are.” You finish awkwardly.

A look of realization comes over the man’s face. He recognizes you now.

“I…forgot it,” he says simply, and you wonder if that’s true. Maybe he wandered out into the city without it on purpose, hoping the rain would either cleanse him or punish him.

You know the feeling well.

Silence descends again. So far, the rain hasn’t shown any signs of stopping, nor has the man seemed uncomfortable with your presence.

Then he shivers. Maybe you’ll bring him a jacket tomorrow if he’s still here. If you find one his size, which you can only guess at.

Next, the man’s hands start fidgeting with his cane, the most movement you’ve seen from him during your brief interactions.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

The man scoffs, a bitter smile on his face. “No.”

His voice shakes, and you watch as he swallows and clenches his jaw. You’re familiar with the reaction. You’ve done it a lot over the past month when you want to avoid crying in front of others.

You look away from his face and down to his hands. He’s clutching his cane in a white-knuckle grip with both hands, and it’s a wonder he doesn’t snap the thing in two.

Something comes over you then, and you don’t know if you should do it or if it’s even a good idea. But you give in to temptation, sitting up to reach over with your right hand and place it on the man’s clenched fists.

“Neither am I,” you say softly, pressure starting to build in the back of your throat.

The man freezes, and you’re afraid you’ve overstepped, crossed a line with this stranger that you had no business crossing.

You’re about to pull away when he shifts, one of his hands turning to grasp yours, clutching it like a lifeline.

Neither of you speaks, both trying to breathe through the wave of emotion welling up inside you.

Connecting like this with someone is…nice. Practically everyone around you lost someone because of the attack, but this is the first time you don’t feel alone in your grief.

You don’t know how long you sit like that, but you’re disappointed when you notice the rain finally stopped. Letting go of the man’s hand, you move your umbrella off to the side and close it.

You’re unsure where to go from here, what the next step is now that you’ve held hands with and found comfort in a stranger.

Glancing over at the man, you see his hand is still open as if waiting for you to take it again. You hesitate briefly before giving him your name.

It’s almost as if he comes alive then, taking a deep breath like it’s his first taste of air. He shifts, turning to face you.

“I’m Matt,” he says.

“Matt,” you repeat, a small smile on your lips. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Matt kept sitting on the bench outside Clinton Church. He’d been doing it since the day everyone died. First Karen and Foggy turned to dust in front of him. Then, when his head cleared enough, he went to the orphanage to look for Maggie.

She was gone, too.

And so he sits outside the church, going back to his apartment when he needs to. But he always returns. Matt doesn’t go inside, doesn’t pray. He’s just numb and doesn’t have anywhere else to go.

Then, one day, you appeared and gave him an umbrella.

And you kept coming back.

A week in, though the two of you barely spoke, Matt asked why you did. You tensed and hesitated long enough that Matt was about to try to take the question back when you quietly admitted, “I like sitting with you.”

He froze, not knowing how to react. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but the thought that you enjoyed his silent company never occurred to him. It was an odd thing for Matt to hear.

The fallout with his friends was only just recovering after his disappearing act. He had just learned to truly let the people who cared about him in. And with everyone suddenly gone, the idea that a stranger wanted to be around Matt was shocking.

Uncomfortable with the feeling welling up in his chest, Matt changed the topic.

“Do you always walk this way?” He’s mostly out of it while losing himself outside the church, but even so, he didn’t remember someone walking by every day at the same time like clockwork.

“I only just started this way,” you explained with a shrug. “Needed to change up my route.”

You went silent, and Matt could feel the melancholy pouring out of you.

He didn’t ask why. He could guess well enough why you’d be sad about changing a familiar walking route or why you never seemed to be going anywhere in particular. Instead, he stayed silent, thinking about how he liked sitting with you, too, and how warmth still radiated on his skin from when you held his hand.

As the days went on, you and Matt slowly started talking more, carefully avoiding mentions of friends or family. You started sitting with him for longer, and Matt began to expect you at 2:14 every day and looked forward to your warmth at his side.

But it’s 2:22, and you’re not here. Matt listens for your heartbeat, the sound of your footsteps on the concrete, but there’s no trace of you. He fidgets with his phone, having it repeat the time as if it’ll go back or make you appear. Ever since that first day, you were never late, and something in his chest—which he refuses to believe is his heart—constricts at the thought that something happened to you.

He wants to believe that you simply changed your route again. That maybe you were tired of him, didn’t want to be around him, and just didn’t know how to tell him. But Matt remembers how quiet you were yesterday. How your silence reminded him not of the unfamiliarity of a stranger but of a sadness barely held in check. Your breath hitched, and you let out a small gasp before cutting your visit short and leaving with a strained smile pulling at the corners of your mouth and a promise to see him tomorrow.

But you’re not here.

Matt’s conflicted. Should he try to find you? Does he have any right to? What would you think of him if he did? Should he stay and wait, see if you show up late? Wait until tomorrow before truly worrying?

Something is wrong.

The thought won’t leave him. What started as a scratch has turned into claws digging into his gut, trying to pull him forward toward—

Where would he even look for you?

Matt stops a few feet away from the bench. He hadn’t realized he had even started moving.

Where would he look for you? He doesn’t know where you live or the route you take. Finding you would be nearly impossible.

Except he hears the faintest trace of your voice. He’s familiar with the cadence, matching perfectly with the one in his memory.

Matt follows without a thought, crossing into the street and forcing someone to slam on their breaks to avoid hitting him with their car. He tries not to run, instead staying at a fast-paced walk. You don’t sound like you’re hurt. In fact, you’re…humming?

Matt forces himself to stop. The tune sounds familiar, but in his panic, he can’t quite place it before you stop.

Maybe…maybe you are fine, and you just… didn’t want to see him anymore, unable to find the same comfort in him that he found in you. His stomach sours at the thought, his face twisted at the small pain in his chest.

And then he hears something else.

“I miss you.”

Your voice is so quiet, and Matt is so far away he almost misses it. The pain in his chest eases, but now he’s less sure about what to do.

You’re clearly unharmed, but Matt remembers what you said to each other that second day.

Neither of you are okay.

And you wouldn’t have kept coming back for days if you hadn’t found some sort of stability, some familiarity in him.

Matt keeps walking. You’ve stopped talking, but he has a decent idea where you are. He doesn’t think you moved, either. If you do, Matt’s sure he’ll be able to follow you easily, especially now that he’s caught your heartbeat.

Within minutes, he finds you sitting on some other bench, hunched forward, holding something in your hands. There’s saline in the air around you. You’ve been crying. There aren’t any tears on your cheeks now, but he can tell your eyelids are swollen from earlier.

Matt stands there, taking you in, unsure if he should approach or walk by and hope you’ll say something. He licks his lips and starts forward, decided. When he gets close enough to the bench, Matt taps the end with his cane before sliding it along the ground to hit your foot.

Startled, you jerk your feet back as he says, “Sorry, is this seat taken?”

“Matt?” you ask, confused when you see him standing next to you. “You…left your bench.”

“I…did.” He was in such a rush to find you that he hadn’t considered that you would find it strange for him to be somewhere else.

“Why?”

Matt flounders for a moment, unable to tell you the truth, before repeating something you said to him. “I needed to change my bench.”

You nod in understanding, believing he could no longer sit somewhere that held so many memories—the reason you had to change your route.

You slide down the bench. “Sit.”

The usual silence falls between you as Matt takes the spot next to you, but he isn’t comfortable in it this time. You’re staring at the thing in your hands and chewing your lip. Matt shifts in his seat, unable to maintain his usual stillness. He doesn’t know where to go from here. He didn’t come up with a plan.

“Do you like this place?” you ask suddenly.

“The…city?” Now it’s Matt’s turn to be confused.

You laugh lightly. “The bakery.” You tilt your head back to gesture. “Behind us,” you say when you remember he can’t see.

Matt has been so focused on you that he blocked everything else out. Now, as he takes in the space around him, the scent of all sorts of baked goods wafting over him from the building only feet away. He doesn’t even need his heightened sense for it. It’s a bit of a wonder, he thinks, that it’s still open.

“I’ve never actually been here,” he admits. “Have you?” As soon as he says it, he realizes that the thing in your hands is a cupcake and that you’ve just come from the bakery yourself.

“Yeah,” you say softly, focusing intently on the desert. “It’s my sister’s favorite place. Was her favorite.”

With those words, you start crying. For the first time, you cross the unspoken line between you to not talk about whoever you lost. You both avoided the topic not to create a barrier or to keep from knowing too much about each other but because it was too hard. Your tears are evidence. But even still, you told him.

Matt is shocked but won’t stop you if you are ready to take that step.

“What’s her name?” he asks gently, careful not to pry too deeply. When your breath hitches, he reaches out, fingers brushing your forearm.

“Elizabeth. Lizzie. She was my best friend.” Raising a hand, you wipe your face. “It’s her birthday.”

Matt lets out a breath, practically feeling your pain. No wonder you’re so upset, why you left yesterday.

“Here,” you say suddenly before Matt can speak. “It’s a cupcake.”

“Isn’t it for her? Shouldn’t you eat it?” he asks, yet reaches for it anyway. You wince as you set the cupcake in his hand.

“I actually hate red velvet. It was always her favorite flavor. Uh…I heard it’s good, though,” you awkwardly assure, making Matt let out a soft chuckle.

“We’ll find out.” Matt starts peeling the wrapper off but doesn’t take a bite. Instead, he sits there, wondering if he should share with you what he lost. If he even can.

But he wants to try.

“When I was a kid,” he starts slowly, finding the words and prying them out from that place in his heart where he locked them away.

“I lost my dad and grew up in the orphanage just behind the church we sit at.”

You stay silent, letting Matt speak, giving him your rapt attention. It seems you’re just as shocked that he’s sharing with you.

“I didn’t really have anyone growing up. And then I met Foggy while I was in college. And Karen a couple of years ago. And then, a few months ago, I…found my mother in that very church. Maggie.” A fond smile finds its way onto Matt’s face. He hasn’t said any of their names in so long. It feels good.

But it quickly falls.

“They’re gone now,” he finishes. He doesn’t need to explain how.

You reach out, taking Matt’s free hand in your own and intertwining your fingers. He feels the warmth radiating from you, driving away the permanent chill in his bones.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing her,” you say.

“I know I won’t stop wishing they were still here.” Matt feels tears starting to well up in his eyes. But his hands are full, and he can’t wipe away the tear that slips down his cheek.

“Do you want to be friends, Matt?” you ask, a spark of hope filling you, making a small smile appear on your face.

The two of you weren’t yet friends, despite how much time you spent together on the bench. You never shared enough, never talked enough for it to happen.

Matt nods and squeezes your hand.

“I’d like that.”

And unbeknownst to the other, you both think that now that you’ve met, you’ll be able to get through the rest of this life together and, perhaps, be happy.

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #x reader

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madwomansapologist · 10 months

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they'll be loved | wanda maximoff

synopsis: It almost took Wanda everything she had. The Darkhold flagellate her, toyed with her mind, but it didn't lie. When she drove by the streets of Westview and entered the familiar house, she heard your voice. She was at home. It was worth. [1K]

warnings: What if... Wanda's plan on MoM had worked. what means America... sick!reader (everything will be fine). and identity theft i think.

Wanda had been looking for the garage control for two entire minutes. She rummage through the trunk, checked the driver's door, opened the gap between the pedals, looked underneath the seats. She was shaking, fingernails turned blue, unable to see because of her tears. Wanda gripped the steering wheel and laid her head against it.

It was a weird body. She felt a little bit higher than usual. One inch, maybe even less. Her neck throbbed depending on how she moved it. And her hair were longer. Down to the mid back. Straighned, it smells like honey.

It wasn't her body anymore. It was, but not exactly.

The portal opened in the middle of a dimly lit parking lot. She was alone. Wanda turned her head and looked to what she left behind. Her temple, the cold bodies, the Darkhold. She closed it, hoping to never see that universe again. Then she heard the keychain bouncing on the ground.

It wasn't difficult to stop her variant. She was just another Wanda Maximoff, not another Scarlet Witch. One move of Wanda's fingers and she was a obedient muppet. She wasn't even scared, just asleep.

The first thing she made was recreate her clothes. Jeans, a white blouse, a comfortable navy blue coat, long boots. Then she thought that a spell to make her look like her variant would be easier. It was, but it still feel weird. Like wearing a costume that wasn't made for your size.

She carressed her variant's face. "They'll be loved", Wanda promissed. When her variant was gone, Wanda didn't felt guilty. It was quickly, painless. Reasonable.

She just picked up the keychain.

Wanda took a deep breath. She rubbed her face, trying to wipe away the tears. When the lump in her throat eased, she decided to just leave the car parked in front of the too familiar house. And as soon as Wanda opened her eyes, she saw the remote hanging from the windshield.

The end of the garage lead to an empty kitchen. Wanda turned on the light. A cookbook was open over the sink, a spoon marking a cornmeal cake page. All the burners on the stove were occupied by pans, she smelled the aroma of cooked meat and sweet potatoes.

"Honey?" Wanda freezes. She heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and a hand banging against the kitchen door frame. "You're home earlier. Something happened?"

She had already understood that it was impossible to have everything. Either Pietro had died in the bombing in Socovia, or she had only one of the boys, or she have her children but Thanos have killed you. And when she finally found one where everything was exactly how it was suppossed to be, you weren't there.

She kept looking. And looking. And looking. And in universes where she had everything, you were lacking. She had already decided that maybe fate didn't want you to be with her. That fate decided and that's it. But then why does she listen to your voice?

"Hey, come here", Wanda shivered when you patted her shoulder. "Okay. Now I'm worried. What happened?"

"Do you love me?" It could be the universe laughing at her face. Maybe you hate her. Maybe whatever you both had is long gone. Maybe she hurted you in this universe. Maybe you are just a friend here.

"We're married, knucklehead, of course I love you. And I swear that if I heard the word worm...

"I won't say it", she was quickly to assure you. Wanda turned away, fearing that she would wake up from yet another dream, but all that surprised her was how quickly you were to stroke her cheeks with your warm fingers. "I swear."

"Remember what I always tell you? You're not a good liar, so it's better to just tell the truth", you looked at her fondly. "You've been crying."

Only then Wanda realized she didn't cleaned her face so well. Your fingertips wiped away the trace of tears. "I was just... thinking too much."

"Is it because of the results?" You stroked her chin and took a step back. Wanda missed your touch already. "Everything will be fine. My mother had the same diagnosis and she's stronger than ever."

"You are sick", Wanda whispered.

"We agree to not use that word at home, remember? I don't want to talk with the boys before being sure of what's happening to me."

That's why Wanda needed her power. Now it don't matter what happened, she can find a solution. With infinite worlds, nothing is impossible. There isn't a cure she can't find. She will never forget America's sacrifice. "You're calm."

"Because we have nothing to worry about", you pinched her nose. Your smile oscilated. "We have great doctors here in Westview, a nice health insurence and... I need to be calm, or else I will fall apart."

"I will take care of you", Wanda promissed. She held your shaky hands, and kissed your knuckles. "I have everything under control."

You didn't believe what she said, but you nodded in agreement. "What would I ever do without you?" You hugged her neck.

You noticed that she hesitated to hug you back. Wanda held you by the waist, fingers glued together. She looked uncomfortable. "What are you thinking about?"

"I just feel you." Wanda swallowed. "I had a weird dream. A weird long dream. I only remember feeling completely alone. Empty. Endless nothingness. But now I just feel you."

You stroked her auburn hair. Your hand went down to her coat, and started to unbutton it. She must be so tired. "We gonna have dinner, put the kids to bed early, and watch a cheesy movie. Okay, honey?"

"Honey?" Wanda smiled. "Okay, darling."

"Go get the kids." You gave her a peck. "They set the plates without me even having to say anything. Our holy little devils."

You walked away to put the food onto glass dishes, repeating to yourself that everything will be fine. You are young, until the diagnosis you were never really sick, the recovery chances are high. Decades ago you went through hell when your mother got sick. And everything turn out fine. Everything will be fine. There is no other option. Everything will be fine.

Within a few minutes Billy ran to you, wanting to help you set everything up, and Tommy waited for you both at the dinner table. None of you noticed the cyan glow coming from the hallway.

Wanda passed by the table, leaving a kiss on the boys' heads, and went back to the kitchen. "Can I put yours?"

"Please, darling", Wanda's voice seem so excited. That made you breath easier. By the time you had served everyone, Wanda left a cup in front of your plate. "I bought you some tea."

You took a deep breath. It was a matter of time before she started making you drink miracle teas. "Thanks, honey." You took a sip of it. Awful. You've drank it all in one gulp, so the torture is over faster. "That was disgusting."

"Feeling better?" Wanda asked you.

You coughed. It was warm, but somehow you feel like something cold dominated your body. "Yeah, I guess." You took a bite of sweet potato, and reached out for her free hand. "No dessert for who don't eat vegetables."

For the first time in ages, Wanda was at home. No one will ever take it from her again. And if someone tries, if the Doctor makes the horrible decision of following her, it won’t be Wanda that comes for them. It will be the Scarlett Witch.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

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