#I don't know if I'll make this a part two

[trashytracktales]

(I'm really sorry for the size of what I sent you and if you want to ignore it I'll completely understand)

I don't know if you like writing enemies to lovers (that's the only way I can describe it) but I've been thinking a lot about how you would make an amazing story with this "plot" because you write so well

So I'm here to ask for a one shot of Lando where he and Flo's best friend (his sister) don't get along and are always picking on each other (but deep down Lando just uses this as a protection so other people don't know he likes her, because he's afraid of ruining their friendship).

The scenario could be the two going to Flo's horse riding competition but they are late for the event, so Lando suggests giving a ride to his sister's friend and she accepts because she doesn't know the city and the place is on a remote farm. Halfway there it starts to rain and the car ends up getting stuck because Lando didn't want to follow the GPS, saying he knew a shorter route and this makes the two argue. The girl gets irritated by Lando's stubbornness and gets out of the car, even in the rain, and goes to a barn that is the only covered place nearby. Obviously Lando goes after her and when they get there the two admire each other for a while because the wet clothes are stuck to their bodies, leaving little to the imagination. So Lando can't hold on and kiss her and all the desire to have her is released at that moment (pls make it a smut 🥺)

Hold your horses | LN⁴

🐎 summary ──── They’ve been pushing each other’s limits for as long as they can remember, and storms aren’t something that scares them. But when they get caught in the eye of one, desire and resentment collide in a moment they can’t ignore nor change.

🐎 pairing ──── Lando Norris x Flo’s best friend (she/her)

🐎 rating ──── explicit

🐎 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, angst, smut, push-pull dynamics, arguments and dirty talk, swearing, power imbalance, wet clothes??, banter and manipulation through teasing, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, unresolved tension with open ending (don’t hate me pls I can already smell the requests for part 2).

🐎 word count ──── 7.1k

🐎 date ──── Jul. 14, 2025

🐎 a/n ──── I had this request sitting in my inbox since December of 2024. Whoever sent it, if you’re still here and reading this, I’m sooooo sorry love. I hope it was worth the wait 🤎

“JUST ADMIT IT, Lando,” she says, letting out an exasperated sigh. “We are stuck,” the girl offers the only plausible verdict and, somewhere far in the distance, a loud clap of thunder grumbles like it agrees with her.

Outside, the English countryside is a blur of grey and green, soaked in a sudden summer storm. The windshield wipers squeak uselessly across the glass, struggling to keep up with the downpour. Mud splatters up the sides of the car, and the wheels dig deeper into the soaked dirt road every time Lando tries to gun it.

He doesn’t look at her right away. Instead, he’s absolutely convinced that the sheer willpower will reverse the fact that they’re halfway up a deserted country lane, surrounded by trees that loom in on either side like spectators, and very, very stuck.

“We’re not stuck,” Lando insists, his jaw tight; he’d rather chew on wood than agree with her.

“I’m so sorry,” she says mockingly. “The fact that we are not moving might’ve gave me that impression. But thank god it’s not the case,” she continues, flashing him a fake smile.

“I just need to rock it out of the rut,” he explains, giving her an annoyed look back.

She nods. “Of course, you’re going to rock it out,” the girl repeats after him, the irritation in her voice betraying the fact that, in reality, she thinks his solution is terribly uninspired. “Genius. Did you read that in a Top Gear magazine? Wait, do you even know how to read or you just looked at the pictures?”

Beyond frustrated, Lando throws the car into reverse and hits the gas again. The tires squeal and spin, slinging more mud into the air. As a result, the car lurches an inch, maybe two, then creaks and settles deeper, the nose now slightly tilted to the right.

She clears her throat. “You were saying?”

He exhales through his nose, clearly trying to keep it together. “Can you shut up for a second?”

“You shut up. If it wasn’t for your big mouth, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now,” she points out. “Who ignores the GPS in this type of weather?”

Lando rounds on her. “I know the area, alright?”

The girl scoffs. “Clearly! We’re on a road that looks like it was last used by the Romans. But Lando knows the area. Go ahead and get us out, then. Because we’re one thunderclap away from being part of a missing persons case.”

“Why do you always have to be so dramatic?” he asks in an even tone.

She replies so quickly that it almost takes her by surprise, too. “Because I always knew you’d be the cause of my death, Norris.”

Much to their misfortune, the rain starts pouring harder, drumming angrily against the roof of the car. The sky looks heavy, thunders rolling in the distance like some kind of bad omen. They’re surrounded by thick hedgerows and open fields that stretch out in every direction, broken only by the occasional, soggy-looking fencepost. There’s no farmhouse in sight, no signal, no other cars or people. Just them.

And that’s the worst part.

“You know, I didn’t even have to drive you,” says Lando through gritted teeth as he unbuckles his seatbelt and throws open the door on his side. Water rushes in before he slams it shut again, soaking his hoodie through before he even rounds the car.

She watches him through the windshield with her arms crossed at her chest. A part of her wants to feel bad, because he looks miserable, hair plastered to his forehead now, jaw flexing as he surveys the tires like he can will the car to move. But on the other hand, he deserves it. Lando’s been nothing but a cocky, irritating nightmare since the moment she met him. Always mocking and always acting like her presence was some kind of personal inconvenience, even though she’s the one who’s had to put up with his snide remarks at family dinners, his eye-rolls whenever she talks about university, and the constant yet silent competition over who can get under the other’s skin faster.

“No traction,” she hears his voice again, jolting slightly when the door swings open. Lando climbs back in, dripping water across the console, managing to sprinkle her with a few cold drops, too. His curls are officially a mess, there’s a streak of mud on his jeans, and his expression is thunderous next time he speaks, “Road’s completely washed out,” he finally admits, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary.

The echo leaves a sinister melody in her ears. “Oh?” she gasps, faking surprise. “You mean we’re stuck?”

Lando glares at her. “Can you not?”

“I’m just trying to understand how your shortcut landed us in a damn bog.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, he throws his head back with a groan. “You’re actually the worst.”

“And now what?” she asks, outraged by the fact that he doesn’t even seem remotely concerned about looking for a way to get them out of there.

“We wait for the rain to pass,” says Lando, finally stopping the car.

The moment the engine dies beneath them, the hum vanishes, and the rain rushes in to fill the silence. In the sudden stillness of the stalled car, the air shifts. Neither of them speaks for a while, but that something that’s dancing between them it’s painfully palpable now.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to come with you,” she confesses in a small voice, turning to look out the window to her right, where the storm shows no sign of stopping anytime soon. “It’s always the same shit packed differently.”

Lando shrugs. “No one forced you, mate,” he reminds her in a flat voice, not to be rude, but mostly as a fact.

She presses her lips into a thin line, forcing herself to stay calm and not to give him more power over her than he already has. But even if she’s staring out the window, watching the world distort under the glass, she can still feel his eyes flicking to her, studying her, waiting for her to react. Ever since she became part of the Norris household orbit through his sister, there’s always been some sort of hostile dynamic between them, a constant game of who can strike the sharpest blow while pretending they don’t care. Flo used to be the mediator, but when it’s just the two of them, it’s as if a civil war is about to erupt at any moment.

“You offered, mate,” she accuses, turning to look at him. “So I thought maybe we could act like two normal people who don’t hate the fuck out of each other. For once.”

Lando frowns lightly. “No, I only did what Flo asked me to,” he says in a defensive manner. “Which was to give you a ride. And hate’s a strong word, don’t you think?”

Although she bites her lip in order to stop the words from leaving her mouth, they still find a way to slip through her lips, “You act like it fits.”

Her affirmation stings more than Lando wants to admit. It lodges deep in his chest, making him go still for a moment. Maybe he’s been too caught up in the rhythm of their game to see how sharp his own edges have gotten. How sometimes, in the heat of trying to win a stupid argument, he might’ve pushed too far. Said things that weren’t just clever or sarcastic, but cruel.

“This is such a disaster,” she admits, pulling him back from his own mind. “I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere, in a car with you of all people, late for my friend’s competition, and—”

“And what?” Lando cuts her off, dragging a hand through his damp curls, water flinging from the strands. His hoodie clings to his skin, soaked and uncomfortable, but the tension inside the car is worse than the weather outside. “What do you want from me right now? To make the car fly?”

She shakes her head. “You act like you know everything, and then this happens,” the girl gestures around the car, the rain, the stuck tires, and lastly, at the air between them. “Trying to keep up with you it’s exhausting.”

Lando’s eyes flash, twisting his body towards her as if his seat caught on fire. “Don’t pretend you know me.”

“Don’t pretend I don’t.”

It’s the conviction behind her words that shuts both of them up.

Her eyes widen in surprise, and then it’s as if a veil of tranquility wraps around her shoulders. Like something just simply clicked. Of course she knows him. She knows that he always taps his fingers against the steering wheel when he’s annoyed with the traffic, that he chews the inside of his cheek when he’s trying to keep his temper in check, that he can be loud just to fill silence, and sarcastic just to keep people at arm’s length.

Lando gets moody when he’s hungry, which, she’s learned, happens every few hours like clockwork. He’s infuriatingly competitive, even when it’s just a silly game of cards, and somehow always manages to be both irritatingly confident and quite avoidant when things get too real.

But she also knows he always drives five miles under the speed limit when it’s raining. She’s seen the way he softens when he’s around little kids, how he crouches down and talks to them so they won’t feel too small. He has his sister’s back without a second thought, even if that means to drive her annoying best friend to her competitions from time to time.

And Lando knows her too.

He knows that she always has to have the last word, even if it’s just a whispered insult under her breath as she walks away. That she rolls her eyes at him so hard it’s a miracle they haven’t gotten stuck yet, and that she says his name like it’s a curse, ninety-nine percent of the times.

Even so, he likes the way it sounds coming from her mouth.

She’s dramatic in the most exasperating way, throwing her hands around when she talks, sighing loud enough to be heard in the next room. She pretends to hate everything Lando likes just to get a rise out of him, and she’s been picking fights with him for years over the stupidest things: his haircuts, how he ties his shoes, the music he listens to, or the way he eats chips like he’s in a race.

She drives him insane, and she weaponizes it. But thing is, he’s the one that lets her.

“What are you doing?” asks Lando, watching her reaching for the door handle.

“This is getting old,” she tells him with a trace of weariness in her voice. “I’m done having the same fight with you,” she adds, slamming the door before he even gets a chance to stop her.

The metallic thud echoes through Lando’s head, leaving him behind for a few moments, losing sight of her figure cutting through the rain. Instinctively, his hands reach for the steering wheel and he squeezes it in his palms to anchor himself. He knows that this is just another manifestation of her stubbornness, but he can’t remain indifferent to it, no matter how hard he tries.

The rain soaked her in seconds, angry drops dripping down her hair and past her collar. Her boots sink into the soft earth with a sickening squelch, mud clinging to her soles like it’s trying to hold her back as a warning. The wind lashes sideways across her face, pushing her hair into her mouth and eyes, but she keeps walking, even though she doesn’t know where she’s going yet. The only certainty is that she needs to get away from him, from the weight in her chest and, most importantly, from the sound of his voice that’s still ringing in her ears.

She knows she should turn back from the moment the sky lights up with a flash of lightning that splits it in two for a few seconds, and the thunder that makes her chest vibrate. But there’s something strangely comforting about the discomfort she feels and the way the rain drowns everything out. Especially her thoughts.

The road ahead bends, and so does she, veering off toward the field that dips low near the treeline. Nestled behind a tangle of hedges, barely visible through the sheets of rain, she sees an old barn, weathered and crooked, but as long as it has a roof, she decides it’s enough to shield her until the rain stops. So she scrambles over a ditch and through tall grass, the cold clawing at her naked legs, her breath coming in ragged bursts as she finally reaches the door that resists her for a second before finally giving way with a groaning creak.

It’s dim and musty inside, but to her surprise, it’s neater than she’d imagined from the outside: stacked hay bales line the far wall, and the floor is swept clean, the scent of damp wood and old straw wrapping around her like something familiar and strangely calming. The rain muffles to a soft drumming on the roof above, and for a brief moment, she’s alone in the hush of it all, her breath finally slowing down.

It’s peaceful, but then the door opens again, and she doesn’t need to turn to know exactly who it is.

“Can you stop being difficult for a minute?” he barks, stepping inside and letting the door slam shut behind him. “What are you doing walking off like that in the middle of a goddamn storm?”

“What are you doing coming after me?” she fires back.

Lando shakes his head, frustration visible on his expression. “You could’ve gotten lost.”

“Not with you around, I won’t,” she replies sarcastically. “I’m sure you would’ve found a shortcut and show up at the end of the fucking world just to keep annoying me.”

For the first time, Lando agrees with her. “You’re right. I would find you,” he snaps. “Because apparently, I’m the piece of shit stuck to your shoe, yeah? Always there, making your life miserable.”

Her mouth opens, stunned by the venom in his voice, but Lando won’t let her interrupt him this time.

“And maybe I am doing it on purpose. You wanna know why?” he asks rhetorically, stepping closer to where she stands. “Because you do the exact same thing to me.”

She straightens, her face hardening. “Excuse me?”

“No, you’re not excused,” his hands are clenched at his sides, water dripping from the cuffs of his sleeves. “Not when you get under my skin like it’s your fucking job. You don’t get to push every button I have, and then act like I’m the one being unreasonable.”

“Well, you are,” she spits back.

The words ricochet between them like it’s a tennis match. Without thinking, Lando takes another step forward, until they’re only a foot apart, their breath blending in the cold air.

“You think this is fun?” his voice lowers for a beat. “You think I enjoy losing my mind every time you walk into a room like you know exactly how to piss me off?”

Her throat tightens, but she doesn’t say a word. However, she knows that’s true because, again, like it or not, she knows him.

“It used to be fun,” he nods once, his eyes never leaving hers, “But we lost the fucking plot. I don’t even recognize myself when I’m around you,” Lando says quieter, but no less intense. “No one else does this to me. So why does it have to be you?”

His question cuts deep, but it sounds off, almost like surrender.

There is just too much to unpack and, somehow, not enough time. Not when her mind takes her to the ages when it was easy to tease him and push back, just because she was too afraid to pull. They’ve been circling each other for years, stuck in a cycle they didn’t know how to break and, over time, that became their normal. But they’re not teenagers anymore. And now, she discovers how resentment became their fallback, because it was always easier to fight than to face the weight of whatever they were — not enemies, but not friends, either.

With Lando standing in front of her like that, upset and shaken, she realizes that maturity has finally caught up from behind and it’s begging them to reconsider not just who they’ve been to each other in the past, but who they choose to be next.

“You really mean that?” she asks in a small voice. “That you don’t recognize yourself when you’re around me?”

Lando breathes, staring at her like she’s something he wants to destroy and protect in the same heartbeat.

“I…” he begins after a few seconds of complete silence. “I don’t know.”

It’s honest, she can tell by the way his chin quivers a little, as if her question awakened in him the same exact thought she just had.

Her lips part, like she’s about to fight it. Or maybe laugh it off. But nothing comes out. Instead, she catches the way he’s looking at her now. Not like he did when he stormed inside or with the smug grin he wears in the corner of his mouth when he’s trying to get even.

This moment is something else entirely; they’re both awake now.

Lando’s not even looking at her anymore. His eyes are stuck somewhere lower, caught on the line of her soaked shirt clinging to her body like second skin. What was once just an oversized white button-up now leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. The fabric has turned translucent, plastered to her frame, every inch of her outlined in dim light. The belt cinched at her waist draws the shirt tighter, accentuating the slope of her hips and the curve of her chest.

She feels it all at once, how her soaked mesh bra is doing little to hide anything and how her thighs are streaked with mud from walking through the field. Water is still trailing in thin lines down her neck, slipping between her breasts, and that’s where his eyes land at last.

His jaw clenches, making him look like he’s holding himself back with everything he has. His chest heaves with each breath, deep yet uneven, like the air has grown too thick to pull in properly.

“Lando…” she trails off, and even her voice sounds differently, a little unsure and way too soft for either of their liking.

His gaze snaps up, meeting hers again, tilting both of their worlds the second their eyes lock.

Suddenly, everything is reflected back at her in that stare: the frustration, the anger, the desire. The years of tension neither of them ever addressed because it was safer to bicker and pretend that hate was the only thing that tethered them. But it’s wasn’t. It’s not. It can’t be, with the way they look at each other now.

Not when Lando seems like he’s seconds from losing the battle with himself. From closing the space. From doing something neither can’t undo.

“Always under my skin,” he ends up saying as an observation, his voice frayed at the edges. He doesn’t look away from her for another second, not even as he drags his tongue across his lower lip, like his mouth is too dry for the words sitting heavy on it. “And yet, I wouldn’t want anyone else bothering me the way you do.”

His confession is beautifully wrapped in words that only she can understand. Her heart starts to race at that, realizing that the line between them is getting thinner and thinner the longer they stand in front of each other without moving; not because they can’t, but because neither of them wants to do it first.

Next, her breath catches in her throat, and it’s impossible for Lando not to notice. He sees the way her jaw tightens, how her fingers curl against her sides like she’s trying to stop herself from reacting.

She lifts her chin instead, a mocking glint returning to her eyes. “You’re just easy to play with, Norris,” she says, her armor sliding back into place. “That’s not my fault.”

Lando smiles. “Go on, then.”

“What?”

“If I’m so easy,” he steps forward, finally closing the remaining gap, “Play with me, darling.”

She knows exactly what he means, and exactly what he wants. Lando does a very good job at masking his taunting in determination, maybe even curiosity. But he can’t fool her with it, because she’s aware that whatever game they’ve been playing up until this very momment has teeth now. For a split second, she hates how well she understands him, how perfectly she can read the tension in his shoulders and the way he’s trying not to reach. They’re standing on a knife’s edge, and neither of them is saying it, but both of them know. Both of them wait.

“Come on,” Lando says again, provoking. “Say something smart. Push another button.”

She’s practically twitching to say something that will keep them in the only lane they’ve ever known, but the words never leave her mouth, because his is now occupying hers, with no trace of restraint. One of his hands is instantly in her hair, keeping her there. And it’s everything he’s been holding back, poured into the shape of her lips, the press of his chest against hers, the furious way his other hand grabs at her waist as if he has earned the right.

Luckily, she saw it coming and she answers it right away, her mouth welcoming the heat of him in. She can taste rain and frustration, and it shoots straight through her like the lightning outside, loud and electric. Her hands slide under his hoodie without a second thought, palms slick and freezing as they press to the bare skin of his stomach. Lando gasps into her mouth, the contact ripping a groan from his throat that vibrates against her lips and makes her knees weaken. His skin is like fire beneath her fingers, and she feels his muscles jump under her touch, like even that small yet bold movement has undone something in him.

He surges forward, pushing her back until her spine hits the cold wall behind her with a wet thud. She doesn’t even notice she has no personal space left at all, because all she can feel is the weight of his body pinning hers and his mouth kissing her like it’s the only norm they’ve ever known. They’re absolutely drenched from the storm, the strong scent of wet earth clinging to their skin, tangled with the musk of warm clothes and sweat. But underneath it all, there’s one thing that stops them from retreating: a burning desire that neither knows how to control anymore. A raw, persistent want that coils between their bodies and steals the air from their lungs with every breath they try to take between kisses they can’t stop giving.

The girl urges herself into him like it’s second nature, her fingers dragging up his ribs, and his hands slide down to her hips, gripping hard, propping himself in the curve of her. They’re not even trying to slow it down or question it. There’s no pause and no hesitation, just mouths and hands and ages of built-up tension exploding between them in the quiet shelter they’ve found while, ironically, running from each other.

Time turns back to normal speed when their lips finally part, their mouths clinging to each other for a breath longer than necessary, like even their bodies can’t quite accept they’re two separate thinghs. A soft sound slips from her lips as the kiss breaks, half sigh, half protest, so Lando doesn’t move far. Instead, he rests his forehead gently against hers, both of them breathing hard, chests rising and falling in messy tandem.

Lando’s lips curl into a small smirk. “That’s what I thought,” he pants, voice soaked in satisfaction, in a way that only he could manage after a first kiss like that.

Instinctively, her hand flies up before he can move another inch, fingers curling firmly around his jaw. She tilts his face toward hers, forcing his gaze to lock with hers, without the possibility of avoiding her gaze. “Hold your horses,” she breathes, tightening her grip on his chin, enough to stop the smugness from spreading further. “You were the one who cracked first.”

Lando huffs a laugh through his nose, eyes flicking between hers. “Cracked?” he repeats. “I’d say I finally did us both a favor.” His hands are still firm on her hips as he speaks, not letting her go. “And you didn’t exactly complain.”

“I’m still deciding,” she confesses, pushing him gently with the intention of putting some distance between them. Just to clear her mind.

But Lando doesn’t budge. Instead, he pushes back into her, tenderly matching her force as a final statement.

Carefully, his hands trail down her sides, fingers gliding over the damp fabric clinging to her curves, leaving gosebumps in their wake. When he reaches her hips, he pauses for a second, then lets his palms settle low, cupping the shape of her ass in both hands. The soft squeeze that follows pulls a tiny gasp from her, not really out of surprise, but from the intensity of how right it feels and how immediate her body responds to his touch. As if she does it on command, her hips rock into him with a mind of their own, which makes her protest at the fact that she is so easily steered by him. Into the first damn wall.

Lando notices her conflicting thoughts and, amused, he drops his forehead to her shoulder with a sigh, like the weight of it all has finally caught up to him. His breath is hot against her collarbone, and he doesn’t dare to move.

“Decide what?” he asks. “If you want to fight or fuck? ‘Cause I’m sure your body has already decided for you.”

She can’t help but roll her eyes just as her hands drift upward, with enough intention yet unsure, until her fingers tangle in his soaked curls, tugging gently at the roots. Still, Lando doesn’t lift his head. But his mouth finds the curve of her neck instead, warm lips brushing the rain-slick skin there. He tastes her like she’s suddenly something fragile that he can easily break under his force if he wanted to. And in the middle of that, it only takes a tilt of her head for him to smile, this time softened — and alarmed — by the newly found truth between them.

“Fucking hell,” he whispers, “My sister’s going to kill me.”

The girl lets out a breathy laugh, her clasp in his hair tightening. “Not if I tell her you took very good care of me.”

Her statement elicits a sound from him, something between a whimper and a muffled rasp, but it catches in his throat and turns into something more intense when she arches against him.

“How do you know I’m that good?”

She grins, eyes gleaming as her fingers slide down the front of his hoodie, stopping just above the waistband of his jeans. “Because of that big mouth of yours.” She leans in then, almost brushing her lips against his jaw as she continues, “You wouldn’t be this cocky if you couldn’t back it up, would you?”

Lando has to swallow the lump in his throat just as her fingers start to work the top button. As she does, her eyes are locked on his, daring him to contradict her again. Or to stop her.

Ironically enough, his big mouth is not so big anymore.

Lando’s fingers twitch on her ass, but can’t stay there. They drift beneath the hem of her shirt and under the damp lace of her panties. He takes his time, tracing the edge with maddening precision before slipping them gently down her thighs. The soaked fabric peels away from her skin, clinging for just a moment before falling into his waiting hand. She continues to watch him closely, pulse thudding hard in her throat, as Lando folds the lace and stuffs it into the pocket of his hoodie to keep it safe.

It shouldn’t feel so intimate, but she can feel his heart beating against her chest in a rhythm that only seems to match her own the moment his hand moves lower, almost like he’s testing to see how far she’ll let him push. Far, he figures, when his fingers slide between her folds, through heat and damp, and stills there. Not from waiting for permission, but from satisfaction.

His breath is warm at her temple next time he speaks, “I see why you’re always picking fights with me,” he concludes. “So you can get off later, thinking about it, hm?”

Her jaw tightens, fingers curling into his shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late,” he replies quickly, as if he already knew she was gonna say that. His grin spreads slow, the kind of smirk that used to make her want to punch him, but now only makes her weak.

It’s too late for her, too, as his fingers trace lazy, maddening circles along her opening, reading her. Learning her at an agonizingly slow pace. Even though she tries to hide her reaction, her hips tilt toward him without permission. She clutches his bicep to support her weight before she melts beneath him completely, eyes closing shut for a brief second.

He studies her face, teasing with the tip of his fingers right at the edge of her tight entrance. “Tell me how much you hate me right now.”

Her eyes snap open, surprised yet defiant, her response caught in her throat when Lando finally presses a finger inside, then adds another one, only to reduce her complains to simple whimpers. There is a lot of gentleness to the way he touches her, though. Every motion is purposeful, intended to pull the maximum pleasure out of her with minimum effort.

While her fingers dig into him harder, he draws his back almost entirely, dragging them just enough to leave her wanting more. Then he pushes in again, stretching and curling the tips slightly until her breath comes out in little spasms and her head tips back, thighs wrapping instinctively around his wrist, like she could trap the feeling there and keep it from breaking her open.

“Didn’t know you could go quiet,” whispers Lando, keeping his eyes on her mostly because he needs to witness this unseen version of her, willing and honest in a way neither of them ever dared admit existed. “Guess I just needed to find the right way to shut you up.”

Her entire body responds with a deep craving she hadn’t known could feel this good. She gets wetter with every shift, so soft under his touch that makes her question the strength in her own legs.

Lando’s gaze drops to where her hips subtly roll against his hand, seeking friction, release, anything to keep from falling apart too fast.

Half in protest, half in need, she manages a whiny, “Fuck you.”

“That a request?” asks Lando, his thumb lightly tapping her clit to remind her that she’s at his mercy right now.

“Lando,” she mewls, his name falling from her lips like a curse. Or a prayer she doesn’t know she’s saying.

“Wanna hear you,” he pushes her, the speed of his fingers increasing with every breath he takes. “Say you hate me.”

She would talk, if her brain still worked. But all functionality is reduced to the way he finger-fucks her with such sweetness and annoying dexterity. Besides, it wouldn’t even be true. She doesn’t hate him. Not right now, at least. Most of the time, Lando just irks her. Because there is no one else that manages his performance of tap-dancing on every single one of the over seven trillion nerves in her body.

Forcing herself to lift her head, she looks at him for a brief moment, then lets it fall in the crook of his neck, her breath hot against his skin. “You ruin everything.”

Lando lets out a low chuckle, but it’s not mocking. More like… strained. Heavy with anticipation and desire. “Yeah?” he coaxes, lips grazing the edge of her cheek, fingers curling again inside her, dragging a broken sound from her throat. “Go on.”

She squeezes her eyes, teeth sinking into her lip, trying to hold on to whatever pride she has left. However, slowly but surely, it’s slipping away, straight into his already massive ego.

“I hate…” she gasps as he twists his fingers, “That your mouth never stops running.”

“Mhm, what else? Let it all out while you’re soaking my fingers,” he encourages her as his thumb moves in circles around her clit, making her hips twitch into him. “Let me hear it while your body keeps begging me to stuff you full of me.”

“Lando,” she warns, her breath getting caught between shame and heat and the unbearable intimacy of his words. She clings to him like he’s a lifeline, and she hates the way it makes her feel so safe, knowing that she’s in good hands. “I hate—” she tries, but it breaks off into a moan, silent and strangled.

“Me?” he finishes for her, feeling the way her walls start tensing in pulses she can’t control.

Her eyes open just in time to see the look on his face, bright and hungry.

She shakes her head.

“No, you don’t, baby,” Lando agrees in a mellow voice, his mouth brushing the corner of hers.

His fingers move faster now that he knows she’s close, more insistent, the slick rhythm of skin on skin drowned only by the roar of another series of thunders rolling outside.

Another quiet moan escapes her lips, and then she’s falling, clenching hard around his fingers as wave after wave crashes through her. Her body jerks in rhythm with his hand, fists gripping the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing anchoring her to the earth.

“There you go,” he exhales, their breaths intertwining.

His other hand returns to her waist then slips to the back of her thigh, lifting until she’s settled against him, trusting him to hold her there. Her back meets the wall once again just as her boot scrapes softly on the ground, the other lifted and locked around him as his palm supports under her knee.

Gazing into each other’s souls like that shouldn’t be allowed. Not when they’re so close that he can smell her shampoo — a warm honey scent, blending with something sweet that makes his jaw clench. Not when his scent is so subtle but familiar, and makes her want to drink him in without a second thought.

Her eyes fall on the space between them, watching Lando pull away from between her legs. Then back up to meet his again with wide pupils. Patiently, he pushes his jeans down and reaches to guide himself against her, like he already knows what this moment means for both of them. He’s warm and hard, making her gasp as he nudges forward, the heat of her already drawing him in inch by inch. Her body tenses in disbelief, surprised by how well he fits inside her.

Lando feels her body melting into his slowly. “Are you okay?” he asks her in a soft tone.

She nods. “Keep going.”

And so he does, pushing deeper and savoring the closeness. Carefully, he lifts her off the ground completely, wrapping her other leg around his waist and, by the time he’s fully sheathed inside her, they’re face to face again, breath shaky and warm against each other’s lips.

“Forgive me,” he almost begs.

The girl lets out a breathless laugh, “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

For a heartbeat, Lando’s mouth quirks. He pulls his hips back, dragging himself almost entirely out of her warmth, and then thrusts forward harder, stealing the next breath from her lungs. Her laugh vanishes, swallowed by a choked sound she doesn’t mean to make.

Lando’s jaw clenches as he squeezes her hips tighter for more support. “For not having the restraint to be gentle with you.”

She shivers at his words, understanding that he’s doing everything in order not to break her. Rather, Lando’s trying to show her what she does to him, without her even knowing. And he wants to show her that underneath the surface, there’s an unbearable ache of finally having her, and knowing he’ll never be able to forget how she feels after this only ignites the fire inside him.

The girl finds out what he means sooner than she thought.

His rhythm starts claiming and is filled with a hunger that’s been caged for far too long. Every thrust is purposeful, angled perfectly, as if he’s been planning this in the dark corners of every argument they’ve ever had.

Her sharp tongue, always ready with a retort, is useless now. Her breath is shallow, and she’s still clinging to him like he’s the only thing holding her together.

“How many times have you imagined this?”

“In my imagination, Norris, you’re mute,” she bites back, but it’s shaky.

Lando grunts, “Unrealistic.”

He starts pounding into her, hard and fast, chasing the breathless moans he’s already addicted to. He’s relentless, but never careless. Rough, but knows how to fuck her until her attitude turns into desperation, and the only words that are coming out of her mouth are imploring him not to stop. There’s no room for breathing like a normal person, and no space for thought. Just the eagerness of his hips, the way her body arches into him without meaning to, how every time he sinks deep, she forgets how to do anything but feel. Him.

Her fingers claw on either side of his face, desperate to keep him close. She’s lost, suspended between the storm hammering the roof above them and the storm he’s dragging out of her from the inside, wondering how does he manages to be everywhere, all at once: in her ears, in her mind, and all around her. At that, her body reacts accordingly, legs trembling around his waist.

With his mouth partially open, Lando follows her facial expressions, because he feels how close she is, how tightly she squeezes his length, how every thrust only winds her tighter. And he wants to witness that.

“You feel that, don’t you?” he pants, not slowing. “You can’t even think straight, hm?”

“Shut up,” she manages, and Lando responds to her spiteful request in his own manner: by stopping.

He freezes deep inside her, holding her there as if he’s waiting for her to apologize, even though he knows that won’t happen.

The absence of movement is brutal. Her pussy clenches in protest, desperate for more, making her blink repeatedly as if her mind has been pulled back from the edge of something vast and consuming.

Lando looks at her, faces inches apart. “Feel that aching little hole, gaping out for me?”

She can’t argue while multiple body parts are betraying her, clinging to him with quiet, pulsing desperation.

“Lando,” the girl moans, her back straightening up, urging him to get moving.

“Don’t think you’re better than me,” he tells her in a whispered voice, slowly resuming his dizzying pace. “We’re the same, you and I.”

His fingers sink into either side of her waist, anchoring her to every deep, punishing thrust, dragging her closer and closer to her climax, her body jolting with every collision of his hips against hers. For all she knows, the storm outside could’ve already stopped, but all she can hear is the way Lando breathes her name between gritted teeth as he fucks her so good that she’s not even able to process the words that came out of his mouth.

She writhes against his hold, chasing that sweet pressure building at the base of her spine, winding tighter with every stroke that finds that perfect spot inside her. Again and again. And again. Her fingers get lost in his curls, fisting his hair like a lifeline. And when her orgasm hits, her entire body locks against him with a strangled moan, hips shaking as her release tears through her.

Lando swears under his breath. “That’s it, fuck,” he sighs in pleasure, every muscle trembling. “Let me feel that pussy throb.”

The way he says it cuts straight through her pride. Becacuse even in all their sourness, her body listens to him. It reacts to him with more than desire. No one else has ever made two completely differen feelings seem like one. They are the epitomy of duality, and nothing they represent should complement each other as well as they do.

She lets go, boneless in his arms, her chest heaving as aftershocks roll through her.

Lando doesn’t stop until he makes sure she’s completely worn out, then he pulls out slowly, with a stifled groan, the sensation almost undoing him prematurely. He rests his forehead to her chest, breathing hard, letting all his weight against her spent body as he presses his cock on her thigh, watching it drip in thick loads down her leg. The tension floods out of him, his body shuddering as every inch of him gets taut.

“Lan?” she calls for him after a long pause in which neither of them moved.

His breath is ghosting warm over her damp skin, and his hands, once gripping her like lifelines, have gone still at her hips. Then he exhales a long breath that sounds more like inconvenience.

“Am here,” it’s all he says, but doesn’t lift his head to look at her.

That alone makes her chest tighten.

“Are you…” she trails off, not sure how to finish the question.

Are you okay?

Do you regret it?

What now?

“All good,” he replies. “I have a change of clothes in the car,” he adds matter-of-factly. “Let’s dry you off.”

The warmth of his body leaves her as he takes a step back, eyes dropping to the groung. She watches as he tucks himself back into his boxers, then fastens the button on his jeans with a quiet finality. It shouldn’t feel like this, but it makes her want throw up, mostly because she has allowed herself to believe, even if briefly, that they are compatible in some way.

But nothing’s really changed.

They’re still the same two people who push too hard and never give each other an inch unless it’s by accident.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[pellucid-constellations]

omg please i’ve been feeling shit and really having a hard time atm, pls some hurt n comfort n az being super supportive n lovinf

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word count: 630

Warnings: Injury, light angst

a/n: I'm sorry you've been feeling bad <333 I hope this helps a little!! Thank you for the request :) I'm having a little drabble spree on my blog!!

____________________________________________

"You're pushing yourself too hard." Azriel kept his voice low under the slight hum of faelights in the washroom. He used cautious fingers to bind the deep bruise on your knee with herbs and gauze, moving to the gash on your ankle when the final clasp was in place.

"I'm just weak. This will make me strong," you replied, tone final and concrete.

Azriel hummed disapprovingly. A swipe of antiseptic on your broken skin was followed by a kiss on the inside of your knee, and then Azriel rose to your seat on the washroom counter. He caged you in between his arms, locking them out with his face just inches from yours. You gazed down at the scars that freckled his skin, trailing along until they met at the web of tissue on his hands.

Azriel was strong because he had suffered. You had nothing of the sort to call upon.

"Cassian tells me you passed out."

You rolled your eyes. "Cassian should mind his business."

Azriel raised a brow and kept you in his eyeline. "I asked Cassian to make you his business. You keep coming home like this. It's not safe. You're putting yourself through this unnecessarily."

You bit the inside of your cheek as Azriel looked upon you. He still looked so soft, despite the reprimanding, his eyes searching for something you wouldn't so easily give. His mouth twitched once, as if it was difficult to look at you and not smile. But you knew this was nothing to smile about; he had told you to be more careful in training, and you hadn't listened.

"It was just a little hot, and I didn't drink enough water," you shared, gripping the counter by your legs.

"You weren't taking breaks?"

"I was sometimes."

"Did you take a break after this?" he asked, brushing a gentle finger along your bruised jaw. You looked up at the ceiling guiltily, and Azriel sighed. "It's likely that led to you passing out. Along with the heat. And not taking breaks. And the fact that you started two hours before everyone else."

You twisted your mouth to the side. So he'd caught you there, too.

"It all heals," you argued. "By tomorrow, I'll be completely fine. This makes me stronger."

"But it makes me weaker."

You reluctantly met his gaze, a hint of confusion masked by bruises and puffy cheeks that he sighed at. Azriel parted your legs with his hips and settled between them, his hands finding a home on your waist. His fingers rubbed shapes into your ribs almost immediately, almost on instinct.

"You think you have to suffer to be strong, but that is not true," Azriel began, raising his brows in a silent reprimand as you went to cut in. "I love you. I am proud to have you as my mate. I know that is why you're doing this. That you feel you must meet some imaginary baseline to be worthy.

"I worry about you. I think about you constantly, and knowing you're doing this to yourself makes me weak. Do you want me to falter in battle, my love?" Azriel teased.

Your face heated at the attention he was giving you, the seriousness balanced by his light tone and the light squeeze of his hands on your waist.

"You aren't battling anyone, Az," you mumbled, covering your face in his neck as he chuckled. "But if you were, I would want to be able to fight alongside you. To help you."

"Ah, I know, my love," Azriel soothed, rubbing his hand along your back. "And whenever that time might come, I would welcome your help. But don't—don't hurt yourself to get there. I love you now. I don't need you to suffer."

[darkverrmin]

Jaskier: You know what I really love about finally being in a relationship with you?

Geralt: That now every time you ask me to carry you because your feet hurt, you know I'll feel bad if I say no?

Jaskier: Okay, that too.

Jaskier: But my favorite part is that I don't need to hide my thoughts and feelings anymore.

Jaskier: I think you look adorable when you're brooding in the corner? I can say it aloud!

Jaskier: I want to kiss you on the nose when you come back exhausted from a contract? I can do that!

Jaskier: When you ask me if I'm scared of you when you're under the effect of your potions? I don't have to be subtle and say it's okay. I can say that you're the sexiest man on earth and may I take off your clothes here and now, please?

Geralt, smiling and shaking his head: You're insufferable.

Jaskier: And I can also say that I like annoying you because you roll your eyes like that and you give me that smile and that's how I know you're into me too.

Geralt: Hardly.

Jaskier: And even when you're a mean, mean witcher, I still adore you.

Jaskier: Ha, made you blush!

Geralt: So this means I don't need to hide my feelings anymore too, right? So now, every time you make me feel embarrassed with your affections, instead of telling you "fuck off bard", I can simply say "You know I've been in love with you for almost two decades?"

Jaskier, almost choking on his drink: You what?

Geralt: Ha, made you blush.

Jaskier: Stop laughing at me, you stupid, gorgeous, heartless, sexy witcher! (At this point Geralt can't stop laughing) No, we are having this conversation right now!

[existence-is-a-pain87]

To Live is to Die (Part 2)

Yandere!Monster!Forsaken x Reader; Yandere!Monster!Block Tales x Reader; Yandere!Well-I-guess-they're-already-monsters!Pressure x Reader

Read Part 1 here

Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors; blood; violence; death; darker themes

Note: Yes finally part 2 is out lolol

Oh also I was like "darn it, Pressure could work really well in this AU..." then I remembered I am author and laughed as I added Pressure.

--☆☆☆☆☆--

...

Your eyes open, but you aren't in the same room. Aren't on the same couch you fell asleep on. Aren't even in the same... Other World, you think.

You sit up, and it looks almost like you're in a black void. But there's a floor you can't see but sure can feel.

You stand up, legs shaking, and you start wandering. Your shoeless, scared, and desperate for a way out.

Scribbled white lines seem to highlight a path, you eventually find. You follow it until you come across an area that's covered in white puddles.

You approach them nervously, before accidentally stepping into one.

And the panic you can't pull your foot out. And then all you feel is pure terror and you scream and scream and scream as you're dragged into the puddle.

Any hope of getting help is in vain, though. All you do is make certain creatures aware you're here.

...

And they know you'll be back.

...

...

...

"Brad, you're stupid."

"Eh? No I'm not!"

"You're falling in with the wrong crowd! Can't you see how your dad's worrying?"

"What does it matter to him? I can do what I want!"

"You're gonna get killed at this rate."

"I bet you I'm not."

"I don't believe that."

"I bet you by the end of this year I'll be fine!"

He and his father went missing two months later. In October.

...

You miss him.

--☆☆☆--

Your jolt awake, cold sweat coating your skin as your eyes are as wide as saucers. You're still on the couch- even if it's slightly greasy- and a thin blanket that was handed to you. You wrap the blanket around yourself and glance around, noticing Mr. Bird sitting at the table and eating a bucket of... what you hope is fried chicken. It's in some sort of chicken bucket, at least.

You stare at him, and he seems to notice you were awake as he pauses mid-chew and turns his head to stare at you. You think. Two of the larger wings on his face hides his eyes, but the smaller four, behind where his humanoid ears are, twitch.

He smiles at you.

"(Hello)!" He says, and you've never been more relieved you managed to learn some more of the language here.

"(Hello)..." You try to echo, your pronunciation a bit off, but Mr. Bird's smile only widens.

Despite being here a few hours now, even sleeping here as it apparently became night in this world, you never really got a good look at any if the four(?) monsters that apparently lived here. You only guessed there were four due to the four chairs at the table when you got here and how Mr. Builder literally went out and came back with a chair specifically for you, so...

But... Mr. Bird was tall, yet also on the chubbier side. Alongside the wings on his head, he had two very large wings emerging from his back, with two smaller wings on his waist (though the wings emerged from his spine-area), plus two wings on his wrists and two wings on his ankles. Furthermore, the wings were yellow in color (the same color as his skin) with the tips being the same dark brown as his short and curly hair. He has a slightly stained white shirt on, with words you don't understand and what looks like a little human figure thing, plus the cloak draped over himself. And, despite his skin that's covered in small feathers, his lower arms and legs look more like bird limbs. He even has a bird-like tail with a bunch of long feathers that almost looks like a parrot's tail, and also seems to be wearing black trousers you aren't even gonna question how he got on.

He seems to notice your staring and grins, showing sharp teeth. "urtn (what you) bnn?"

At your confused expression, he chuckles and does a thumbs up. "urtn."

You guess that means 'like' or some sort of approval thing. You'll just go with 'like'.

"(Like)." You echo, earning an approving nod and a "(Yes)" from Mr. Bird.

He points at where his eyes are and mimes looking, "bnn."

"Bnn..." You echo, more hesitant. Does it mean 'look' or 'see'? Probably 'see'...

So he said... 'like what you see'..?

...

You hesitantly nod, "(Yes). (I like)."

He grins and laughs a bit, taking another bite of the chicken.

"(Why you) jfjtn ujcn?" He asks you, wings twitching again. "lxdum wxc bunny? dwlxvoxacjkun?"

You don't reply, confused by hearing 'bunny' while knowing it definitely does not mean 'bunny' in this language...

"(You) qdwpah? cqjc (why you) jfjtn?" He asks you, offering you one of the chicken legs. This one, thankfully, is uneaten. Not one bite is gone.

You hesitate, but... you really haven't eaten in awhile... at most they gave you a bottle of unopened water they somehow found a few hours ago and watched you guzzle that stuff down.

You take the chicken leg and, nervously, bite into it. Much to your relief, it tastes like fried chicken. Greasy, unseasoned, and ever so slightly undercooked fried chicken, but it won't kill you. And to your hungry self, it tastes perfectly fine.

"(You) qdwpah." He notes, amused. "(You) fjwc njc? njc (a) uxc. njc pxxm."

You take smaller bites of the chicken as you watch Mr. Bird rip into another piece, eating it in practically ten seconds at most and tossing the bone with the other bones on the table and going to eat another piece.

How much chicken can he eat? You don't know.

Can he eat humans this quickly? You don't want to know.

You eat about two pieces of chicken, and do you best to politely decline as he offers you more pieces. He just shrugs and eats some more, and in a few minutes the bucket is empty.

You sit there awkwardly as he stands up, stretching out his wings for a moment before looking down at you.

"(You) bunny pxxm wxf?" He asks you, head tilted slightly.

You stare at him, before hesitantly shaking you head 'no'. Mr. Bird frowns.

"(Why) ljwwxc (you) bunny?" He asks you, confused.

You shyly go over to the couch, unsure how to explain a nightmare, and just... gesture at it.

"(Bed) dwlxvoxacjkun?" He muses, curious, "(Want me) cx qnuy vjtn (bed) vxan lxvoxacjkun?"

You pause, confused and unsure, but maybe he's like... offering to go grab you another blanket. So you nod.

Mr. Bird grins, and you let out a gasp as he grabs you, lifting you up as he plops down on the couch. You squirm slightly against him, but his arms and largest wings are wrapped around you, firm enough you can't get out, but loose enough, you're unharmed.

Though, you relax when you realize he isn't hurting you. Hell, you're mostly just bewildered.

He just smiles at you, and you note how his feathers are... surprisingly greasy. Guess you're gonna smell like oil until you can shower, if ever. But being pressed against his body like a stuffed animal is surprisingly comfortable. You stare at him, chin pressed against his chest, as he chuckles.

"ldcn." He muses, "(You) ldcn."

...well, I guess this is how you're sleeping now. But, being held against him is... surprisingly comfortable and makes you feel weirdly safe.

So you sleep.

--☆☆☆--

The next morning, you silently sat at the table, drinking some more water you were given, watching the three monsters who were letting you stay with them, as they talked amongst each other before looking at you.

You observed them, taking in the details you ignored in your panic and fear the other day.

For one, Mr. Builder's hammer is much bigger than you processed the other day. Like, it's huge and dark in color, reminding you of those stories you heard about the 'Banhammer'. Like, the thing was the size of you. You had no idea how he carried it beyond him being definitely the most muscular one here. Furthermore, you noticed he now had on some sorta orange high-viz vest on, over his dark gray hoodie-esc thing and black pants, and even had some bulky headphones resting around his neck. It's like he just went to some construction sight, took the things, and left.

Though, you are curious as to what he has under his hardhat....

Mr. Pumpkin, meanwhile, looks almost straight out of some warped fantasy novel. Of course, he has the dark blue, jack-o-lantern head (with a green and slightly rotten looking line on his neck, with noticeable and large black stitches connecting his head to his body) with those large black antlers. He had robes that were very similar to Mr. Bird's, excluding the fact his was more of a lighter gray in color, and has a lot more deer features than what you processed the other day. He has white skin that seems to be covered in short fur in places, and deer-like legs with black hooves. However, you notice he levitates and seems to fly around shortly above the ground instead of walking. Also, in his head, you see an orange ball of fire in the center that seems to be floating, with it seeming to function as a pupil of sorts as it moved around and emitted a yellow-ish glow.

Also, he carried around a black staff that looked like some kinda wizard's staff. It interested you a good bit. Did magic exist here or something?

You watch as Mr. Builder quickly walks out of the room, dragging his hammer with him with one hand, and comes back less than a minute later with a bunch of paper and partially-used crayons. He sets them down in front of you, and starts drawing as he talks.

You finally notice how he seems to talk a bit differently from the other monsters. With what you only describe as a... country-like accent..?

"fn mxw'c dwmnabcjwm (you?) ujwpdjpn, jwm (you?) mxw'c dwmnabcjwm xda ujwpdjpn." He says, drawing a small stick figure looking confused as little stick figure versions of the three monsters you knew talked with little symbols you didn't recognize but noted consistensies with. Underneath that, he drew the same stick figures, but with the little one you guessed represented you talking with scribbles for words, with the monster stick figures looking confused.

"bx, fn fjwc (you) cj majf cx cnuu db fqjc (you?) fjwc." As he finished speaking, you noticed Mr. Bird pointing at you and miming grabbing something.

Do they want to know what you want..? And since they don't know your language, they're asking you to draw?

"xq mnja. (They) mx wxc dwmnabcjwm cqjc ujbc yjac, (I) onja." Mr. Pumpkin says.

"ljw (you) dwmnabcjwm (what we're) cahrwp cx pnc (you) cx mx?" Mr. Bird asks you, tilting his head.

"Sorta..?" You mumble, "I think..? Uh... (you want me)... draw?" You mime drawing at that last part.

"(Yes! We want you) majf!" Mr. Bird says, wings puffing up as he mimes drawing, before petting you on the head. "bvjac urccun ldcn cqrwp!"

"vh oarnwm, urbcnw (here). canjcrwp (them) jtrw cx (a) mxp rb... zdrcn zdnna." Mr. Pumpkin says, and Mr. Bird pauses, embarrassed, and pulls their hand away from your head.

"nqn... (my) kjm, (my) kjm." He says, rubbing the back of his head.

Mr. Builder just sighs and hands you a crayon, gesturing you to draw.

"Okay..." You say, and you consider what you want. Well... clearly you want to get outta here, right? So you just need to communicate that through drawing.

All three watch you intently as you draw a stick figure of yourself (no time to be perfect, just make what ya want clear) looking sad in what you try to make look like the Other World. Then you draw the stick figure leaving and looking happy back in your world. Your home.

"(They want)... ngrc?" Mr. Builder murmurs, curious.

"jq, (I see). (They) jan wxc oaxv cqrb anjuv. dwbdayarbrwp, jb (they) jan dwurtn (you) xa (me)." Mr. Pumpkin says, "(They) frbq cx unjen, cx ancdaw qxvn. (I) knurnen (we) bqxdum jbbrbc (them) jwm bnc (them) oann. rc rb dwojra cx unjen (them here) juxwn."

"(I) vnjw, (they're) wxc juxwn frcq db." Mr. Bird says, as if pointing out something.

"frcqxdc (their) xfw trwm, (they) jan." Mr. Pumpkin responds, "nenw frcq db, (I) ljwwxc (see them) pxrwp enah oja."

Mr. Bird frowns and turns his head away, wings drooping. You have no idea what they're talking about, but you feel nervous now.

"(I) bjh (we) qnuy (them?) pnc qxvn. (They're) rw mjwpna 'nan." Mr. Builder looks at Mr. Bird, "(you? Your? You're??) yujwwrw' xw pxrwp xdc cxmjh, arpqc? vjhkn cjtn (them) frcq (you?) jwm bnn ro (you?) ljw orwm jwhcqrwp jkxdc pnccrw' (them?) qxvn."

"(I) ljw mx cqjc. r'uu jubx tnny (nice) wrln jwm bjon." Mr. Bird says, before grinning at you, "(You) qnja cqjc? (You) jwm (I) jan pxwwj px xw (a) urccun cary cxmjh!"

...huh..?

--☆☆☆--

Thankfully, the three clarified what they're doing with drawings. Apparently, from what you guess, they're helping you find a way out and taking you around with them to make it easier to get you out the moment an exit is found.

So now here you were with Mr. Bird, following him around like a duckling as he confidental strided through this dank and uncomfortable area, clearly used to this environment. Occasionally, he'd notice you lagging behind and slow down, if not stop, and let you catch up.

You glanced at the sword in a hilt on his waist, and you remember watching him put it on before grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the little safe area the three monsters you knew resided in.

You needed a better name to call the group, though... but considering Mr. Builder had a hammer that resembled what you heard was the 'Banhammer', maybe you should call them something related to that..?

Maybe... the 'Admins'? Yeah, that could work. Admins... yes.

Mr. Bird would say things to you, doing his best to teach you words from this unfamilar language to help you figure out more of what's going on. You were relieved with how cheerful and patient he was with you, almost constantly ruffling the hair on your head and saying approving words when you said and understood a new word.

You stayed close to him, only really going a bit away when he encouraged you to or when you saw something that really got your attention.

As you stay close to Mr. Bird, you follow him into a long and darker hallway. You press against his side, feeling really nervous. He gently squeezes your shoulder, trying to sort of comfort you.

Eventually though, you see a large humanoid shape in the shadows. You freeze, but Mr. Bird keeps you moving and draws closer to the figure.

It bears a resemblance to an old man, with short gray hair, with leaves and vines (though you note the longer vines are pulled back into a ponytail of sorts) poking out from, and wrinkled skin. However, its skin is as white as snow itself, and bears a resemblance to the scales of a serpant. Its eyes gleam in a pure red, no pupils or irises at all, with a green v-necked sweatervest on its body and noticeable fangs poking out from its lips. Its hands end in sharp black claws, with short spines and leaves along the outer sides of his arms. It stands on a long, winding snake tail, its scales the same white as its skin, with black spines along the back of its tail, with small leaves jutting out from the base of the little spikes.

It quietly speaks under its breath, the unfamilar words oozing with a familial love as it seems to be feeding what you can only describe as a large ball of pizza to a plant thing similar to what you encountered the other day (though in a different place from yesterday), which it seems to snap down with little hesitation.

You adjust yourself to hide behind Mr. Bird a bit, remembering the plant's mocking tone and unsettling laughter.

"(Hello)!" Mr. Bird calls out, immediately gaining the attention of both new monsters. But, judging from Mr. Bird's calmness and how the snake-person immediately relaxes at the sight of him and smiles, it makes you a little less scared.

"(Hello)." He responds, before the snake person looks at you, "fqx'b cqrb?"

"cqrb rb j urccun ldcrn (we) oxdwm, uxbc jwm bljanm." Mr. Bird says, moving you forward a bit. "(They're) jmxajkun, arpqc?"

"(Yes)..." The snake person- you're just gonna call them Mr. Snake- nods and picks up a black cane off the ground, pressing the tool against the ground, smiling warmly at you. "(They) ldcn."

"w0 odlt1wp fjh!! rc'b cq4c cq3 urccu3 mfnnk oa0v hnbc3am4h!" The plant snickers, before bursting out cackling, "q4q4q4q4!!"

It yelps as Mr. Snake calmly wacks it with the cane, clearly not using enough force to harm it, but definitely using enough force as a warning.

"m4m!! fqjc cq3 q3uu??" The plant creature questions, annoyed.

"kn wrln." Mr. Snake orders, still completely calm.

"xq? (You) vnc (them) hnbcnamjh? (What) qjyynwnm?" Mr. Bird asks, head tilted.

"nq, (I) sdbc b4f 'nv, a3ju1inm (th3y) ljw'c dwmnabc4wm (me), jwm a3jlc3m jll0amrwpuh." The plant monster says, its eye squinting slightly at you. Almost in amusement.

The silent look of disapproval Mr. Snake gives the plant makes your blood run cold, and it isn't even directed at you.

The plant hesitates, leaves twitching slightly, and it lets out a scoff and rolls its eye.

Mr. Bird quickly goes over and says something to Mr. Snake that you can't even make out, before both smile at eachother and Mr. Bird pushes you closer to the plant (far enough you can't be bitten, but much to close for your liking).

"(You) kn wrln cx (them)." Mr. Snake orders the plant, who grumbles but looks at you.

"...q3h." The plant dismissively says to you, in a greeting-esc way.

"...(Hello)." You hesitantly replied, nervous.

"qdq? (Y0u) vjw4pnm cx o1pdan 0dc bxv3 w3f fxamb?" The plant seems to grin, "f0f... m1m (they) c3jlq (y0u) cqxb3 fxamb?"

...its still being weirdly mocking...

"(They) mxw'c dwmnabcjwm xda ujwpdjpn?" Mr. Snake asks Mr. Bird, who shakes his head.

"(No). (They) bynjt (their) xfw ujwpdjpn. kdc (they) unjaw zdrlt!" He grins and motions at you to speak, and you nervously look at the plant. It scares you, but... maybe be nice to it? Maybe it'll stop... mocking you? You think?

"...(I like you)!" You blurt out, using the words you know.

"...(wh4t)?" The plant asks after a moment, confused.

"(I like you)," You repeat, grasping for words, "(I like see you). (You look)..."

You trail off, hesitating, before just giving it a thumbs up with both hands.

"(Yes)."

Everyone is silent, before the plant bursts out cackling.

"q4q4q4q4q4q4q4q4!!!!!" It wheezes a bit, "cq1b ydwt rb (a) odlt1wp ar0c!! q4q4q4q4q4!!"

Mr. Snake sighs at the plant's antics, but gives you a warm look. "(You) twxf j uxc. enah rvyanbbren!"

You hesitate, wondering what's going on right now.

You look to Mr. Bird for any guidance, who just grins at you and nods approvingly.

Uh... maybe you should continue telling people you like them..?

"Mr. Snake..?" You ask, looking over at him. He pauses and looks at you, and you smile at him, "(I like you)!"

Mr. Snake pauses, before smiling at you. "(I like you) cxx, mnja."

Mr. Bird hums a bit, hovering closer to you as he gives you a cheeky smile. "Mx (you like me)?"

"(Yes)." You blurt out, knowing better than potentially upsetting one of the monsters who's helping you find a way home.

Mr. Bird just smiles, clearly pleased, and you glance back at the plant- who finally calmed down- as Mr. Snake and Mr. Bird spoke a bit.

You stare into the plant's eye, and it stares back.

"fq4c? (Y0u) cqrwt r'v p0wwj b4h '(I like you)'?" They ask you, and you nod. "fnuu, 1'v wxc. (I) k3c (you)'m fnc (y0ur)bnuo cq3 vxv3wc (you) b4f (my) an4u kxmh."

You glance away, hesitant and confused... even if you could understand some of the language, most of it was pure noise to you...

"...m4vvrc ydwt, (you'r3) trwmj ldcn, cqxdpq..." They mutter under their breath, "fqh m0nb rc on3u urtn (I)... twxf (you)?"

...

Why do both Mr. Snake and the way this plant talks and behaves feel... familiar to you in a way?

--☆☆☆--

Not too much happened after Mr. Bird and you went away from the plant and Mr. Snake, until the lights flickered and you heard a low roar echo through the area.

The way Mr. Bird immediately dragged you into a closed off location, hidden entirely away behind boxes and such, you heard something rush by while screeching, until you heard a loud crashing sound and all the lights went off entirely.

You wheeze a bit, shaking in Mr. Bird's arms and wings as you remember 'oh yeah, there are things here that want to kill you'.

You have to squirm and fuss for Mr. Bird to let you go afterwards, and you stay close as he leads you away from whatever just went past. You comply, anxious and nervous as you stay close.

Then there is a low rumbling as you seen a green light around a corner gradually growing brighter, with loud thuds echoing through the halls.

The way Mr. Bird freezes makes your blood run ice cold, and the way he immediately draws his sword.

"adw." He tells you, and when you stay there, his wings flare up and gently wack you, "adw!!"

He's... telling you to flee. You think.

You back away, and with one more wack, you turn around and bolt, having no idea where you're going but understanding a threat is approaching and you need to get away now.

God, you wish you brought that crowbar with you...

You don't even process you're running right towards where the monster that ran past went.

You eventually slow down, wheezing and shaking and panicking as you stumble into some large room with piles and piles of... things from your world?

You stare at them, still shaking, before nervously approaching, stumbling slightly from the way your legs quake. You stare at the items, seeing a... bad of dehydrated limes? You pick it up, curious, and you decide to take it with you. You also go around and gather some other items, surprised by the amount of food that is still safe to eat. Sure, most of it is things like a box of cereal you found or a can of tomato soup, but it's all before its expiration date, so you aren't complaining.

You wonder how it even got here...

You need to remember this place is and show the Admins later, considering this place looks relatively untouched.

You just hold the things in your arms and pockets and head off, hearing roars in the distance you know better than to approach.

The next room is pitch black and trashed, with what looks like a large shelf having been knocked over with whatever its contents was spilled onto the ground.

And laying on the floor is... something. It looks like some fucked up, humanoid angler fish, without the antenna and with three eyes. One of its feet is twisted weirdly and its other leg is bent at a weird angle, and you see a large slash with the same green and black skin around the edges you saw on Mr. Pumpkin's neck.

Its head twists to look at you, and it screeches, tries to stand up, howls in pain, and collapses down before dragging itself to you.

You panic and quickly dart around and climb up onto the shelf, thankfully out of its reach as it seethes.

You notice it's... weirdly thin. Could it be hungry and sees the food you have?

You hesitate, before opening the box of cereal. Immediately, it pauses clawing at the shelf and watches as you open the bag of cereal and dump it onto the ground.

Immediately, it scarfs down the food, shoveling it into its large mouth as you quickly hop off the shelf and back away to the nearest exit from the room.

In an instant, it stops eating and just... stares. Its bloodshot eyes stare at you, gnashing its teeth slightly. It doesn't say a word, just hisses.

"...(Hello)." You say, before backing away again a little more. It rises slightly higher.

"...I'm just gonna go..." You say, continuing to back away. It just... watches you go. But doesn't charge or attack, thankfully.

What even... happened to it..?

--☆☆☆--

You wander aimlessly, helplessly lost. Damn your lack of any sense of direction...

Your feet tap against the ground, and despite knowing they aren't loud, they seem to echo and do nothing but jumble your nerves more.

God, you miss Mr. Bird... please let him be alive, please...

Though the sounds of thuds makes you duck behind a large piece of rubble, slightly peaking out as you see another entity wandering past. And if you thought Red Child was tall... well...

This one practically drawrfed him. It's footsteps echo in loud thuds, and you saw how purple it was. Over the left side of its face was a uncomfortably detailed comedy mask that was snapped in half, revealing how the rest of its head looked rotten with a pitch black hole instead of its eye and lips so thin its teeth is visible. On the top of its head is a dark hood that blends into its body, with a twisted black crown on its head. Embedded in its chest is what looks like a glowing white star, which randomly flashes and fizzles and sparks. The rest of its body is humanoid, with the right side emitting what looks like binary code and the left of its body resembling a rotten corpse covered by some sort of black cape.

It pauses for a moment, looking around as the star glows a little more vibrantly, and it stomps its foot.

Then a black tendril erupts from the ground behind you and ensnares you, and you squeak as the monster rushes over.

"H- H- Hello!! Co- could you tell me-" Its head violently twitches, and you struggle, "WHE- RE THE H- HELL IS THE B- BO- BOSS-??"

"WAIT! WAIT PLEASE!!" You blurt out, wheezing and shaking and crying, "PLEASE DONT KILL ME, PLEASE!!!"

It pauses, violently twitching as it stares at you, before laughing in that glitching voice.

You're suddenly dragged down to the ground, and you yelp in pain as you slam into the concrete floor. It raises a foot up, and you squeeze your eyes close as you prepare to get curbed stomped and die.

Your mind is buzzing at a thousand miles an hour, and you mourn losing you friends, Brad and Kyoko, your cat, your family.

...your family...

Your...

...

What were the names of your parents again? Did you have siblings? Who- wha-

...

You lost them.

And now you'll never remember.

Though a sudden screech as you hear a thud, your eyes fly open and you stare in shock as you see Red Child wrestling with the purple monster, angrily screeching. Then you squeak as you're pulled up into Mr. Spider's arms, who holds you close as you see a black particle effect with red outlines surrounding you, and you watch in surprise as Mr. Spider seems to pull up a screen and starts typing.

"dwlun!! mxwc (you) mjan qdac oarnwm!!" Red Child orders angrily, and- holy fuck there are several more near identical clones of Red Child helping the original Red Child fight the purple monster.

"oa- oarnwm?" The purple monster questions, and you gasp as you feel as if you've been plucked out of your own body and are suddenly somewhere else. Still in Mr. Spider's arms, but back in the room he and Red Child seem to share.

Though now you see a third, much smaller nest-like bed. Directly next to the largest bed and with a... weird amount of dusty stuffed animals tossed onto the bed. You see a giant Squishmallow in there too.

You wonder if objects from your world can just... end up here. Casually.

The moment he sets you down, you're immediately bolting to the exit. With one hand he grabs the back of your shirt and drags you back over to him, letting out a tired sigh, as if he expected this.

"(What) rb frcq (you) jwm pnccrwp (yourself) rwcx mjwpna?" He asks you, as you see him pick up a bundle of what looks like white rope, and- with one hand holding you down- uses it to tie your wrists and legs together.

It's sticky, like a spiderweb.

...oh, ew-

You give him a bewildered look as he double checks the binds are secure and talks to you with the tone you'd give a small child who just misbehaved.

"uxxt, (I) mxw'c twxf (what you want), kdc (I) mxw'c (want you) cx (run) jfjh xa blanjv jwm yjwrl jwm kn joajrm. wnrcqna (I) wxa (my) bxw (want(s)) cqjc. juu (we) jan mxrwp rb cahrwp cx tnny (you) bjon, jwm cqjc vnjwb tnnyrwp (you) frcq (us). dwcru (I) ljw cadbc hxd wxc cx adw jfjh, (I)'v tnnyrwp hxd qnan rw cqnbn krwmb. (I)'uu cah cx ljaah hxd frcq vn jwm bnn bxvn cqrwpb bx hxd janw'c qnan juxwn oxa uxwp ynarxmb xo crvn, kdc xwuh ro (you) mxw'c cqaxf (a) orc fqnw (I) mx rc." At your confused look, he sighs, "arpqc, (I) oxapxc (you) mxw'c dwmnabcjwm (what I)'v bjhrwp..."

He gets closer to you, and begins making motions to make things clearer. "(You) ljw'c (run). (You run), (you) rw mjwpna. (You) bcjh frcq (me) jwm bxw, (you) bcjh bjon. (We) yaxcnlc (you). (You) bcjh."

Is he... telling you that you have to stay here? Is that what 'bcjh' means?

Oh fuck- uh-

"(No)!" You blurt out, shaking your head, "(No no no)!! (I no want stay)!! (I want exit! I want exit)!! (No stay)! (Yes exit)!"

"(You want exit)?" Mr. Spider asks you, a little surprised how you spoke in his language. You think. "(Exit where)? (Exit here)?"

HOW THE FUCK DO YOU CLARIFY YOU ARE FROM ANOTHER WORLD AND WISH TO RETURN THERE???

"(Want exit)!" You desperately repeat, "Please, I just want to go home!! That's all I want! Please let me go-"

Your voice cracks as you continue. "Pl- please!! I don't want to die! I don't want to die, please let me go!! Please!! I- I just want my cat and I just want to see my family again, please-!"

Mr. Spider stares at you, moving lower so he's closer to you. "(What) jan hxd bjhrwp? (I) mxw'c dwmnabcjwm (your) ujwpdjpn."

You continue rambling, begging for you freedom in English as his gaze softens.

"(You) jan jkbxudcnuh cnaarornm, janw'c (you)? (I) yaxvrbn (you) janw'c rw jwh mjwpna, kdc wxc urtn (you) dwmnabcjwm me..." He gently caressed your cheek with a hand, ignoring how your tears creep onto his fingers and sink into his flesh, "cqnan'b (no) wnnm cx lah. (I) sdbc qxyn (you) dwmnabcjwm cqrb rb qxf (you)'uu kn bjon."

He says some other things you don't listen to, gently lets you go and leaves you in that tiny nest, and leaves, using that screen thingy to teleport away.

The moment he's gone, you start trying to escape.

If you could go back in time, you'd sucker punch your past self to keep them from ever coming here...

[hard-core-super-star]

starlight in your eyes [W.Maximoff]

pairing: baker!wanda x college student!reader

summary: it takes some coaxing but after countless stolen glances and brief makeout sessions, you and wanda take the next step in your blossoming relationship.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! -> porn with lots of feelings and a bit of plot; legal age gap; soft sex; bottom!wanda; makeout sessions; the mommy kink is implied this time; nipple play [wanda has sensitive boobs and i will die on this hill]; do wanda's boobs need their own warning?; oral; so much teasing; brief mentions of insecurities; worldbuilding aka me throwing in agatha because i could; not proofread so there's probably more but i forgot

wordcount: 3.4k

a/n: HI! this is officially the last part of my baker!wanda series FOR NOW. i'll probably come back to it at some point because i love this AU but for now, this will be the end. i had a lot of fun with this so thank you guys for supporting the series and my random fic ideas. hope you enjoy <3

part one | part two | part three |

* * * * * * *

If someone had tried to tell you months ago that you'd be spending more time in Westview, New Jersey than New York, you would have called them an idiot and went on with your day.

Unfortunately, the universe has quite a wicked sense of humor. Not that you're complaining since that sense of humor earned you a relationship with the hottest café owner in town.

As strange as it was, you found yourself settling into a nice routine with Wanda. Sure, she still tried to keep you as far away as possible from all the neighborhood gossip, but you found yourself caring less and less every day. Especially when at night, you were wrapped up in her arms, blissfully unaware of the rest of the world.

Despite the rumors and the constant eyes watching your every move, being with the older woman is easy. Comforting in a way you hadn't expected.

She's as sweet as the pastries that litter the stands at the bakery and far more patient with people than she should be. Then again, no one in Westview has ever been accused of understanding social cues too well. Agatha seems to be the only exception and you can't say you don't enjoy when she comes in to talk shit about her neighbors and the people who love flirting with her wife.

You wouldn't call it normal, not by most people's standards, but it's home.

The only thing close to a problem is Wanda's sweetness stopping her from being truly intimate with you. It's not like you want her to tie you up in her basement or anything (at least not yet), but you do want something more than simple makeout sessions after closing hours.

The last thing you want to do is complain, though. Especially when the older woman's sweetness is one of your favorite things about her. She's always so quick to praise you for the simplest things, to reassure you that she wants each and every part of you, to kiss away any insecurity that might arise after a long day of overthinking.

It feels unfair to ask her to reign in her sweetness long enough for her to push you against a wall and have her way with you.

That doesn't stop you from finding other ways to look for what you want, though.

Of course, the cafe doesn't really offer the best spaces for the kind of convincing you needed to do but that doesn't stop you from trying. And from enjoying it.

It's not like you can help it, Wanda looks far too good behind that counter, her signature flannel poking out from beneath the red apron she keeps surprisingly clean. It doesn't help that she's started curling her hair again, the waves bouncing every time she laughs while making conversation with a customer.

Even though you're trying to keep things between the two of you as low-key and private as possible, you can't really control your eyes or the way they give you away so easily. It should worry you on some level, you know that, but the only thing that matters to you is the smirk that curls on the older woman's lips.

It's almost predictable.

The way she pretends to check what pastries to restock while throwing glances your way, the weird little hand motion she does to let the cashiers know she'll be going into the back, that last look she throws your way as she disappears. You're not too sure when it became a routine, probably at some point before your first date, but you're not complaining.

You're pretty sure Billy (affectionally called Teen by Agatha to keep him separate from Wanda's son Billy) knows exactly why you always offer to help Wanda when she's back there, considering the little smile he sends your way. He hasn't said anything to anyone, though, so you figure he must be on your side.

Usually, he even throws excuses your way, telling everyone you're running errands for him in the back so he doesn't have to leave the register during rush hour. You're not sure anyone actually believes the two of you, but you are sure you've heard Agatha shutting down anyone who dares question it.

It's strange how easily you've gotten used to the routine. How at home you feel around people you spent so long avoiding. How happy you are to stay for once.

Without a second thought, you get up from your claimed booth and make your way to the back of the café where you know Wanda is waiting for you. You ignore the look Billy throws your way, but don't miss the way he makes small talk with the baristas so they don't pay attention to you.

It's impossible to hide your grin as you go and seeing Wanda at her cute little baking station only makes it widen. "How're things going in here?"

"Same old," she replies with a grin of her own.

As silly as her response is, it brings a giggle out of you and you easily cross the space between you. "Anything for me to sample?"

"You know, as much as I like having you around, I would like to have products to sell." Her teasing tone is paired with a playful glare that makes you roll your eyes.

"Oh but that's so boring," you say, jumping onto the counter next to her.

Wanda doesn't reply, but she does hand you a freshly baked croissant while she continues decorating a batch of cookies. While it was technically a joke, you're not about to pass up free pastries and a beautiful view.

You sit there for a while, simply watching her work and enjoying being close to her. It helps that every few minutes, she leans over to give you a brief kiss.

It feels like an eternity, but eventually, she finishes her work and her attention goes back to you. She slides in between your legs with a smile, her hands gripping your thighs as she moves closer. You don't even give her a chance to tease you, instead leaning in to kiss her.

Her chuckle is muffled by your lips and your arms slip around her neck to pull her body in toward you. It's not like there's much space left and yet here you are, trying to wrap yourself around her completely.

She doesn't seem to mind, though, considering her grip on you.

Her fingers roam up and down your thighs, leaving trails of electricity everywhere they go. It's almost subconscious, the way she can't seem to stop touching you, wandering, finding every spot that makes you tremble against her. You can't say she doesn't know what she's doing, but you assume she's not doing it on purpose. At least not completely.

That doesn't stop you from taking advantage of the moment, though.

Your hands move to cup her face, thumbs drawing circles on her jawline as you chase her lips every time she moves away. You're cheating, of course, because if she can't stop kissing you, then she can't think about what her hands are doing, which only benefits you.

Wanda catches on far too quickly for your taste, though. Her hands move to tangle in your hair and before you know it, she's pulling you back, a pitiful sound escaping you at the sting it creates. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing."

Even though you've been caught, you still try to deflect. "I'm not doing anything."

She shakes her head at you, dark green eyes staring you down. "Right, because you haven't been trying to do this exact same thing all week."

"Is making out with my gorgeous girlfriend such a crime?"

"I guess not…" She trails off with a grin. "You just don't know what you're getting into, darling."

That makes you giggle. "Me? I think you're underestimating me, Wands."

All she does is roll her eyes, but you don't miss the way her cheeks flush at your suggestive tone. "Right, well, either way, we can't do that here."

"I know, I know." You pout at her until she relents and kisses you again.

Even though you want to press, ask questions that you know will get you in trouble, you decide against pushing her. As desperate as you might be, you don't want to rush her. She's always working so hard, running around doing everything she can to help the people in her life, always taking care of everyone except herself. Is it really so bad that you want to flip the script on her just once?

Despite how difficult it is to control yourself, you manage to behave for the rest of the day, choosing to actually help her with decorating the pastries instead of simply begging her for kisses every few minutes. The next days are too busy for you to bring up the subject again so you assume that will be the end of it.

At least until the weekend comes around and Vision takes the twins, leaving Wanda with a lot of time to waste. Almost as if you planned it (which you technically did if manifestation counts), your parents leave on a short vacation. With no expectation or lingering guilt, the two of you are able to actually relax for once.

There's no need to be constantly looking over your shoulder, no tangled web of lies to cover your tracks. Nothing but each other and an empty house all to yourselves.

You even manage to convince her to close the bakery early and take the night off to relax. And okay, maybe your version of convincing involved pinning her against a counter and kissing her until she couldn't think straight but that's neither here nor there.

What matters now is that the of you are in her living room, sharing a bottle of wine and the biggest pot of pasta you've ever seen the older woman make. She can be a bit of a compulsive cooker sometimes, you've learned. Not that you mind, that just means more leftovers for you.

Wanda's arm wraps around your shoulders as she leans against you, her lips finding your temple. It's a sweet gesture, you can't ignore the way her free hand caresses your thigh. "This is nice."

You giggle, fingers tracing the back of her hand. "The food or the wine?"

"The company," she corrects with a soft tut. "I've missed having you to myself like this."

"You always have me to yourself," you point out as you turn your head to look at her. "I'm all yours."

"That's true, but it's not quite the same, is it?"

Before you can reply, she's leaning in to kiss you. You don't mind, of course, because her lips taste far sweeter than any petty victory over her. And between the privacy and the wine lingering on your tongues, you're able to get as carried away as you want.

So, it's really no surprise that your hands start reaching out for her, pulling her closer and closer until she ends up on your lap. You're not too sure how that happens, all you know is your hands are on her hips, guiding her against you and you're fighting the burning in your lungs to keep your lips pressed together.

Wanda's hands tangle in your hair before you know it, she's pulling you away from her and drawing a whine from your chest. "Someone's getting greedy."

"Can't help it," you reply, breathless and desperate for more. "I want to make you feel good."

Your words make her pause. Her eyes widen the slightest bit and the smirk on her face fades just as quickly as it came. For a moment, she's actually…shy. Nervous in that way that makes you want to pick her up and spin her around until she smiles again and forgets about her insecurities.

"Is that right?" She tries to bring the confidence back to her voice, but she falls a little flat. Not that you mind. Every version of her is one you can't help but admire. "You want to touch me?"

You nod instantly, balancing between trying be assertive and wanting to let her do whatever she wants with you. "Yes, please. Let me take care of you."

"You're far too sweet," she says with a shake of her head. "I like caring for you, I don't need anything in return."

Her words only make you more desperate to give her the care she deserves. The kind she probably hasn't been given in…a long time. Sure, you don't know the details of what her relationship with her ex-husband was like but you also don't think you'd be wrong for guessing he didn't worship her like she deserves.

"It's not like that," you assure her, your hands on her hips moving up to caress her sides. "I'm not doing it because I think I have to. I want to do it. Please."

While her face softens, she still doesn't let up. Thankfully, she allows the truth to slip out, letting you in. "I…I don't want you to regret it."

Her words slowly click into place in your brain. Sometimes, you hate always being right.

"Wanda, I could never regret anything about being with you." Your hands move to cup her face. While you hate the thought of her ever feeling insecure about herself, you can't say you dislike the vulnerability she shows. And the trust it represents. "You're who I want to be with, no matter what."

This time, you finally get through. You see it in the way she sighs, her shoulders slumping forward as she leans into you. "You're so stubborn."

"Only when it comes to you," you say with a grin.

She rolls her eyes, but still leans in to kiss you. Despite your usual impatience, you don't rush. You let her lead, let her go at her own pace until the atmosphere you'd built earlier comes back. Until you're panting into each other's mouths and chasing whatever little friction you can get.

It's hard to stay so patient when she moans into the kiss, her hips rolling until she's practically grinding against your lap. You're still determined to take your time despite the fire that starts in your lower belly.

"Wanda," you whisper as you force yourself to pull away from her lips. "Do you trust me?"

When she mumbles her response, a breathless "yes" that sends shivers down your spine, you grab hold of her hips again and maneuver her onto the couch. You're pretty sure you knock over the forgotten wine bottle, but you don't give a shit. All you care about is finally giving her the pleasure she deserves.

"Someone's eager."

"Shut up," you respond as you move to hover over her, loving the sharp little gasp she lets out. "You're letting me take over, right?"

"Right," she agrees.

"Then don't tease me."

She tries to chuckle, but your hands move beneath her shirt and the noise dies in her throat. Your mind zeros in on her, completely set on doing everything you can to make her let out more of those sounds. To make her let go completely until she can't even remember her name.

Your fingers trace her sides, mapping out the curve of her waist and the softness of her stomach. Her back arches into you and you lean down to pepper kisses along her jaw. "You're gorgeous."

Wanda doesn't reply but her hands move to the hem of her shirt. You see the move for what it is: an invitation you don't dare refuse.

Your hands join hers and you help her remove her shirt. The red lacy bra she's wearing makes your mouth water and you fight against the urge to simply rip it off.

Instead, you move your kisses down her neck and to her chest. Your hands continue roaming her body, caressing her skin and committing every detail to memory.

They slide behind her back as your lips move across the top of her breasts and before you can stop yourself, your fingers undo her bra. You don't move to take it off just yet, though, allowing the anticipation to build in the air…and between your legs.

"y/n," she whispers. "Don't be a tease."

You know she's just throwing your words back at you, but you still smirk to yourself, lips pressed against her warm skin. "I'm not, I'm just taking my time."

The sound she lets out borders so close to a whine that it makes your heart stop for a second. You never thought one person could be so beautiful and yet here she is.

Your head lifts long enough to take in the blush on her cheeks…and to slide the rest of her bra off. Even though you want to be respectful, your eyes instantly move down to her newly exposed skin. No amount of words could explain how ethereal you find her so you don't even try to find them.

You simply go back to worshipping her with your mouth.

Quickly, you learn how sensitive her chest it. One of her hands tangles in your hair as she trembles beneath you, her voice strained from the sudden pleasure. You're sure you'll never get tired of hearing how she moans for you.

"Fuck," she groans, hips shifting every which way. "You're driving me crazy."

"Is that why you're acting so desperate?" You ask, hands finding the zipper of her jeans.

Whatever her response might have been fades into nothing when your lips wrap firmly around one of her nipples. You simply enjoy her reactions for a few moments before going back to undoing her jeans.

It's a bit of a struggle since you're so focused on her chest, but you manage to get rid of the rest of her clothes. Once she's finally naked, you don't waste any time and allow your lips to trail a path down to her core.

Your fingers replace your tongue on her nipples and you tease and pinch them just to keep her guessing. Nothing could distract you from your mission, though, and you use your free hand to guide her legs over your shoulders. Your eyes flicker up just to take in the flushed look on her face and the little noises that leave her parted lips.

The anticipation builds for a few seconds before your mouth goes back to the task at hand. Your tongue darts out to taste her and you moan into her heat. If your mouth wasn't so busy, you might have teased her about wet she already is.

You don't dare move away just yet so you let your fingers tease her by tugging on her nipples.

You're rewarded with a whine and you instantly wrap your lips around her swollen clit in hopes of hearing it again. And you do.

Because despite her earlier hesitation, Wanda is incredibly loud. And you love every second of drawing out her whines and whimpers.

"y/n," she says, thighs tensing on each side of your head. "Wait, wait, I can't-"

You're about to ask what she means, but your tongue is circling her clit and before you can even think to move away, you feel it.

Wanda cums.

Suddenly and harshly and with the most breathless moan you've ever heard.

Even the shock isn't enough to get through to you. She feels incredible against you and despite how soaked your chin is, you can't bring yourself to stop. You need her more than you need to breathe.

You don't stop until Wanda tugs on your hair hard enough for you to come back to reality. A reality where she's shaking and spent underneath you.

"Sorry," you mumble with a grin. "I got carried away."

"I noticed," she replies. "It's just…been a while and I need a break."

You nod and shift until you're lying on top of her, your head tucked into the crook of her neck. "Take your time, I'm right here."

Her arms wrap around your waist and a kiss falls onto the top of your head. "I know, darling."

In that moment, in the comfortable silence that lingers, you realize just how true your words are. Just how willing you are to stay. To stop running from Westview and all its ghosts.

Somehow, despite how badly you'd wanted to leave your hometown all your life, you found love in the sunlit corner booth of Wanda's bakery.

And you'd be a fool to let her go.

[m3mento-m0rii]

Hello, could u do a Romance Saja x Flirty reader. We all know Romance is a massive heartthrob, but what if someone matched his energy? Maybe even exceeds it? (I need this man to be a flustered MESS like sir you are not in charge- sorry not sorry) Reader is not even faded by his cheesy pick up lines. They just pull him in by the collar and call him a pretty boy (oh wow I’m down bad..)

You do have to fulfill this request if it makes you uncomfortable at all. I absolutely adore your writing, keep up the great work!

— 🪸Anon

Turned Tables—

0.9k words; Romance Saja x Flirty! Reader Masterlist | Requests open! Warnings? MILDLY suggestive. It's just one little thing, it's ok I promise

Never did Romance EVER think that he could find someone to fluster him for a change. Well? He was wrong.

A/N: Nice to meet you, 🪸 anon!! You're so sweet 😭 I really love this request and honestly I see the vision. Don't even worry bc I wouldn't be here if I wasn't down bad, too esorgngi. It doesn't make me uncomfortable at all! I hope you enjoyyyy. Also, I might make a part two to this, it just depends sognsg.

Speaking of, if anyone sees something they like and wants to request a part two for something, I'm definitely open to it. Plus everyone who requested something until thus point, I'm working through them. I think I'll do a New Soul part two. Okay happy reading!

Romance didn’t think it was possible for someone to match his level of flirtiness. He was the heartthrob. Number one. His name was literally Romance.

Someone must have thought it’d be funny, just a little, if they gave him you.

You were . . . everything. 

The way your eyes narrowed at the corners when you were being coy, or the curl of your lips when you had something to say. There was just something about you that left Romance utterly defenseless. Your hair always fell perfectly around your face, and no matter how you looked on any day, you had a sort of confidence about you that made it attractive.

The problem? You knew it, too. And what better way to use it than on someone who used it himself?

It started with an accident on his part. An attempt to flirt with you—it was only an attempt because suddenly you were the one flustering him—and woah did you lay it on thick. And once you learned that he was supposed to be the sweetheart of the Saja Boys?

Ohoho, easy pickings.

What was even worse, though, was the fact that there was no escape. Why? You worked with Huntrix, and that meant there were always plenty of opportunities to interact with you. Always around, whether that meant signings, interviews, backstage or concerts, he couldn’t escape you.

Someone help him.

Romance tensed up as you became visible around the backstage, his eyes immediately jumping away from you in hopes that maybe, maybe if he didn’t look, you wouldn’t see him. But fate isn’t ever that kind to people, is it?

Baby (never not laughing at someone’s misfortune) already knew what was up. And Abby did, too; the both of them had seen Romance absolutely lose it in the presence of you. So when He turned to avoid eye contact with you and met the implications of their stares, the slowly forming smirks, Romance knew he was in for it.

“No . . .” He whispered, and Baby only snickered. Abby’s grin only brightened. “No, please.”

Except Abby was already calling for you, waving you over, and Baby was pulling him away back to makeup.

Leaving Romance with you.

“Romance,” you cooed, your voice low and sweet and full of torment as you moused up to him. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I could swear you were avoiding me.”

Okay okay just play it off. It’s fine. Alright.

“Why would I ever have to avoid you?” Romance’s head slowly turned back to look at you. Just like always, you were in perfect shape. Not a thing out of place. “Any excuse to see you is a god-given gift, dear.”

“Is that why you never seek me out?” You mused, satisfaction beginning to coil in your chest as you watched his face pinken a little. We’re on the right track.

Romance shrugged, shifting weight on his feet a little. “Well, I just thought, ‘why seek you out, if you always come to me, anyway?’”

“Don’t you know that kind of pining isn’t any fun?”

“Then what is? I find it just fine.”

The silence that followed him left implication, and that implication made his eyes return to yours again.

He’d be lying if that look in your eyes didn’t make his heart jump a little. The kind that you feel in your ears.

Why did he feel like he was the prey for once??

Your arms raised to your hips, or perhaps the dip of your waist, he couldn’t hold it together long enough to tell, and you leaned a little closer. “There are plenty of other fun things we could do if you were around more often.”

Heart palpitations. Romance stared down at you, his eyes a little wide as you invaded his personal space. His voice had raised in pitch at that little twinge in the corner of your lips, the way you looked up at him through your lashes. “InterESting.”

GOD that little, tantalizing chuckle you let out? Kill him.

“Yes, very. Why do I only have to see you at work, hmm? So many other things we could be doing instead of side conversations. You have a fashion sense, we could go shopping, or judge outrageous outfits, or maybe even sit for coffee—those are all more fun. Unless you’re just scared of being seeing out with me—”

“Oh, no-! I just—” Too fast, tone it down;

“Romance.”

“Y-Yes??”

You leaned a little closer—close enough for him to catch the scent of your perfume, the hair product. Fleetingly, your fingers swept across his jawline, leaving the warm buzz of your fingertips along his skin. Romance forgot how to breathe.

“Don’t forget to hit up makeup again before you go on stage,” you muttered, your voice so low it was hard to hear in all the hustle and bustle backscene. “Your face is a little red, pretty thing.”

Romance felt his soul leave his body (well, if he owned his, it would have) once your fingers brushed the tender skin just under his ear, watching as you pulled away from him like nothing happened. Then you were walking away with that little sway thing you do to go talk to the girls as they returned from their performance.

Romance didn’t know what to do with himself.

Someone snorted behind him. It sounded like Baby and Abby had returned. “. . . Fumble.”

Baby nodded seriously. “Completely whipped.”

“Sh-Shut up.”

They only busted out laughing.

»                                                      ⊱◈⊰

A/N: Hiii hope you enjoyed! This was a lot of fun, and I hope it meets your standards, 🪸. Welcome to my carry-ons!

—Captain Morii 🌤️

Morii's Business Class: @kpopmultistans @momentomoribitch

[pussy-nefarious]

I largely agree with what you said but I disagree on some things that I think are the reason why we have such different takes on the matter

what i am trying to say is that there is a difference between the physical strength of men and the political power they have. they are different things, even though they re-inforce each other.

I agree, but I think another issue here is that someone might see a much deeper connection between the two and if this isn't explained properly it can come across as her mythologizing maleness and thinking maleness inevitably leads to political power in any possible scenario. a lot of women also don't know how to explain this to themselves so they do this thing where they take something they observed or an idea they came up with and end up using borderline spiritual concepts to explain it to themselves because they have nothing else that might help them make that idea clearer

we can hardly call aggressive sex other male animals (like dolphins) force on their female counterparts "rape" because there's arguably little to no intention behind those actions. [...] that is different from mindlessly forcing ones seed. rape is a calculated--not mindless--act, which is precisely what makes it so horrible.

and here's where I have to disagree. not fully, but on some nuances. I use rape here for sexual acts done by a male on an unwilling female, so I'm gonna use ideological rape for what you're talking about. also when I say unwilling I'll give examples of females that show clear signs of distress and not wanting to have sex with the male or situations where it's clear she was coerced, like having to choose between sex and being eaten by a predator. I'm not including females in heat or any other aspects of their biology that make them "willing"

I'm putting so much emphasis on this because I think that understanding why and how other males rape is crucial to understanding men's rape, and understanding men's rape helps us understand women's oppression. when talking about humans vs animals a lot of people draw a thick line between the two, but we did evolve from animals, we're also considered animals. there are strong differences between humans and animals which might make one draw this hard line between the two groups, but we also have a lot in common. that shouldn't be overlooked because the further back in time we go the closer "we" resemble animals. go far enough and at some point you'll see an animal just like the others, and even that isn't a fixed point

this hard line people draw is one of the reasons people mistakenly thought only humans are capable of having thoughts. now scientists are studying animal cognition (they're even studying insect cognition)

scientists are also studying sexual coercion among animals, which can be found from insects to primates. it's safe to assume rape has always existed in the human species. the fact that rape and cognition exist across various species helps us understand how rape evolved with us and how it branched into ideological and nonideological rape. the two categories also aren't perfectly separated. they're muddy because when we say ideological rape we can mean two things

rape that is ideological in the sense that the act and consequences are part of the male supremacist ideology, they aid the oppression of women, they maintain the system of oppression and they're also the goal of that system, in which case all rape today and all the rapes that men had committed against women for the last several thousand years are ideological and all the rapes they will commit will be ideological with no exception. there will never be another case of rape that won't be ideological

but there's also the problem of intent, whether a man raped a woman for an ideological reason or for nonideological reasons. if we live in a world where all rape is part of the male supremacist ideology and we're all aware consciously or subconsciously that we live in a male supremacists world and we're all either for it or against it, is all rape ideological? I'd say yes, but I'd also say that there is rape that is done for both ideological and nonideological reasons (I'm mostly talking about sexual pleasure) at the same time because those nonideological reasons were necessary for perpetuating rape against women, and that rape was necessary for the creation of an ideology for the oppression of women (which aids in raping women, which maintains the system and so on. it's a never ending loop). it's the how and why men came up with it in the first place and why they felt comfortable enough, why they wanted and enjoyed putting their male supremacist ideology into practice

basically what I'm trying to say is that there's no clear distinction in all the things I just mentioned and that our biology, the environment, our ability to think and form connections with one another, to feel pleasure and emotions, to create and assign morality to our actions, to create and uphold ideologies and create complex systems, they're all linked to one another, they evolved together and because of one another, and studying less complex beings helps us understand how male supremacy was created

rape has always existed. despite having the ability to feel kinship with another human, despite having the ability to feel empathy, rape has existed. the simple, primitive emotions and kinship weren't enough to stop men from raping women or commit other atrocities against humans, and that begs the question how much empathy did they feel for women when they were willing to rape them to feel sexual pleasure. a lot of those rapists likely enjoyed the rape and violence instead of feeling distressed by it, or they just didn't care and it didn't affect them

women have the capacity to do harm and want and enjoy doing harm, but imo not as much as men generally, and this along with physical strength and reproductive roles tipped the scale in men's favor - because we're equally capable but it's men oppressing women and not the other way around

and it's because of the rape, because we have plenty of material to study males raping females but cases of females raping males are few. they've always raped us, the violence and our distress didn't matter enough to stop them, might have even encouraged them, they're stronger than us, and frankly I just don't think the average woman has the same level of sadism as the average male, so he's more willing to actively do inhumane things than her and enjoy it as well

the male supremacist ideology was based on the already existing male violence and sexual sadism and lack of or too little empathy for women, they already weren't seeing us as equals because they could differentiate between male and female and treated women differently than how they treated their fellow men by raping the women

women don't have anything like this to be able to say men and women were equally capable of oppressing one another, and they didn't have the power and capacity to fight back against the violence in a way that would prevent the creation of their oppression. the system of oppression was pretty much inevitable. we now live in a complex sociopolitical environment and we have access to technology and opportunities won by feminists before us. now we have the capacity to fight back and ensure that men have no say in women's rights, but back there we didn't stand a chance. it depended on how the males saw us and what they wanted to do to us. if we had a say in it, we wouldn't have chosen to be oppressed in the first place

so back to the animal rape and the not so mindless strategies, to understand the evolution of human rape we have to look at strategies of rape in the animal kingdom. aggression has been observed in a lot of species, including primates. in some primates the males would hit the females, charge at them, shake the branches they're sitting on and so on to cause them pain and distress when they want to copulate. men are doing the same so I'm assuming they've always done that (I really doubt cavemen had sweet respectful vanilla sex under the moonlight and all that)

some species of primates are so aggressive the males almost always physically harm the females even when the female isn't fighting back. it is theorized that they do so to keep the females afraid of them and make them more willing to submit to copulation. and the question is, is this theory false and the scientists only came up with it because that's what men do and they tried to assign men's mentality to those animals? or is the theory sound and we're looking at a "male supremacist" strategy that has probably existed in our species before men even came up with the ideology? because in that case male supremacy is based on this type of behavior and "reasoning" and it existed before male supremacy and not the other way around

in some water strides species where the females have a shield over their genitals, the males were observed to tap the water when trying to copulate and the female wouldn't give them access to her genitals. the taps attract fish and because the female is at the bottom she's more likely to be eaten and the females have been observed to let the males copulate with them to get it over with and make the male stop tapping the water. no comment, just wanted to throw this out there to show how fucked up some of those strategies can be. some male flies attach themselves on the back of the females while the females try to shake them off. some beetles try to drown the females to make them cease fighting and submit to copulation. it's that bad

also some male monkeys and chimpanzees have been observed invading other groups, ganging up on the females to kill their babies and copulate with the females and that reminds me of how men treat women as spoils of war. as for mate guarding, that just reminds me of marriage

and the females have their own strategies to escape the males. the way males copulate with them causes lots of physical injuries from the aggression, stress and forceful penetration. sometimes it leads to the death of the female. there are other negative outcomes like the pathogens, lower immunity, wasted energy, offspring with lower genetic quality because the females can't choose who to mate with, and having a harder time forming social ties to other females from spending so much time avoiding the males, but I'm not gonna talk about these

what I'm focusing on is the fact that the female feels pain and ends up injured, and shows signs of distress and attempts to stop copulations/avoid males, so it's safe to assume the female is aware to some degree that the male and sex is what's causing her pain and injuries. some females form friendships with males that come to their rescue, some stick to dominant males for protection, some form alliances with other females for protection, some try to fight back, and some submit to minimize the violence. to a degree those females think, they observe what the males are doing to them, they interpret that information and come up with ways to protect themselves from males, sometimes by forming social bonds. they basically do the things we do, in a much simpler and "animalistic" way

rape is a calculated--not mindless--act, which is precisely what makes it so horrible

so rape in other species is not quite "mindless", and the fact that men are committing rape in a much more calculated way is not the only thing that makes it horrible

it's horrible to us because it happens to us and because we're aware of all the pain and injury men cause us. it's horrible because it causes us pain and stress and fear and we hate feeling this way. it's horrible because it's something we don't want and we know how hard it is to fight back against it. it's horrible when you're aware of how the system men have created aid them to rape you. it's horrible because it happens to other women as well, when you care about those women and feel kinship and know that if men do this to those women they want to do it to you too. it's horrible when you're aware of how other women are groomed into thinking there's nothing wrong with that, with them being raped or other women being raped, and seeing other women aiding men in raping women. it's horrible because we took all these negative experiences and built morality around them and decided that rape is bad. and it's horrible because these men don't see it the way we do, and we know they're the ones doing it and we know they like it and don't care about our distress. human rape is more complex which makes it more horrible for us than animal rape, but I'm sure those females find their rape horrible as well in their own way according to their cognitive capacity, otherwise they wouldn't try so hard to avoid it

meanwhile men can find it horrible sometimes. when it's done with more violence than they're willing to commit, but they still don't mind rape done a certain way. they find it horrible to some degree when it's their women, their property, or some women they feel some level of kinship towards, even though they still view her as a woman and they still view women as people they can (and want to) rape. it's not horrible to them because they're the ones doing it, because they want to and because they like it and because they benefit from it. and it's not horrible when they have to harm us or traumatize us, it's more of a nuisance or something they have to deal with to get their dicks wet because the woman is too difficult (sometime they like it, sometimes they like it so much they provoke the woman or look for women who they know won't consent or harm her even when she's fully submitting because they're that sadistic). the system is not horrible to them because they created it for a purpose and it does exactly what they want it to do for them. it's not horrible to them because instead of the pain and fear and exploitation they see pleasure and power and a good fuck and a woman they get to turn into whatever they want, and if they see the pain and fear and exploitation they either don't care or they enjoy it, which makes rape good or just an everyday thing for them. and when they know rape is morally bad for us, it's either in the back of their minds, something women complain about (but they don't care about women anyway, so why should they care about our annoying complaints?) or they get off on it. and it's not just because their holy books said so. atheist men think this way. even atheist men who don't think "men raping women is natural, it's just biology, that's just how things are" still think that even if it's not something set in stone and we could have human sex without rape, if they want sex they're gonna have it anyway because they can, and complaints and discussions of morality and right or wrong are just white noise for them because at the end of the day they like raping, they want to rape, they can rape, so they're gonna rape, simple as that

rape is strategic. strategic toward what? toward female subordination. men rape or enjoy rape because it re-inforces the myth of their "natural" political power. but it is a deliberate psychological/war tactic because women are not naturally submissible or as easy to dominate as they tell us we are.

yes, BUT ALSO rape is sexually pleasurable for men and they're not distressed by harming women and that's how they started raping and why they never stopped. before it was a strategy, it was something men did because they liked getting their dicks wet, and it still is. the knowledge of what rape now does for them adds to the sexual pleasure and further encourages them to rape because they also like the power, the myth, and female subordination

I agree with the rest of what you said tho. I do think there was a time when maleness was their biggest source of power and that it was (nearly) impossible for us to resist it (and we didn't), but right now that isn't the case anymore because ironically men have contributed to evening out the playing field. the have changed the world in a way that gives us the opportunities and the tools to fight back, but since they're the ones using these tools to oppress us, it's all up to women whether we're willing to do what must be done

I don't like the women who think that just because things used to be one way then men's power over women will always exist and there's nothing we can do about it, but I admit I do feel for them when they're pessimistic about women's future because a lot of women to me don't seem willing to go as far as they have to, like they'd rather settle for some mellowed down type of misogyny instead of getting rid of it, and they would much rather throw women under the bus and uphold men's power as long as they can get some scraps from it, and they also want to oppress other women for their own gain. so where does that leave us?

I understand the feeling of horror men inspire by their inhumane actions, but to make them out to be an alien species whose actions have no rhyme or reason in human society is to mythologize them, which gives them more power over you mentally. Men want women to think of them as invulnerable and inhuman when it intimidates them. But they’re neither of those things. Stop buying into patriarchal mysticism. There is no spiritual virus infecting men. There is no ancient ritual that corrupted them. There is no inherent moral or intellectual difference between men and women. The capacity for both to do good or evil is equally real. Fear is a beloved weapon of the oppressor bc it makes for easier indoctrination. Men have certain physical advantages, but I guarantee you those physical advantages—maleness itself—are not what keep men in sociopolitical power. If it were, musty-old grandpas wouldn’t have control of your armies. It’s ideological. Men’s maleness (e.g. their physical strength) is mythologized, and you have to de-mystify what you think about them in order to begin resisting them. Because you CAN. Because they’re just human beings. As Ursula K LeGuin said, people once believed in the divine right of kings, too.

[darlingxs-blog]

Hii! I just want to let you know that your soul bond series is good!! I like that you established the boys as demons first and how the soulbond came into existence. I feel like it’s more real! Like yea they were demons! I really enjoy your writing!! Can’t wait for chpt 3!!

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

A glitch in the system ig

Chapter 03 - "Soulbound" Saja Boys x Reader"

CW- this chapter does not fit the theme for the rest of the story, sorry sorry!!

══════════════════════════════

you wake up to find yourself resting on a broken in couch, cushions made of a filling that has chunks ripped out of it in some places. At least the cotton cover is comfortable.

When you peak your eyes open you notice the water stained coffee table with all sorts of junk covering the surface, and to the left of you is a couch rotated at a ninety degree angle, a girl with obviously dyed hair rests on it while tapping her foot to the beat of the music that is softly pouring from the TV's sound bar.

She seems to notice you when she reaches for the monster can on the coaster.

She smiles and sits up straight to wave before laying against the two pillows that are resting on the couches arm. "Hiya! I'm Bridgette! The author."

Before you can say anything She speaks up again.

"Well, I guess I can't really be calling myself an author since to you this isn't a book...meh whatever I'm whatever you want to call me." She flips over to lay on her stomach while waving her hand dismissively at nothing.

"You are currently in my living room! This is where I do most of the very important work. Unless it's nighttime, then I do it in my bedroom but trust me you do not want to be in there."

She grabs the tall pink can and takes a sip before returning her attention back to you.

"I hope you don't mind me doing this, I just wanted to talk a little bit more about what's happening but I couldn't find a way to fit it in the story and have it make sense. Seriously, I tried."

"Well you haven't clicked off yet so I'll assume it's A-ok to explain it like this."

"Okay so you now have a bond with the Saja Boys, you are aware of that right?" Again she flips over to lay on her back while turning her head to look at me while she talks.

I nod and that triggers another spew of ramblings.

"Perfect! So basically humans can't bond with demons, cause well demons don't have souls and a bond is the connection of two souls butt before the Saja Boys became demons they have already made a bond with other people."

"Don't worry, they don't matter. They are already dead since like the Saja Boys have been alive for a really long time..."

The emphasis on the 'really long time' seems to drag out for a while as she lowers her voice to a whisper.

"But anyway! Your soul is kinda like a hollow cocoon. It's there but it's empty. Long story short you had a partner who was supposed to be your soulmate and then like a day before the bond was going to form that person found someone else who they love and they made a bond like instantly, in return the essence of your soul kinda like shattered? That's why you didn't have a will to live. Cause you were quite literally heart broken."

Whether you nod or not, Bridgette is going to keep talking.

"The Saja Boys took the soul of their partner's to give to Gwi Ma cause that's just want they do, so since the bond was already made it was still there but it wasn't attached to anyone."

You nod but speak up "I understand that, but how does that explain how those bonds connected to me?" The girl nods and sits up against the pillow as she takes a sip of the monster "don't worry, don't worry. It's actually really simple to understand but it's just hard to explain"

"Let me just-"

"Okay, what's needed to make a bond isn't a soul, it's the souls essence. The morals, personality and mindset of one person. You lost that essence and the bond the Saja Boys had was essence with no soul. Get it?"

"If not think of a kinder egg. The chocolate part is the soul, and the little toy inside is the essence of the soul."

"You had the soul with no essence, the Saja Boys had a bond made with soul essence and no soul. So they kinda mixed together and now those bonds are your own...does that explain how having five bonds is possible?"

You nod again, thank fuck. If not then just comment and I'll explain- I mean what?

"Right but why am I so sick from these bonds?" Finally, you're getting answers

"Oooh that? Okay so basically what happened is that heart you had that wouldn't accept love cause of the heart break- yeah it got ripped to shreds and getting a new heart that can beat for a demon as a human is difficult, so imagine that pain and discomfort with five demons. That pain your thinking of is the pain you have now"

"Again, don't worry. As long as one of the Saja Boys is close to you, you won't feel the pain. The closer they are the better you'll feel and the faster the process will get."

That answers your question, and makes you ask another one. "But why would the bond destroy my heart? Couldn't it just heal it or something?"

"Good question"

she responds with a hum of approval

"I have two answers actually. One, it's because only someone with a soul- a filled soul, can fix their heart

and even if those bonds made your soul complete its still technically not your soul anymore.

It's a mix of five others, and since you want to find love you needed a heart that would accept it. Out with the old and in with the new, basically.

Or it's just cause I wanted to write a sick fic, a really intense sick fic."

Next Chapter, by the way. Wink wink.

"Any more questions?" She turns onto her stomach again and looks at you with a hand on her cheek.

"No." You reply while shaking your head. "Is there anything else you would like to say?"

"Uhmm other than thank you for reading this far, not really. I don't think I need to clarify anything else..."

After a few minutes of silence she nods and stands up to plop herself down on the couch you're sitting on to sit beside you. "Well! If you have any questions comment literally anywhere and I'll answer as soon as I can, I try to reply to everyone by the way so even if you just want to comment your thoughts you are free to do that."

"Okay! In the next chapter you'll remember the information I gave you..except for what I just said, but you won't remember where you got it from, who told you it and what I said exactly. You just know how that bond formed, oki doki? And of course, don't worry. I won't pull you back in here, and this won't be brought up again. This is supposed to be an emotional fic not a comedy, Fourth wall breaking one. I really do swear I just had no idea how to explain it."

"Right! Okay so you'll have to go now, don't worry I'm back to posting one chapter per day schedule so it'll be out soon and seriously if you stayed and are willing to continue reading I appreciate you soso much and I am so greatful for you. Love you lots!! MWAHMWAH

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A/N- sorry for the like really late post!! I was genuinely struggling so I just decided to write this instead I hope you don't mind...

[superbpiratesandwich]

NOT TOGETHER JUST IN THE SAME BED pt.3 (FINAL)

john walker x fem!reader

tags: fluff, mention of smut, slight angst, cussing

3.3k words

a/n: I have like 20 different drafts, 19 of them are super angsty, but I'm HEAVY struggling with finding the plot, its in my noodle brain somewhere. Anywho, enjoy the final part to this mini series!

Movie night. 

(Mandatory) 

Bucky 

You sigh, looking at the text. You glance over at Walker, who is currently cleaning up the dishes he dirtied making you and him grilled cheeses. You always admired him like this, quiet, contemplative, soft— 

“What.”  

You snap out of the trance as he looks at you, shaking your head, “Nothing, just... tonight's movie night.” 

He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Fuck’s sake, when is Barnes gonna realize we don't need mandatory team-bonding exercises? I feel like saving each other’s asses in the field is enough,” 

You smile at him, rolling your eyes, “Oh whatever, you leave halfway through, claiming you ‘need your beauty sleep’ and get off Scot free, while I'm left alone to deal with Alexi pausing the movie every five minutes to ask questions!” you place your phone on the bar as you complain to him.  

Walker turns away from you, but you can see a slight grin pulling at his mouth, “I don't always do that, and if I did, why do you care? You fall asleep ten minutes in,”  

You snort, nodding, “I do, don't I? I'm just saying I don't want to be alone,” you raise your eyebrows at him, he turns to look at you, placing his hands on the counter in front of you, and leaning towards you a bit, “Fine. I'll stay, but only if you promise to not fall asleep and leave me victim to Alexi’s questions. Someone has to explain to him that just because an actor has a British accent doesn't mean the character will.” 

A nod, “Aye aye Captain,” you mock salute to him before hopping off your stool and walking towards his fridge, “You got any good movie theater snacks?” 

The thing is, between you and Walker, what started out as a ‘last resort’ (sharing a bed in a shitty motel) has slowly morphed into something much deeper, much more emotionally charged than either of you are willing to admit. Nights spent in each other’s beds, talking quietly like the others might hear you from a floor or two away, or just lying next to each other. Rough operations where you two would instinctively reach for the other, just to find a hand outstretched already. Late nights spent holding each other as you whisper your darkest fears, like secret confessions to the other.  

Despite the lack of physical intimacy, there is definitely something there.  

You don't want to read too much into it, fearing that you may just be overexaggerating the few glances, brief touches, sleep deprived cuddles. Maybe you're just sensitive, too emotional, wouldn't be the first time it happened.  

But for Walker, the entire relationship is terrifying.  

Because he knows he doesn't deserve someone like you, he can feel the warmth radiating off you, the bright smile, the big doe eyes, the way you light up a room. He feels unworthy to even hold you like he gets to, so he doesn't dare ask for more, doesn't bring up how many times you two have almost kissed, trying to be content with quick looks, barely their touches, and the times you sleepily stumble onto his floor. He didn't think he’d ever feel like this, but he's glad you've chosen him out of everyone to be your strictly professional cuddle buddy.  

And move-night partner.  

He doesn't think he’d be able to handle all of it without you next to him. He’s the first down in the communal living room, your favorite fluffy blanket folded neatly next to him, a spot reserved for you on the cushion beside his. When Alexi comes down to join him, he glares at the large Russian as he goes for your blanket, “Alexi I swear, if you so much as breathe near this blanket, I will smother you in your sleep,” 

Walker isn't possessive of you, he knows you are your own person, you can protect yourself, but dammit if he doesn't feel the need to. On ops, making sure you always have someone on your ‘6’, making sure you're fed (he doesn't know when that habit started), or even taking extra time to put your favorite foods, or dishes in easy to reach spots, due to your shorter stature.  

He knows you could take him in a fight, you could no doubt demolish him when it came to smarts, yet another reason he felt so unworthy to hold you at night, to be the one you come to for comfort, to have these feelings about you— 

You enter the dark living room with a bowl of popcorn and MnM’s, insisting to Captain Can't Have Any Fun that, “The sweet and the salty are the perfect combination!” 

“Sounds like diabetes in a bowl,” 

“Asshole,” 

“Ahh but I'm a healthy asshole so—” 

You smacked him with a pillow, only to find a few moments later, his large hand grabbing some of the popcorn mixed with sweets. You rolled your eyes at him as the movie started to play. 

Back to the Future’s soundtrack fills the communal living area as Ava appears (quite literally) out of thin air, taking a seat on the floor near the opposite end of the couch to you and Walker. The super soldier had placed a large pillow between the two of you, offering that you could sleep on it rather than passing out on him.  

Walker didn't comment much on the movie, but you did. You spent the majority of the first half of the film discussing the actors, the set, how good the CGI was back then, and how it's gone to shit now, how hot Michael J. Fox used to be.  

You would never know how content he is to just listen to you. 

Your big doe eyes not leaving the screen as you lean over to him, whispering another useless fact as if he asked (he didn't).  

“Did you know that the original time travel machine was supposed to be a refrigerator?” 

“Thats great, honey.”  

It's not the nickname that catches you off guard, it's how close his mouth is to your ear, how his voice drops a few octaves, how his hand is starting to reach over the pillow between you two— 

“I need to piss! Lena! Pause movie!” 

Alexi starts to get up, blocking nearly half the screen, all of you simultaneously groan, waiting for the big man to up and leave.  

Walker has never been one to watch movies, claiming they're just a waste of time, and money, and that he could be more productive doing other things.  

But during this movie? Oh he's locked in, paying attention to every single detail, like how Marty McFly has a weird thing with his mom, how Doc looks like his uncle, how your eyes reflect the tv, the way your shampoo has a faint smell that is lingering in his nose, how your head seems to have a magnet in it, drawing you to lay on his thigh... shit. 

He knows he's in trouble when he can't think straight anymore. He uses the excuse of being on his phone to place it right above the half-visible boner in his sweatpants. It's not his fault, how is supposed to react when your soft cheek is smushed against his leg? 

All Walker knows to do during the rest of the movie is to breathe, and stay deathly still, not even breathing too hard. By the time the movie is over, he can't feel his legs, his bladder is about to burst, and he feels a migraine starting to manifest in his head. One by one, the team filters out of the room, until just the two of you and Ava are left. She sits up slowly standing up and looking at Walker, then you, then back to Walker, she just snorts and walks away, mumbling something about him being whipped.  

And maybe he is whipped, maybe, for the first time in a long time, Walker wants someone. Olivia was his first, his high school sweetheart, the girl he asked to prom, she's all he's ever known. But they're divorced, separated, no longer together, so why does he feel guilty for wanting you? Why does he feel that pit in his stomach that seems to swallow the butterflies whenever you laugh? Has he forgotten what it feels like to yearn after someone? To want something so bad you'd kill for it? You’d give up everything just to see them happy? Is that why he feels guilty? 

The realization has his heart in his throat, because, no, it's not that. It's not that he feels guilty for moving on, he feels guilty for loving you. Loving someone so seemingly pure and soft, someone who looks like they’d belong in an ancient painting found in the Sistine Chapel, or someone who was carved straight out of stone, soft curves adorning the cold clay. He couldn't do that to you, not when he's so... him.  

Sharp and calculated, eyes that could kill someone, moving with a purpose, goal driven, he is whatever you need him to be, but he's terrified he wouldn't be able to fill those shoes for you, wouldn't be able to conform to whatever box you want him in.  

If only he knew you'd take him as he is, no conforming necessary.  

What you will never know, is that Ava came back out to offer to wake you up. 

“She'd be a bitch to me, but at least you could go piss.” 

“I'm fine, A, go to bed,” 

“You sure? She seems like she's making your bloody legs fall asleep—” 

“Said I'm fine, now go, she's fine right here,” 

‘Here’ would be on his thigh, the fat of your cheek pressed against the soft material of his sweatpants. The warmth of your skin radiating through the fabric. 

You twitch a little before blinking a few times, trying to gain your bearings. You slowly look around, trying to see into the dark living room, the slight glow of the tv giving you a light. 

“G’mornin’ Ms. I Promise to Stay Awake,” 

You turn your head, eyes trailing up the leg you were just asleep on, until they land on the blue irises of Walker, his eyebrow raised. 

“How long has it been over?” 

“Three hours, give or take,” 

You blink more, opening your eyes further as you push yourself off him, much to his hidden chagrin. You spot his phone, nodding to it, “Least you had your phone,” 

“It died an hour ago,” 

“oh,” 

You look at him, then his phone, then his legs, his right pant leg now bearing a small patch of drool, “You could've woken me up,” 

He shrugs, “Didn't see the point,” 

“Maybe in going to bed? Getting a phone charger? Pissing?” 

“And have to deal with Her Royal Bitchiness? I don't think so,” 

“Asshole,” 

He smiles softly at you, watching your tired eyes land on his again, silently pleading for something. His hand rubs up your arm, “My floor?” 

You nod sheepishly, “Please?” 

Walker doesn't say another word, letting you sit up more as he grabs the blanket, folding it and tossing it onto the couch before standing up.  

Your world tilts as you’re lifted, you give a surprised yelp, looking up at him, feeling the familiar strong arms hooked under your knees and behind your back. “Why are you carrying me?” 

Walker gives an exhausted sigh, “Because it's easier than waiting around for your slow ass to stumble up four flights of stairs,” 

Can't argue with that logic. You lean into his shoulder, looking up at his side profile. He looks like something Michelangelo would create. His sharp jawline, partially hidden by his beard, but the coarse hair making him bear the look of a soldier. The crooked line of his nose, like he broke it when he was younger and the cartilage never quite healed right. The deep-set blue eyes that are adorned with unfairly good lashes. The soft plush of his lips that look so fucking kissable— 

“You’re staring, honey,” 

You blink at him, a small tinge of red covering your face, but you note the same shade coloring the tips of his ears,  

“You’re handsome,” 

Do you want his knees to give out? 

Walker nearly drops you, trying to cover the momentary loss of control over the situation with a cough and schooling his expression, “Yeah... I know,” 

You shake your head. Still half asleep, “No, I mean like— you look like you could be a statue,”  

Walker freezes as your index finger comes up to trace along his nose bridge, then the line of his lips, then his jaw.  

“You think?” God, he hates how insecure he sounds when he asks the question. But you're happy to oblige, “Yeah... Yeah I do.” 

Its silent the rest of the way to his floor, he doesn't drop you, doesn't act like it's a burden to carry you up four flights of stairs and down the hall to his room. He just quietly lays you down before shuffling to his bathroom.  

The door clicks shut behind him and he leans against it, trying to get his heart rate under control, dammit come on, don't be such a pussy, she's just a girl. Oh, who is he kidding? You’re a woman, a fine ass woman who just called him handsome, you look like a woman. All soft curves, plush thighs, the way they look in shorts is just divine something he could worship.  

He glances down at the problem in his sweatpants, fuck, now he's gotta deal with a semi and sleep next to you when you just called him handsome like it wasn't a big deal, like it wasn't the best compliment he's gotten since Olivia.  

After he uses the bathroom, he feels a little better, still pent up, still sporting a half-hard tent in his pants, but it's fine, he’ll just shove a pillow between you two. 

Except, when he walks out of the bathroom, he finds you, flat on your stomach, sprawled across his mattress like you own it. Your cute face squished against the pillow; your arms tucked under it.  

He shakes his head, grabbing your ankle and shoving it towards your other one, “My bed, honey, in case you forgot,” 

You don't properly respond, giving a half-hearted “Mmph,” before reaching blindly for him. He’d be lying if he said he couldn't imagine life without those soft hands finding his arm, then his chest, before your cheek is smushed against his pectoral, your lashes laying against your face. He stares at you, his free hand coming up to cup your face, “So pretty,” 

His breath fans across your face, you blink open your eyes, “Yeah?” 

He doesn't hesitate before nodding, “Yeah, honey, you're very pretty, beautiful even.” 

Even half asleep, you still feel butterflies in your stomach as his arm curls around you, splaying on your back to keep you pulled into his side. You lean up, your nose brushing against his, an inch away from this becoming more than just sleeping next to each other.  

“Honey...” 

It sounds like a warning, maybe to proceed with caution, maybe to not do this, to back away now. However he meant it is lost on you, your lips brushing against his as you close the last inch.  

And holy shit is the breach worth it. His lips are soft, plush even, tasting more salty than sweet. He’s so gentle with the way he kisses you, like you may break... like he may break. His thumb brushes across your cheek as you move towards him a little more, until you’re halfway on him, leg hitched over his abdomen.  

Walker pushes your face away, looking up at you, “Honey... we shouldn't, you shouldn't—” He pauses, almost holding his breath, before he continues, “I'm not what you need in your life, I can't be that.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, sitting up a little more, your hair falling into your face, he tucks the strand behind your ear, “How do you know?” 

“Because you need someone steady, someone not so fucked up, someone who deserves you.” 

His words are raw, insecurity seeping into them, inevitable as the sun will come up tomorrow. He searches your eyes, looking for an answer, 

“I don't want someone steady, I—I want this, Walker, I want someone easy to be around—” 

“I'm not easy to be around, honey, I'm an asshole—” 

“An asshole I can joke with, someone I can be myself around, you don't care that I'm sensitive or take things to heart, or that I talk during movies, or that I chew loudly, you don't give a shit about the times I've woken up screaming in your arms because I'm haunted by my past, because if you did, you would have turned me down by now, you would have locked your doors, or pushed me away, but you haven't, you haven't pushed me away yet. If you wanted me to want someone that isn't you, you should have pushed me away a long time ago.” 

He stares up at you, speechless, blue irises searching yours, looking for a lie, looking for the hatred he's so used to seeing. His reality is crumbling, he can't love you, he just can't, he's not supposed to get the girl, he's not supposed to be happy in the end. He’s supposed to suffer alone, pay for his deeds, for the shit he's done for the people he's hurt.  

But here you are, offering him love for free, no exchange, nothing in return, just your affection poured out onto him. He feels a sad grin pull at his lips, “I don’t want you to want someone else.”  

You smile back, eyes flitting down to his lips before they look back into his eyes, “Good. Because I don't want anyone other than you.” 

This time, his lips meet yours, the hand on your back sliding up into your hair. He slowly and gently rolls you onto your back, his other hand sliding up your shirt, not going further than your rib cage, simply resting his palm against your skin, like he needs to feel you.  

The kiss devolves, turning slightly messy as his tongue moves into your mouth, you can taste the salt in his saliva, the way his hand tightens a little in your hair. You let out a soft noise against his mouth that he swallows happily, showing you just how much he's wanted this.  

You can feel sleep tugging at your mind as you blink your eyes open, sunlight streaming through the windows of Walker’s room. You groan, stretching out under the dark comforter, the soft, familiar fabric of his shirt clinging to your torso. You shift a little more, feeling a dull ache between your legs.  

Memories of him holding you close while whispering praise in your ear as he fucked into you fill your head, making your cheeks heat up. In your sleepy haze, though, you don't mind the hickeys littering your neck and thighs, the way the ache seems to blossom as you sit up, almost like you can still feel him filling you.  

You pad out to his kitchen, eyes landing on the shirtless super soldier, hovering over a pan on the stove. You look over the scars and stretch marks littering his skin, the latter present due to the serum making his muscles grow too quick for his body to keep up. Without much thought, you walk up until you can press your lips onto the soft skin between his shoulder blades, freckled complexion adorned with red marks down it.  

“G’mornin’”  

You smile at the rough tone of his voice, barely used today, “Morning,” 

As he turns around you smile wider up at him, his hands sliding up the hem of your (his) shirt,  

“So... Safe to assume this isn't professional anymore?” 

“I don't think it ever was, Walker.”  

[karikitdemonrp]

//*cracks fingers* right, this one's gonna be a long one I already know.

Kagome smiled at Inuyasha with a kind expression, chuckling softly at his words. "Yea, we've handled much worse." She repeated and looked at Kari and Shippo. "You two stay close and out of trouble. et Inuyasha and I handle a majority of the work, okay?"

Kari puffed out her cheeks. "Fine, but I'm gonna jump in with my barriers if I have to." She huffed, Kagome was about to say something but stopped herself, seeing that familiar look in Kari's eyes. A protective glare that was very similar to a certain half demon companion. Kagome sighed and nodded.

"Fine, but if push comes to shove and either I or Inuyasha tell you to run, you run. Got it?"

"But--!"

"Don't worry Kagome, I'll make sure she runs!" Shippo spoke up and Kari glared at the fox.

"No you won't!" Kari snapped at Shippo.

"Yes I will!" The two bickered a bit while they followed the group, eventually going silent when entering the darker part of the forest again. Shippo held up a flickering fox fire while Kari clung to Inuyasha's haori just like last time. However, she had left Tsuki, her rabbit plushie, in her bad. Knowing they were going to face a demon, Kari decided she didn't want to risk damaging Tsuki anymore than she already was. "You doin' okay, Kari?"

"Yeh..." Kari muttered, though her body language showed she was still tense. "Do we have any other ideas about this demon aside that it's just a demon tree?"

Kagome glanced over her shoulder. "Not exactly."

"So we're going in blind?" Kari tensed a bit more, her hair noticeably bristling.

Kagome chuckled. "Well, yes but it's fine. We've gotten into plenty of battles with next to no knowledge of out opponent. I mean, we've fought a whole lot of demons and we're still standing. But we also didn't have you around so we have a bit of extra help." Kari blinked slightly in shock and gave a soft hum. "Ah, almost there, I can see a group of dead trees." Kagome called and Kari perked up, her grip on Inuyasha's haori tightening a bit. Shippo gulped, getting on the defensive just in case. As they approached a slight clearing, Kagome took her bow in her hands and loaded an arrow but didn't pull the string yet. Shippo ushered Kari off to the side to try and keep a safe distance as a single living camellia tree came into view with a woman sitting under the branches. This woman had darn brown hair and her skin was oddly pale despite her pink cheeks. Her eyes were closed and she wore a pink kimono, with a silver sash and green hems. Around this woman were bones of long dead humans, animals, and even demons.

Upon further inspection, dead bodies hung from the branches dripping blood onto the roots of the tree like a drizzling rain. Just enough to notice it was there. Kagome narrowed her eyes a bit, sensing the jewel sard in the tree but skeptical of the woman. Before the teenager could speak, the woman opened her eyes to reveal that they were a piercing, vibrant pink with white pupils. The woman's gaze landed on the group and she gave a hum, looking over each individual of the group. First Kagome, then Inuyasha, next Shippo, until finally stopping on Kari only lingering slightly longer.

"Another group sent to either kill me or quell my rage?" Her voice was almost regal, holding an authoritative and elegant tone. "How foolish. So many have been sent my way, only to die." The woman gestured to the bodies in the branches and the bones on the ground. "I am Ayame, the camellia tree fed by blood. If you value your lives I suggest you turn back now." She huffed, standing up only to sway to the side as an arrow flew past her face. Ayame glared at Kagome and grumbled in annoyance. "I was hoping to save my strength after sensing a tainted god--" Kari blinked, remembering that phrase from those tiny imp demons back near Kaede's village, but she said nothing. "--wanting a taste of immortality and endless strength! But very well!"

A root rose from the ground, moving to whack Kagome but thankfully the teenager side stepped quickly to avoid getting hit, though just barely. Kagome kept on the move, doing her best to dodge any hits while keeping an eye on Kari and Shippo in her peripheral, just wanting to be sure the two children were safe. Kagome looked a bit on edge after knowing that this demon sensed Kari earlier but thankfully the seal was hiding the child's true nature right now so she wasn't in any danger. Kagome readied and shot another arrow, but this time it was at the tree and not Ayame. However, a root shot up and blocked the hit. Kagome smirked, having confirmed her suspicions. "It's kinda like Yura of the demon hair!" She called out. "The woman is a fake! Aim for the tree!" With that knowledge spilled, Ayame grew enraged, moving to attack Kagome quickly, sending the teen flying into one of the many surrounding dead trees. Kagome was down and struggling to get up from the pain now surging through her back. A root now towered Kagome, about to crush the teen if she didn't move out of the way. But Kagome was still a bit dazed from the hit and wasn't moving.

Kari watched from the side lines, feeling her heart racing as she watched the scene unfold. She couldn't sit by while she watched Kagome being thrown around. But all the child could do was make barriers and heal herself a bit faster than normal. As this went on and Kagome got sent flying, something began to surge within the child. Her thoughts racing while her symbols started to flicker weakly at first almost like a heart beat, then the glowing got brighter and brighter until it was no longer flickering and Kari's scent and aura changed, no longer any hint of a human scent to her. Not long after that Kari was gone with a gust of wind, barely a blur. She appeared again, skidding to a stop not far past Kagome, having run in a split second from where she was to Kagome, and apparently overshot where she wanted to stop. Kari's eyes looked a bit different now upon closer inspection, specifically her pupils. What were once normal-human looking circular shaped pupils became more oval shaped, now constricted into slits much like a fox. Not only that but even though her body was in the shade her eyes gave a slight glow. The child, now on her side from skidding to a stop, scrambled to face towards Kagome, holding out a hand towards the young priestess. A translucent silver barrier formed just intime to protect the priestess from being crushed to death. However, Kari looked to be in pain. Her eyes scanning everything quickly and her eyes squinting as if the sun were blinding her, though the sun was practically set by now so it wasn't possible for that.

"Ugh... M-my head is killing me all of a sudden." Kari groaned, eventually doubling over and nearly vomiting but managing to hold it down. She tried to stand, but her legs felt like limp noodles, probably because of that insane speed she just ran at. In this moment, while Kari and Kagome were getting their bearings, Ayame's attention went to Kari. A wide, eerie smile spreading across the woman's face. A root shot up from under Kari as she was still recovering from what just happened, causing the child to yelp in pain from the tight grip and surprise from the sudden grasp.

"Tricky child, hiding yourself like that." Ayame hummed, voice dripping like a thick tar. "But your stupid attachments just showed me what you are." Ayame approached the entangled Kari, looking the child over. Kagome, having finally gotten her bearings, stood up and aimed to shoot another arrow at the demon but the barrier was still up. Kari was still feeling a sense of adrenaline and had accidentally trapped the priestess in place with no way to attack or run. Shippo swallowed hard and rushed in, moving to bite Ayame so she would focus on him instead but he was swiftly swatted away and pinned down with a root. "Honestly I was expecting more from a tainted god like you, yet... You were so easy to catch. Then again, you appear to be a child which I guess is fortunate for me."

Kari widened her eyes a bit in confusion. "Wh...What are you getting at lady?" The child huffed, still feeling a throbbing pain in her head, like her brain was going to explode at any minute. The squeezing from the root didn't help anything either, just more pain to add to the pile.

Ayame blinked, looking Kari over only to start chuckling. "Wait, you mean to tell me you have no idea what you are?!"

Kari blinked. "I'm human." The child stated as if it were obvious, though with a slight hiss to her voice from excruciating pain. Ayame's smirk grew more fiendishly amused.

"Oh, this is adorable. A young tainted god that has no idea what it is." Another laugh "Put the pieces together little one." Ayame leaned in a bit. "Humans can't exactly run like that and survive. Yet, you still breath." Kari felt her blood run cold, a heavy pit forming in her stomach as she began to think a bit. Kagome was now banging on the barrier, unable to get free while Shippo squirmed rapidly in his bindings.

"SHUT UP!! STOP TALKI---MMPH!" Shippo's mouth was swiftly covered by roots as Ayame kept talking.

"That should keep him quiet." The demon huffed then moved her attention back to Kari. "It looks like you're starting to get it." Ayame's voice lowered slightly. "You are NOT a human. You're a tainted god. A being that shouldn't exist. The product of a god and a demon." Ayame straightened herself yet her gaze stayed on Kari who looked to be on the verge of tears, clearly breaking from all this information. "An ABOMINATION that should never have been born." The child tensed, feeling her heart squeeze in pain, as if she had just gotten stabbed or her own heart ripped from her body. "Yet, I'm glad you do. Your blood is rumored to give endless strength while your body gives immortality upon consumption. So," The root holding Kari rose into the air, winding up to smash the child into the ground. "I'm gonna mash you into a bloody pulp, a sort of tainted god slurry so you can nourish my roots." As the root rose, Kari's hair moved and showed the child's face.

Kari was terrified but she also looked so defeated. Her eyes slightly wide with a faint fear yet there was mostly this sense that she was giving up, not entirely but she had certainly been rattled by this news. Kari's eyes looked around, her symbols still shinning bright as she looked at Kagome and Shippo, tears forming but not falling. Then her eyes landed on Inuyasha. She felt guilty somehow. She had gotten so close, yet here she was, about to be mashed into a pulp to feed some stupid demon tree. She couldn't see what his expression was, the tears in her eyes were making her vision blurry, that and her headache was causing her problems too. Kari gulped, trying to figure out what to say as what she felt like were going to be her last words.

"I..." Kari's voice shivered a bit as she spoke. Eventually the child spoke up, louder, almost screaming this time with eyes closed tight and tears being forced down her cheeks. "I DON'T WANNA DIE YET!" The child wailed, now trying to wriggle free. Ayame laughed at the futile attempt, tightening the root's grip on the child, but Kari kept going, kept squirming, kept fighting to survive. She had so many questions and sure she was still feeling a void in her chest at this news but danm it she JUST started to feel like she belonged somewhere and she was not gonna give that up yet. She was hurting in more ways than one, yet she persisted.

Inuyasha rolled his eyes a little at Kagome’s “mature” comment, but there was a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth all the same.

“Tch. ‘Course I’m mature,” he muttered, crossing his arms again. “I’ve had to grow up like three times already—once as a kid, once when I met you, and now again because we got another runt running around.”

He glanced toward Kari just as she cupped the butterfly in her little sphere and then let it go, and his ears flicked slightly. Yeah she had a good heart. Even when she didn’t fully understand everything that was happening to her—or inside her—she still looked out for others first. Reminded him of someone else he knew, honestly. Someone with a bow and a heart too big for her own good.

When Kagome started talking about her own burdens—being a reincarnation, the jewel, all of that—Inuyasha’s expression softened a little, though his voice stayed gruff. “Yeah, and you got through it. Didn’t mean it wasn’t heavy, but you figured it out. She will too. We just gotta be there when the weight gets too much.” He listened to her talk about Akimitsu and the risk of things getting spilled, and while she seemed overwhelmed, he didn’t look rattled.

“Yeah, it’s confusing,” he admitted. “But if we waste time worrying about when to tell her, we’re gonna miss the right time. She’s a sharp kid. So when it feels right, we say it. Not sooner. Not later. Just… when it matters.”

He stood up when Kagome did, adjusting Tessaiga on his back, and turned toward Kari and Shippo. “Tree demon or not, we’ve handled worse,” he said, loud enough for them all to hear. “Just stay close, and we’ll be back before you even get to finish that lollypop.”

[ckret2]

tonight's topic is: applying a fanfic trope to a character totally unsuited for it, and then persuading y'all to buy it

the trope: hanahaki disease! for the uninitiated: it's a fictional disease where someone whose love is unrequited or unconfessed starts growing flowers in their lungs and coughing them up. It's a metaphor for How Beautiful Love Is Yet How Painful When Unfulfilled.

i feel like that kind of bullshit would happen to aku.

not even because it's unrequited. i just think that's how his body would react to falling in love.

(yes this post is an excuse to draw an extremely pretty, miserable aku. please look at my flowers i worked so hard. now here's the part of the post where I talk y'all into agreeing with this headcanon.)

(side note that's irrelevant to the rest of this post: tbh I personally don't like the spin where hanahaki disease is due to UNREQUITED love. that makes it, like, the OTHER PERSON'S fault they're sick. "You've gotta reciprocate their crush or they'll DIE."

I prefer it when the flower barf is due to denied love—bury it deep inside but don't move on, refuse to confess yet refuse to let it go, hope the flowers & truth won't burst from your mouth in front of the person you're trying hardest to hide it from. yeah, some may hide their feelings because they're unrequited, but that isn't what twists love into a disease: it's the act of swallowing it down.)

but that's neither here nor there!

Usually, I'm in the Love Is Not Good, It's Morally Neutral camp; but just this once for the sake of having fun with this headcanon we'll say love is Inherently Good, okay?

Aku is two things: 1) a tree, and 2) ontologically evil.

Being evil, and playing in a universe where we've decided for a minute that Love Is Good, love doesn't come naturally/easily to him. like, he can feel it—but it hurts. He was not meant for this, it's unnatural to him. having love inside him is like a cancer—it's something malignant that grew out of control, far larger than it was supposed to, taking over the body.

And being a tree—well... flowers are trees' reproductive organs.

So he falls in love and suddenly he's coughing up flower-covered vines and keeps having to yank them out. Like Hexxus sprouting plants.

Tumorous blossoms in direct proportion to this cancerous emotion. The more the flowers grow the more the vines wriggle into his mind, twisting his thoughts, poisoning him with deeper infatuation, making it harder and harder to focus on anything but whoever he's obsessed with. The deeper he's dragged down into love the more flowers bloom out of him. It's a vicious cycle.

And now he's gotta hide it, and avoid the hell out of whoever he's crushing on. Because he can't let people know he's ill & weakened. And he DEFINITELY can't let his beloved know because if they find out he's in love, and reciprocate... Well, for a normal character with normal hanahaki disease, the beloved finding out and/or reciprocating would be the cure. For something that shouldn't be in love in the first place, reciprocation would make things much, much worse.

... but wouldn't it be wonderful? (cue the sound of hacking up half a rose bush) sorry, that was the flowers speaking.

Every once in a while my acearo ass wants a "but what if love itself is the horror story?" idea and this is one of 'em.

but I doubt I'll actually write anything with this, because as I conceive of it, there's only a few ways it can end:

Good (Boring) Ending: Aku's health is restored because he falls OUT of love; might involve actual magic to kill his emotions, might involve shoving his loved one away.

Neutral Ending: Aku stays in love and just keeps getting worse and even if it doesn't kill him now he's miserable all the time, so like, nothing really changes. There are better avenues to explore "but what if we gave the villain a chronic disease?" than fucking hanahaki of all things.

Fluffy Bad Ending: the disease—or else some magic meant to accommodate the disease—transforms Aku into something (probably something "good") that CAN handle love. And that might be the sweet happily-ever-after ending but I consider it a bad ending because Aku being evil is the point, and he doesn't want to be good, and if the power of love turns him good/if he's forced to change who he is for love… well, I just don't enjoy that unless it's presented as a bad end. Even if it's "but it turned a villain good!" Especially if it's "but it turned a villain good," because I'm not too keen on "forcing somebody to change their fundamental nature is a good thing as long as it's for the right reasons."

Sexy Bad Ending: the vines fully take over Aku's brain and resculpt his mind to get what they want and like,, whoever he is he's not really Aku anymore; but now instead of trying to shove his loved one away to protect himself he's ALL OVER them with the desperation of a starving wolf on a dead deer, sooo I guess the two of them are something like 'happy' now?? Assuming the beloved is interested in this new ravenously besotted Aku-shaped creature that's replaced the real/original Aku?? this is probably the ending for people into hypno but it ends with you not really having Aku as a character anymore.

I don't currently feel like writing a brainwashing bad end—interesting to think about, but not enough to commit that much time & words to—and the other two endings aren't terribly interesting. So I'm not planning to do anything with this idea.

Except make you think about it, too.

(If anybody wants to play with this idea, you have my full permission, just tell me about it and/or show me when u post it because i wanna see)

[ni-ki4luvs]

WAIT, ITS NOT JUST FANSERVISE??

N.R X READER CH.1 [NEXT]

Disc. When Ni-Ki and users managers decide to put you both in a celebrity dating show to promote the collab comeback between enhypen and you- a soloist, it starts to feel a little to real for just basic fanservice but after filming ends will Ni-ki and user decide to part ways or will they end up actualy falling for each other??

Warnings- this is my first fic and it's probably not going to be the most accurate depiction of dating in the idol industry lolol

This is a series, so please wait for the chapters. There will be a combination of writing and social media posts/ texts.

You were doing some solo dance practice to prepare for the duet comeback with Enhypen being a soloist, you felt as if you needed to prove yourself still, until one of the staff paused your music and began to speak, making you stop your dancing.

“Hey girl, uh, your manager needs to see you in his office, it's about the comeback or something”, she mumbled almost nervously, which made your stomach churn slightly.

“Uh yeah thank you for telling me unnie” you smiled and pranced off to your managers office only to be met with the makne of enhypen- the group you were collaberating with, and their manager, you looked to the boy who seemed just as confused as you were, you sat in the chair beside him awkwardly as you had only met once when jungwon introduced you too, you were assuming this suprise meeting was about starting to record the comeback and since you two were the same age- Ni-ki only being about 2 months older then you, you would be doing most of the duets in the music videos.

“Hello, sir. What is this about?” you eventually speak up since the two managers had been conversing and practically ignoring you and the tall boy beside you.

“Ah yes!! Ni-ki, [User], you both have been invited to join a TV show that will help promote the comeback!! And it will bring you both great publicity,” your manager speaks in an overexcited tone that made you and Niki both cringe at the volume change.

“And what exactly is this TV show?” Ni-ki speaks up for the first time since you got here

Enhypen's manager smiles and responds

“An Idol dating show!!” Both your and Niki’s jaws dropped

“Like us dating??” Ni-ki asked, instantly turning blushed

“We don't even know each other!!” you exclaimed, cheeks equally as pink, both of your managers sensed the shock coming from both of you

“That's the point, guys, if we advertise a potential relationship between you guys, it will get more publicity for the comeback!!” Enhypen's manager speaks up, and you and Ni-ki glance at each other but look away quickly. Ni-ki's heart is pounding out of his chest.t As soon as his hyungs met you, they immediately started betting that Ni-ki would think that you were cute, and unluckily, they were right, but he didn't think he would have to

do anything about it!! You, on the other hand, were more confused. Wouldn't this cause a lot of controversy

“I'll do it.” Ni-ki mumbled then spoke clearly to continue, “I mean it's only to push the comeback, and well, just have to pretend, then after everything will be normal again. It'll probably all be scripted anyway.” You nodded along with his statement

“Hm yeah Ni-kis right ill do it too!!” you smiled and your magers clapped excitedly and immediately handed both of you stacks of paper with all of the details

“Perfect we will start with a social media post to promote the show, filming will start in four days and you two will live togather for 2 weeks, filming will happen everyday there will be many challenges and dates to REALLY up the fanservice!!” your manger explained already calling up the director of the show. You and ni-ki sat there awkwardly listening to your managers yap with the director about your and ni-ki's commitment to the show

“Oh you two can go look out for the promo post tonight ph and go to the address on the first paper on monday at 8 AM for the first meeting!!” your manager whisper yells to you both before you and ni-ki nod and walk out of the room glancing over at eachother bowing slightly and awkwardly walking separate ways

Later that night with a facemask platered on your face you checked your twitter to see the statement posted about the show by ENHYPENs official account, HYBEs account and retweeted by your manager the information was seeming to be well reserved, fans already creating ship accounts for the two of you, you knew this whole ordeal was going to be awkward but seeing the excitement from fans made you feel a bit better about looking forward to it I mean who wouldn't want to have to date a cute guy.

for the next 3 days you mentally prepared and physically of course making sure to keep up with your skincare and practicing dance and vocals so you didn't fall behind before the comeback as the start of the show creeped closer the more nervous you became but finally on the first day of filming actually arriving to the studio and meeting the producers and crew the nervousness left your body, whats weird is the fact you hadn't seen ni-ki

[MASTERLIST]

[offdxty]

Part of Kane, not-Kane, it, is still very much aware of he fact that this - the closeness between them - isn't exactly something that's happening between two men in such a casual way. ---At least not often, and without... other context involved. The same goes for two women. A man and a woman, even. At least that's what Kane thinks, is familiar with, feels that it's... correct, somewhere within himself.

And yet he makes no move to shift away, to try and get distance between them; He enjoys it instead, the intimacy, the care he receives from the other - those arms that curl back around him once that hand has fallen away from his cheek, the way Arthur looks him over---

Arthur. Not Harrow, not. Dr. Harrow, not Doctor - just Arthur.

"...I like it." A hum, a statement, but soft in nature. "Arthur." As if to test what it feels like to speak that name out loud, let it roll over a sore tongue a bit too slow, "...---You look like an Arthur to me. It fits you."

Just like the other had said something similar before - that Kane suits him, that he has... earned it, just like that.

It hits somewhere deep, settles there, and Kane blinks before he swallows, deciding to allow his head to sink and rest against the shape of the other man's shoulder - his cheek is coming in contact with it, nose almost touching Arthur's throat but not quite, a gaze growing even heavier than it had before---

You can sleep on me, the man offers - as if being able to read his concerns in just the same way as Kane had read the other's thoughts... unbeknownst to him, that is.

It prompts a brief smile onto full lips, one that only stays for a second and a half, then fades again.

I'll be here when you wake up, I promise.

"...I'm not sure if I've earned it. The name." A whisper, deeply emotional in nature, a bit unsteady - telling of how much it affects Kane, what Arthur had said before. Not necessarily in a negative way, no, not at all - but rather in a... general way? No, that's also not quite true.

Good doesn't fit either. It's just... very emotional, yes - his voice carrying that truth with every syllable that leaves his mouth, a pair of eyes finally falling closed, unable to remain open for any longer.

"But I like to think... that he was okay with giving it to me. He was... he was okay with me existing, more than I expected him to, when thinking back to it. He... was scared when I appeared, yes, but he wasn't... --he wasn't trying to fight me, and he begun to talk to me."

A swallow, brows furrowing a little as the seconds pass - as something primal and natural begins to take claim of Kane, wraps its dark fingers around his existence, his mind. He knows he's about to fall asleep, exhaustion taking its toll; Arthur being so comfortable, warm and kind, is only speeding up the process on top of it... and Kane surely won't complain.

"...Maybe..." Barely there anymore, but Kane seems to want to get the words out before he grows too tired to do such, before he's unable to keep in control of his tongue any longer. "...Maybe he was okay... with me having the name. Like he was... ---like he was okay with me having his face. His... body. That security guard said I'm wearing it like a badge - the face of a good man..."

It still stings, a little bit.

"...But maybe that's okay... ---Maybe it's okay for me to have his face, to be called Kane. He was okay with me being there, so... maybe I can... honor him, or something... by continuing to live on. By carrying his name."

A breath, a voice growing even heavier, almost a drawl at this point as Kane goes on, clings to his consciousness.

"---He was so strong. A soldier. I'm... a little proud that I got to meet him, and that the shimmer chose for me to be him."

"I don't think... that many... get to have it. The... honor."

One more breath, and silence begins to stretch. Kane's body softens even further, and he's resting a little awkwardly against the other - with his arm still being somewhat-curled around Arthur's back while Kane's head rests on his shoulder...

And yet Kane feels more comfortable than he ever has in his entire, short life.

I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.

Arthur hummed, though he again didn’t say anything. He liked hearing the words - he liked hearing that Kane liked his name. He liked hearing that Kane felt better, that everything was helping; it made him feel good, deep down.

It was a sense of warmth that bled through the cotton in his mind, a form of self comfort just in knowing that Kane was feeling better. 

... He liked the way Kane tilted his hand into the touch, like he liked it being there. Like he wanted it to stay - and so it did. Arthur left his hand, gently tracing it over Kane’s cheek, soft and caring. 

HIs thumb continued to stroke once, gently, tracing over Kane’s face. Beneath his eye, over his cheekbone - and then he let his hand pull back, resting both arms around the other man, again just holding him carefully. 

“Kane suits you,” Arthur said at last, his voice quiet but certain. “There’s something strong in it. Something I think you’ve earned.” 'Kane' belonged to the man in front of him, now - not the second Kane, not the after-Kane. Just Kane.

The other could be the alternate, now. This one was the true one. 

He was to Arthur, at least.

There was another soft pause, Arthur letting his gaze fall down to the curve of Kane’s shoulder. The bruises that rested beneath the bandages still took his focus, even in his drugged state of mind; even when Kane did seem genuine in the fact that it wasn’t bothering him as severely. 

“You don’t have to call me Harrow, you know,” he continued, in a gentle whisper. “Not if you don’t want to. My name is Arthur - you can call me that.” 

His voice didn’t falter on that, but there was something strange in how he said his own name. He hadn’t gone by Arthur in a painfully long time - sometimes people at work would use it, but it was seldom allowed.

He didn’t give his name out, the same way he didn’t give his heart out - and yet Kane had gained possession of both. 

Harrow blinked again, carefully, looking back to the other man with him. “… If you’re feeling better, you need to try and sleep,” he delicately said. “I know you don’t want to, I know it’s hard. But he’s not coming back. I’m not going to let him.” 

He still hadn’t tried to separate from the man fully, still comfortable to be sitting next to each other like this. 

“… You can sleep on me,” he offered, next, wondering if Arthur leaving was the concern. “If I move, you’ll know. You’ll wake up. So you won’t miss anything, I’ll be here the whole time you’re sleeping.” It’d be intimate, maybe, but then again so was this - it wasn’t sexual, it wasn’t romantic or taking advantage of someone. 

It was care. Aching, sincere care. “… I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.” 

[shedelulululu]

Hey hey hey! Do you have anymore headcanons with soft big moments for Kingdon? Like their wedding day?

bokuto is that you I mean you can give me a casual suggestion of anything and my brain will spin coming up with headcanons so yeah sure let's talk kingdon wedding

They feel very backyard/garden/small outdoor venue of some kind coded to me

Obviously that means its a decently small wedding, which I think makes sense with Mel not having a lot of family, wanting to make sure her sister isn't overwhelmed and can be a big part of her day too, and like respectfully it's Frank's second wedding

I do think Langdon's irish catholic sorry to all the italian langdon truthers thats just not my ministry parents and grandparents passive aggressively mention they won't attend because its not in a church. Mel is like...........I really don't want to deal with a second location so like can they compromise on a catholic priest as the officiant (they don't want to give in but Frank is like, she's not even religious so like it's that or don't come idc atp, so they do and its FINE they don't die)

I have thought about it long and hard and looked at many dresses and I think this is the kind of dress Mel would pick for her wedding, her two priorities being that she doesn't want to overheat or being swallowed up in fabric, and she didn't want to go short because she didn't want to worry about flashing her underwear. And like I think she'd want something that's like she'll feel beautiful without it being dramatic. I think she has to be pushed by Samira and Becca to go with this dress instead of something even simpler.

I'm putting Frank in a cream linen suit.

I think the dinner is very casual, maybe like Portuguese bbq type thing

There's a small dance floor with twinkling lights overhead and maybe they have a real band for the music? idk something acoustic just feels them to me.

I think at some point we play the worst game of broken telephone where Frank is nervous that she's going to get cold feet and not want to marry him anymore, McKay relays that to Samira who hears that Langdon is getting cold feet, which makes Mel spiral because what do you mean he's getting cold feet, which gets relayed back through too many people so by the time it reaches Langdon he hears that SHE does have cold feet. At some point they seek each other out (without peeking!) and Frank is like "we don't have to do this if you don't want to, I know this is a lot, no pressure" and Mel is like "Are you sure about this or not?" and Frank is like "I could not be more excited to marry you" and Mel is like 😊 "me too" and then he (without looking!) clasps her hand with his, and brings it to his lips to kiss and they laugh about how ridiculous they're being

I think Langdon probably already knew how to ballroom dance, maybe his Mom made him do all that racist etiquette debutante ball shit growing up, and he's like we're good I'll lead and you follow dw about it. and Mel is like, I Am Worrying About It and makes them attend classes.

Mel is like Radiant during their first dance, I am assigning them Crystal Clear by Hayley Williams as their song, because it's beautiful romantic and I think very them (it's on my kingdon playlist) and I personally like it :) He definitely twirls her around a bunch because he's a show off and it makes her giggle. Yes he also dips her and kisses her because again he is a show off.

I don't think they do any other special dances or performances because like that would be way too much time to organize that they don't have

I think Becca and Frank dance together at some point and Frank will never tell Mel what Becca said but it was very sweet about how happy he makes her sister and she's so happy she found someone that she (Becca) doesn't hate, and also typical protectiveness routine

Becca is the only person allowed to give a speech officially, and she does take credit for the entire relationship because she was the one pushing Mel to find someone to kiss on her first day of work and who did she spend the most time with that day !!!!

Samira, Robby, McKay, and Santos all make unofficial speeches but they're sitting down so it doesn't count Mel, they're just speaking loudly Mel, you can't get mad at them because they're talking about how much they love you both Mel (she is crying the entire time which she was trying to avoid) (Frank also cries but he's better at holding it in bc of years of suppressing it, they are nonetheless my sensitive babies) (there's one photo taken of them where they're holding each other and both crying and trying to soothe the other)

I think they're honestly too tired to even fool around by the end of the night !!! the lazy morning sex the day after is fire though !!!! Frank can't stop kissing her ring.

Their honeymoon is in Iceland

[chappellwrites]

Dick Grayson and His Cop Job

This isn't a fic, but this sort of like a rant? It's just something I've been seeing lately that has been upsetting me(not actually upsetting just annoying) where people say Duke hated Dick because he was a cop or that all his siblings trash on him because of his job as a cop. Dick wasn't a cop for the fun of it. He was a cop to try and reform the police force because he wanted to make it better. He was undercover. It was not an actual job. Not to mention, the person who wrote his arc as a police officer was Devin Grayson, who put him a position as a police officer when this was the SAME comic where he was written as Romani(albeit stereotypically). It was cop propaganda. Plus, the comic was written almost 20 years ago. Not only did Duke not even exist as a concept then, but Damian didn't either. Jason was still dead then since Devin wrote the comic in 2002, and Jason didn’t come back as Red Hood till 2005.

If you're going to make Duke hate Dick(which I'll dive deeper on in a moment), make him hate Dick for the fact the guy left him on a building(when Dick knew he had a fear of heights) and had him arrested. He knew Duke had a fear of heights and deliberately took him to a tall building so he couldn't get away. I feel like this was sort of crappy writing on Dicks part(since i feel like he would never do that), but at the same time it sort of does make sense because the reason he got Duke arrested was to keep Duke safe(even if he did it in a very wrong way.) Dick was very fond of Duke, and while Duke understood that Dick did what hw did, he had EVERY RIGHT to be pissed at the man who he considered an idol. Dick literally created Robin. Duke and his friends have every right to be mad at him since the man they looked up to(with the whole We Are Robin stuff) HAD THEM ARRESTED. The thing is, I think Duke and Dick could get along really well with how similar their characters are, but nobody ever has them interact. Duke either a) doesn't exist to them or b) they say Duke hates Dick and throws him off to the side. I'm just sort of sick of it because it sort of reminds me of the 'Jason is the mean Robin' or 'Tim is the genius Robin' stuff. I really want to see more interactions between the two in fics and whatnot. I want to see Dick apologize for what he did and see the two interact and get close. This is another reason I hate WFA. If you like it, that's fine. I just can't stand all the mischaracteriztion, especially of Duke. They make him seem shy and timid when that is the EXACT OPPOSITE OF HIS ACTUAL CHARACTER! Duke is not shy! He is loud and does not let people boss him around!

This is one of the reasons I can't stand most of the batfamily fandom. They mischaracterize everyone and stereotype them. They don't include the deep dynamics that they all have and instead water them down. I would love to write some Duke and Dick stuff, but I feel like I wouldn't do Duke justice since I don't know him that well as a character. I'd rather just leave him for someone who actually knows the depths of his character rather than take him, water him down, and just toss him into the Batfamily as a 'shy, timid new guy'.

[bwoahtastic]

Enjoy this 1k ramble that I wrote because I wanted Oscar to sit on Max's lap xoxo

Oscar clung to Lando's arm as the older Omega dragged him down to the harbor, chatting amicably to the dark haired Alpha walking with them. 

“Lando.” Oscar hissed, trying to get his attention. “Lando I think would rather go home.” He murmured in his friend's ear. His feet were aching in the shoes Lando had picked for him, and he felt increasingly more uncomfortable about how low Lando had unbuttoned the blush pink linen shirt he had borrowed Oscar. He had seen the dark haired Alpha glance at all the skin on show and had since tried to hold the fabric closed with the hand that wasn't desperately holding onto his friend. Lando turned to him, already pouting.

“We don't have to stay long! I know Max quite well, I just want to say hi to him and Charles.” Lando told him. “We'll go home right after, I promise.” He added, holding out his hand to pinky promise Oscar. Oscar sighed. 

“Just a quick visit then.” He murmured, also really not wanting to leave his friend alone. Lando grinned and slung an arm over his shoulders, pressing a messy kiss to his cheek. 

“Thanks Osco!” He purred, making Oscar roll his eyes fondly. The Alpha - was his name Carlos? Oscar vaguely remembered Lando saying his name before - helped them both safely step onto the little ramp leading up into a massive, black yacht. There were plenty of people there already, chatting and dancing and drinking brightly coloured cocktails. Everyone was young and gorgeous and Oscar felt self conscious, seeing some unimpressed looks thrown in his direction.

Lando squeezed his hand as they were led up some stairs to the top deck, where the lounge area was buzzing with happily chatting guests. Lando instantly spotted someone he knew, telling Oscar he would be right back before jumping over some legs to hug a guy standing near the railing. Oscar turned to find Carlos had wandered off as well, leaving Oscar awkwardly hoovering around close to the sofas. He debated sitting down, but all spots seemed taken, as were any spots around the boat where he could lean against something to try and play it cool.

No, Oscar was left standing awkwardly in the centre of the boat, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched uncomfortably.

“You can sit with us, if you'd like.” A voice sounded to his right. A handsome Alpha was sitting on a more secluded lounge area, the sofa partially empty next to him. He had bright blue eyes and plush lips that curled into an easy, gentle smile as Oscar nodded and slipped into the seat next to him.

“Thank you.” Oscar murmured. “I'm Oscar, by the way.” He added, trying not to squirm under the Alpha's curious gaze. 

“Ah yeah, Lando's friend, right? I'm Max.” The Alpha answered. Oh, Max. Lando's very nice friend Max. That was good, if Oscar were to believe Lando. 

“Who's this?” Another Alpha approached the sofa, as pretty and curious as Max. He was carrying two drinks, handing one to Max. He had wide green eyes and messy dark hair held up with a bandana

“This is Oscar, Lando's friend.” Max told him. Before turning to Oscar. “This is Charles, my partner.” 

Ah yes, Charles. Max's very hot Alpha partner. The one Lando said smelled like chocolate.

He didn't lie.

“Nice to meet you, Oscar.” Charles said with a bright grin, before leaning in to kiss Max's cheek and murmuring something that sounded awfully close to ‘I'll find another seat somewhere, baby.’ 

Oscar acutely became aware of the fact that the seat he had take up at Max's side was probably Charles's before, and nos the Alpha had no place to sit next to his Mate anymore.

Oscar jumped up from the seat with wide eyes, grabbing Charles's shoulders and quite frankly manhandling him into the seat instead.

Yes, he just manhandled an Alpha. A pretty Alpha. Whose Mate was watching him with a confused expression now.

“Sorry, I took your seat, didn't I?” Oscar murmured frantically. Charles was staring at him, lips parted into a little ‘o’ shape as Max started to grin next to him, cocking his head to the side as he stared at Oscar with intensity. “I'll go find Lando, or leave or something…” Oscar mumbled awkwardly. 

“You can sit here.” Max told him, leaning back and patting his lap. Now it was Oscar's turn to stare. 

“On your lap?” He huffed, cheeks colouring red. Max shrugged.

“You don't have to. But anyone who can leave Charles speechless is someone I want to get to know.” the alpha replied easily. Oscar turned to Charles, who was indeed still staring at him with wide eyes. Was that shock? Admiration? Oscar wasn't sure.

“I eh.. I guess?” Oscar murmured, supposing it was a better option than awkwardly hanging around near the bathrooms until Lando wanted to leave. He stepped closer and gingerly sat down on Max's thick thighs. “Sorry, I'm probably not the lightest-” he was cut off as Max wrapped an arm around his waist, tugging him closer until Oscar was actually leaning his weight on him and his shoulder was pressed against Max's chest.

“There we go.” Max smiled at the surprised squeak Oscar let out. A big hand moved to Oscar's thigh, keeping him in place. “Are you comfortable, sweetheart?” Max asked more softly, sensing Oscar was still tense. 

“Yeah, just… don't sit on many laps, I guess.” Oscar murmured, ducking his head and looking down on the hand still resting on his thigh. 

“You look good, on his lap.” Charles spoke up, having regained his voice. The Alpha licked his lips, eyes dragging over Oscar. It made Oscar shiver, trying to subtly close his shirt more.

“Are you cold, sweetheart? Here, take this.” Charles fussed instantly, taking a jacket from the backrest of the sofa and wrapping it around Oscar. It smelled like Charles, like dark chocolate, and a bit like Max's more lemon-y scent, too.

“Thanks.” Oscar murmured softly. Max chuckled, gently squeezing Oscar's thigh.

“So shy, like you didn't just manhandle Charles with ease.” He teased. Oscar huffed, wanting to object, but Max stopped him with another squeeze to his leg. “Don't worry, he loved it.” The Alpha added with a wink, leaning in so close his lips almost brushed the shell of Oscar's ear. Oscar swallowed thickly.

“Why don't you stay a bit longer tonight, sweetheart?” Charles smiled. “We are actually going to sail the boat to another harbor, we can have fun.” He added, placing his hand on Oscar's thigh, next to Max's. Oscar let out a soft breath.

And of course, he said yes.