#I think that'll be the next part <3

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <3

[crest-of-gautier]

i am pleased to say that i have gotten to evp 999 on gone fission hydroplant for the first time! it took a lot of grinding and reflecting to get here, but it was such a fun rotation ✨

some thoughts under the cut....!

i think the best part of this grind was that i could start at EVP 300 rather than EVP 40. i say that, but i still spent a good 124 jobs getting there... whoops!

this wouldn't have been possible without getting the bronze and silver badges first, which i wrote about here! i still stand by what i said in this post about key traits in salmon run players.

i feel that the key to my success can be boiled down to being able to rotate around the map and not overlap with what my teammates are doing- leaning into weapon strengths, all while flexing to other things when things go unaddressed.

for anyone curious about how the journey went, i streamed some of it on twitch!

EVP 575 -> 695 (Day 1) | 1 hour and 56 minutes

EVP 695 -> 865 (Day 2) | 8 hours and 11 minutes

while i did peak at EVP 935 on that second stream- as you can see, i quickly fell off of it (and i think you can figure out why).

i could talk about what i liked about my gameplay as well as what i didn't do well, but i think the vods speak for itself (and i usually made some kind of comment at the end of each shift as to what mistakes i did or what i could've done differently).

but i think the most important reminder of this particular grind was how important it is to take breaks while playing. my push from evp 865 to evp 999 was all done off-stream, after i ate dinner, took a shower to decompress and release tension, etc etc!

this push ended up taking around an hour- and all of the shifts were successful (well, except one). i don't think i can stress enough how important it is to take a break away from the game while doing these pushes, because i performed way better that time around.

i think it is evident to anyone who watches the twitch vod that i start getting really fatigued near the end. my movements aren't as sharp; i'm very sluggish. and the way i talk about the game too, is evident of how tired i was.

i still wanted to give an earnest attempt at grinding because i thought that: "well, if i'm able to clear 333% when fatigued, imagine doing it when my sense are actually sharp!" i had 4-5 hours to spare after the stream, and i'm glad i chose to try again in a better state. it was nice to clear HLM for the first time on a regular rotation!

i also feel pretty well attuned to snatchers on this map too now, which is lovely! i did feel that was something i was weak at, previously, but now it's more of a habit for me now which is good! :3c

anyway! fun rotation. of the weapon loadout, i feel like i've got a lot to learn about the s-blast, especially with ink management (i noticed that i died a lot because i couldnt ink paths to move around...). e-liter, while a bit slow compared to splat charger, can be immensely powerful if you can aim well under pressure. sploosh and splattershot are gods and i dont think i need to elaborate on that.

this is a very positive note for me to end my chill season 2023 on- i'll probably only be playing the chargers only challenge + eggstra work before shifting completely into reload (though i may still hop on from time to time)... i think eggstra work will be a cakewalk after doing a bunch of 333% runs hehe 😎

[gigizetz]

Officially been working on the Ruthlessness animatic for a month now. In gigi years that's like, 100 years.

I think the best way to describe how the process of making this animatic has been is this:

When I make difficult shots in animatics the following shot is normally a more simpler one, so I have plenty of moments where I take a breath and am like "phew, that was hard but now this next scene won't be as complicated, so I can chill and draw this calmly! :D". I've had no moments like that in Ruthlessness.

There's like, 2 or 3 shots that weren't difficult to make. All others required my full brain power.

I would say that the animatic is coming soon because I'm currently at the ending of the song, but that'll be the hardest part to make so yeah I have no idea when I'll get to finish this. In the meanwhile have this really cool frame

[dashoulinas-fandom-dump]

Ok, everyone's been doing this lately, so I also need myself one of those.

Haven't been able to start doing anything for way too long now. I AM planning on starting going through my to do list now on the weekends, but 3 hours in my day I haven't been very successful about it... So some extra motivation would be extremely helpful right now.

Ok, let's do this:

10 notes I'll do my Finnish Duolingo for today (5 lessons)

20 notes I'll start doing some stupid music assignment that'll take 20 min max what even is the point of music assignments?!

40 notes I'll start the other a bit bigger and less stupid music assignment I still don't get the point of music assignments

70 notes I'll write a review of a random piece of media (most likely GO, anybody surprised?) for English class

100 notes I'll clean my room

200 notes I'll complete my part of the Economics presentation (due on Monday)

400 notes I'll start writing my Economics essay (also due on Monday)

700 notes I'll go ahead and learn Finnish for 2-3 hours cos I really need to and I haven't been doing it for a month already so every time I have the online lesson I have no idea what those guys are talking about

950 notes I'll go for a walk (and may or may not buy myself some chocolate)))

1000 notes I'll go to sleep early (like 22:00 early)

All tasks before the cut are all more or less due on Monday

1200 notes I'll learn some Maths I've been putting off for way too long (it's not school work but still. I'm getting dumb without it)

1500 notes I'll start researching for universities for my future studies

1900 notes Do a presentation about the them for sharing in class (why do we have to do this?!)

2000 notes I'll start finally doing my research practice essay task (first part of which was due a month ago😭) (I did confess to the teacher tho, and she said it's not a big deal now, because it's not even graded, but it is for my own good because next year it will be very much graded)

5000 notes and I'll read the book we have to read for the exam and start getting ready to tell the teacher something coherent for 10 min straight on the exam day (I don't think I'll be physically able to do it, I'll start asphyxiating on the second minute of the speech (not that I have breathing problems, but the social anxiety does things to me))

Idk is that the appropriate amount of notes for each task?....

[ddejavvu]

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer really likes your perfume

requested: any of our core 3 bau men (aaron, spence, or derek) reacting to gf!reader wearing that pheromone perfume stuff. you can make it smutty if you’d like since from what i’ve seen, guys tend to have ✨that✨ kind of reaction to it.

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Spencer's not very good at telling what he wants. Sometimes you can tell; his eyes drop low to your cleavage and he adjusts the way he's sitting. But more often than not he controls his behavior so that you can't profile it out of him, and you wish he'd feel a little more comfortable telling you that he wants to get his dick wet.

Today you're forcing his hand. He never gives himself what he really wants, and you just need to give him a little guiding push into admitting that he's turned on at 9:30 on a Tuesday morning. Then, once he sees it's not something to be ashamed of, you two will get it on day and night. A foolproof plan with an excellent reward.

Two spritzes of the perfume do it, and you head off to the living room where he's occupied with coffee and a novel.

"Spencer," You call, worming your way onto his lap like you're just trying to snuggle up beneath the blanket, "Do you have any plans for today?"

If he's surprised by your forwardness, he doesn't show it. He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "No. I was just thinking-" He takes a pause, just barely too long to be natural, "Uh- I wanted to just finish this book."

"That'll take five minutes," You scoff, pressing your face into his neck so that your scent surely envelops him. You dot chaste, sticky kisses there, and you feel a slight movement from Spencer's lap.

"Yeah. Not that long," Is all he can muster in a feeble voice, "Uh- are you- do you want to stay here?"

"On the couch?" You verify, and when he nods, so do you. "Yeah. Thought we could cuddle. That alright with you, Spence?"

"Alright," He echoes warily, and you feel more movement, this time the presence of something half-hard, "But I- um, if you want, you can move like- there."

He shifts your thighs over with a quick hand, so that you can't feel his bulge anymore. You feign offence, dragging your face out of his neck to look at him, "What, you don't want me close to you?"

"No," He shakes his head, hair flying with it, "That's not- I didn't mean it like that, I just-"

"Spencer," You hum, lowering your voice to the edge of sultry, "You're a grown man. You can't say it? Be honest with me. I feel you, Spencer."

A whimper comes out of his throat that's so quiet you're surprised you actually hear it. He parts his pretty pink lips, exhaling shakily as your irresistible scent consumes him, "I just- it's kind of early, and I didn't want to inconvenience you or anything. I can wait, or something, or- y'know, you might be tired, or-"

"I'm not tired, and you're not an inconvenience," You promise, reaching over with a slow hand to palm over his bulge. He whimpers again, louder this time, and you bump your nose against his jawline to kiss it.

"You want this? Now?" You confirm, and he nods, once more messing up his hair.

"Next time just ask," You chide him, eagerly straddling his hips while he leans his cheek against your own, desperately dragging in more lungfuls of your intoxicating scent, "You can have me any time, pretty boy."

[jasscheeks]

haikyuu; the pretty setters

how would they react if you spent the whole day together, then had to go home?

pairings: oikawa, suga, kenma, kageyama, akaashi, atsumu x f!reader

kenma’s part is my favorite omg <3

warnings: ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP, small mentions of seggs in akaashi’s, they all think the two of you should just move in tgt, slight begging and sulking

masterlist | ao3

pretty spiker edition.

OIKAWA knows what time it is, and he sees you glancing at the clock. he hates to see you leave because that means no more cuddles and no late-night talks when the both of you can't go to sleep. he knows it'll be a while before you visit again, and he just can't go without you. at this point, you should just move in with him. he physically cannot be without you for prolonged periods, plus, it would make his day a hundred times better coming home to you.

so as you're walking towards the door after giving him his goodbye kiss, he pulls you in from your waist, making you skid to a stop. "can't you stay for a little longer? i'll get really lonely if you leave," he whined, his chin pressed onto your shoulder as he held you tight against his chest.

"tooru, you know i can't," you try to pry him off of you but he's as tough as a rock, "you have practice, ugh, i have...school—tooru, do you really have to hold me this tight?" you tried to squeeze yourself from his grip, but he truly wasn't budging.

"you'll leave if i don't!" he insisted, but even then you found yourself still walking towards his door as he followed you along. “just a few more minutes, no one more second, please (y/n)!” he was trying his damned hardest to keep you in one place.

but seeing as you weren’t giving up, he loosened his grip on you, letting you open his front door. even as you turned to give him one more kiss goodbye he was still blabbering about you staying over. and expect an “i miss you” or “did you make it home safely?” text when you get home.

SUGAWARA is sulky about it, dramatic even. he's trying all he can to convince you to stay, from bribing you with all the food he can afford, his hugs and kisses, to smothering you against his body. but you're adamant about going home, even as you still lay in his arms.

"you hate me," he whined, as he shifted his weight on top of you. "my girlfriend hates me..." he may have had a few drinks that night, that'll explain his unusual clinginess. but even without the alcohol, this is more or less how he acts when you're leaving.

"i have a class in the morning, you know this," he groaned more hearing such a serious answer, it not containing the words he wanted to hear. "and i don't hate you, suga," you ended with a peck to his lips before pulling his comforter down so you could slip out.

he whined once more, quickly pulling the covers back over the two of you. "then i'll go with you, i'll even take notes for you," he slurred before snuggling back into your neck. his strong arms tugged you back against him, confining you against the soft sheets beneath you and this cage of his. "i'll be the best note-taker there is..."

as soon as he settled himself in with his face buried deep into your neck, you knew you weren't going to be moving around any time soon.

KAGEYAMA wants to tell you he hates when you have to leave. but as he watched you slip your socks back on from the comfort of his bed, he was at war with himself. debating if he should express that to you, he was scared he'd come off as clingy, that you'd still leave even if he said it.

as a fairly new couple, he was still adjusting to speaking up when something was on his mind. he knows he'll see you tomorrow, but he can't help but want to spend more time with you today.

he knew you both had different things to do in the morning, but who says you couldn't get ready for them together? "do you have everything?" he asked, as you stopped next to his nightstand. as soon as you looked at him he was hoping you'd drop everything to stay just by the look he was giving you. "i can bring whatever you leave with me."

but instead, you smiled his way before stepping towards him. instinctively, he was leaning into your palm, hand grazing over your waist receiving the sweet kiss you place on his forehead. "i'd like that, thank you so much, tobio," you chuckled at his robotic 'your welcome,' that followed. soon he was leading you towards his front door, praying to himself that you'd change your mind as you passed all his furniture.

but seeing as you turned to kiss him goodbye, you were set on leaving. so as he was hesitating unlocking the door, he turned to your confused face asking so quietly, "do you think you can spend the night instead?"

and much to his surprise, you giggled out a response, "i thought you'd never ask.”

KENMA is confused when you suddenly lift from his lap and step over his legs. he can hear you shuffling behind him, causing him to pause whatever game he's playing to turn his chair to face you. he watches as you search his room for something, "is something wrong, am i too loud?" he asked.

you pause, your bag in hand now, "oh no, it's not that," you smile at his concern. "it's almost seven babe, i need to start heading back home."

just hearing you say that makes him even more confused. he tilts his head just slightly, something he doesn't realize he does, "home?" he repeats, his eyes looking around the room and spotting all the little things that belonged to you scattered about.

you'd been staying with him for a little over a week, and he was starting to think you were staying for good. the two of you always joked that you'd end up staying here for so long, you'd forget that you even have your own apartment. even when you went out on errands, you’d return to his house like you lived there, kissing him hello and continuing onto the kitchen to cook something for the both of you. his apartment was your second home, and he secretly wanted it to be your permanent home.

so reluctantly he walked you to the door, sad hands wrapping around your warm frame to engulf you in a hug before he kissed you goodbye, something he hadn’t done in a while. "i love you," the two of you murmured to each other, those three words somehow making it even harder to part. and as he sat back in his gaming chair, not an hour went by that he began to miss the feeling of you in his arms. he missed your lips pressing against his every so often and your quiet snores when you fell asleep on him. he made it a point to bring up moving in together next time you're over.

AKAASHI’s fast asleep tuckered out from loving on you for hours on end. you’re close to curling back up against him and just going back to sleep, but you catch a glimpse of his alarm. it read 11:28 PM, meaning you needed to get back home.

but his arms wrap around you even tighter, pulling you even closer to his chest when he feels you moving.

“where are you going?” he asked, snuggling farther into your neck. his voice is raspy, low enough to make you stop moving. he presses his bare chest into your back as he takes in a whiff of your scent, sending chills down your back. half of you wanted to just sink back into his warmth, finding his strong arms way more comfortable than your bed back at home

you trailed your fingers over his hands, his skin soft and smooth. “keiji,” you coo, your voice sounding so sultry and soft. “it’s late, babe, i need to get back home i have work in the morning,” he hummed hearing your reply. but instead of letting go, he just cuddled deeper into you, his lips absentmindedly pressing into your bare shoulder.

he sat there, breathing so softly that you thought he had slipped back to sleep. but instead, he hummed once more, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. “i don’t want you out when it’s dark, love,” he murmured in that deep sleepy voice of his before he was cuddling back into you. “i can take you back to your apartment in the morning.”

hearing his voice was enough to have you settled back into his arms, dozing off just as fast as you did before. but best know in the morning he was asking how moving in together sounded to you.

ATSUMU is in a mood when you suddenly get up from the comfort of his arms. he had just taken you on a date, and the two of you spent the whole day together going out to food stands and shops. but he couldn’t just leave it at that, no he wanted to spend the entire day and night with you.

so he had brought you back to his apartment, as he planned to keep the date going with a movie and possibly something more… but you didn’t catch his drift.

“(y/n), you’re breaking my heart right now.” he whined, sulking from the couch as you gathered your things. “you’ll be leaving your boyfriend with a broken heart, you know.”

you rolled your eyes at the comedic cadence in his voice. this was one of his things, one of his little moods that reoccurred every time you made a move to leave, “‘tsumu, we spent the whole day together! let me go home in peace just once, please?” you pleaded with him, but somehow that just made it worse.

“aren’t i your home? aren’t i your peace, babe?” he asked, putting a playfully, sassy lilt to his voice before he crossed his arms over his chest.

“oh my god, ‘tsumu…” you groan as you place a hand over your eyes, as he continues to sulk in the other direction. you sigh as you trudge yourself back to his dramatic self. you kneel on the couch, placing your hands on his cheeks, “you’ll see me later on tomorrow, i promise.” quickly you pecked his puckered lips, and he can feel himself slowly softening his glare just for you.

he was quick to break his sulking just to wrap his arms around you, pulling you down into his lap, your gleeful squealing filling his ears. “why can’t we just buy a place together already?”

after that, atsumu came back into the living room toting his laptop, so the two of you could look at apartments together until late into the night.

for all the people who read my suna ff, a part three is on the way i promise 😭

but thank you so much for reading!

masterlist

[jkslipppiercing]

So show me | Part 1 | jjk

♡ summary: your boyfriend has always been a fan of PDA, unlike you.

♡ genre: angsty, not really fluffy, a lot of frustration, miscommunication

♡ pairing: boyfriend!jk, frustrated!jk, whipped!jk

♡ warnings: oc is self-conscious, both of them are severely frustrated, not much in this lol, little bit of cursing, y/n is super horny, suggestive content.

♡ WC: 2.5K.

♡ a/n: well hello again! i'm back lol. this is the first part of the "show me" series! i hope you like it <333 this is my first go at angst, and im trying to ease myself into it 😭😭 i have zero clue as to what im doing please help <3

▪︎ general taglist

▪︎ index

▪︎ previous/next

enjoy!!

"That'll be $22.50."

You smile sweetly at the cashier, opening your purse to pay.

Handing over the money with a grin, you thank her.

"Can I get it gift-wrapped, please? That would be great."

Christmas is about a week away, and the holiday vibes are clear as stockings and ornaments hang on every wall of the store. Decorated christmas trees shine with bright colorful lights and the festivity of the shop you're in makes you feel warm on the inside, in addition to the amazing smell of cinnamon.

On that note...why does it smell so good in here?

Christmas has always been your favorite holiday, multiple reasons why. one of the many is spending time with your loved ones...and buying them gifts.

Something about seeing them so happy just makes you feel happier by ten-fold.

The cashier smiles in return before she nods, holding the item as she turns her back to you and starts wrapping.

Meanwhile, you take the time to admire the little details of every single decoration-taking it all in- just when you feel a presence behind you.

Jungkook steps close, engulfing you in a tight embrace and humming softly. You welcome the feeling of security, humming back at his body warmth as he back-hugs you.

"Hey baby."

you giggle. "Hi."

"You done shopping?" He asks from above you, his chin pressing into the tip of your head. He had drifted off earlier on and left you to do your shopping, telling you to call for him if you needed any help.

"Yep. I asked for gift wrapping. Should be done in a few."

"Mmm, good."

Jungkook hums, dipping his head down. he inches towards your neck, resting into the crook of it and humming in a deeper- more suggestive- manner.

The sole sound has you kind of- blushing? Even though your cheeks never got that red, your eyes water and your breath hitches. You call it 'blushing' in your book.

He always does that kind of hum when you're doing a good job pleasing him...stuffing his cock-

His hands that were once wrapped around your arms and trapping you now release, only to circle around your waist instead, this time more intimately.

You love these kinds of moments, though you can't help but notice that the cashier is almost done wrapping your gift.

You find your eyes glued to her movements, almost anxious.

Jungkook's hand inshes dangerously close to your tit, and you grow slightly self-conscious in response, eyes still set strictly on the cashier's hands.

Her seeing you and your boyfriend in this situation would be kind of...awkward?

It's not that you don't appreciate the affection, you've just been more of a private person. Always loved to show love when alone, but never been a fan to do so publicly.

Jungkook, though? If PDA (Public Display of Affection) was a person? It would definitely be him.

Trying to voice out your thoughts, you whisper to him.

"Jungkook."

"Hm?" Again, that oh-so-beautifully-deep hum.

Fuck.

He snuggles his head even deeper into the crook of your neck, making it harder for you to think.

"We're in public."

He raises his head a tad bit, so you can hear him better.

"We're the only people here."

"Still, the employee could find it uncomfortable-"

"Are you uncomfortable?"

You're not.

You love jungkook.

Of course you're not uncomfortable.

You just care about people's opinions...a little too much.

Privacy is your thing, and you've always stuck to it- making sure not to make anybody feel a certain type of-

"Oh."

When you take too long to respond, your bad habit of overthinking the simplist of things pulling you under, jungkook's arms slip and waver.

He stays silent.

Jungkook was never silent.

He completely untangles and detaches himself from you.

"That's not-" You try to explain yourself, but the cashier beats you to it as they turn around and walk over to you.

"Here you go."

You accept the neatly wrapped box and thank her, rushing to leave. Your breath catches in your throat when you see jungkook already through the exit of the store.

You fucked up.

---

Under any other circumstances, you would've welcomed the pitter patter of the rain against the car's surface with wide, open arms.

But instead, you want to shrink; let the world split in half and swallow you whole.

Jungkook hasn't said a single word since you've left that store.

He went straight to his car, waited for you, then directly drove off as soon as you got into the car with him.

Not. A single. Word.

You observe him, taking note of how automatic- distant- his actions are. With one hand on the steering wheel, he rests the other on the armrest as he stares straight ahead. It's like he can feel your gaze burning a hole to the side of his face, but he's numb to the heat. Your eyes beg his own to look, but his are deaf...far; so far away.

You shouldn't have stayed quiet.

Mentally groaning at your stupidity, you lean your head against the window.

The rest of the ride home is silent.

---

"Jungkook."

No answer.

"You can't keep ignoring me like this."

Well, he can.

He proves that to you when he lets the barbell join the floor with a hard thud.

Only a small grunt of triumph escapes him, but otherwise; silence.

He hasn't spoken to you.

He parked the car under your apartment building- in its usual spot- exiting the car and heading to your home.

-silently.

He entered the apartment and left the door open for you, changed into his usual workout attire, and headed into his personal gym.

-silently.

It has been an hour since he's been in here, not sparing any effort to check on you.

You're getting quite frustrated with him. It's just- unreasonable.

He has his reasons for acting this way- you'll give him that- but where'd all the communication go?

You've been with Jungkook for well over a year now, and it feels weird; whatever this is. It hasn't ever happened before, probably because a similar situation has never occured.

You'd always hold hands in public, and it was never a problem for you.

But as a first real relationship...guess you were growing self-conscious about it.

What if they saw?

Will they speak?

Your train of thought cuts off as the sulking man grunts again, this time louder; intended to grasp your attention back to him.

He must've seen you zoning out.

"Enough, Jungkook."

Your words leave a tangy taste on your tongue. You really don't want to argue with him what-so-ever, but this is ridiculous.

he's being ridiculous.

You two could've talked it out to figure what the problem was- you should.

Instead, you're running after a person that keeps looking back to make sure you're still there.

He wants you to feel like you're genuinely being ignored, which is just- again- unreasonable.

Okay, the earlier...incident hurt him a little bit- and maybe a little more than that- that much is evident.

Jungkook merely scoffs at your words,

yet again ignoring you.

Fucking hell,

he's actually pissing you off.

"Giving me the silent treatment?" Your eyes sharpen with challenge, and his own light up with one of their own.

He leaves whatever he was doing to cross his arms and properly stare you down, almost belittling you- no, not almost, he is.

You've always known just how much Jungkook loves a challenge.

"Fine by me." Your smile is so sweet- but it's wrong. It's not the kind of smile he's used to.

And with that, you exit the gym, grab a random book, make yourself a cup of coffee, and prepare yourself for the long night ahead.

---

It's been...two hours.

Two long hours of utter torture.

And you've read a total of five pages.

Dammit.

Instead of reading, you're embarrassed to admit how instensely you've been ogling him for two hours straight.

He's just so hot.

The way he lifts weights like they're nothing.

The way his groans and grunts fill up the quiet space- and the whole entirety of your thoughts, leading them to other, much more sexual, places.

The way those exact sounds resemble the ones he's likely to make during sex.

You can basically feel your underwear sticking to you, your arousal evident.

For the first time since you've sat on this bench, stubbornly so, with your book and cup of coffee, he flicks a gaze over you.

Indifferently.

It makes your blood boil.

Your eyes lock.

his cold,

yours set ablaze by intense emotions of frustration.

You rip your gaze away from him to set it on your book, only to look back up at him two seconds later.

He slings a towel over his shoulder, grabs a bottle of water and unscrews the lid.

gently placing the bottle on his lips, he opens his mouth and chugs a mass of water all at once.

He repeats the motion once...twice... and your eyes are glued to the way his adam's apple bobs.

A thick lump forms in your throat, your breaths quickening. Must be...horniness.

You take the chance to properly look at him;

hair ruffled, body hot, muscles bulged.

Theres a slight sheen of sweat highlighting his neck, and a vein pops out from the way he's angling his neck up.

Your senses heighten.

He sets the bottle down, only to turn to you.

You try your best to hide the hormones.

Your eyes then trail down his neck to his collarbones, and you almost drool.

Scratch that, you're definitely drooling.

He looks fucking divine.

Well, of course.

He always does.

He looks as divine as it feels to love him.

You've always loved Jungkook. You still do. From the moment he waltzed into your heart with no foul intention and swept it off its feet, you knew you were absolutely done for.

Wrecked,

Ruined,

No longer containing any available capacity in your whole being to love anyone else.

Anyone but him. Even saying you love him more than you do yourself wouldn't be over-exaggerating...it would be true.

Call it obsession?

So be it.

A subtle scoff turns your attention back to him; body erect and all guarded up, his body language almost makes you tense up yourself.

You know for a damn straight fact that this is going to lead to an unpleasant conversation- even more so an argument- but whatever it is that's sizzling between you two like static electricity needs to die down.

It was never like this.

Tension,

Frustration,

Miscommunication.

"Bold of you to stare at me like that." His eyes never leave yours a second when he speaks.

He locks his hands behind his neck and rests them on his nape. His forearms bulge, and your eyes physically hurt from how hard they're trying not to gape at him.

Knocking his head back, he stares at you through his lashes with hooded lids and the most beautiful dark eyes.

You would've found the sight quite attractive- you do- but the subtle dig aimed at your staring attracts your attention more.

"Better get used to it, then." You stand, maintaining a protective stance yourself.

You're not angry, or...defensive, thought you might be a little shameless.

You just want this to end. For everything to go back to the way it was.

He smirks.

Your eyes harden.

"Oh yeah?" He lazily strides in your direction, and you cross your arms, almost acting nonchalantly.

Your irritation is evident and so is his, but the tension is so heavy on your shoulders, it makes your muscles tense.

His steps shorten until he's only a few feet away.

Not too close,

Not too far,

Yet feels like hundreds of miles apart.

"Wonder where that's coming from."

"Guess you'll have to find out."

This time, it's you who smirks when a sudden spark of challenge ignites in his irises.

"What i'd like to find out," He lowers his voice, his tone calm; in contrast to the dark storm reflecting the thoughts of his mind through dark, fogged up orbs. "...is what the hell on earth it was that happened today."

You stare at him, contemplating your options.

"I felt self-conscious."

The response is quick, but you're satisfied. You want to be completely honest. That's the best way to go at it.

You notice how he blanks out before you look away. Almost like he's fighting with himself over what to think of the response, his eyes portray the most intense feelings of complexity.

Quickly covering the slight feeling of confusion with frustration, his brows tug together, and in another context, you would've found the action to be adorable.

"Self-conscious? About us? What-" He scrambles to understand, and your eyes widen by an inch. "-are you- like- not sure about us? Anymore?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" You directly jump to answer his questions with one of your own. Your own brows join together, and the frustration builds further.

"Fuck, y/n." He gives you his back, walking in the opposite direction.

"What- I didn't even mean it like that!" Your voice raises slightly, purely in expression of desperation.

Why is this so complicated? It wasn't even that big of a deal.

He looks at you over his shoulder, his features bitter.

"How did you mean it then?" He scoffs, but his words come out quiet, serious, and clear of sarcasm. They come out hurt.

"Look- I just-" You take a deep breath, staring at the floor. "I don't want to fight."

You look at his feet, directing your gaze to a place where your mind doesn't feel overwhelmed. When you look at him, you want to look at his eyes, nose, lips...all of him. When you look at him, you see nothing but him. The whole world disappears when you do.

When you look at him,

You can't think about anything but how much you love him.

And right then it's like the whole world stops.

Like it's just you and him, in this gym, with nothing and no one else but each other.

"Fight?" His eyes rage with a thousand different broken emotions all fighting over dominance at once.

He shifts closer to you, only eager to show you the true weight of his love for you.

His index finger hooks under your chin and tilts it up to meet his eyes, only making your breath catch.

"I'd drop to my knees and beg if you wanted me to."

You feel your eyes water. There's nothing you could possibly think to say to him in this moment, except...

"I love you."

He returns a sad smile.

"Show me."

He cups your cheek.

Strokes it with his thumb, once.

Twice.

And in his presence remains a cool gust of air as his touch lingers and leaves a fire awakening.

Just then you realize: the fire that seems to spread further and further is that of love, nestled in between the teeny crooks and tiny nooks of your heart; the wildfire seemingly one of pleasurable pain.

Gone is jungkook, and welcomed is the loneliness as you hear the shower turn on.

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[ginnsbaker]

In Silent Screams (3/3)

Chapter word count: 11.8k+ Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision (past) Warnings in this part: Smut (F/F), Angst, Gaslighting, Blackmail, Mild attempted sexual assault

A/N: This is probably the most uncomfortable fic I've written after In Flames (for good reason lol), so I'm nothing short of amazed if you were able to go through every line in this three-parter. P.S. For some reason, third part was the hardest to write for me, I guess it's because a lot of the scenes now are the same ones from In Flames after R found out and switching perspectives was a lot harder than I anticipated :P

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

-

It all feels like a dream, starting from the moment she opens her eyes and a few rays of light have filtered through the slats of the blinds. For a few moments Wanda pretends she’s back to that day—to that first morning she woke up next to you as your wife.  She can still vividly recall the setting: your old bedroom in Montauk. Less than a year out of college, both you and Wanda were being frugal about the whole marriage thing, opting out of checking into a hotel after the festivities the night before.

Wanda smiles to herself at the fond memory. She glances to the side, and the alarm clock reads 5:30. It's too early to be waking you up, or anyone in this sleepy town. Nevertheless, she has to talk herself into extricating herself from your arms if she wants to pull off a very special breakfast-in-bed. A hesitant decision, a quiet sigh, and Wanda's slowly pulling herself from the warmth of the bed. The wood floor feels cool against her bare feet, prompting her to reach for one of your used polo shirts hanging over the back of the desk chair.

She enters the kitchen, her hands immediately getting to work. The spinach and mushroom are her first go-to, swiftly layered with day-old bread, and custard mix, forming the base for her strata. Next come the eggs, which she sets to poach, anticipating the smooth burst of yolk that'll cascade over the muffin once all is said and done. And then finally, bacon—your favorite. 

Sparky trots into the kitchen, inevitably drawn by the wafting aroma, his tail wagging in tandem with his eagerness. He settles by her feet, watching with those pleading puppy eyes, occasionally letting out a quiet whine that speaks of his impatience and hope. Wanda chuckles, bending down to ruffle his fur. “You think this will get you a piece, huh?” she teases. But, she already knows that she'll give in, sneaking him a piece or two. He's your and Wanda's baby after all.

After she’s finished plating the meal, she sets them on a tray and carefully carries it back to the bedroom. The morning sun presents itself more boldly, almost spotlighting you in bed. Your face is tucked beneath a pillow, the sheets haphazardly pooled around your waist, revealing the bare expanse of your back, without a care in the world. Warmth floods Wanda's chest. She places the tray on a nearby desk.

Breakfast can wait.

Slipping into bed behind you, she becomes a shadow to your form. Her fingers gently trace the curve of your shoulder, lightly skimming over your skin. A shiver runs through her, and she lowers her lips to your nape. The temptation is too great, and soon, her tongue joins the fray, drawing a wet path down your spine. And then, unable to stop herself, she begins to rub herself against you, a soft moan escaping her lips. The sheer fabric of the polo shirt she's wearing, infused with your scent, rubs tantalizingly against her sensitized skin, heightening her need. 

She can't stop thinking about last night, and the times before. She can't stop thinking about you—having you, being had by you. However, as your muscles start to tense, indicating the micro movements of your awakening body, a soft “fuck” slips from Wanda's lips, distracting her rhythm. She waits, a small smile tugging at her lips, silently asking if you're ready to greet the day—together.

You lazily roll onto your back, causing Wanda to reposition herself, now straddling your abdomen. With a drowsy smirk, your eyes half-lidded, you murmur, “Good morning,” squinting at the enthusiastic goddess—my wife, you think possessively to yourself— hovering above you.

Her face lights up, her morning energy nearly palpable. “Morning,” she chirps back, leaning down to capture your lips in a short but sweet kiss. Breaking away only slightly, she gives you a playful eskimo kiss, her nose rubbing affectionately against yours. A giggle escapes you, and she continues until you feel her nose scrunch up from how hard she’s smiling, all the while relishing the sound of her laughter. 

When she's done teasing you, she buries her face in your neck. Drawn to the soft, milky expanse of her thighs, your hands begin to wander. As your fingers brush the curve where her thigh meets her hip, the subtle absence of fabric gives you pause. She's without a stitch beneath your polo. Your thumb ventures further south, discovering the dampness tangled in her soft curls. Heat surges to your cheeks, and you bite your lip, stifling a moan.

Wanda notices the slight change in your expression and a devilish smirk forms on her lips. “Seems like you found a little surprise,” she teases.

“Did I?” you smirk, tracing  the V-line leading to her hidden treasure, teasing her a little. Wanda's breath catches, her pupils blown. But just as she readies herself for whatever comes next, you suddenly shift upwards, unbalancing her slightly. Reflexively, her legs wrap around your waist, anchoring herself to you. Her hands fly to your shoulders, gripping them for support. With a swift move, you part the front of the polo she’s wearing, exposing the smooth curve of her breast to the cool morning air.

The sudden exposure makes her gasp, but before she can utter a word, you close the distance, taking a hardened nipple into your mouth. Her face contorts in unabashed pleasure, her world spinning as you draw her deeper and deeper into your mouth. It's messy and primal, yet at the same time, it's reverent and sacred—something she has only ever experienced with you. She can't help but squirm, fingers threading through your hair, pulling you closer, urging you on. 

Keeping an arm firmly around her waist to ensure she stays secure, your free hand travels down her belly, fingers tracing a sultry path to her soaked center. You leisurely trace her slick folds, gathering her arousal, playing with it. 

“Please, baby,” she arches and bucks, grinding her hips, “more...I need more.”

Your lips twist into a devious smirk, reveling in her desperation. Drawing back slightly, you gaze at the flushed, vulnerable state of her, taking a moment to commit the image to memory. “I love it when you’re this needy…” you rasp, the tease evident in your tone. 

Oh, but she is. She needs you to claim her, time and time again. She never wants to be anything else other than yours once more.

You lean back in, trailing a path of searing kisses from her collarbone, down to the valley between her breasts. Without warning, you nip at her tender flesh, causing her to let out a surprised gasp. Marking her further, you suck and bite gently, leaving a trail of reddened spots, declaring your claim on her. With every purple bruise you leave, Wanda's moans grow more desperate, more wanton.

When you finally lift your head, her chest is littered with bites, then with a wicked grin, you dip your finger into her wetness once more, circling her entrance but never dipping inside.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I... I want you,” she admits breathlessly, biting her lower lip, eyes pleading. “Please, I need you inside.”

Not wanting to make her wait any longer, you slide two fingers into her, curling them expertly. Wanda's body arches off the bed, her inner walls instantly tightening around your digits, pulling them deeper. Every sound that spills from her lips, the way her body arches, trying to get closer, to feel more of you, tells you just how good you’re making her feel. 

Your thumb finds her clit, rubbing it in tight circles, while your fingers continue to piston in and out of her. The room is filled with the sound of Wanda's ragged breaths and the wet, slick noises of your fingers moving within her. As you feel her body tense further, you take a chance and slide a third finger into her, stretching her, filling her completely. The sensation of being so full sends Wanda over the edge.

“Oh, God!” she gasps, her back arching, eyes squeezed shut. Her hands grip your shoulders tightly, knuckles white from the intensity of her climax. Her inner walls spasm around your fingers, coating them with her release, her entire body trembling in the throes of ecstasy.

You keep up the pace, not wanting to stop until she's wrung out from pleasure. Each stroke of your fingers sends aftershocks rippling through her. When it finally becomes too much, Wanda grabs your wrist.

“Enough,” she breathes out, a sated smile curling her lips. 

You can't resist the allure of the taste she's left on your fingers. You raise them to your lips, deliberately and slowly, letting her watch as you savor her taste. The move earns a flustered gasp from her.

“You taste so good,” you murmur, your voice low and husky.

Wanda's cheeks redden, but her eyes darken once more, filled with a burning intensity. “Your turn,” she whispers, reaching for you.

-

Thirty minutes before she can call it a day, the sound of a knock on her office door sends a ripple of tension through Wanda. 

She knows that knock all too well.

Taking a deep breath, she calls out, “Yes?” even as she mentally braces herself for who might be on the other side. 

The person almost immediately steps in, and—unfortunately, she's correct about who she thinks it might be. Before she can utter a word, he says, “You know, I can't just come in without an appointment, right?”

“Exactly, Vision. You shouldn't be here without—” she starts to say, but he interrupts her by triumphantly holding up an appointment slip.

His cheeky grin widens. “Got one right here.”

Wanda eyes the slip, pursing her lips as she thinks of a retort, keeping her guard up. The game has changed, but Vision's audacity, it seems, remains the same.

“Alright, what do you want? And I wouldn’t entertain anything that doesn’t have to do with the course.”

“Just some clarification about our last lecture,” he says as he closes the door behind him, audibly locking it. Wanda maintains her composure, not letting it show that the small act alarms her in the slightest.

“Go on,” Wanda prompts, leaning back slightly against her desk, arms crossed defensively.

But Vision, without missing a beat, launches into something entirely different. “I miss you,” he starts, and Wanda's posture stiffens, her fingernails reactively digging into her arms rather painfully. “I realize I messed up, Wanda. I do. But I can change.”

“Vis—” she warns, trying to interrupt him, but he barrels on, his voice filled with desperation.

“And if, by any chance, you're pregnant, I'll step up. I promise. I'll be responsible,” he continues, his voice quivering slightly. “You have no idea how happy I’ll be if you are.”

“I'm not pregnant,” Wanda whispers, struggling to keep her emotions in check. It's one thing for him to disregard her boundaries and be reckless with his words, but to assume that she would continue a pregnancy, knowing he's the father? Even the thought of it is sickening. 

“And I would still choose not to be even if you were successful in your plans,” she adds, just to spite him.

Vision looks as if he might be sick, his complexion turning pallid, and a faint sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. Wanda has never seen him struck by her words this hard, and she realizes she doesn't have any idea what he might do next.

“I just... I thought…” he stammers, eyes glistening, “I just wanted to matter to you, b-by—”

“By what, Vision?” She cuts him off, her tone icy. “Hoping you'd lock me down by trying to knock me up?”

Vision’s face crumples further, tears spilling over. For all his stature—tall, lanky yet broad-shouldered—in this moment, he's stripped of that facade. His body shake as he tries to hold back sobs. “I didn't... I didn't think it through,” he manages to say between choked breaths.

Wanda almost pities him, but she shakes her head. “If you’re not here for school, you need to leave.” Her voice is cold, but inside, she's fighting a storm of guilt for the hurt she sees in him.

Just then, the shrill ring of Wanda's phone startles them both simultaneously. Vision's eyes dart to the screen as her caller ID lights up, displaying your name. In a split second, desperation and panic take hold of him. He lunges for the phone, but Wanda is quicker. She swiftly grabs it from her desk, tucking it safely into her purse.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she hisses, her back pressing against the desk.

Vision's eyes burn with an intensity that chills her. Taking slow, deliberate steps, he looms over her, his presence imposing in the small confines of her office. “That’s her, isn’t it?” he demands with barely suppressed jealousy. “She's coming to get you now?”

Wanda backs away slightly, her breathing erratic. “Vision, you need to think—”

“I am thinking.” His voice drops to a low, menacing growl. He tilts his head, eyes never leaving hers. “And maybe I'm thinking of doing something you won't like.”

“No!” Wanda pleads. “Look, Vision—okay, okay, let’s talk. Just not here. We can go to your place.”

His gaze narrows, considering her offer. “When?”

“Soon.”

Vision shakes his head. Not good enough. 

“Tomorrow,” he states without room for argument, his eyes drilling into hers. “Same time. Like we used to.” The allusion to their previous meetings isn't lost on her.

Wanda's throat constricts, “Fine,” she whispers, barely audible, a clear note of dread in her voice. She hates the familiarity of this situation. Most of all, she hates that she's put herself in this position to begin with.

Suddenly, Vision reaches out, his fingers nearly brushing the side of her face. Wanda instinctively shrinks back, but the space between the desk and Vision offers her little room to escape. Her back is to the wall, both literally and figuratively. She can feel the cold press of the desk behind her, contrasting with the heat emanating from Vision's body. It’s obvious what he's thinking, what he's restraining himself from doing.

Horrified and trapped, Wanda closes her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. But instead of the touch she anticipates, she hears Vision's harsh intake of breath. The realization that she's retreated from him seems to strike a nerve.

Without another word, Vision pulls away sharply, as if burnt. He turns on his heel, storming out of her office. As soon as he’s gone, her legs give out from under her and she slides down to the cold floor, clutching her chest as she struggles for air. The walls of her office seem to close in on her, trapping her in her own spiraling thoughts. 

As the room begins to blur, the sharp buzz of her phone breaks through her spiraling thoughts. Instinctively, she reaches into her purse, pulling out the phone. Your name illuminates the screen, and with it comes a flood of emotions—relief, safety, love. 

The mere thought of you—so close, just beyond these walls—stops a panic attack from consuming her.

-

“Would you like to go bowling?” Wanda asks you as soon as she fastens her seat belt.

The randomness of the suggestion takes you aback, and a hearty laugh escapes your lips. But as you glance over to see Wanda's reaction, expecting to see her sharing in the moment's levity, you're met with a pained expression.

Your smile fades immediately, replaced by concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

Wanda mentally curses herself, realizing just how easily you can read her, see past her defenses. Needing to come up with something plausible, she quickly blurts out, “I had something super spicy when you called earlier. Didn't handle it too well, it seems.”

The corners of her mouth quirk up in a weak attempt at a reassuring smile, hoping you'd buy the lie, or at least not press further.

You don’t. “Hmm… how about we take Sparky out for a stroll today?” you suggest.

“A walk sounds great,” Wanda replies, her voice softening.

“Good,” you say, starting the car. “Let's head to the park. A bit of nature might do us both some good.”

The engine rumbles softly as you shift the gears, transitioning smoothly from one to the next. And then, almost instinctively, you reach out to take Wanda's hand, your fingers lacing with hers in a gentle yet firm grip. You hold her hand throughout the entire ride home, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze whenever you feel them tremble between yours.

That night, while you sleep soundly beside her, she finds herself unable to sleep. She spends the empty hours simply studying your peaceful face. There's a childlike innocence in the way your lips part slightly, a soft snore escaping occasionally. It's endearing, and it makes Wanda smile, even through her turmoil. She imagines traces of age on your face—the lines that will mark years of laughter, the silver that will streak through your hair. She tries to picture herself beside you, her own face carrying the weight of the years, both of you holding on to each other until the last breath. Her smile is teary as she hopes and hopes that this is where she's headed—to this future.

Because tomorrow, she will have to see Vision, and if everything goes well, she'll never have to see him again. Then she will finally express how she needs you to take her back to Manhattan or anywhere far from here, so she'll never have to relive this nightmare she’s created.

The next day comes like any regular day of the week. She kisses you goodbye as you head off to work, and she feeds Sparky to his heart's content before getting into a pinstripe blue blazer set. She fails to notice just how good she looks in this well-fitted ensemble, the fabric hugging her waist perfectly. Her focus is solely on feeling powerful, as she knows she'll need all the strength to finally put an end to things with Vision.

-

Wanda takes a deep breath, then another, and then two more, before she finally gathers enough courage to knock on the door. Vision answers almost immediately, as though he had been anticipating her knock down to the very second. 

The man before her now looks wholly different from the one she had encountered just yesterday. His blue eyes are bright and clear, his face clean shaven. The scent of a cologne she doesn't recognize wafts to her. New, she thinks. It's heady and distinctly masculine, unsettling her slightly.

“Wanda,” he greets with a charming smile, one that reaches his eyes, but doesn’t quite touch the soul behind them. For a moment, she's transported to the countless afternoons she spent here, entangled with him with nothing—not even air—separating their sweating, writhing bodies. His lips quirk into a sly, familiar smile, as if he too remembers those days and expects this visit to be a similar occasion. 

“Vision.” Gripping her shoulder bag tighter, almost using it as a shield, she quickly sidesteps him. “May I?” she asks, though it sounds more like a statement as she makes her way into his apartment.

He chuckles softly behind her, the sound dripping with memories she would rather forget. “Of course. After all, you've always felt at home here.”

Wanda's stride falters for a fraction of a second at his words, the implication threatening to pull her under. But she needed to keep her wits about her. If she wants this conversation to go her way.

“Let’s just get to the point, Vision,” she says curtly.

“I intend to,” he replies, closing the door behind them with an intentional finality. Wanda allows herself to glance around, seeking even a brief distraction from what's about to unfold. His apartment is in disarray, a stark contrast to his appearance. Her eyes are drawn to one particular piece amongst the chaos—the finished nude painting he had made of her. The realization catches in her throat. It appears he’s finished it.

Wanda shoots him an expectant look, urging him to speak first.

Vision clears his throat, attempting to sound casual but failing. “Wine? Or should we skip the formalities?”

Her eyes narrow, her patience waning. “We skip.”

“Alright.” 

He sighs and drops onto the couch. “Look, I've said sorry over and over, but I’ll say it again. I'm sorry, Wanda. I'm sorry for being careless that night.” His voice lowers, “But I don't regret it.”

Wanda's eyes flash with disbelief. “You don't regret it?”

“No,” he murmurs. “What I regret is that it didn't result in... well, you know.”

The implication is clear, and Wanda feels bile rise in her throat. How could he say something so audacious?

She opens her mouth to retort but he continues, raising a hand as if to hold off her words, “I want to keep seeing you. I can’t stop. Because, believe it or not, I'm in love with you.”

Wanda feels as though the ground has been pulled from under her feet. Every instinct tells her to run, but she knows that this won’t have an ending if she does. Wanda swallows dryly and closes her eyes, trying to piece together a strategy, a way to get through him, a way to get out of this unscathed, a way to ensure he won’t tell anyone about this when she leaves.

“I-I believe you,” she starts. “I think I’ve always known, no—felt, that you l-love me.” Vision nods to her words, his lips curling into a hopeful smile.

“But I have to be honest with you, too,” she continues, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I took advantage of those feelings, Vision. I knew, deep down, that you felt this way and I still... I still let it happen. And for that, I'm deeply sorry.”

He stiffens at her words, a frown forming on his brow. “Wanda—”

She raises her hand, signaling for him to let her finish. “I don’t love you. It's Y/N. It's always been her. From the very start. What happened between us, it was a mistake, one that I haven't forgiven myself for. Especially because of what it means for Y/N.”

She takes a shaky breath, looking into his eyes earnestly, “You deserve someone who can return your feelings, who can love you wholeheartedly. You're a handsome, intelligent, passionate young man. There are many out there who would consider themselves lucky to be with you—”

But Vision vehemently shakes his head, unwilling to accept it, refusing to acknowledge their end. “I want to keep seeing you.”

“You can't,” Wanda insists, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. “It's over.”

Vision's eyes flash dangerously, the calm veneer shattering in an instant. He takes a step forward, trapping Wanda with a threatening look.

“You think you can just fuck me and then discard me like nothing?!” he hisses.

Wanda backs up, startled. She feels her control starting to slip away. “Of course not. I… you were my friend. I cared—I care about you. But I shouldn't have let it get this far.”

He scoffs, not a word of hers reaching his ears. “So, it's all a game to you? You get to decide when to play and when to stop?”

“No, it's not a game,” she replies, desperate for him to understand. “But I can't keep lying to myself or to you. I can't keep hurting Y/N or you.”

His gaze snaps back to hers, and there's a glint of something dark and foreboding in his eyes. “Maybe you should've considered the consequences of your actions, Wanda.”

She swallows hard, sensing the danger in his voice. “What are you saying?”

“Maybe Y/N should know the truth,” he surmises, his voice dripping with malice. “Maybe she should know exactly who she's been sharing her bed with.”

Wanda feels like she might faint anytime. Panic rises, threatening to choke her. “Vision, please,” she pleads, “you can't do that.”

His eyes remain steely. “Why not? She deserves to know, doesn't she?”

Wanda takes a shaky breath, grappling for words, trying to appeal to his sense of reason. “Yes, she does. But not like this. Not from you. If anyone should tell her, it's me.”

“But you'll never tell her,” Vision says, his voice laced with accusation. “I see it in your eyes, Wanda. You don't have the balls to be honest with her. Because you're afraid. You're afraid she'll walk away.”

Both are poised in this high-stakes game, each waiting, anticipating, guessing what card the other will play next. For a heartbeat, Wanda feels disarmed, Vision's threat too sharp and too real. But as the seconds tick by, something shifts in her. She straightens up, pulling herself to her full height, and when she speaks, there’s no fear or hesitation in her voice.

“You’re not going to tell her,” she declares.

“And what makes you so sure?”

“Because you know I'll hate you,” she says. “And if there's even the slightest chance that I'll change my mind, then doing that wouldn't be it.”

Vision lets out a humorless laugh, but the look in his eyes betrays his indifference. “You think there's a chance you'll change your mind?” 

“No,” Wanda says firmly. “It's over.”

The defiant look that had been painted across Vision's face begins to crack. He looks smaller somehow, like he's shrinking back into himself. His shoulders slump, and the facade of control and confidence he'd donned earlier dissolves. The boy from yesterday, the one who seemed so heartbroken, returns in full force.

“Wanda,” his voice trembles, almost as if he's on the verge of tears. “Please, I’m all alone. I told you my life, I told you about my parents, nobody in this world cares about me! And I know I said I’m fine and I can survive without them, but why should I when I have you, Wanda—”

She can't help but pity him, his brokenness tugging at her heartstrings. But she knows that relenting now would mean drowning in the same cycle all over again.

“Vis, you will find someone. Someone who isn't me, someone better for you. Trust that.”

“How can I want someone else when I had you,” he insists with unwavering stubbornness, his eyes growing more frenzied, and Wanda shivers at the unsettling sight before her.

“Maybe you had me,” she says tearfully as she decides to finally drive a stake into his heart. “But not in every way like Y/N has me.”

Before she can register what's happening, Vision's hands are suddenly around her waist, pulling her forcefully against him. The initial shock and his assertiveness make her freeze for a split second. As he starts rubbing himself against her, she feels the unmistakable hardness growing between them.

“Vision, stop!” she protests, trying to wriggle free.

“Can you feel that?” he whispers hoarsely, clearly misinterpreting her struggle, mistaking it for their first time together and all the other times she eventually gave in to his advances. “That's how much I want you. Need you.”

Tears of frustration and fear spill from her eyes. “This isn't right, Vision. Let go,” she pleads, placing her hands against his chest and pushing with all her might.

“Wanda, just—maybe if we—you’ll see. You’ll see that you love me, just let me—”

Her fist connects with his cheek, causing him to stumble a few steps away. For a while, they both freeze in horror, the gravity of the situation sinking in. In his moment of delirium, Vision comprehends what he was about to do to the woman he claims to love, and guilt claws at his guts, wrenching his insides. 

On the other end, Wanda's chest heaves with shock and distress. She stands there momentarily paralyzed, the aftershocks of the ordeal still rippling through her. Tears blur her vision, but she refuses to let them fall, not now, not when she needs all her strength. Her gaze meets Vision's only briefly before she pulls herself together. She wraps her arms around herself, and then rushes to the front door.

He yells, “No, Wanda! I…please let’s just—”

But his pleas fall on deaf ears.

-

Wanda goes straight home after the whole fiasco with Vision. She locks herself in the bedroom, crying for hours, paying no attention to Sparky's worried barks from outside the door. She tells herself that it could be worse, trying to talk herself out of going to the police. If she goes to the authorities, she'll have to give a statement. This would inevitably lead to an investigation into their past, revealing things she doesn't want you to know.

Drained from crying, Wanda's eyelids grow heavy. As sleep overtakes her, vivid dreams flood her mind, each presenting an alternate reality. In one dream she’s back in Vision’s apartment, his arms wrapped around her like a chain, and every time she tries to pull away, the chains grow tighter, pulling her back into his prison. A cold dread settles in her heart, as she struggles and fights, desperate to wrench herself free from his grasp.

The next scenario places her in a world without Vision. It's a life untouched by his influence, where she walks unfamiliar streets and meets faces that do not recognize her. Then, in a sudden shift, she's back at her office on that fateful evening, but the events unfurl differently. The temptation of Vision never materializes. She leaves, unburdened by the weight of a choice she didn't make.

But the relief is short-lived. These dreams meld into a harrowing nightmare, saturated in hues of red and black, where you discover her secret. She tries to call out, to explain, to mend, but her voice is swallowed by the deafening silence of the dreamscape. 

In her seemingly endless silent screams, Wanda wakes up. The remnants of her haunting dreams still clutching at her, making her jolt upright. The fabric of the sheets sticks to her body, drenched in a cold sweat. Each breath comes in ragged gasps, as if she's been submerged underwater and has just broken the surface.

The bedside clock reads half past six and panic sets anew. You could be home in an hour, given that you haven't been extending your hours at the office lately. The realization pushes her into a frenzied urgency. Throwing off the sheets, Wanda rushes to the ensuite bathroom. The cold stream from the shower brings a semblance of clarity, washing away the residues of her nightmares. 

Wrapped in a towel, with droplets still cascading down her skin, she dashes to the kitchen. She pulls out ingredients, her hands working methodically, albeit with a haste that speaks of her need to keep busy, to keep the demons of her subconscious at bay. She manages to prepare a simple but appetizing meal, but the mere thought of taking a bite threatens to turn her stomach inside out.

The dining table is set, and she seats herself, her gaze distant once again. And she stays there, lost in her own head. 

It’s how you find her when you get home at 9:15 in the evening.

-

You’re quiet tonight. Alarmingly so.

She asks you how your day was, and you respond tersely with a simple, “Good.” She attempts to get you to elaborate, maybe share an anecdote like you usually do, but you dismiss her efforts, attributing your lack of interest in conversation to fatigue.

But Wanda can’t stand the silence. When it’s quiet, the voices in her head are even louder. 

So she decides to tell you about her day instead. She swears to herself this is the last day she’ll ever lie to you with a straight face. She talks about the final projects her students have begun submitting. As she describes her favorites, your interest particularly sharpens when she mentions the portrait projects. You pepper her with questions, mostly about who made which, and Wanda offers names that probably wouldn't mean much to you.

After you finish eating, you thank her with a small smile. It's only then that Wanda feels she can breathe again. She leans in, pressing her lips to yours, her longing evident. However, just as she tries to deepen the kiss, you pull away, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Showered without me?” you tease, but it lacks the usual lilt in your voice. She simply nods in response. You playfully tap her nose, whispering, “Naughty girl.” Then, without another word, you're on your feet and heading up the stairs to the bedroom.

She proceeds to clear the table and wash the dishes, all while the sound of the shower fills her ears. She allows herself a small smile, chiding herself for being overly affected by her dream.

By the time she makes her way up to join you, she discovers you've already drifted off, turned away from the vacant space beside you that's meant for her.

-

She’s positively shaking as she takes the short walk from the parking lot to the classroom, the dread building up inside her like a swelling storm. The thought of facing her class, and especially Vision, sends shivers down her spine. The recent events—the horrifically inappropriate advances and Vision's glaring sense of entitlement—play over and over in her mind.

Her feet eventually take her to her destination, but she remains outside for a full minute. The thought of facing Vision again is almost enough to turn her around. But another, stronger, voice reminds her of her duty, her commitment to her other students, and her own integrity. Moreover, she doesn't want to be alone today, here the haunting events with Vision could replay in her mind without any distractions. 

She pushes open the door. It appears to be a typical day, with her students clustered in small groups, engrossed in conversation and seemingly oblivious to her arrival. She swiftly surveys the room and, to her relief, doesn't spot the familiar blue eyes that usually fixate on her by this time.

When she starts her lecture on the final topic of the semester, it flows seamlessly. Still, the end of the course can't come soon enough; continuing here is untenable. She can’t keep teaching here, when these hallways keep reminding her of the mistake that almost cost her everything.

-

You've been leaving the side of your bed cold for almost two weeks now. Sometimes, your careful movements stir her awake, and she watches you, bleary-eyed, as you go through the motions of prepping for a run, a habit you've picked up quite recently. At first, Wanda would always ask where you’re headed and if she can accompany you. But you'd consistently dismiss her offer, always seeming in a rush to hit the pavement.

She thinks it’s good for you—the exercise. The only aspect of your new hobby that she dislikes is that you typically go before sunrise, where everywhere is still too dark and eerily quiet, and her imagination runs wild of all the worst things that could happen to you while you’re out on your run. 

And Wanda wouldn’t admit it, but she can't help but internalize the consistent rejection of her offers to join you.  She wonders if there's a deeper reason behind it. When you're out and she's left alone with her thoughts, Wanda can't help but let the guilt seep in. Has she become too transparent? Has something given her secret away? Did you find out about her affair? How would she even begin to explain?

But then you return after your run, with a sense of tranquility, as though the exercise had been a cathartic release of some pent-up tension. However, something still feels amiss. Perhaps it's because she hasn't slept with you since the night she discovered she wasn't pregnant with Vision's child, and all that has passed between you are brief, perfunctory kisses here and there. She wants to discuss it with you, but she doesn't want to appear too eager or guilty. Instead, she remains committed to being a good wife. And even though being a good wife was never about housework, Wanda ensures that every corner of the house sparkles and shines.

Meanwhile, you go about fulfilling your own household responsibilities seamlessly. From tending to minor repairs to ensuring that bills are paid on time, you continue with the routines that have always defined the dynamic of your relationship. There's no sign of resentment or dissatisfaction in your actions. It's almost as if everything is back to normal. This confounds Wanda even more. She starts to question her own memory, wondering if perhaps this distance, this new version of you, has always been present and she just never realized it. It's possible that you've become this way while she was preoccupied with her affair, and she didn't notice how you slowly adjusted to her unavailability. 

Of course, she only has herself to blame. She's determined, however, to rectify it and make it up to you.

Which is when the idea strikes her. The dream vacation to Hawaii that both of you often fantasized about but never took due to financial constraints and a tight schedule. With the money from her teaching job, she now has the means to turn that dream into a reality. A surprise trip might be the perfect remedy to rekindle the connection that has worn out due to your busy lives and... her unfaithfulness. 

She knows it doesn't atone for her sins, but it's a step in the right direction.

-

It should have been the perfect day for her surprises. She has two of them—the surprise trip and the news of her resignation from the university. She had just handed you the box with all the Hawaii trip details, and you were about to dive in, when there was a knock at the door. 

Two men in dark suits have arrived at the house, looking for her. Detectives—Rogers and Barnes. Wanda uncovers the real reason behind Vision's absence from school, and it wasn't due to personal family matters or a decision to pursue education elsewhere.

He's been in an accident, and they suspect foul play.

Their questions start off simple, touching on the basics. But soon, they feel like piercing arrows as they delve into the phone calls between them, how close they were, and if she ever set foot in his apartment. Throughout the interrogation, Wanda manages to keep a straight face, though deep down she knows she probably can't fool detectives of their caliber. Yet, she silently prays that you don't see past her mask.

“That’s enough,” you interject firmly. “My wife has answered your questions. Unless there’s anything else directly related to your investigation, I believe we’ve covered everything.”

Your intervention when their questions grow more intrusive suggests she's managed to keep you in the dark. The realization that you're still on her side floods her with immense relief.

“Very well. Thank you both for your time,” Rogers says.

But Wanda isn’t done. She has her own questions. She needs to know if Vision's involvement with her is the reason they're here, probing. She wonders if he might have informed the authorities about their inappropriate relationship, and if that somehow relates to his current situation.

“Wait!” Wanda exclaims, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She contemplates asking her burning questions, but with you observing from the side, she suppresses her urge to do so. Instead, she conveys her worry—she is, after all, his teacher.

“Is he… is he okay?”

Wanda's complexion turns ashen upon catching the look on Barnes' face, instantly realizing he's fully aware of her and Vision's relationship. She can barely hear Roger's response, her blood rushing in her ears.

“…that he’s stable. However, he remains in a coma. It’s uncertain when or if he’ll wake up, but let's hold onto hope.”

Oh.

Her secret's safe—for now. But she... she has to be certain. She needs to tie up any loose ends, if there are any.

-

It's reckless to visit Vision's apartment in daylight, especially right after a visit from the police.

Exiting her car, Wanda's sandals softly scrape against the ground. She pauses to scan her surroundings, her gaze flitting from one building to another. The neighboring houses and apartment complexes stand silent, their stillness almost eerie, as if they've been forsaken. She knows that not many reside in this part of the town, a fact that had made Vision's apartment an ideal hideaway for their secret meetings. 

She cautiously approaches Vision's unit, her hand shaking slightly as it reaches for the door knob: locked. A memory surges—Vision handing her a spare key during one of their early encounters. Retrieving it from her bag, she hesitantly fits it into the lock, preparing herself for what she might find beyond the door.

It opens with a muted creak, and a blanket of darkness envelops her. Hesitating at the threshold, she fumbles for a light switch, her fingers brushing against the cool wall before finding it. She'd half-expected Vision's belongings to be packed up, perhaps by a landlord who wanted to move on from the situation. But everything appears untouched, as if frozen in time; dust hasn't settled, and the items scattered about give no indication that the place has been vacant for weeks. It occurs to her that the ongoing investigation might be the reason the apartment remains untouched.

Wanda moves quickly, knowing she shouldn’t linger. Heading straight to the bathroom, she swiftly gathers her toothbrush and a few other personal items she had left behind. As she emerges, her gaze is drawn to the corner where Vision's easel stands. It used to hold a portrait of her, a work he'd wanted to submit for his final project, capturing her in a light she had never seen herself. But now, it’s empty.

A cold rush of panic seizes her. She clutches the edge of a table, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Had Vision decided to move the painting for some reason? Or worse, had the detectives seen it and taken it as evidence? The painting wasn’t just art; it was tangible evidence of their affair. 

But then, in the midst of her mounting fear, a memory jolts her—there was another painting, the one Vision had purchased from the gallery where she used to work. With a newfound urgency, she hurries to his bedroom. The scene is disarrayed, with sheets and pillows strewn about. Ignoring the mess, Wanda goes directly to the cabinet where she remembered he last stored it. She yanks open the doors, and her eyes dart around, searching, but the painting is nowhere to be found.

Desperation grips her. If the detectives come across either painting, they'd have more reasons to scrutinize her further than she's comfortable with. Such involvement would be near-impossible to hide from you. Wanda proceeds with caution, scanning the apartment for any lingering items that could connect her to Vision. Unexpectedly, she finds a piece of her lingerie nestled within his sock drawer. Swiftly, she snatches it up. Before departing, she meticulously wipes away any fingerprints from the surfaces she's touched, then dashes to her car. 

Once inside, she pauses to draw several deep, steadying breaths. It's overwhelming to think that this is now her reality, teetering on the brink of exposure.

-

She eventually finds herself falling off the edge when she discovers Natasha’s email on your laptop, mere moments after the crushing realization that you hadn’t bothered to open her gift.

Her instinct is to craft a lie. She searches her mind rapidly, trying to come up with a plausible excuse for the intimate handhold. Maybe she could say it was an old friend from the past, or perhaps a distressed student she was comforting. But one glance at the photo and she knows, deep down, that any excuse would fall flat. The way Vision looks at her, with such unmistakable affection and wonder, betrays any innocence she might claim. Trying to explain this to you or anyone else would be an exercise in futility. 

Wanda had played out various scenarios in her mind about how you might discover the truth, but she never imagined it would be through seeking the expertise of your best friend. It was perhaps naive, but she had hoped you wouldn’t notice anything or, if you did, that you'd confront her about it.

But why would you come to her? She's been pushing you away for months, and the only time she truly showed you how much you mean to her was when she was so relieved that she wouldn't be carrying the consequences of her indiscretions in her womb.

In case you need them, the subject of the email says. Need them for what? Wanda wonders. From the way Natasha worded the message accompanying the photos, it doesn't appear you're just discovering the truth now.

No, it seems that you’ve known for a while. Which means—

The pieces fall into place, a chilling realization creeping over her. Wanda's breath catches as she pushes the laptop away, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. The way you had carried yourself, especially around the police—it was far too serene, too measured. When they mentioned Vision's name, you didn't so much as flinch or even show a flicker of surprise.

Her heart beats painfully against her ribs. The calm demeanor, the calculated way you’d been moving about—it wasn't out of ignorance. You knew. And for how long? The thought terrifies her. How many days or weeks has she been living this lie while you watched, silently knowing everything?

Your silence, amplifying her betrayal, eats away at her conscience. The quiet before the storm, she thinks. And she's right in the middle of it.

-

“Wanda?”

She’s hiding in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror, practicing a smile and a thousand more expressions even though she's barely holding it together.

“Wanda.”

She couldn't shake the thought of you knowing. Did you have any involvement in Vision's accident? You've never intentionally hurt even the smallest creature, let alone another human being, right?

“Wanda!” 

She nearly leaps out of her skin as the bathroom door slams open, and you stare back at her, looking just as startled and taken aback.

“Hey,” she says, forcing a smile.

You narrow your eyes at her, and she shivers under your intense scrutiny.

“Are you okay? You’ve been in here for almost an hour.”

Wanda nods quickly. “I'm fine.”

You continue to watch her for a moment, before saying, “Alright.”

Just as you're about to step away, Wanda remembers the plans for later. “About the dinner tonight,” she starts hesitantly, “with your colleagues from the bank... should we cancel?”

She's desperately hoping you'd say yes. She can't bear not knowing what's going on in your mind. The way you act as if everything's normal is suffocating her. Does she even still know the real you? Every moment you're not cursing her out or confronting her betrayal feels like an eternity.

But you shake your head. “No, let's do it. We already promised them.”

Wanda's heart sinks a little, but she nods in understanding.

“I'll go grab some wine real quick,” you say before leaving the bathroom, leaving Wanda alone once again with her thoughts.

-

Later, as the last of the guests leave, she's certain you've picked up on her distress, noticing how you kept glancing at your watch and drifting out of conversations. She senses your gaze on her as she escorts Scott and his wife to the car, acutely aware you're observing her every move from the bedroom window. 

Though they're older than both you and Wanda, they've only been hitched for two years. Wanda can't help but wonder if maybe things are smoother for them because they waited to get married. But then a familiar warmth washes over her. The memory of how deeply in love she was with you surfaces. Even if you had waited six years to propose, she’s sure that had you suggested it within the first few months of dating, she would've said yes in a heartbeat. 

Truth be told, she doesn't regret it now, the timing of it, and everything in between.

All she's uncertain of is how tonight will unfold.

-

The house lies shrouded in an inky stillness, almost like it’s holding its breath. She carefully climbs the stairs to the bedroom you both share, one uncertain step at a time. The door is slightly open, and you're standing by the window, your silhouette thin and brittle. 

“What happened, Y/N?” she asks as she stops a few feet from you. Your eyes are closed, and your body trembles. Though she should be consumed by fear, her only desire is for you to open your eyes, hoping to find the person she fell in love with over a decade ago still there. 

“What did you do? Did you cause his ‘accident’?” she continues. But you remain silent, unmoving.  “Y/N?”

Still, nothing. Wanda is slowly but surely losing her sanity.

“Did you hurt him? You did, didn’t you? Jesus, Y/N. Talk to me,” Wanda pleads, and then out of desperation she screams, “Tell me what you did!”

“No!” You roar with a primal intensity, reminiscent of a wounded animal in the wild, and the sheer force of it makes Wanda recoil. But she doesn't move away from you. Not at this crucial moment, when she senses how close she is to losing you. “You tell me what you did!”

You stalk towards her menacingly, until you're mere breaths away, and Wanda wants to reach out and touch you, but she knows she'll be burned.

“How you fucked him over and over and over! How you lied to me… over and over and over,” you tell her brokenly.

“Y/N, please–” 

“Don’t. You don’t get to talk to me now,” you say, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. “You didn’t think I’d know? I wouldn’t feel it? I knew from the very first night. Because I know you, Wanda. Every thought. Every look. Every fiber of your being. I know you and I fucking hate you! I didn’t want to hurt him, I wanted to hurt you!”

The confirmation she's been dreading, along with the murderous glint in your eyes, saps the color from Wanda’s face. “Oh my god,” she chokes out, hand clamping over her mouth in horror. “Y/N…”

You try to walk away, but your legs give out, and you crumple to the ground, knees first, like a puppet with its strings cut. The tears flow freely now, unburdened by pride or anger. A raw, guttural sob escapes your lips, echoing the pain in your chest. Wanda, too, collapses, a mirror reflection of your despair, her body shaking as sobs rack her frame.

How could she have ever been afraid of you, especially knowing what you've been through? Beneath it all, she sees the woman she deeply loves, now appearing so fragile and torn apart, all because of her own mistakes. “I'm so sorry...” she whispers, her apology a mere drop in the ocean of hurt between you.

“Was there anyone else aside from him?” you ask suddenly, looking at the carpeted floor before you.

“No,” Wanda answers earnestly.

You offer a wry smile. “He must be really special then.”

She frantically shakes her head. He's not. No one is. It's always been—

“Do you love him?”

“No,” Wanda responds hastily, almost too hastily for your taste. And by the look on your face, she's crushed by the realization that no matter what she says next, your trust in her words may be irrevocably broken. “I thought I did, but no,” she admits. She can't bear the thought of deceiving you further and aims to leave no question unanswered.

“Did you…” you start, staring intently at the ceiling, and Wanda knows exactly what you’re asking even before it comes out of your mouth. The fact that you have to ask leaves her utterly heartbroken. 

“...ever love me?”

This was her doing. The very second she acted on impulse and succumbed to temptation was when she truly lost you.

“I love you,” Wanda murmurs, her tear-filled eyes meeting yours, stubborn for her words to reach you. “I know how fucked up that sounds to you right now. But I do, I love you, Y/N.”

“You love me?” your voice falters, making you wince. “You have a truly unique way of showing it.”

How does she prove it? How can she make you believe? Wanda scrambles for tactics, for miracles, for a do-over.

“After all this,” you continue, “you might as well have killed me. Being dead might be painless compared to this.”

“Baby, please don't say that,” Wanda's voice breaks, choked by tears she can't hold back. She feels the urge to reach out, her fingers itching to touch you. 

“You don’t get to call me that anymore. Even hearing you say my name makes me sick.” Your voice is steady, each word dripping with cold resentment.

“You can stay,” you say after a while. Wanda senses a fragile hint of hope blossoming within her. But it's quickly crushed when you add, “Stay in this house, for as long as you need. But I'm leaving.”

And it’s here where the panic sets in. The realization that she's on the brink of losing you entirely, not just emotionally but physically as well, hits Wanda like a freight train. The walls of the room seem to close in on her, and the weight of her decisions and mistakes press heavily on her shoulders, making her feel as if she's sinking.

“No,” she whispers. “Please, don't go.”

You start to slide your wedding ring off, and that’s when Wanda loses it. She launches herself at you, capturing your lips into a heated kiss. In the split-second it takes for the golden loop to slip off your finger, a flood of memories rushes over Wanda—the scent of rain as it patters on the roof of the reception, the song playing in the background as you and Wanda sway to your first dance as a married couple, the warmth of your hand intertwined with hers. Those fragments play in a demented, rapid slideshow, and time stretches and contracts, maddeningly so.

For Wanda, it feels like someone's drilled a hole in the base of her skull, letting all the sorrow rush in like a merciless flood. Everything else is white noise. For that brief instant when her lips slot against yours, you don’t push her away. Wanda pours everything she has into this kiss, hoping you'll feel her truth in it. But then, before she even has the chance to deepen it, you’re pulling away and it’s—

It’s over.

Stubborn as always, Wanda tries to hide in your neck, and you feel her tears sliding down your throat. She clings to you with all her might, holding on for as long as she can. But when she feels you gently place your wedding ring into her palm, her face crumples with a pain so profound, she knows she may never recover from it. And then you begin to rise, lifting yourself from the floor. As she instinctively clings to your leg, you take another step, causing Wanda to stumble forward from the sudden loss of support.

“This can't be the end. It just can't,” Wanda murmurs to herself like a mantra, as if repeating it will change the course of reality. She's almost certain you hear her, but it doesn't change your stride; you just keep walking away.

The ring burns in her palm, a searing reminder that her promise of loving and cherishing you always means nothing to you now.

-

Wanda can't quite figure out how, but you've chosen to remain in the guest bedroom for the evening. She'd heard the engine of your car roar to life, but then it fell silent after just a few moments. Peering out, she’d seen you stepping out of the car, phone pressed to your ear.

Who had you been talking to? An intense curiosity had consumed Wanda, making her wonder who had been on the other end of that call. In the short window they'd been estranged—no, just temporarily separated, because Wanda refused to believe that you'd entirely lost your affection for her—could there have been someone else? Someone waiting in line for their turn?

Now, she stands hesitantly in front of the guest bedroom door, hands clenched in her sides,  torn between giving you space and continuing to fight for her marriage. She's torn, but not clueless. It's not just about barging in or holding back; it's about the aftermath. She stands there, frozen, trying to figure out which move won't blow everything to smithereens. Because the time she has with you is running out and there might not be a tomorrow. 

Or a you and her. Ever again.

Wanda finally sinks to the floor, her back flush against the cold, indifferent wood of the door. Sparky, pads over, his little claws making almost no sound against the floor. He nestles himself on her lap, making his bed there for the night. She wraps her fingers around his soft fur, his warmth seeping into her, but his presence is a double-edged sword. As much as she adores him, he's going to be the only thing of you she gets to keep, and it's going to be a painful reminder from here on out.

In an act of despair, she presses an ear flat against the door, searching for the tiniest murmur, the faintest shuffle. Anything to tell her what's happening on the other side of this barrier. A barrier that was never there before. She's on the outside, and the thought that you're moving on, building a life sans her, is terrifying.

It's a cruel irony, she realizes.  Here she is, just a few inches from you, yet completely and utterly in the dark. And so, she sits, hoping against hope, that at some point during the night, she'd hear the door creak open, and you’d scoop her in your arms and take her back.

She waits, because that's what love does—it waits, even in the darkest of times.

-

The next morning, Wanda wakes up, surprised to find herself in a bed instead of on the hard, cold floor. She doesn't recall making the trip, but the idea that you cared enough to ensure she slept on something warm and comfortable almost makes her heart leap out of her chest. 

However, her happiness is short-lived as she opens the closet and discovers that some of your things are missing. To a stranger, the differences wouldn't be obvious, but she knows which shirt and trousers you chose, and she understands the implication. It means you won't be returning tonight, and perhaps not tomorrow either. When she goes to the bathroom, she finds only one toothbrush, and that's enough to make tears well up in her swollen eyes once more.

-

“Thanks for picking up,” Wanda says, her fingers gripping the phone tight, holding onto it like she’s drowning and it’s her only lifeline.

“Well, you've called enough times. Figured I'd give you a break,” Natasha's voice, though distant, is biting, as frigid as the coldness that Wanda has been feeling in her bones these past days.

“I need to know where she is. Please.”

A sigh on the other end, followed by a chilling silence. “You think after everything, you still have the right to know her whereabouts?”

“She's still my wife,” Wanda counters, but it’s weak.

“She was your wife,” Natasha fires back, unrelenting. “The last I checked, people who love their partners don't sleep with college kids.”

The words hit Wanda harder than any physical blow could. She's taken aback, gasping for air as if she's been sucker-punched.

“I—”

“She loved you,” Natasha continues ruthlessly, “more than you ever deserved. And you threw it away, for what? Some fleeting thrill?”

Loved? Past tense? Had Natasha just assumed—

Or was that word coming directly from you?

Pushing down the slightest twinge of sympathy that threatens to surface, Natasha picks up on Wanda's faint, broken breaths on the other end. She can tell Wanda's on the verge, and it's familiar, too familiar.  It's almost exactly the sound she caught when she was on the phone with you the other night.

“I never meant for this to happen,” Wanda barely manages to say.

“Well, it did,” Natasha snaps, her voice cold. “Intentions don’t change actions. And actions have consequences.”

Wanda’s voice comes off a little strong this time, thick with conviction. “Maybe I deserve this, Natasha. Maybe it’s my time to pay for all the wrongs I’ve done.”

“You think?” Natasha scoffs.

“But you... you’ll never get it. You’ll never understand why I can’t just let go, why I can’t give up on her,” Wanda says.

“And why’s that?”

Wanda's voice trembles with the knowledge that what she's about to say is a cheap blow.  “Because you've never been married. You've never committed yourself to someone in the way I have with her.”

That stings, and Natasha can feel her own anger rising.

“Don’t think for a second that just because I’m not married, I don’t understand commitment, pain, or betrayal,” she says, voice low and measured.

Wanda swallows hard. “I didn't mean to—”

“Of course you didn't. But here we are, yet again,” Natasha cuts her off. She sighs, leaning back in her chair, “I’m not telling you where she is. She needs time, Wanda. Time away from you. If she wants to talk, she’ll find you.”

That's the last thing Wanda wants. She worries that distance will solidify your resolve, turning her from an immediate regret to a distant afterthought.

“I need to see her, Natasha,” Wanda pleads, “Just tell me where she is.”

“Why? So you can make things even worse?”

After a tense pause, Wanda plays her last card, “Remember that night after we all went out? The night you and Bruce...” she trails off, not needing to complete the sentence.

Natasha stiffens, instantly knowing where this is headed. “Don’t you dare, Wanda.”

Wanda forges on, “I never told anyone, never used it against you. I kept your secret. You owe me, Natasha.”

The feeling of Bruce's hand against her cheek, the humiliation, the denial—all of it comes rushing back. She never thought Wanda would throw that night back in her face.

“You're really going there?” Natasha laughs hollowly. 

“I’m desperate, Natasha. I love her. I can’t lose her,” Wanda’s voice breaks.

The line goes quiet, stretching seconds into what seems like hours. Finally, Natasha exhales heavily, the weight of the decision clear in her tone. “I'll give you an address. Show up, try to talk to her, but if she asks you to leave, you respect her wishes. Understand?”

Wanda swallows dryly. She knows Natasha can enforce her terms if she wants, which means she has no other choice but to comply. “Understood.”

Natasha's parting words would later linger in her mind for hours.

“This doesn't mean I've forgiven you or that she ever will. But you get your shot. Make it count.”

-

Wanda’s been standing outside the diner for what feels like a long time. She hopes her outfit—a parka over a crisp white v-neck and high-waisted jeans—makes a good impression. A glance in the reflection of the diner’s window confirms her red hair looks glossy and radiant, cascading in waves down her back.

Time and time again, Wanda had turned over every conceivable strategy to win you back. But in the end, they all hinged on the one thing she feared most: agreeing to a divorce. The very thought threatened to break her from the inside, but her desperation to make things right, to show you that she's changed, made this painful decision a necessary one. Wanda had taken so much from you, taken everything you had to offer and discarded it carelessly. Now, it was her turn to give something back, even if it meant letting you go, legally.

She tells herself, repeatedly, that their love story isn't defined by a marriage certificate. They won't end just because their marriage does.  She had to believe this; it was the only way she could find the strength to move forward. 

Steeling herself, Wanda takes one step forward. Another. Until finally, she’s there.

“Hey,” Wanda greets, doing her best to sound casual as she slides into the booth opposite you.

You give a nonchalant nod, mouth full of your Reuben sandwich. “Hi, Wanda.”

The scent of your cologne is the first thing that hits her, and it’s... different. This one's sharper, crisper, with a hint of citrus, perhaps. It's as if you're purposely shedding parts of yourself that she's grown accustomed to, distancing yourself in the most elemental ways. There's a new watch on your wrist, sleeker than the one she gifted you on your last anniversary. Even the way you hold yourself seems altered, shoulders squared and posture more rigid. Every detail screams of a transformation, a conscious effort to morph into someone she wouldn't recognize. 

But why? To hurt her? To move on? To forget? All of the above? It's been just a week, yet the differences are already evident. Wanda dreads to think how much more will change if she goes months without seeing you.

This isn’t going to be easy, and that’s putting it mildly. “Sorry for cornering you like this. You rarely return my calls and it’s been almost impossible to match our schedules,” Wanda admits.

You concentrate on chewing your food, trying to appear perfectly disinterested in what she’s saying. As you take another bite of your sandwich, Wanda studies her intently, looking for any fleeting sign of emotion, but there’s nothing there but a chilling detachment.

“Natasha told me you’re already talking to divorce lawyers,” she continues. She's woken up next to you for more than a decade; she’s not easily deterred by the display of indifference. “If you’re decided that it’s what you really want, then I’ll give it to you. I’ll cooperate.”

“Okay.” 

Wanda notices the fleeting moment your eyes dart to her left ring finger before you quickly look away.

“I, uh, got something for you,” she says. 

“No, thanks.” 

Wanda’s heart sinks as you dismiss her before even knowing what it is. Determined, she pulls out the small ring box and places it on the table, feeling a pang in her chest. “But it belongs to you,” she murmurs.

“What’s this?”

“It’s your wedding ring,” she says, pointing out what you already know. Your expression darkens, frustrated that she misses the underlying meaning of your question—not about the ring itself, but rather its significance right now.

For a split second, Wanda harbored a fragile hope that seeing the ring might stir something within you. 

But then you're shaking your head, beginning to say, “I don’t want—”

“I understand,” she says, her shoulders sagging as she leans back into the booth. “But I'm returning it to you, and I’m keeping mine. What you decide to do with it is up to you. However, holding onto it on your behalf isn't something I can do.”

The ring she slipped onto your finger five years ago held all her promises, all her devotion to you. So it hurt that you no longer accepted that, no longer recognized it as yours. And she didn't want to be the guardian of that pain anymore.

“Fine,” you say, reaching for the tiny box and Wanda releases a heavy sigh of relief.

“So, you've got your ring back, and I'll sign the divorce papers once they're drawn up,” she says, mustering all her courage for what she's going to say next. “And then, I'll come for you.”

She watches in surprise as you nearly spit out your coffee, a few droplets escaping past your lips. As you hurriedly reach for a napkin, Wanda can't help but offer a gentle smile, always finding your occasional clumsiness endearing even in the middle of breaking her heart.

Your wide-eyed stare meets hers, speechless.

Her smile fades slightly, replaced by a melancholic self-awareness. “I didn’t want to believe you when you told me that night that you hated me. But I guess that’s better than indifference.” 

“I don't hate you, Wanda,” you say. She can tell you're telling the truth, and she smiles a little at that.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” she laments. “Thank you.”

She takes a deep breath, knowing she needs to be clear, to lay everything on the table. “I’m not going to give up on you, Y/N. On us. What we have, and I’ve thought a lot about it, is something I’ll never find in another.”

“I’m not telling you this to get a reaction out of you,” she continues, “I know you’re not exactly thrilled at the idea of me pursuing you, but,” she falters, the first sign of her vulnerability. “This time, I want you to know everything. I don’t want you to be blindsided by my intentions, so I’m giving you a heads-up.” 

“Wands,” you say, the nickname slipping effortlessly from your lips, and she has to fight the instinctual urge to reach for your hand across the table. “You can’t torture yourself like this.” 

“I’m not,” she assures you. “I just refuse to give up on my dream.” She senses the skepticism in your eyes, and she can't blame you, not after everything that happened in the recent weeks. You’re my dream, Wanda had confidently and lovingly written in her vows. The memory of that day, with the weight of those words, is as vivid in your mind as it is in hers.

She's always been the type to hold onto what she loves, never letting go without a fight. But seeing the dark circles under your eyes, the sunken weight of your cheeks, she knows the very sight of her is taking a toll on you. And so, she’s leaving, for your sake. 

“I'll see you soon,” Wanda says, getting up to leave. She hesitates for a moment, considering whether to go for your cheek, if you'll allow her. However, the lack of response from you pushes her to take small, shaky steps toward the door and out of the restaurant.

It isn’t over. Wanda’s made up her mind: she won't give up on you. Maybe she's the villain in this story; and hell, there's probably someone out there, all primed and polished, perfectly poised to love you without the scars and rough edges. Except, she doesn’t care, even if she knows she’ll be diving headfirst into the storm. 

She swears that someday she'll be on her knees, asking you to marry her again.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

secret little rendevous-3*

Summary: The meeting with HR goes well (surprisingly). But, there's something else that'll break your heart soon, and Harry will be the one to crush it into pieces.

Words: 3k

Words: ANGST! ANGST! ANGST! There's a bit of smut too, but there's lot of fighting, swearing and degradation. and daddy kink.

(previous part here) | (series masterlist) | (main masterlist)

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Harry hadn’t always been so cold-hearted. He believed in true love and had always dreamed of finding his soulmate. But that all changed after one fateful night.

It was a regular Friday night and Harry was out with his friends at a local bar. He spotted a beautiful girl across the room and couldn't take his eyes off her. She was there with her friends, her short skirt riding up her legs everytime she moved on the dance floor.

Harry stared at her for long enough that one of her girlfriends approached him, saying it was a bachelorette party, and the girl he was eyeing was the bride.

Oh.

That should have stopped him from taking it any further, should’ve made him take his eyes off her, but he just couldn’t. He was mesmerized with the way she looked, the glow on her face, and with the tiara she had worn on her head, she looked like a goddess to him.

He mustered up the courage to approach her, when none of the other girls were nearby.

As the night went on, they grew closer and closer. They danced, they kissed, and before they knew it, they were back at Harry's place. They spent the whole night together, lost in each other's arms. It was magical.

At least for him.

It was a long night, full of kisses and making out and sex. The thought of her being engaged, and never being his was pushed into the back of his mind, and locked into a cage that he never intended to open.

So, the next morning, when she got up frantically, looking for her clothes through the house and stuffing them in a carry bag, pulling her dress on, Harry frowned.

“You’re-you’re leaving?” he asked, and she raised her eyebrows, suggesting how already obvious it was.

“Yeah, duh. What-do you expect me to stay?”

She brushed him off, and he picked his t-shirt from the floor, putting it on and sliding towards the edge of the bed, where she was getting dressed.

“Well-I-I-” she put her finger over his lips, shutting him up, “Shh, you know I’m engaged, right?”

“Well-”

“I know that you know I’m engaged. Marie told me as soon as she told you to back off. But I knew you would come for me, because well-” she finished dressing up, picking up the rest of her stuff, ready for the walk of shame.

“I could drive you home-”

“No, thanks”

Clearly, she didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. Last night was all she wanted, and it seemed like she regretted quite a lot.

“Okay, well-”

“Let me leave, Harry” she blurted out, and he closed his mouth, watching her go away.

Harry couldn't believe it. He had just spent the most amazing night with this girl, Natalia, and now she was leaving him. He watched as she walked away, her hair swaying with each step, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for her. He wanted to reach out and pull her back to him, to tell her to stay, but he knew he couldn't force her to do anything. So he just sat there, watching her disappear into the busy city streets.

For the next few days, Harry couldn't focus on anything else. He couldn't stop thinking about Natalia, replaying every moment they had shared together. He remembered the way her lips felt against his, the way her body fit perfectly into his, and the way she moaned his name in pleasure, as he made her cum multiple times. He couldn't shake off the feeling that she was the one for him, and he couldn't let her go without a fight.

So he did what any hopeless romantic would do, he tracked her down. He found out where she worked, and he waited for her outside her office. When she finally emerged, he approached her, determined to win her over.

“Hey,” he said, a nervous smile on his face. “I know this might seem crazy, but I can't stop thinking about you. I had the most amazing time with you the other night, and I just wanted to see you again.”

Natalia looked surprised to see him, but her face softened as she looked into his eyes. “Harry, I had a great time too, alright? But I don't think it's a good idea for us to see each other again.”

Harry's heart sank at her words, but he wasn't ready to give up just yet. “Can I at least take you out for dinner? Just one more time?”

Natalia hesitated, but eventually gave in. “Okay, just one dinner. But that's it. I’m done then”

Harry grinned, feeling a sense of hope rising in his chest. He took her to a fancy restaurant, where they shared a delicious meal and talked for hours. As the night went on, they both felt a strong connection between them, and before they knew it, they were back at Harry's apartment, tangled in each other's arms once again.

But as the sun rose the next morning, reality came crashing down, once again. Natalia had a husband, and she couldn't keep seeing Harry behind his back. She tearfully explained that she had been going through a rough patch with her husband and had been seeking comfort in the arms of another man. She knew it was wrong, and she couldn't continue to hurt her husband like this.

Harry was devastated. He always knew she was engaged, and had gotten married. But he couldn't deny his feelings for her. So he made a promise to himself that he would wait for her, that he would be there for her when she was ready to leave her husband.

Months went by, and Harry couldn't forget about Natalia. He tried to move on, to date other women, but no one compared to her. He couldn't bring himself to fall in love with anyone else, because deep down, he still hoped that Natalia would come back to him.

One day, he received a call from her. She was crying and begging him to meet her. He rushed to her side, only to find her in a state of panic. Her husband had found out about her affair, and he was furious. He had threatened to break off their engagement if Natalia didn't end things with Harry.

Natalia was torn. She loved Harry, but she couldn't lose her fiancé and the life they had built together. She tearfully told Harry that she had to go back to her husband, but promised to never forget him.

Harry was heartbroken, but he understood. He knew that Natalia had to make a difficult choice, and he couldn't force her to choose him. So he let her go, but he never stopped waiting for her.

Years went by, and Harry never fell in love again. He lived his life, but a part of him always belonged to Natalia. He never forgot about her, and he never stopped hoping that one day, she would come back to him.

.    .     .

At first, the prospect of being called daddy in bed was not appealing in the slightest for Harry. The thought made him uncomfortable, and the kink was never fully understood. He always knew the girls who would call him daddy had daddy issues, and it wasn’t one to feed onto it.

But since the day you had called him daddy, even if it was just because you had been in subspace, he couldn’t shake the way his mind was filled up with it. Your trembling voice, tear-stained cheeks as you asked him to take care of you, vulnerable and exposed, it awakened something in him he didn’t know existed. 

He now wanted you to call him daddy again, but only when he was balls deep inside you, fucking you so good, you can’t even think straight, and the word should flow out of your mind mindlessly.

So, here you were, spread out in front of him, his cock buried deep in your soaked cunt. Your nails were scratching down his back, his cock hitting places that had your mind turning into mush.

The HR meeting had gone well. Olivia was dismissed, because she had no proof of whatever she was accusing you of. And since you were in different departments, they had no issue with it, as long as it didn’t affect your performances at work.

Well, it didn’t.

You didn’t tell Harry the whole story, because you knew Olivia would. After the meeting, you had tried to call him too, but his line was busy.

Of course.

Olivia would’ve called him before you.

So, you left a text, calling him to your house tonight to hook up.

He replied about 10 minutes later, saying that he was working overtime tonight and then he had a doctor’s appointment, so he couldn’t do it tonight. That seemed genuine, because month end was approaching, and the workload was heavy. You replied in affirmative, and waited for the next day, when you could see him.

And now, here you were.

It wasn’t planned for–no. You had called him that once before, and it slipped from your mouth without a second thought.

“Fuck, daddy please.”

Harry’s mind went back immediately, his hips halting and he looked into your eyes immediately, bringing his mouth back up from where it was buried in your neck, biting and creating marks. 

“Say it again.” He breathed out, his belly tightening in anticipation as his dark green irises stared down at you.

You blinked in response, not realizing that you’d just said the word in bed, even though you both didn’t like it. 

“Har–Harry, I swear–I didn’t mean to-.”

“Say. It. Again.” Harry demanded, his hand snaking its way to your throat, lightly applying pressure to the base of your neck. “I won’t ask again. Say it.”

“Daddy.” You moaned, the grip on your neck dizzying. Harry felt more precum ooze out of his cock, and into your tight cunt, his cock twitching as the name fell from your pretty, swollen lips.

“Fuck, that’sit.” Harry groaned, pulling out his cock completely, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. You whined, and he shushed you, before ramming it back into you with such force it sucked the air from your lungs. “Say it one more time, baby girl.”

“D-daddy, please.” You repeated, growing more confident with using the term. You threw your head back into the pillow behind you, biting your bottom lip as his started fucking you once again.

“You want to cum?” he asked, teasing you. He knew you were close, the tight grip your pussy had on his cock, and the way you were clenching and squeezing him, gave it away.

“Yes, please” you nodded, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes, it felt so fucking good. 

“Daddy, I need to cum,” you moaned, your voice becoming more desperate with each passing second. You could feel the pressure building in your core, ready to explode at any moment.

“Say please” he urged, beginning to rub your swollen clit.

“Oh-fuck!Daddy-daddy please?”

“Good girl. Cum for me. Soak me, baby”

And that you did. Gushed around his cock, wetting his cock and balls as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. He came too, pulling out and emptying his load on your stomach.

“God-fuck! Shit-” he cursed as he came, and you couldn’t help but watch in awe as his head threw back, pink lips parting as he gave you all he got.

He laid down beside you, catching his breath. 

“You’re so good for me” he mumbled afterwards, wiping the sweat off your forehead and kissing your cheek softly.

He went to the bathroom, to clean himself up, and bring you some toilet paper to wash his cum off.

And it was maybe by some cruel twist of fate that you decided to open Olivia's message from last night, exactly at that moment.

And it's everything you were scared of happening.

It says "Guess who he chose" with a picture of Harry's back attached below. He is lying naked on her bed, and probably asleep.

And you know it's Harry, because you would recognise those curls everywhere, plus you can see the fading nail marks on his back that you gave him weeks ago.

What the fuck?

Mr.I-don’t-do-stayovers was sleeping in her bed just after you saved his ass from being fired hours ago.

Great. Just fucking great.

When he emerged from the bathroom, you were already getting up. You wiped yourself clean with a stray napkin he had kept on his chair, throwing it near the trash bin.

“What-what are you doing-did you clean it up? I brought this-”

“Where were you last night?” you asked, voice stern.

“What-why would you ask that?”

“Answer the damn question, Harold. Where were you last night?”

“I told you, I was working overtime and I–I had an appointment–”

“Save your lies, you bastard–I know you were with Olivia last night. You were fucking her, and then you slept on her too. What else did you do with her that you can’t do with me? Do you kiss her while you fuck her too? Or is it just my lips that give you blue balls?”

“I-” 

It was like he wasn’t even trying. He wasn’t even trying to tell you that he didn’t treat you like shit, that he treated Olivia the same way he treated you.

“Or have you committed to her? Became her “boyfriend”?”

“You know I don’t do that stupid stuff. And I didn’t sleep, okay? I left after a while”

“Shut up. Just-shut up, okay? Stop lying. She sent me the message at 2am. And I know you’re blind and you don’t drive in the dark.”

“Alright-fine! I stayed over at hers, but that was it, okay? There’s nothing more”

“And what is it with me, then? I’m too, just a couple of holes you fuck when you get bored with another? Hm?”

“It’s not like that, okay? She told me how you dragged her into HR for sleeping with me and how she saved my ass, my job, so I–I had to give her something in return”

“What the fuck? That bitch didn’t save your ass, okay? I did. Why do you think they’ll listen to her? I was the superior one. And she was the one who went to HR to rant and cry over us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah. You and me sleeping together.”

“But she told me–”

“Well, she’s a fucking liar.”

You fell back on the bed, your head throbbing from all of it. How could she lie like that? Apparently, it didn’t matter that she did, because you knew he would go after her again.

You got back up, staring at him with eyes full of anger.

“Tell  me, Harry, who is better? Me or her.”

“What?”

“Tell me, me or her? So I can take myself out of this fuck-up you have created and find someone else who isn’t afraid to commit to me, and who doesn’t treat me like shit”

You yelled and once you finished yelling, your eyes were brimming with tears.

But you won’t cry. Not in front of him.

“There’s no fucking competition, Y/N. I’m not “choosing: anybody”

“So just choose her, then. I bet she feels better than me, doesn’t she? She takes you better down her throat too? I guess that’s the way to get you to stay loyal.

“I’m not fucking loyal to her—”

“Why? Why aren’t you fucking loyal–”

“I-love someone,” he confessed.

Your eyes widened. Harry, the cold-hearted moron, who can’t even commit to sleeping with one woman, loved someone?

And then he told you the story of Natalia, the girl who discarded him like trash, and somehow, that gave him the right to do the same to other women.

“If she came back to you, would you still go back to her?” you asked him, voice still shaking and broken.

He stayed quiet, his gaze to the floor.

“FUCKING ANSWER ME, HARRY!” you yelled, and he flinched. He had never seen you like this. You were always sweet and soft and polite to him, even after he treated you like shit most of the time. 

He still didn’t say anything, and you knew the answer. He never even thought of something other than sex with anyone. His heart was already full for her, it always had been. He never even thought of you twice, and here you were, catching feelings for him.

“You’re so full of shit. She used you and threw you away like you were nothing. When you had given her everything she needed to stay. And the first chance she got, she went back to him. She doesn’t love you. When will you realize that?”

You got up, walking to him and standing right in front of him.

“Tell me” you demanded once again. 

His voice shook, raspy, indicating he had shed a few tears, “I don’t-don’t want to. I don’t want to realize that, okay? She still loves me. And I’ll wait for her. No matter how long it takes”

You looked up, trying to stop the tears from falling. Your heart was broken, and he didn’t even seem to realize what he had done to you.

“Do I matter to you, Harry?! Do I mean anything to you?”

Still no answer.

“Great. Just fucking great. I am the one who has been with you for the last 4 months, even if it is just for sex. I am the one who got you the promotion so you could pay your fucking bills. I am the one who fought with HR so we could both keep our jobs. All that’s nothing? I did that for nothing! And that bitch, who couldn’t even stay committed to her own fiance. Slept with you once and your stupid heart is made up for her–”

He shot his eyes up, his fists clenching beside him in anger.

“Don’t you dare say anything about her” 

He looked angry, eyes red and jaw clenched.

“Fine. I’ll leave, then” 

You announced, wearing your clothes in a haste. Picking up your phone, your keys, your toothbrush and your spare clothes that were lying on the chair.

You walked out the room, going straight for the door. You were turning the doorknob when you heard him, “And delete my number from you damn phone”

“I never saved it,” you replied.

And it’s after you reach home that you break down into tears. 

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tell me if you like this! i wanted to end it here, but i know, it's too sad :(, and i know this isn't soo good! but read it, please, and tell me what you think! >.<

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[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

You put a lot small visual elements and details in that I never seem to notice on my first read, and it always makes rereading exciting. What’s a detail from the comic that nobody ever seemed to notice? I’m sure there are things that nobody has mentioned, especially from the early chapters, that you’d want to talk about

Oh man.........that's a great question.

The thing is, there are a lot of details that people don't pick up, but there are definitely eagle-eyed readers that also do! There are also details which most didn't pick up until someone posted about it, and now everyone knows!

There are also details which are actually... yet to be revealed as relevant! That's a secret tool that'll help us later. :)

But most of it is plot relevant decisions I make which make the story more full, but are not necessarily NECESSARY for full enjoyment.

For example, in the very first comic, when Earl approaches Steven....

Her eye isn't white! That was a fully deliberate decision. She didn't actually approach Steven because he wanted her to. That was a decision she made on her own!

Most of the white eye shenanigans in Season 1 were deliberate, albeit not very explicit. I suppose that worked out okay, though. Plus, many people DID catch on!

Also, this part in the Kindergarten comic:

...which people assumed was a power separate from everything, is actually just the first instance of Steven's Command power. The thing is, I hadn't settled into how to portray it at the time, and also - the gem is Corrupted! It doesn't respond to Steven's commands the same way normal gems do. I planned to explore that earlier initially, but in the end, decided to tie it into much later plot.

In Season 1, EP 38, Steven asks Earl to write her name.... and she does! But in gem, not English, because she doesn't know how to write in English.

She designates herself as White Pearl, putting the dash over the top diamond. It was at the time when she was still anxious about making Steven - White Diamond - angry with her.

And to add to the eye thing - during the Season finale of Season 2, when Steven wondered if Earl only came to see him because he forced her to - the comic where she finds him in the water proves otherwise!

Immediately when she grabs him and swims up, her eyes aren't white! She's doing it of her own accord.

Also, in Season 3's opening, when Rose is angry at what she THINKS is White Diamond, she almost has a slip of the tongue when talking about the past.

There's a very pointed reason that panel of Earl is right there next to Rose's cut-off 'My...'

Also, when Rose leaves Steven in the Containment Sphere - the Baby Jail Bubble - she unlocks it to leave, and you can pretty clearly see an interesting detail.

(which Steven, of course, doesn't notice.)

There's also a bit of a narrative tongue in cheek line-up which is accidental on Steven's part but still rings true:

(TVTropes editors caught this one! Hey TVTrope editors!)

Also, this very famous Seaglass foreshadowing:

The first instance of Steven connecting to tech was in the beginning of this season!

When Steven has a bad dream after fusing with Earl and forming Bleached Coral, there's a hidden detail in this reflective text from Nightmare Rose:

(It might be easier to read if you mirror-flip it.)

Another fun thing I enjoyed doing before I got busy with other stuff is gem language! Earl writes Steven notes in it to help him learn, and now signs with her English name,

In the Cluster Experiments comic, if you look at the panels before stuff starts to Happen, you can find a few Experiments hiding in the background. :)

In Amethyst's room, there is a Japanese stopsign and a d20 in the background.

In episode 25 of season 4, Steven is playing Moonlight Sonata!

In episode 33, the ship Steven connects to displays a bisection of the earth which showcases its lumpy core! Or rather, the megastructures that are hidden deep inside the mantle.

It also showcases a few geothermal coring sites made during the colonization.

And by the way, the drill Pearl built was actually a repurposed ship hull which was used for the Space Race ship in the original show!

And man there are actually... many more! But I had to skip over them because they are alluding to things which have not yet been explicitly revealed! :D

But even with this, I'm sure there are other ones I'm missing. If you think you have one that should be listed - throw it on a reblog or in the comments!

[hearteyes-wheeler]

some st s5 mood boards of the party :D

edit: i think i should add descriptions for these in case they don't make sense. feel free to ignore this part

i made these based on my predictions (??) for the party in s5. i think they're all obviously going to focus on beating the shit out of vecna, but they're probably gonna have other things they focus on too as they always do throughout the seasons

mike : i think mike's focus is going to be keeping will safe. kind of like a parallel to s1 and 2 where his goal was to find will and then to keep him safe. with that though comes him confronting his feelings towards will and i'm a believer in him writing letters to will and not sending them so i think that'll come up

will : for will, while he's gonna be like mike and will have to deal with his feelings for mike and the aftermath of lying about the painting, but he's also going to be focused on vecna and his connection to him. which is why i think he's going to go missing for a bit 😃 (also let will shoot vecna in the face duffers i'm begging you)

el : i think el's is pretty self explanatory. her goal next season is going to be to kick vecna's ass and also to save max. with that i think she will have more of a journey in realizing (?) that she's not the monster and that none of this is her fault. also the picture in the upper right corner is supposed to be her and will and represent her family

max : i'm HOPING that max survives next season and wakes up, so i think that's gonna be rough but she's gonna make it (duffers i will find you if she doesn't). i also think her storyline is gonna intertwine with el's and lucas's <3

lucas : i think lucas is going to focus on helping get max back tbh. that boy was at max's bedside at the end of s4 and i have a feeling he's not gonna wanna be away from her and he's gonna team up with el to get her back and then max is gonna wake up and they're gonna go to the movies and they're gonna live happily ever after!!!!! i need my boy to be happy :((

dustin : ok the gravestone isn't for dustin, i just meant it to symbolize how he's going to be mourning eddie and how much it's going to fuck him up. maybe his grief is gonna make him a target for vecna, i've seen people make theories on that, but i don't think he's gonna die. he better not

sorry if that was a lot, i'm just worried they didn't make sense and also i hope i didn't make it seem like all there was to mike and lucas was their romantic relationships. i definitely don't think that's all they're gonna focus on and that that's all there is to their characters, this is just for the mood boards

[impyssadobsessions]

Excerpts from my WIPS ;3 Guess Which story and when- or if its a story even up. If ya want.

----DPxDC

“Keep communication lines on, we'll be moving towards your location.” Batman had replied, which made Nightwing clicked his teeth. “How much should I bet you're not going to do that?” Dick turned to ask Jason as both of them hopped off the bike. “Do what? I didn't hear anything.” “Okay, so a hundred at least.” Nightwing hummed, as he followed Red-Hood back towards the abandon lab.

----DPxDC

"-One time she sent DASH! To babysit ME! I'm older than both of them now. Y'know how awkward that was? Though the look on Dash's face was hilarious.” Dick smirked, raising a brow. “The guy that bullied you? Why did she ask him?” “Ah, probably because he's a puppy that'll do whatever my sister asks. She knows it too.” Danny clicked his tongue as his face grimaced at the implications of it. “I may or may not have... scared him a few times. I do like a disappearing act.” Dick grinned as he could imagine what Danny meant. He did seem to take any form of “keeping tabs” on him as a challenge. Danny smirked back, a mischievous glint in his eye, before dropping his face. “Jazz was REALLY upset about it. I had assumed this was her being overbearing and protective like usual-I didn't realize how hard this was on her.” The guilt thick in his throat. “She broke down crying and.. I promised her I'll stay out of the house when she's not home. 'Cause I didn't know what to do.. or say. I just..” “Thought of the easiest solution?” “Yeah... I guess.” Danny shrugged, defeated.

---------DPxDC

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Shouldn't you be resting, sir?” Alfred scolded. A small amused smirk on his lips as he carried lunch on a tray. Bruce just made a grunt. His eyes glued to the screen of the laptop. Images, news articles, videos. Whatever he could find was displayed on the screen, while he bit at the end of his pencil. A notepad next to him. “Ah yes, very informative answer, Master Bruce.” Alfred set down the tray on the nightstand beside his bed. There was more than just lunch on the tray as it carried a medical kit. Bruce sighed. He shoved the laptop to the side and struggled to sit up more so Alfred could replace his dressing. “This whole situation just crawls under my skin.” “I say it does, sir.” Alfred's hands move quickly to help replace the doctor's handy work. “Secret government organization, children in peril, and the boarder between life and death getting thinner by the day. Certainly sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

---------BULLY

Pete glanced back up at Mr. Smith. The man was eyeing him carefully, waiting for a reply. He must care about Gary in some way to go through this much trouble, right? And... it would be easier to contact Gary's grandfather than dealing with the headmaster. Pete bit his lip as he thought. “Um, Okay. S-sure.” “Atta boy! Hahaha!” Allen laughed as he smacked his hand on Pete's shoulder, making him stumble. Pete really needed to work on not being pushed around so easily. “Though, if you can mange to keep little Garreth in line, I'll add in a little bonus for your trouble. Since you're doing more than half what I was paying this damn school to do.” “That's not-” “Some good advice. Never work for free, Pete. Consider it a token of gratitude. After all, I think we both know watching my grandson isn't an easy task.” Allen winked.

--------DPXDC

Tim had no idea how he was going to pull this off. His eyes glancing from the Fenton parents to the boy he met yesterday, Danny Fenton. He knew he was dead. At least, was ghostly in some way. Danny didn't act or looked how Greta did, but Greta was visible as Deadman wasn't. So perhaps ghosts varied drastically? Either way, Danny being dead wasn't even the part that was bothering him. It was knowing he had to pretend he didn't know- while Danny sat right next to his oblivious killers. Well, the word killer might be too harsh. Tim theorized it was an accident regarding with a portal that opened on top of Danny. Which might also explain Danny's unique qualities.

---------DPxDC

“...Danny has traces of... Lazarus pit... stronger than yours.” Tim answered, with a concerned tone. They were afraid of how Jason would take it. And Jason was not taking it well, as he felt cold rage deep in his veins. The icy chill as he acknowledged that not only was Danny his blood... he shared the worse part of his blood. The reminder that they... Had died. Those scars... that was how Danny died and so far knowing their luck, he doubted it was painless. “Little Wing? Jay bird? You there, I'm almost at your location. How's Danny?” Dick called on the comms. Jason pulled the boy more into his jacket, giving him the best attempt of a hug he could. “Better than the fuckers who did this to him will be.”

------DPXDC

Danny had made an unfortunate discovery. His powers, like all ghosts, were based on emotion. Other's emotions. Even worse, the strongest one was fear. Fear fed on itself and grew stronger and stronger. And what made him discover this, made his heart sink with dread. He was stuck powerless in Gotham as his friends were laughing themselves to death along with other hostages in the room. Danny cursed at himself for listening to Sam. He should have phased them out of there, regardless of Batman's no meta rule. Now the only fear emitting into the room was his own. They were too far from others for him to feed off of, and ectoplasm was low. No.. more like the ectoplasm was being pulled away from the ground of Gotham and seeping into some other being that was far too greedy. “Well, well, well~ Look what we have here? A little party pooper!” A man with green hair and clown painted face cackled, as he waltz his way over to Danny. The black-hair teen ripped his eyes from his friends, glaring at the man. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist, while he stayed knelt over his friends. “Funny, most parties I've seen at least has music.” Danny was feeling sweat dripping off his face. He needed to do something fast, but if he couldn't transform.. then he wasn't sure what else he isn't able to do. Not like this man looked fit, but... Danny knew danger when he sees it. “Ah, but this is music! To my ears at least, ehehehehe!”

----------CAMP CAMP

“Ah. Smell that, Gwen?” “Smell what.” “That fresh breeze! We had gone a full twenty-four hours without a single camp activity catching on fire.” “Huh, I guess you're right! This camp only smells half as shitty-” “Where's Max?” Both Gwen and David utter out in realization as it had dawn that neither of them had seen the troublesome trio since breakfast. --- “Don't worry Max! We'll save you once I finish chewing off my leg-” “Nikki! DON'T!” “Well... I'm fucked.”

[starwarsbian]

knife + blood play with nerdy!anakin <3

NSFW -18 DNI

warnings : knife play, blood play, spit, oral (f!recieving) i think that’s all but also this is ooc just. deal with it

word count: 2.8k & not proofread!

summary: anakin was really nervous to tell you about this thing he wanted to try with you, to know you like no one else knows you :D or whatever

for davina and his big brain contributions <33

gif by @delicatereader

when anakin first brought it up to you you could see his hands shaking as he started to talk. he can be a pretty nervous guy but when he sat you down to tell you about this he seemed more flustered than ever. he keeps flicking his eyes in the opposite direction and messing with his glasses as he begins to speak.

"so,, uh. theres this thing. that i've been wanting to try, with you, for um a while," he says and takes a deep breath, waiting for a response.

"like a sex thing? why are you so nervous, ani? you can tell me." you ask and try to soothe his nerves.

"yeah, like a sex thing. i want to cut you. i'd-be-so-careful-i-swear-and-i-dont-want-to-make-you-uncomfortable-if-this-is-too-much-tell-me-no-right-now," he spits out.

you break out into a grin. you never thought your nerdy-vanilla-seeming boyfriend would be into anything outside of the small dip into choking and degrading you'd tried with him. you nod for him to keep talking, eager to see what else he'll tell you.

"i just want..to carve my initials in you or leave little cuts all over your body to remind you of me. i want to see you bleed, but its in a way that'll turn me on and hopefully, turn you on? i want you to trust me to hurt you, hold a knife to your skin and trust me to go just as deep as i should. you know?" he says with the very last part dropping to a gravelly whisper inches away from your face. "and i-i want you to cut me too. if you want to," he continues as he leans in, making his lips rest just a centimeter or two away from your own.

his face is flushed and you can see the desperation in his eyes as he waits for you to say something.

"i think i'd like that too, ani. i want to be yours any way i can," you say as your lips ghost against his. with a small nod he closes the short distance between your mouths and presses his lips against yours while his left hand finds its way to the back of your head. he feels so happy that you seem to understand him and this want that he's never disclosed to any one else. he kisses you for as long as you'll let him, his soft lips touching yours over and over until you need a break to breathe. hes cradling your face in his hands when he pulls away and says "not tonight, obviously. but when? when do you want to? i'm so excited, honestly. i was scared youd freak out or tell me its weird."

"maybe a little weird but i like it too, i think. how about just next time we have sex, yeah? probably the day after tomorrow, friday?" he grins and nods, the rest of the night goes as normal and so does the next day.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢୨୧⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

its friday evening, around 6, you've put on ani's favorite set, its black so blood shouldn't really stain it, which is something you took into consideration just incase. you're not entire unsure about whats going to happen but your heart races anyway as you sit on the bed and wait for anakin to give his attention to you. it seems that at some point within the last two days he's acquired the knife hed like to use-nothing super intimidating. just a single sided blade that's pretty short as far as knives ago, 4-5 inches with a dark blue handle. he's already explained that its never been used for anything else, never will be, and is sharp so any wounds heal nicely.

"will you lay down for me, pretty? 'm not gonna do anything without asking you first, promise.'

as you move yourself back on the bed to lie down he continues, "so, um, i practiced on myself first just to know how hard i can press, how hard i should press, to get the results we? want."

he’s wearing a light blue button down and khakis, his sleeves are rolled up and his glasses are sat promptly on the bridge of his nose. he seems much less nervous about the actual act than he was about telling you—which is reassuring. he sets the knife on the nightstand and pulls you into a kiss where his hands tenderly hold your face.

when he lets go, you lean back onto the bed and spread your legs a little without being asked. he picks up the knife again and tilts his head to the side as he looks at it and back at you to see your reaction.

“just the flat side for now, baby,” he says softly as he presses the dull edge of the instrument against the flesh of your calf before dragging it further up your body. it traces the contour of your thigh up to your stomach and waist where he crosses to the other side of you. you’re breathing is shaking even though there’s little to no chance of being hurt but the cool metal is still doing something for you.

he continues his movements on the other side of your body—working his way down over your hip and onto your thigh, doing a light circle with the point before continuing to the flesh of your calf where he presses a little harder with the still flat edge. the teasing has caused goosebumps on your arms and you’ve never seen anakin so enthralled by something so small.

he smiles as you arch your back up into its touch as it returns to your lower abdomen, right above your bikini line. he shifts the angle of the knife so the point is ever so slightly scratching against your skin as he moves it. you can feel the tip dragging across your skin, leaving the tiniest sting behind as it scratches the surface.

“am i allowed to cut you wherever, honey? you going to let me slice you up wherever i please?”

you nod but anakin waits—stilling his movements completely as he waits for a verbal response. “i’m sorry, i mean yes. wherever you want, ani.”

he hums in approval and slowly turns the knife over so the sharp edge is against the skin of your hip. he moves slowly and lightly in a straight line no longer than 2 inches. you feel the sting after he’s taken the blade off of you and find you really like it. anakin studies your face to gauge your reaction, pleased when he sees you watching him intently and chewing on your bottom lip as you wait for it again. tiny drops of blood rise to the surface of the cut and he presses the metal against you again.

another calculated and precise wound is created by your boyfriend, this time about a centimeter above the last and a little longer. it’s no deeper than the last but blood is already flowing to the previous cut so it bleeds faster. you whine and look at anakin with eyes that say don’t stop.

he smears the blood droplets on your skin, making it coat the metal and form a thin layer on your flesh. “wouldn’t wanna neglect the other side would we?”

he moves to the other side of the bed and cuts two relatively quick vertical lines into where your hip bone would be. they’re still very shallow but bleed the same droplets as the other side. the air stings the new wounds and it hurts even more when anakin wipes the blood away with his thumb before promptly sucking the remnants off while he makes eye contact with you. you’re sure his hands are clean or else he wouldn’t have touched them and the sight immediately has heat radiating from your core.

“mmm. taste good, baby. wasn’t gonna do that but i couldn’t help myself…gonna move up to your pretty tits now, cut those up too.”

he does what he says, dragging the knife up your side in a long line. you expect to feel a sting from the breaking of skin but it seems he’s turned the knife over again to the flat edge. you can see how hard anakin is through his pants and desperately want to touch him but choose to lie still.

as the knife reaches the sensitive flesh of your breasts he slowly turns the knife over again while the point presses into you—you feel stinging again as you realize he’s punctured your skin with the tip. “sit up,” he says. he undoes the clasp on your bra with ease and tosses it to the floor.

anakin decides little nicks from his knife across your chest would be a beautiful sight and gets to work creating them. each one is no longer than an inch and exudes blood in a thin line. he makes one..two…three..four on each side—one after another—carefully. your heart is pounding and you’re trying to stay still so as not to interrupt him or make him make a mistake with the sharp object.

the tiny amount of blood on each side is calling to anakin and he doesn’t stop himself when he gets the urge to lick at your bleeding chest. it’s not something you’d discussed and you probably should be worried about bacteria or something but at the moment all you’re worried about is focusing on the sensation of anakin’s tongue laving across the cuts.

however, anakin has already thought about that and has a few gauze pads ready in his pocket so as to not let his saliva sit around the wound any longer than he intends for it to. he’ll clean it properly for you afterwards. he wipes away any remaining wetness from his mouth and looks at you for approval although a moan escaped your lips during the endeavor.

you’re squeezing your legs together as the wetness between your legs grows more noticeable and torturous to ignore. anakin senses your growing impatience and peppers kisses across your throat and upper chest before reassuring you that you’ll get what you want. “just a few more, angel. your pretty thighs now..spread your legs a little for me.”

you spread your legs as instructed and gasp in surprise when you feel the snap of the fabric around your waist. anakin had slid the blade under the waistband without you noticing and took it upon himself to cut half of your matching set right off of you.

the delicate cuts anakin covers your thighs with leave stinging patches in their wake. they’re deeper than the others and hurt more yet send waves of pleasure through you. he’s created two patches of 5 cuts on your left thigh and is moving to the other side. he repeats his actions, creating a mirror image of your left thigh onto your right. you hiss in pain when anakin puts the knife down and drags two of his fingers across the wounds on the left side—once again he sucks his fingers clean of the liquid in front of you and groans at the taste. just when you think it can’t get any hotter he’s getting on the bed and pushing your knees towards your chest while he hooks his arms underneath of them.

with one side of your underwear cut he drags the other side off your body in a second. his thumb finds your slit as his mouth finds the burning sensation on your right thigh where he sucks and soothes the cuts with his tongue. he repeats this over every area of your thighs he’s hurt. he’s so hard it hurts and he can’t help but grind against the bed as he hears your whimpers and whispers of his name. the metallic taste lingers in his mouth and he’s sure his spit is tinged red. “sit up,” he tells you and you do.

you watch as anakin gathers the blood affected saliva in his mouth and spits it onto your pussy; spreading it with his thumb and smiling when you groan and fall back into the pillows. it’s so dirty in a way but no one else knows you like this—no one else will know the taste of your pussy mixed with a hint of your blood.

his hands are holding the back of your thighs as he licks through your folds for the first time. “so wet, honey. you do like this.”

words have left your brain for pretty much the entire experience and usually anakin would try to force some out of you but in this moment he’s just happy you’re enjoying yourself in the context he’s created. you can do nothing but whine in response and jerk your hips towards his mouth again.

he wastes no time before diving back into your slick cunt. his tongue finds your clit and works in slow circles massaging it with the muscle. every once in a while he slides his tongue down your sex and dips into your dripping hole. he gathers and swallows as much of it as he can each time—loving how you taste and the mess you’re making for him. he’s fallen into a rhythm of alternating between the two that has your thighs shaking in his grip. he holds them firmly apart for you and continues exactly as he has been since you’re responding well to it. the predictable movements drive you closer and closer to the edge. his tongue makes contact with as many sensitive nerve endings as it can as he eats you like he’ll never get to again.

he’s relishing in your taste and moaning into you, creating another sensation. anakin thinks he would stay there forever if he could as he says something nearly unintelligible against you. “so good” is all you manage to catch of the muffled sound as your heartbeat pounds in your ears.

soon you’re panting his name and letting a string of curses fall from your lips. “fuck. fuckfuckfuckfuck. oh my god,” you whine as his tongue enters you. it softly touches your walls and is accompanied by anakin’s nose brushing against your clit. without warning he moves his mouth back to your clit completely and slips two fingers in with ease. he reaches deep inside of you and hooks his fingers against the spot he knows you like so much. he’s lapping at your bud and sucking it into his mouth in even increments now. the muscles in your abdomen tense as your orgasm threatens to hit you.

“ani. ‘m close. gonna cum.”

he nods in encouragement and moves his fingers a little faster inside you; stroking your walls with expertise while his tongue pulls you apart at the seams. the knot in your stomach tightens until it snaps and anakin cums right in his pants at the delicious moans escaping your lips as he works you through your high with a groan.

he works his tongue and fingers until you’re grabbing at his arm to get him to stop and tugging on his hair to get him to remove his tongue from its antics. your slick coats his chin and lips as he looks up at you through his fogged up glasses he never got the chance to take off. your face warms as he looks at you with a huge smile. he soothingly runs his hands up and down the back of your legs for a few moments before speaking.

“so i actually.. finished during that. i need to go change and then i need to clean you up too. stay right there, honey.”

you close your eyes to rest for a bit before he comes back to help you—hearing clothing shuffling to the floor and the bathroom door open and close twice. he’s returned without a shirt and a pair of black shorts hanging quite low on his hips, a small tube of ointment in his hand as he touches your arm and walks you to the bathroom with unstable legs. he has you sit on the edge of the bathtub and returns with a slightly soapy washcloth he uses to gently clean the marks he’s left behind and then rinse them with clean water. he applies antibiotic ointment to them but ultimately decides to leave them uncovered as they’re so minor—except the ones on your thighs that he covers with a dressing and tape.

“i can get you off again..if you want. i just wanted to clean those up.”

“no, ani. i’m tired. will you get me clothes and lay with me?”

he kisses you and then your forehead before you both return to the bedroom where anakin picks clothes out for you lays on the bed waiting for you as you get dressed. he holds you and plays with your hair until he decides it’s time to make dinner for his very very good girl!

[squoxle]

✏ TNAIT 003: Do. Not. Get. Attached l.at fanfic

✰ pairing: nerdy!bandboy!anton x cheerleader!fem!reader| ✰ wc: 2.9k | ✰ cw: profanity, angst, sexual themes, kissing | ✰ plot: your friends catch on to the fact that you might actually be falling for this nerd, but their reaction to it sends you on a wild mission to try and convince them otherwise... [Series Masterlist]

"So...how'd everything go with Ponytail?" Dongmin asked Chanyoung at the cafe, after his shift.

"It actually went alright. That cheerleader isn't too bad," he shrugged as he sat in the chair across from him.

"Did you make any progress?"

"With her assignments? Not really. We had a little incident and just ended up hanging out for a bit after that."

"Well, don't get too cozy, alright."

"What do you mean? You're the one who got me hooked up with her in the first place."

"I know man, but just be careful. Remember that we're a part of different worlds."

"So what? Are you trying to say she's out of my league?"

"I-I just don't want you to get your heart broken again..."

"What are you talking about. We literally just met."

"I know but--"

"You're acting like I proposed to her. We're just friends. Relax," he said before taking a bite of pizza. He picked some up for the two of them to eat here.

For the next few weeks, you continued to see him. First, it was only 3 days out of the week, but by now it had escalated to 5 days. Your feelings for him grew, but you had to keep your little crush a secret, at least for now.

"I'm telling you right now. Do. Not. Get. Attached," Xoey said. She decided to join you at the cafe today. "I can see it in your eyes that you like him more than you're letting on."

"Let's just say I do like him. Is it really that big of a deal?"

"Are you insane? You're literally just using him to get your grades up. Any type of romance is out of the question," Xoey snapped.

"Can you believe she hasn't given him anything to help her?" Abigail chimed in.

"Nothing?" her eyes widened. "Hmm...interesting. Do you think he likes her back?"

"Eww. He better fucking not," Abigail rolled her eyes. "I swear if these two ever start dating, I'd actually vomit..."

"He's really not that bad," you shrugged.

"They have so many hot guys on the football team that you could easily pull. Don't settle for that dork," Abigail spat. You knew very well that she meant every word she said.

"Relax! I don't even like him like that. I already told you, I'm just being his friend so he can pull my grades up," you spat.

"Wait, wait, wait! So let me get one thing straight," Xoey interjected. "You two have just been buddy-buddy this whole time? You've never slept with him? Not even once?"

"Nope."

"Anything sexual at all? Maybe even a kiss?"

"She hasn't opened anything but her laptop for that geek," Abigail sighed as you shook your head.

"Okay, well if you really don't like him and it's all about the grades how about you prove it to us by kissing Nicholas," Xoey smirked.

"Omg, he is so fine," Abigail nearly moaned at the meer thought of him.

"Yeah, I know. And a little birdie told me that he's been looking at our girl. So this is gonna be a piece of cake," she grinned folding her hands together.

"Oh and to make it even better, you have to tell him that you've liked him forever," Abigail added.

"In front of sweet little Channie," Xoey spat.

"Girls, this is ridiculous," you wailed. "I already said I don't like him. I'm just using him for my grades. I seriously only see him as a friend," you lied.

"Do it and we won't hunt down your fanboy and tell him that you couldn't care less about him," Xoey raised an eyebrow as she leaned over the table, lowering her voice.

"And that you're just using him for the semester," Abigail added. "You've already told us how you're just gonna drop him anyway. So why not rip off the band-aid now?"

"Fine, fine! I'll do it," you exclaimed. "But not in front of him...that'll be too awkward."

Maybe it was the peer pressure of wanting to be accepted that influenced your decision. But whatever it was, there was some damage control you had to do first.

"So, what are we working on today," Chanyoung smiled as you sat down next to him.

"Hmm... well I finished writing one of my English assignments last night. Maybe you could just look over it for me first and then we can work on something else."

"Alright," he nodded as you slid your computer over to him and began scrolling through the contents of your essay.

“Umm…Chanyoung?”

“You can just call me Chan. It sounds less…formal,” he smiled.

“Okay. Well, do you have anything planned this weekend?”

“No, not really. Why?” He asked, turning away from the screen to look at you.

“I was wondering if maybe…you wanted to go out with me. N-not like a date or anything,” you chuckled. “Just as friends.”

“Yeah sure. It’s not like I’m doing anything anyway.”

“Great!” You smiled. “How do you feel about a movie at…I don’t know…6?”

“Yeah, 6 sounds good,” he laughed, admiring how sweet you were with him. Even though you said this would be a friendly date, you wanted to be more than that with him.

So what if your friends don’t like him. They’ll just have to get over it. After all, you just had to kiss Nicholas one time. It's not like you were signing yourself over in marriage, right?

"Well, umm...let's get back to studying and maybe we can hang out before you go to practice," he said, returning to the screen.

After cheer practice, Abigail dropped you off at home as usual. You waved to your parents and went straight to your room to clean yourself up for the night.

"Honey," your mom's voice called when you were in the bathroom. "When you're finished, your father and I would like to have a talk with you."

"Okay, I'm almost finished," you replied, before you heard her footsteps trail down the hall.

You had a very good feeling about what this conversation would be about. Lucky for you, you had the right answer.

"How are your grades looking?" your father asked as you sat on the couch.

"I'm actually doing a lot better," you nodded.

"Can you go get your laptop so I can see how they've improved?" he asked.

"Sure," you said before leaving the room. This conversation was just about as stale as you expected it to be. "Here it is," you turned the laptop to him, revealing your grades.

Politics — 85.97%

English — 94.81%

Math — 78.12%

Geography — 89.54%

"I have a few more assignments due this week that should bring my grades up even more," you smiled.

"This is great!" you mother chimed.

"I know we put a lot of pressure on you, but it's because we want you to succeed. I'm just glad to see that you're taking action on your own," your father began. "Without a tutor," he added.

You knew that wasn't completely true, but it's the lie you had to tell to keep everyone happy.

"Thanks," you said, closing the computer.

"Oh, before you go I wanted to address an issue," your father said as you were about to walk away. "I'm sure you've noticed by now that I froze your cards. Well, since you're obviously doing better I think you've earned that privilege back."

"Wow...I've never seen my dad so proud of me," you thought to yourself. "Then again, I've never let my grades drop like this."

"Goodnight, honey and keep up the good work," your parents smiled before you walked back to your room.

You wished that Chan was in your room right now so you could hug him. He's taken so much pressure off that you've even completed some of the assignments on your own. Meeting up with him has forced you to delegate time to your studies and giving him your login information was one of the best choices you made.

The next day at practice, you walked in to see one of your cheer mates in tears.

"What's going on?" you whispered to Janice. Abigail and the other girls were busy trying to console her.

"Word got out that Reina had been sleeping with another student to help her pass classes. Which is obviously a breach of the student code of conduct," she sighed leaning against one of the red lockers.

"So what's gonna happen to her?"

"Well, she's being suspended for the rest of the semester and will have a zero in all her courses, effective immediately. On top of that, she'll be on academic probation. Meaning, she'll be kicked from the cheer squad until she can complete a semester on her own with a GPA of 2.5 or higher."

You thought about the situation you were in right now. "That could've easily been me," you thought to yourself as you looked down at your feet. "If my parents ever found out about my little rendevous with Chanyoung they'd never trust me again..."

"Chanyoung," you gasped as you bumped into him in the halls.

"Heh, I didn't expect to see you here," he smiled.

"Well, it was nice seeing you Ponytail. But we kinda got somewhere to be," Dongmin spat as he grabbed onto Chanyoung's arm.

"Oh sorry, I wasn't trying to hold you up," you replied.

"No, it's alright. We were just going to grab something to eat before heading over to my place," Chanyoung said, turning back to you. "You can join us if you want."

"No, she can't," Dongmin interjected. "I'm sure she has something else to do."

"Dude--"

"No, he's right," you smiled, cutting him off. "I was just on my way to meet up with the girls. But maybe next time?"

"Yeah, definitely," he smiled, which just made Dongmin roll his eyes. "Oh, we're still on for this weekend right?"

"Yeah, totally," you chimed before jogging off to catch up with your friends.

"Eh hm? This weekend? What are you doing with her this weekend?"

"None of your business," Chan teased.

"What do you mean none of my business? You wouldn't even be talking to her if it weren't for me."

"Okay? I don't even see how that matters right now," Chan scoffed.

"Because you're falling for Ponytail and I can tell. I thought you didn't like cheerleaders. I guess everything's different now that you're holding hands with one?"

"Pft, what!?"

"Don't start playing dumb. It's written all over your stupid ass face. Every time she comes around and every time you talk about her you have that dumbass grin."

"Okay? So, what?"

"So you admit it? You do like her?"

"Yeah, I do. What's wrong with that?"

"She's so out of your league it isn't even funny."

"We're not in high school anymore. We can date whoever we want. Cliques don't exist here."

"Yes, they fucking do, but ever since you've been working for that high-strung cheering ditz you haven't been able to think straight."

"This is so fucking stupid. I'm not doing this with you, okay."

"The old you would've never been so blind."

"What are you talking about?"

"That bitch is two-faced as fuck," Dongmin spat.

"Whatever, man. You're just saying that because you're jealous."

"Jealous? God, you sound so much like those cock sucking sluts," Dongmin shook his head. "Wait, I just remembered that you're not even getting that from her, huh?" he chuckled. "She's just using you. She can't even bring herself to have romantic feelings for you. She's just pretending to be your friend so you can keep being her lovestruck slave."

"If you're gonna keep acting like that, I'd rather you just shut the fuck up."

"What? You don't believe me?"

"Fuck no and I'm honestly tired of hearing you bitch."

"Fine, you can go back to living out your little fantasy, but don't come crying to me when you find out I'm right."

"I think I'm gonna go home on my own tonight," Chan shook his head before walking off, leaving Dongmin behind. "See ya tomorrow, man."

"Yeah...later..."

Remembering the dare from yesterday you decided to go find Nicholas and "confess" to him. This really just meant setting up a situation where a kiss wouldn't seem so awkward. You just weren't really the type to randomly put your lips on someone.

"Hey, Nick," you smiled as you approached him in the hallway.

"Yeah? What's up?"

"Well...I heard from someone that you've been looking at me," he smirked as he anticipated the next thing you were gonna say. "So..."

"So?"

"So, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go out this weekend?"

"Umm lemme just check my schedule real quick," he chuckled, pulling out his phone to swipe his thumb across the screen. "Yep, this weekend sounds perfect. I'll pick you up at 5, okay."

"5?"

"Yeah, I have football practice until 3:45 and I still gotta shower and stuff."

"Oh...okay. Well, 5 sounds good," you smiled feinly.

"Alright, well I'll have to catch up with you later. I think you already have my number so if you wanna talk tonight we can," he smirked before pulling you in for a hug.

"Okay, I'll try to call you tonight if I'm not too busy," you said as he hugged you one more time before jogging to high-five the group of boys that waited at the other end of the hall.

As much as you wanted to see Chanyoung today, he was busy taking care of something with his brother. This gave you a little more time to bond with Nicholas...or Nick as you liked to call him.

"Hey, ____," Nicholas waved as he walked into the courtyard. "I got out of practice early today. If you're not busy did you wanna catch up a bit now?"

"Yeah, sure," you smiled.

One thing your friends didn't know was that you had a past with Nicholas. The two of you went to school together from Pre-K to 5th grade--middle school is when you both went your separate ways.

Though you never moved, Nicholas' father was stationed outside of the country. Fate had it that the two of you reconnected.

You thought back to the time he gave you a candy ring for your "wedding" in 1st grade. Even though you were just kids, it still felt so special.

It really sucked when he moved away that summer, but he made sure to send you a card on your birthday every year.

"Okay, so I have one question," he began as he walked beside you.

"What's that?"

"Did you really wanna go out with me? Or is this part of some master plan?"

"Uhh, why would you think that?" you scoffed.

"Come on, ____. I'm not stupid. I know when someone's trying to jerk me around."

"He always was quick," you thought to yourself. "Okay, fine."

"Yup, I knew it," he chuckled. "So what was it? A dare? A competition?"

"It was a dare...some of the girls from my squad think I like this guy--"

"Well are they right?"

"Yeah, but they don't really approve of him."

"So what? If you like him and he's a great guy who cares what your friends think?"

"Hmm...yeah I guess you're right."

"Ooooof course I am."

"Well, I still gotta do the dare...I already agreed to it."

"Okay," he laughed. "But what exactly do you have to do?"

"You're not gonna like this...."

"Just tell me."

"I have to kiss you..."

"That's it?"

"And tell you that I've liked you forever," though you were dared to say this, at one point (before you got to know Chanyoung) that was true.

"Easy-peasy," he smiled before pulling your in by your waist for a kiss.

"Nick!" you exclaimed as he burst out into laughter.

"Relax, I just wanted to get a reaction out of you," he smiled. "Here, I'll do it properly this time," he leaned in before gently placing a kiss on your lips. "How's that," he asked.

"Much better, but you can do it on my cheek next time," you tapped the plush of your cheek.

"Like this?" he playfully pecked your cheek.

"Yes!" you laughed. "You're enjoying the hell out of this and I know it," you smiled as he wrapped his arm around you.

"I'll drop you off at home tonight."

"Hmm? Why?"

"Well I kinda wanna go raid the gas station and I think I'd like you to be my partner in crime. I mean it's only fair. After all you're just using me to complete a dare."

"Hmm, okay. Well, let's get started now," you smiled as he walked you to his car.

"Hey," Chanyoung said dryly.

"Look, I know you don't wanna hear this, but there's something you gotta know about Ponytail."

"What is it now," he sighed.

"Earlier today, I saw her getting all gushy over this jock. And I don't mean some silly conversation. I saw them kissing. She's duping you, man."

Chanyoung sat in silence for a short while before finally speaking again. "You're not gonna stop, are you?"

"What are you talking about, Chan? I just gave you proof."

"No, what you gave me was some more bullshit stories you sat around concocting all day."

"Dude, I--"

"I don't wanna argue about this again, okay. Just drop it already."

"Chan..."

"Forget it...I'm going to sleep."

Later that night, after Nicholas dropped you off, you laid across your bed, staring up at the ceiling as you though to yourself...

"How the hell am I gonna be in two places at once?"

Thanks for reading the second episode of my series. [Series Masterlist]

Click this link to go to my main masterlist and stay tuned for the next episodes.

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[mangowafflesss]

HATRED FOR YOU | PART. 2

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Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Writer!Reader

Summary: When you try spying on the man next door you end up hurting yourself in the process only for him to come running to your rescue. Its a shame he doesn't know who exactly he is helping.

[Part 1] [Part 3]

{Tags: @dontyouworrydaddy @chrrybl0ss0m @skulfan1 @lialacleaf @ghosts-cyphera @delaynew @arminarlertssword }

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There were six chapters. 

Six chapters until your book is finished. 

That'll be it, then you can finally share it with the world. You knew exactly what you wanted to write but there was something hard about starting and ending your books. You get so excited but have to refrain from writing garbage which has happened a couple of times in your life. 

The last time you ever wrote anything was about two weeks ago. When you took a pit stop by Rocco’s and met your neighbour, the one you didn’t realise you had. 

You hadn’t seen him since but then again you haven’t really left your apartment other than the other week when you finally went grocery shopping. 

As you lay your head on your pillow you think in your head before sitting up and getting onto your knees. Your palms were pressed flat against the coolness of the wall while you lowered your head to place your ear against the wall also. If you are thinking correctly his room should be on the other side of here. 

This is entirely creepy but you are just bored and can’t sleep. 

You don’t know why you’re creeping on your neighbour, but you just wanted to hear any sort of sign of life. If his room is on the other side then you’ll be able to hear him sleep, Right? 

Your ear was touching the wall and you tried to hear something on the other side, whether it be a soft snore or movement of the bed sheets as he moves in his sleep. 

Or he isn’t asleep? 

The clock says it is currently one in the morning so perhaps he might… but then again you also don’t know this man and this is the weirdest thing you've ever done in your entire life.   

Backing away from the wall you sit back on your bed but manage to get the bed sheet wrapped around your foot and end up falling off the side of your bed straight down onto the hard floor below. 

You grimaced when you realise you have downstairs neighbours and whisper an apology into the floorboards while gripping your forehead. It throbbed loudly in your mind and you move to sit into an upright position. 

“You're an idiot” you say to the reflection of the floor length mirror that is currently facing you. Your matching pyjama set was askew and you crawled over to the mirror to get a closer look at your head. 

Your room was dark but there was enough light for you to be able to make out the red mark on your forehead. “Great, now I look like more of an idiot” you scoff before pushing off the floor into a standing position. 

You open your bedroom door and walk into the direction of your bathroom to get a closer look and to wash it just in case, but before you reach the door there is a knock on your door. 

It made your heart beat fast due to the unlikeliness of someone knocking on your door at this time but you most probably woke someone up with your fall. Well there goes your track record of not pissing off your neighbours. 

Walking to your door you didn’t even bother to look who it is and unlock and open your door. You were going to say something until you looked at the figure in front of you. Your neighbour was standing there, the one you were just trying to see was awake. 

“Hello.” you try to be polite in hopes he wasn’t here to tell you to ‘keep the noise down’.  

“Are you okay? I heard a bang and then nothing else so I came to check” oh, you weren't expecting that. Clearing your throat you point to your head and smile “I fell and hit my head, sorry for waking you. I'll be more careful” you laugh awkwardly in hopes he’ll go back to his home and leave you to cry in peace. 

“Are you alright with sorting that?” he pointed to your head and he seemed to be looking intensely at it. Raising your hand to your head you feel wetness trickling out, you look at your hand and see blood on the tips of your fingers. 

Your face pales and Ghost sees this and crosses over the threshold of your apartment to hold your arm to steady you. “I'm not very good with blood” you say with a thick voice as if you’re going to throw up. 

Ghost moves your hand away from view and walks you over to the sofa. “Don’t look at your hand, it’ll make you feel worse” he sets you down carefully and bends down to one knee to assess the small cut on your forehead. 

“How did you fall exactly?” his hand was under your chin and he felt the warmth of your body radiate off you. “I fell out of bed” your voice was quiet but it still sounded loud in the stillness of the early morning. 

His body expelled air in some weird laugh and you would’ve missed the smile forming on his face if you weren’t looking directly at him. You didn’t manage to catch what his face looked like in the elevator the other week but now you could see him completely. 

“I’ll go find something to clean it with” he says and quickly moves away from you and into the kitchen. You hear him clattering around and then realise that none of the lights are on. Getting up from the couch you walk over to the wall and flick the switch, the kitchen is now illuminated and you squint to get used to the light that invades your eyeballs. 

“Thought it would be useful but now my eyes are burning” you blink multiple times trying to get used to the light and then see a shadow appear in your vision. You can still see the light trying to penetrate from the sides of your closed eyes but you feel soothed by the shadow in front of you. 

Cold hands touch your face and you relax as they go near your forehead. One of those hands smooths away any hair in your face while the other gently dabs away any blood that's collected on your skin. 

“Why didn’t you take any shortbread?” you whisper and he pauses for a second before resuming the activity at hand “You seemed to be enjoying them and also who takes shortbread from strangers?” he whispers back and it felt as if you were two children trying to not get caught by your parents at a sleepover. 

“Says the stranger currently in my apartment” 

“Ah, you got me there” 

You giggle softly at the tone of his voice and open your eyes, he was focused on the cut on your head and you took in his face in a new light and smiled unconsciously. “Sooo stranger. Do you have a name or do I have to refer to you as either neighbour or man who doesn't take shortbread from strangers?” 

There was a moment of silence before he pulls away from your head and looks down at you “Simon will do just fine” 

You say his name and then tell him yours with a handshake. He shakes it back and you scream in success in your mind, the road to being best friends is a go. 

“I should probably go, if you feel worse than you do call for help” you nod your head and walk him to the front door straight past your coffee table where a bunch of illustrations for your book cover sit from where you were looking at them earlier. 

Unlucky for Simon he didn’t even notice or even catch a glimpse. 

“Thank you again, I owe you one”

“Don’t worry about it, get some rest. Goodnight” 

He leaves your apartment blissfully aware of the person he just helped. You're just some girl who falls out of bed and loves shortbread. 

Nothing more and nothing less. 

Poor unfortunate Simon.

[echoes-in-echoclan]

Took long enough- Here are the kits!! The sweeties <3

Also! Important announcements! Don't let the wall of text spook you, it's all good things

I guess this is a general rundown of the future of EchoClan over the summer! I'm having so much fun with this Clan, but I also have other responsibilities. I'll be working part time and working on my portfolio. I've decided to pursue rigging (for 3D animation), and in order to have any chance of jobs/internships I need to start on that. So that'll hopefully be one of my main focuses! Another thing I want to do is focus more on my personal art. I've neglected it a lot this semester, and I've been wanting to go back into things with my OCs and stories. Within the next few months I'll try making a personal art blog too. So all that to say, EchoClan won't be my #1 top priority over the summer. But worry not! I'll still be working on it! I'm going to try to get more of a backlog before I step back so you guys will still have 1-2 pages a week.

Speaking of posting every week, these next few weeks will be a little bit more radio silent on my end. I'll be going overseas for two weeks to study abroad! I'm incredibly excited, but that also means posting moons will be put on hold for a little. Any asks will be answered without any pictures or with traditional art! But again, no moons will be posted until I return. I think I'll post one more moon before I leave? But we'll see!

I participate in Art Fight every year in July! So during July I will be focusing on that rather than asks or moons. More info coming soon!

I'm also toying around with the idea of a timeskip. I have skipped all the way to moon 60 in the game, and I am stopping there for now. When we reach moon 60, I will be giving you guys the choice of whether or not I timeskip. If a timeskip is chosen, more options for the amount of time + circumstances will be provided. I want to keep providing new and exciting stories for EchoClan! And if that means doing a time skip, then so be it!

Thank you all for being so patient with me these past few months. School really kicked my butt, and even then I still have a few more finals + my study abroad trip. You all are the best <3 big things are coming to this clan that I can't wait to show you!

TL;DR: EchoClan is still going and will still keep happening but I'm also doing other things