#after some major art block it feels SO GOOD to finally have made something that I look at and am SUPER proud of

[pierswife]

Oh behold your one and only perfect idol!

[sylvan-librarian]

Nissa's Pilgrimage Part I: Worldwaker

Preface: 

Hi there! My name is Steven; I recently wrapped up a master’s degree in library science and am doing my best to segue careers. Since my terminally long job hunt has left me with more down time than I ever wanted to have, I decided to put my English degree to good(?🤷) use by writing a bunch of personal essays on Magic the Gathering, as it is a topic I have been obsessed with for around a decade now. I didn’t intend to share these ramblings at first, and I began this whole project for my own edification, to keep my brain active, and to prevent myself going insane from boredom. However, I thought it couldn’t hurt to throw these online and see what comes of it.

This particular piece is part 1 of ???. I have a lot of notes in my drafts and even more thoughts in my head, so it may just go on indefinitely until someone (finally) gives me a dang job.

TLDR: I’m a deranged MTG Vorthos and former English major with a lot of thoughts and even more time on my hands, so I began a handful of English major-y essays on my pet topics. I’m posting them here for now.

Introduction:

Almost every Magic player who began learning the game after the planeswalker card type was introduced in the Lorwyn expansion in October, 2007 can tell you a story about the first planeswalker card they fell in love with. It might have been because the mechanics on the card melded perfectly with their preferred strategy of play, it might have been because they kept up with the story and were invested in the represented character’s journey, or it might have simply been because they thought the art looked cool.

For whatever reason under Mirrodin’s five suns a Magic player first became attached to a planeswalker and their cards, the character often become symbolic for our love of the game itself. These symbols grow beyond simple loyalty abilities on a piece of cardboard and become inexorably intertwined with our own personal Magic experience.

For me, this planeswalker was Nissa Revane.

You see, in March of 2014, I started working at The Game Closet in Waco, Texas. I had just finished getting a master’s degree in English, so of course, my first job out in the real world was to become a clerk at my local game store (really putting my humanities education to work). Having grown up in a small Louisiana town, I never had a chance to play Magic. I entered the tabletop gaming world through my obsession with Dungeons & Dragons, Shadowrun, and sundry other RPG’s. 

Nevertheless, as Magic players made up the majority of the store’s customer base, I took it upon myself to learn the game. The Theros block was wrapping up at the time with its third set, Journey into Nyx, and a bunch of friendly players were more than happy to unload all of their bulk commons and uncommons to me (Journey into Nyx was famously underpowered, after all), so I tried to make a standard deck out of all this draft chaff and run it at Friday Night Magic. 

It didn’t go too well.

However, I was happy with the overall direction of the deck, and I immediately discovered that I loved green decks, specifically green ramp strategies.

I was enthralled with the idea of accelerating mana so that you can play flashy, intimidating creatures and cool, game warping spells far earlier than you have any right to, so I continued to tweak the deck until I made a functioning version of the Theros Standard Mono Green Devotion deck. Even though I wasn’t good enough at the game in my early days to consistently win (even at the local level), I had a lot of fun with it! It was fast and explosive, but for some reason, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was missing something.

However, not a few months later, the Magic 2015 Core Set gets released, and the chase mythic rare in the set’s early days was exactly the kind of card I was looking for: Nissa, Worldwaker. I had no idea who this Nissa character was supposed to be — though I did think the art looked pretty cool — but I was in awe of the card’s abilities! It was precisely the kind of fuel I felt my standard deck needed at the time, and it turns out I was right! My Magic the Gathering “competitive” “career” begins and ends with a handful of first place rankings at my local game store’s standard FNM events, but as small a victory as those are, nearly all of these top rankings were due to Nissa, Worldwaker. 

Needless to say, I became devoted to the character overnight.

Exploration:

But who is Nissa, really? Let’s start with the basics. Nissa is an elf planeswalker from the plane of Zendikar, a largely untamed wilderness where the land itself has a will of its own, causing unforeseeable (un)natural disasters called “the roil” by Zendikari locals. According to the recently-released Magic The Gathering: The Visual Guide by Jay Annelli, Nissa is in her 60s and she is 5 feet, 2 inches tall, making her the smallest of the original four members of the Gatewatch (five if you count Liliana). Nissa has a mystical connection to the land and can sense a plane’s leylines, giving her a measure of control over the ground she walks on; this allows her to animate the very land itself to fight her enemies, a narrative element that has been expressed mechanically time and time again on Nissa’s cards throughout the years. 

Ostracized from the elven clan she was born in, the Joraga, for the crime of having this connection to the land (a rare brand of sorcery called “animism” in the lore of Magic), Nissa spent large stretches of years alone with only the spirits of the natural world as companions. This has made her socially awkward to a fault, and the issues she has in communicating with her friends (and later, lovers) has been a fairly consistent plot point throughout all of the (canon) story arcs she has played a part in. 

In a fictional universe that contains ageless elder dragons, a man-eating toad, a sentient robot who literally created a planet from scratch, and a wizard who once phased an entire continent out of the time stream, Nissa Revane’s eternal struggle to express simple feelings to people she shares a bond with always seemed to me the most human element in the Magic canon. Additionally (big surprise), that’s something I have in common with her. While other Vorthoses have made the argument that Nissa is on the autism spectrum, that is something I have neither the personal experience with nor the education of to speak about. That is certainly a valid lens to view this character through, however, so if that interests you, I’d encourage you to search up these pieces on your own.

What I can speak on with a certain level of expertise, however, is the personal struggle of being a shy, withdrawn introvert in an extroverted world. As a lifelong wallflower with a vivid imagination and a rich inner world, I can deeply relate to a character who doesn’t know how to put her intense feelings to words. For example, in the final story of the Kaladesh arc, Renewal, Nissa tries to express to her companion Chandra just how deeply she wants to be “friends” with her:

Nissa swallowed past the desert in her throat. "I don't speak often. I lived alone for...decades. Zendikar was my companion. We understood each other at a level deeper than words. I...I don't know how to talk to you. I'm trying to learn." Chandra looked up, eyes wide and startled. "You don't know how to talk to me?" "I will make mistakes," Nissa said. "Pick the wrong words. Misunderstand yours. I'll act strange and won't know that I am. But if you can be patient with me, I would like to be..." Waves of sky-song memory welled upward, symphonies of color and warmth, resonant movement and shared breath. She stilled them, reduced them, and forced out angular words shaped in a pallid shadow of acceptable truth. "...your friend." Chandra's hands leapt out to enfold hers, warm as a bird's nest. "I dunno," she sniffled, one corner of her mouth quivering upward. "I think you're pretty good at picking words." "It took all afternoon to decide how to say this."

While this section of Renewal is a cornerstone of Nissa’s and Chandra’s future romantic relationship, that is a topic big enough to warrant its own essay in order to do it justice. For now, though, let’s focus on this bit: “‘I would like to be…’ Waves of sky-song memory welled upward, symphonies of color and warmth, resonant movement and shared breath. She stilled them, reduced them, and forced out angular words shaped in a pallid shadow of acceptable truth. ‘...your friend.’” Nissa’s never ending struggle to use words grand enough to communicate the intensity of the feelings in her heart has stuck with me since Renewal was posted on Magic’s website in 2017. I doubt I’m the only one, either.

Heroic Intervention

Nissa was already the character I was most invested in back in 2017, but observing her deep well of emotions she didn’t know to express and her entire lifetime's worth of interests and experiences she didn’t know how to talk about helped me, I think, come to terms the previous two-and-a-half decades of my own life that I spent cowering in corners at parties, being as unobtrusive as possible in the lives of my friends and family, and holding myself back because I didn’t think anyone would ever want me around - as a friend, as a lover, or even as a coworker. This section, from later on in Renewal, really gutted me at the time: 

What would she do, if she had the time again? If she didn't flinch at light, noise, and touch, or speak in gestures and movements strange and off-putting to others? How could she tell this new life to laugh and weep without reservation or regret; to sing to the stars and waters, or to nothing at all; to love unreserved and unguarded; to treasure every moment with those beloved; to forgive any regretted trespass; to dance when moved to; to savor long silences in warm company; to greet each dawn, each face with the thought, this will be an adventure; to be brave, and kind, and trusting, and... ...like Chandra. The aetherborn waited, flickering. But why would anyone find her thoughts on the matter of value, anyway? Don't be afraid to follow your heart, Nissa told them. ...Why would that be scary? Halfway across Ghirapur, her body exhaled a laugh into the deepening twilight. May it ever puzzle you.

It wasn’t too long after this story was published that I began my own journey from hiding in the shadows to living my life in a way I was proud of. I moved away with the woman I was dating at the time, and even though that relationship ended up not working out, I spent five long, fun, life-altering years learning to

laugh and weep without reservation or regret; to sing to the stars and waters, or to nothing at all; to love unreserved and unguarded; to treasure every moment with those beloved; to forgive any regretted trespass; to dance when moved to; to savor long silences in warm company; to greet each dawn, each face with the thought, this will be an adventure.

I wonder to this day if the courage Nissa displayed during her own pilgrimage helped nurture in me the courage I needed in my own…

Conclusion

If you made this far, thanks! I’m not sure who, if any, will be interested in these endless ramblings, but if you're here, I hope you found something in it to enjoy!

Further entries in this little series will cover who Nissa is as a character, how she has been treated by various writers in Magic's various seasons, and why that matters (to me at least). The next longform piece I post will go over Nissa’s dual origins, why she was retconned from an incompetent xenophobe into the cinnamon roll with baggage we know today, and what both the Magic Story Team and its fans have made of this shift over the years.

References

Annelli, J. Magic The Gathering The Visual Guide. DK Publishing

Li, M., Digges, K., Luhrs, A., Beyer D., & L'Etoile, C. (2017). Renewal

[for-all-time-imagines]

(Ayn scenario, it’s his birthday month!) PRESENT!!

Comprehensive List of Scenarios Prompt List

Ayn

37.  PRESENT :  for one muse to give the other a  (birthday)  gift.

Every single year, Ayn's birthday proves to be a pain in the ass.

He never liked how everybody kicked up a fuss wherever he went, how every single little thing seemed to be a big deal even if he just so much as glanced their way. He's not oblivious to the reason behind it but that never made the situation any better, learning the art of indifference over the years just to get a fraction of the attention off his back. That didn't completely dissuade others from digging into his business, although it was enough for some to know when to put their distance.

There's no good reason for him to bring up personal details about himself so he is pretty damn sure he never told anybody about his birthday, but at the end of the day he still got barraged with gifts and letters and a lot more greetings from people he has never talked to. It's not as if he was expecting his birthday this year to be any different from the previous ones so why even bother with the thought that this year would be more tolerable?

Only this year he is going through his presents when he normally wouldn't bother looking at them, not too interested in what's inside but rather he's shifting through all the unfamiliar names in search for a certain name. For some reason he never noticed if you have approached him at all that day, a majority of his view blocked by countless people everywhere he went.

A few hushed curses and a couple of minutes later, he can't still find your name.

Are you busy with something else? Did you forget what day it is today? It's not as if your life revolved around him, he shouldn't expect you to know it's his birthday just because others do. Ayn probably sounds self-centered but he can't help it; the news should be all over the school at this point, there's no way you haven't caught wind of it.

So where in the world are you?

Ayn has half the mind to give you a call right here, right now, but before he could reach for his phone there are a few knocks on the door. He perks up immediately. He knows that knock.

"Come in."

A few moments pass before the door swings open to reveal your form. You tentatively look around the practice room as if it's your first time visiting, even though you drop by nearly just as much as he does nowadays.

"Is there anybody else in here?" you ask.

"No, it's just me," he replies. "You do realize I don't normally allow people to enter, right?"

Right after he says that you sigh in relief, finally comfortable enough to step into the room now that you know it's just the two of you. Now that Ayn is looking at you from up close, you seem to be tired from a full day's worth of hard work. Before he could comment on that, you hand him a gift bag, the exhaustion in your features replaced by anticipation.

"I've been trying to give this to you all day but the timing never felt right," you explain, "so I waited until you're alone. I didn't expect that it would take me the entire day, though... sorry it took me this long. I'll make sure to be the one to greet you first next year so this doesn't happen again." You pause for a moment, hand with the gift still outstretched to him, looking away before you meet his gaze again. "Happy birthday, Ayn."

Next year, Ayn thinks to himself quietly.

Just earlier Ayn was so sure how things will never change. Now that you're handing him his gift, accompanied with the promise of next year, he has an inkling that his following birthdays will grow far more tolerable. He is used to being put on a pedestal but somehow he never feels that way in your presence. It might be why everything seems to be easier with you; you don't make him feel scrutinized, just seen.

"You didn't have to get me a gift," Ayn finally says as he takes the gift bag from your hands. He's probably never going to tell you how he was scrambling around his presents just minutes ago in search for yours.

[pinkprimrose05]

So I've been having random thoughts and ideas (as one normally does, except most of those get scrapped 5 minutes later), and I think I finally found a concept that I can share here.

Now hear me out: A YGO college AU, but with a twist. It's a funny little game club- however, instead of starring the protagonists...

...it's all about the main antagonists.

History major Bakura, who founded the club just to play Capsule Monsters, and ended up with a group of weirdos after several Duels and DnD campaigns and nights of wailing about assignment deadlines. His sharp and creepy demeanor tends to be offputting, but it belies a lonely nerd who only knows how to communicate his feelings through a round of games.

Goth guitarist Yubel, the one nobody knows anything about other than their banger heavy metal music and penchant for weird humor. Rumor has it they've been held back for several years now, but given their oddly low profile, nobody can say anything for sure. Pretty chill player for the most part... but lord help you if you destroy anything on their field by card effect in a Duel.

Engineering alumnus Z-ONE, who has never ever said his real name in the club, and acts very much like a grandpa despite only being 29 (which earned him the affectionate title of Peepaw). You'd think someone of his occupation would be well-studied in their interests and hobbies, but the poor man loses 8/10 Duels simply because he refuses to change his Deck out of sentimentality. Power of promises made to late friends, or something like that.

Security officer Don Thousand, real name Adonis, father of seven and saltier than the dead sea can ever be. This man holds so much spite it's actually impressive, and his only proper vent for it is playing card games with weird teens when his shift ends. He tends to wear a perpetual scowl when out and about -that would explain his generally unapproachable vibe- and yet, for some inexplicable reason, he seems to be a lot less gloomy when it's time to visit the club. Quite curious, indeed.

Fine arts major Zarc, the one theatre kid of all time. Don't let the sweet smile fool you; the guy has an uncanny affinity for villain impressions, and he puts it to good use in all games- with a dash of dramatic flair, of course. That said, this is the same kid who goes all sparkly-eyed if one mentions even a peep of card lore in his vicinity, and melts into an excited little puddle whenever a new set or lore book is released. Thus is the duality of the Supreme King, apparently.

Computer science major Ai, the shiny new freshman on the block, who works at the college cafeteria and already has a (secret) fan club. His natural charisma is just about enough to cover for his crippling lack of social intelligence, and so it comes as a surprise to most that he's a huge tabletop game nerd, despite not looking the part one bit. Please don't tell him that Master Rule 4 was a mistake, though. He literally Will Not Shut Up until he proves you squarely wrong.

[coagulatedink]

Thoughts on my 1st* Art Fight!

Thought it might be helpful to write up what my (*mostly) first experience with Art Fight was like! Those who have participated in multiple years of AF may not find this helpful and thats ok! This will be going over my Goals, my Final Stats, why I tried AF and why you might enjoy it, who might not enjoy it, and any other final thoughts. If you're looking for more insight into the art I created (and everything related to that) you'll want to check out a future post that will be linked here! Now! Onto the words!

My Goals for AF 2024

As someone who very often takes projects and runs with them once I get momentum, I knew it was important to try to enforce (keyword try) some sort of limitations with AF. The hope was if I kept to these "rules" or limits, I wouldn't end up biting off more than I could chew and avoid burnout n bad feelings! My goals/limits ended up being;

Choose characters that seem fun

Don't start art without a concept

Some aspect must be experimental

Attempt to finish art in under 3 hours!!

No re-dos! Go with the flow!

Try to submit a total of 30 attacks

Attempt at least 1 revenge

Dang! That sure is a whole lot to keep in mind and work towards!! My logic behind "fun characters" and "no concept no art" was this; if I can't enjoy myself while drawing the character there isn't a good reason to be drawing them. This doesn't mean the character design is poor or boring- it just means that based on my restrictions already listed I needed to make sure I also was having a good time! Having a concept, even if it was just an idea, also guaranteed that I'd draw something vs nothin! Overall these goals/limits felt manageable and I'm glad I went with them. Now! How did it all go?

- - - - - -

My 2024 AF Outcome!

Here are my final stats as of August 3rd 2024 when AF closed its submissions (I'll update this post with any changes in the future);

Points: 1008.5 -- Attacks: 14 -- Friendly Fire: 2 -- Defenses: 7

As you can see; I didn't reach my goal of 30 attacks. 😔 I know, I too..think that was too high of a number LOL! When I wrote it down I think I thought I'd be doing simpler, smaller, less time consuming submissions! I also thought I'd be doing a lot of single character illustrations with minimal bgs, so composition and consideration of flow for a larger cast didn't enter my mind (at the time). Aaannndd then I came up with multiple concepts for art that had many many characters and that plan went out the window haha!! Even though I didn't submit 30 attacks, I did end up;

Fully rendering art of 27(28?) characters that weren't my own!

Drawing my new sona Guy twice!

Designed a whole new sona during AF!!!

Came up with roughly 20 concepts all together (5 did not get finished in time)!

Getting some AMAZING defenses/revenges from some lovely artists!!

Had all 5 of my characters drawn!!!

Spoke to/found a love of amazing artists I wouldn't have met/seen otherwise!!

Stayed true to the majority of my goals/limits!

Again, I'll go into the art side of everything in another post (with pictures) but I will say I love everything I made for AF. Its a very nice feeling to set goal and surpass them- esp after a very long period of art block/fatigue! I went in expecting 0 revenges or attacks/defenses and was delighted at what I ended up reviving. To those of you who drew me something- thank you! If I get your permission I would love to show off your art here as additional thanks!! So, after all that- was it worth it? - - - - - -

Was Art Fight "Worth it" to me?

Yes. LOL! Art Fight was def "worth it" to me. Sorry to jump to the end of it haha- let me go into it a little more like I said I would!

I joined Art Fight the second week of July- partly bc I wasn't sure if I really wanted to take part. As I mentioned, I had attempted to take part in Art Fight in the past! The first time I completed 2 attacks, but never ended up posting ether (if memory serves) or writing down the artists name (so I dont even know who they belong to). A couple of years ago I tried again, but those attacks were aimed at my partner at the time and mostly just an excuse to draw something for them-- it wasn't really made in the "spirit of Art Fight". In both cases I wasn't very familiar with the interface, the point system, the submission system- you get the idea. So when I started fresh and began the process of uploading characters, and later attacks, I was pleasantly surprised! Everything was simple enough and the things I was unsure about (mainly how to rate my works) had articles or answers on the official Art Fight Tumblr that helped a ton! These factors + the encouragement from friends who had already taken part gave me the push to set my goals/limits and give it a try!

At first I was a little discouraged- I didn't think anyone would like my characters or my artwork. I worried I was creating for no one but myself, which isn't bad!!! HOWEVER! This can feel isolating when you're submitting it to a place they're literally a hive of active artists, and as someone who hasn't posted a whole lot of art publicly in the last two-three years I was nervous to put myself out there!! Thankfully I got a lot of love and kind comments from friends, mutuals' and even complete strangers! It was immensely gratifying!!! My submissions were a little sporadic the rest of AF- if I felt up to working on something I'd work on it. If I didn't..I didn't! That did mean there was a lot of last minute attacks haha, especially after going over the top with a sona-centric illustration. Still! In 22 days I managed to make 16 fully rendered works- each one unique in its own way! Thats great!!

My reasoning for taking part in Art Fight is pretty simple; I enjoy drawing other folks characters and I love to experiment with my artwork. When I was younger I spent a lot of time on Deviant Art, specifically in clubs/groups. It was always fun to flip through groups and see all the different character designs, all the different styles and settings, and soak it all in. Now-a-days art based RP groups aren't really a thing, and finding places where you can easily flip through a varying range of artists and hobbiests works isn't as easy as it used to be. AF brings back a touch of nostalgia and a lot of good vibes from me! Its nice to feel like you're not only being acknowledged, but seen as an artists, esp online where its so easy to get lost in the massive sea of creators. To me AF didn't feel like I was going against anyone, but working alongside a ton of creatives- and that is an amazing feeling!! Its the same feeling I got from those old DA groups, from working on zines and even the fabled OCTs. Collaboration is beautiful and amazing and I hope other folks left Art Fight feeling as good as I did!

- - - - - -

Should YOU try Art Fight?

Are you older? Younger? New at art? Been doing art for a while? Tall? Short? An alien? Well! Art Fight may just be for you! No but seriously, AF isn't just for teens or people in their early 20s- its for everyone at every skill level. When I looked for characters I wasn't thinking "oh how talented is this artist" I was thinking "would this character be fun to draw". If you can approach AF like that you will most likely have a lot of fun! Well that and making sure you set yourself up for success. For those who have never taken part, or took part but feel like you had too much slack/creative freedom I suggest the following (in no particular order);

Use the tag system and find types of characters you KNOW you will enjoy drawing. If you love clowns look for clowns! If you would prefer object heads look for object heads! The tagging system is new, and I encourage everyone to use it, so it won't have EVERYONE but it will have options! This can help narrow down your choices vs just looking at the newly submitted or random characters.

See if any artists you admire/are friends with/are mutuals with are taking part! Sometimes the total unknown can be daunting! It can be easier to draw art for a friend, or someone you admire- and it gives you an excuse to do so.

Give yourself a limitation of materials you will use! Maybe you'll only use color pencils, or GIMP, or everything can only be down with blue ink- limitations like that can help establish a through-line through your submissions that can add a little stability.

Pick a theme for your attacks- maybe the first week everyone is drawn as Spooky Monsters, and the next week everyone is painted like they're from a Picasso painting. Just make sure to respect any character rules listed on character profiles!!

Stick to characters who have rules and suggestions! Personally I found these characters to be much more appealing (or unappealing) bc it automatically told me what I could or couldn't do from the start. If it felt too restrictive I'd say "no thanks" and keep looking! And if they had prompts I was more likely to use them bc it gave me a jumping off point.

Set a time limit. This can be the amount of time you will allow yourself to work on an attack, or it could be how much of Art Fight you're willing to take part in! Its ok if you say "I'm only going to work on weekends in July" or "I'm only going to attack the second week and thats it" ect! You do not need to take part every day! Do what works well for you!! Its your time and you should be having fun!

Art Fight should be FUN and if its not fun for you I'd suggest stepping away and doing something else that will bring you joy. My biggest suggestion for anyone who wants to try it out is to go in with low expectations and do what feeling good to you. If you have a hard time with any sort of competitive atmosphere, major anxiety about time restrictions, or just don't enjoy showing you art publicly, you most likely won't enjoy Art Fight. This doesn't mean you can't try!!! You can!! It just might not end up being your cup of tea.

- - - - - -

Final Thoughts (I promise I'm almost done)

Art Fight is, to me, what you make it. Setting limits, creating prompts, "gamifying" the event; that made taking part manageable even with everything else I need to juggle on a day-to-day schedule in my personal and work life. I think not taking too much of it too personally also helped- and I did struggle with this at the start! But then I saw I could draw a literal sock and was like "I think maybe I should just have fun" LOL! And I super did!! Drawing that sock was fun! Drawing a lot of what I made for AF was fun- I'm sad I didn't get to finish everything but I'm glad I was able to share my art with new people and get some cute stuff in return. I feel like I keep repeating myself with my positive comments, and I probs am, but I can't help it! The internet gave me a cool thing! And it ended well! Thats the total opposite of what I've experienced online LOL!!! To see people come together, see them create and gush and just be full of mirth n joy is very VERY nice during these not so nice times. I'm not sure if I'll be able to take part in next years AF, if I can though I totally will! Thanks for taking the time to read my lengthy write up! Did you take part in Art Fight? If so, what did you think? Would setting limits for yourself help you out, or would you prefer going loose-goosey? If you haven't tried might you attempt next year? Lemme know! I'm curious!!

Till next year-- Happy Art Fight yall!!!

[notajinn]

Top Games Played in 2023 - Number 1: Super Mario RPG Switch

1. Super Mario RPG Remake (Switch)

This one isn't fair. The SNES Super Mario RPG is one of my favourite games ever, so a faithful remake is almost guaranteed to be better than any other game already.

What I Like

Most of this is just what I like about the original Super Mario RPG because a lot of the game is unchanged.

I love the battle system incorporating timed hits. You still get to take your time on your turn deciding what to do, but the additional input being able to majorly affect the battle keeps you engaged. This is especially important in the late game and new post-game given you're pretty likely to die without good timed hits.

The writing in the game is the quality you'd expect of something that released in the same generation as Final Fantasy VI and Chrono Trigger. It's lighthearted, fun, and includes a good sprinkle of cool moments. The game mostly revolves around new characters like Mallow and Geno, and they manage to be some of the best written characters in the Mario series despite being in only one game. Even some of the enemies like Croco and Belome return later in the game and get their own tiny character arcs.

They did a good job keeping the weirdness of the original SNES art style while updating the graphics to the current gen.

SMRPG has one of my all-time favourite video game soundtracks.

I mean, what else can I say? The gameplay is good, the writing is good, the music is good, the graphics are. Those are the four most important parts of any game.

As far as new stuff is concerned, I'm happy they added a post-game at all! The new content has writing that matches the rest of the game well, and there are some cool bosses. It's also legitimately hard content which is nice for an otherwise pretty easy game. I love that one of the post-game bosses is Booster since you otherwise skip his boss fight in the main game unless you fail a mini-game.

There's one major change made to the combat system in that you can switch party members during battle. This actually makes the game feel very fresh since otherwise I always kept Peach in my party for emergency heals, but now I just swap her in when I need healing. This let me play much more aggressively.

They also added a party-wide super meter. These are fun animations and useful moves, but mostly unneeded given how easy the game is.

Plus it's way easier to move around with a control stick now compared to having to use the D-Pad for 3D in the SNES game.

What I Don't Like

Across the board, the new remastered soundtrack is worse than the original soundtrack. This could just be nostalgia. Fortunately the game lets you toggle between Remastered and Original soundtrack at any time.

The game maintains the strange difficulty spike at the Sunken Ship. It's not hard, but it goes from easy to "I need to try now" very quickly.

A few of the post-game bosses are bullshit and require extremely precise timed blocks to not take crazy amounts of damage. It's also a little annoying to always have to travel to Frogfucious after each boss to find out who the next boss to fight is.

The Casino remains an annoying area to unlock, and one that doesn't really reward you with anything good. Not even a Flower Tab.

Final Thoughts

It's one of my favourite games touched up and with some new content. What's not to love?

[un-local]

do you ever have any issues with perfectionism keeping you from writing? and maybe any advice on how to overcome it?

You know, to my own surprise, I’m inclined to say perfection isn’t my big demon. I think I deal with it some, but paranoia is probably what I’d characterize as my biggest problem. 

To clarify: I make art to satisfy whatever deranged impulse bubbles up from the unfathomable depths of my broken brain, right? So as long as I do that, I’m happy. But for me, it’s in the act of posting that trouble arises. Everyone else’s standards are totally alien to me, and it seems that often, they’re way higher. So I have a sort of paranoia that there’s something in my art—which is good enough for me—that everyone sees but I don’t. And it isn’t something endearing, or likeable. I’m not aware something everyone else is, and it’s a real problem. 

So, I think the end result is the same, but the root cause is probably different. 

To me, perfectionism is an inability to meet your own standards. But since I write for emotional satisfaction/catharsis, my own standards aren’t so much a factor.

Perfectionism strikes me as a kind of impatience, at the end of the day. You want your art to be  a masterpiece, right now, first try. And you’ll put yourself through hell when it isn’t. 

But the thing about writing is that you kind of have as many tries as you feel like giving it. It’s not like you’re carving it into a stone tablet—you can hit the undo button. (Which can be its own form of infuriating, I know.)

In terms of advice: 

I think patience is the way forward. Trust, too. Trust in yourself to make it a little better in the next pass-through. That whatever it is now, it isn’t final, if you don’t want it to be. 

It’s not even necessarily giving yourself permission to suck—but permission for your writing to just be whatever it is right now.

I think this is where advice about using fonts like comic sans for your first draft is helpful. It was for me. It kind of lowers the stakes, in a way. 

I think my focus on making sure writing fulfills a very personal emotional need has been beneficial for combatting perfectionism. Words don’t have to be pretty, or groundbreaking, or even noticeable, so long as they all come together to serve the emotional purpose of a scene. 

I think another thing that’s helped combat perfectionism in my writing process is the way I write—it’s probably like sculpting. I get all the basic forms down first, then refine and polish with many pass-overs after. My first draft doesn’t really have much detail. It’s mostly the major building blocks. So I think having a foundation like that helps me keep my focus on what I’m doing and why. And as I refine, if something isn’t working well, I can erase it and still have my end goal in mind. Having that (broad) end goal helps keep your focus on your piece, rather than how it is or isn’t meeting your standards. 

But really, I do think patience has been my best ally. If I can’t see a way out, I change tabs lol. I think being able to keep things on the back burner helps. Having the patience to step back and change gears means you can recharge and come back with fresh eyes. It also means that you can take the progress you have made and take that into the real world for a bit. 

There’s a line in SWRD where Magdalene is in the background, stretching her back in a moment between enemies. I got that from real life. 

In my personal work, I’ve had a story running for ten years. Literally. And over the last four years, I’d spend a few months making huge refinements and restructures in the draft, and then let it sit for anywhere from a few months to a year. And that gave me a lot of clarity in terms of what I was trying to say and why. 

TL;DR:

Hope this helps, anon. Good luck with your writing! Stick with it. In my experience, it all turns out in the end. You’ll get there just fine 🖤

[anendoandfriendo]

The last thing we want to do is ask emotional labor if any of you, but damn I kinda just wanna ask something if it ain't too bad.

Now that I'm finally typing this I don't even know how to say it. It's been on my mind for months. Especially after the slime spam started.

The majority of us who are actively, like, wanting to interact with the world happen to have fictional or factual counterparts, so being wildly ourselves is always a awkward challenge in feeling allowed to say the least. I notice it a lot, we want to be able to joke and laugh and be proudly the clusterfuck we are. Make silly profiles, collect identities, and reblog ourselves and likes a lot but there's like this damn wall in the way.

Doesn't seem to mater we know it's a bullshit wall. Past experiences dealing with shit like the Yandere Bitch Club is hard to go back to innocent fun from even after all this time.

We keep making new blogs, we keep trying, but that wall won't go away.

How do your mindsets I guess work to be able to say fuck it and just have a blast and reblog and say each other by your names and not care? I wanna, and I know others do to, just wanna join you all in the fun and maybe become friends one day and just @ each other in things people like and send asks all the lot. It's all we ever wanted to get back to with people.

Yeah sorry. I really hope your jobs and your day goes like super good and you actually have a chill one.

- Hayakawa of DMX

Hey there Hayakawa!

Our general advice in this situation, just speaking from personal experience, is to start smaller and get bigger and bigger interactions as time goes on! I know that sounds cheesy and Raphael is also saying that is cheesy, and I think Deulara is rolling their eyes, etc etc etc. but I don't think they can deny this is what helped us, either, ortherwise I would have gotten a more legitimate interjection by now. c:

So like, for us we started off with maybe reblogging random fanart of ourselves or if not ourselves but a fandom we're in or would like to be in. And then after that would hide stiff in the tags signing our names off. And after that we started signing off on our posts and comments weather we made them ourselves or if we're commenting on someone else's thing. We don't think most of us are quite ready to engage in fandom in the way of writing fic, doing our own fanart, or anything like that and many of us go at paces slower or faster than this too. For example:

I do not believe I have gotten to the point of signing my name off of my own comments for reblogs yet when I see Vanilla (World's End Club) fan art simply because I think it would be too weird for me and because I'm worried about potential anti-endogenics/ableists, for example, but both are technically easily taken care of with a block on the end of just one party.

There's a few of us who sign off with emoji or use emojis when talking or engaging with the online world for their sanity -- we're on laptop at the moment but to vaguely summarize the ones I remember -- (beach), (sailboat), (vampire), (shining star), and (blue circle) all stand for someone who uses the blog or did use the blog regularly in our system.

Someone in our system literally introduced themselves as [REDACTED] or [NAME REDACTED] until further notice. It's quite on the nose but can only be done a few times before it's difficult to track.

We also actively seek out blogs that are friendly to our existence and are loud about it and request content for fandoms we are in, weather we have an Xive or not for that thing, and sometimes we do it on anon and sometimes we do not. We implied this earlier but we also use the block button liberally and generally expect other individuals to do the same instead of throwing a hissyfit in our inbox or messages.

And while not all blogs tag (we do not currently tag, for example, although we do plan to start at some point in time and go through all of our posts accordingly) using the tags and post filers has still helped us a ton. We mirror the tags and post filters so if one does not catch something we wish to avoid, the other will.

And, as an additional tip, this is for desktop/laptop website only but we fell in love with Xkit the moment we started using it, Jade Leech 1.0 had become distressed about a particular post but we loved a specific blog otherwise, and the post in question was not technically "wrong" or "bad" in any way, it was just...dysphoria-inducing because of the headcanon. So we used Xkit to mute/block that post and that post only and now we have a dysphoria-free Jade Leech.

So a lot of it is space curation both mentally and literally, and part of it is just kind of snowballing your way into it, if that makes any sense! I'm hoping this helped and if you need any clarification then we can try our best to help with what we can.

~ Vanilla

[etes-secrecy-post]

Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.

• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.

⚠️NEW RULE!⚠️

⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️

• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.

⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️

Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓

Title: Rabbit Rampage - May, Cude & Riya

Hello! Here's another art trade for my pal, @carmenramcat.

• Say, just to refresh your childhood memory, have you ever watched the episode of Looney Tunes' "Rabbit Rampage" 🐇? Or maybe "Duck Amuck" 🦆? Well, yeah me too! These two episodes are a heck of a masterpiece. sigh The memories.📺🧠😌

• And that's what I'm bringing in my three artworks (in one post), and I feel sorry for them; just to make fun of the artist (If I say to myself).😅

• Nonetheless, here are the three moments I made for three bunnies (that are totally funny or not):

#1 - May is not happy after the artist draws a skunk tail instead of her usual soft cottontail, and she thinks that the artist is to blame. She's not Ziggy, you know. The background I chose for May is a landscape fence.

#2 - (Next.) The artist is trying to paint on Cude because they didn't appreciate his color personality. The background I chose for Cude is outer space w/ glowing roads.

Cude 🐰🤖: Hey! You know, I don't like putting in random colors! Looks like I'll bring out my beam rifle to stop the artist's nonsense! 😠

#3 - And finally we have Riya, who's suffered from a heavy-duty anvil courtesy of the artist. The background I chose for Riya is the sunset canyon.

Riya 🐰🏎️: Yeah! REALLY painful, dude! Can I have some ice bags, please? I have a headache from a falling ink anvil! 😠

Well, here's hoping that they won't happen again. Or at least, I'll be the one who messed up, in the next similar fashion. lol

That's all for now.

May (Rabbit OC) is owned by @bryan360.

Cude & Riya Speedster are belong to Me!

[anyoneseenadam]

Healing

pairing: Azriel x reader (acotar)

warnings: TW - sexual assault, rape, objectification and implications of abuse, smut, consensual sex, azriel is a sweetie and rhys is a good bestie

a/n: first of all PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!!! i’m really proud of this fic but I don’t want to trigger or upset anyone, that being said it isn’t too graphic but still. Anyway I hope u enjoy, this took me three days lmao <333

based on: this and this

—————————————————————————-

You had your first less than savoury encounter with men when you had barely turned nine. Your body still hadn’t finished forming, but you were growing, and your body was gaining some semblance of shape as you did. It wasn’t much – just a whistle from across the street – but for a second your heart seized up with fear, and in the next you almost felt giddy. A man thought you were beautiful.

You felt like a princess that day – felt the way you had when the boy from your class had kissed your cheek, still too young to process the intentions behind that single whistle. But you didn’t care – someone wanted you.

When you got your first period at twelve – even more changed. Your body felt new, and you didn’t feel comfortable in the changes. Your old clothes didn’t fit and now your mother forced you into tighter corsets for those long, long dinners you had to attend. Your parents were respected Fae in the Hewn City – nobles who liked to drink and smoke and throw extravagant balls. And with your new body you could no longer simply hide in the corner or climb through secret passages with your friends – muddying your dresses.

Now you had to smile when men hugged you slightly too long, laugh when they commented on how much you had grown up, sit pretty and pristine with an old mans hand loitering to close to your rear for hours as you watched your parents drink away their troubles.

By the time you were fifteen you were used to the constant attention, your beauty not uncommon where you lived but still doted on often. Unaware of their desire for your youth, your naivety. The women never offering a helping hand but instead glaring down high skewed noses as their husbands slurred into your ears – still in shock that a pretty, young thing like you was all alone at this party.

When you were sixteen you decided to change that – kissing an alright looking boy at a party and telling him exactly what he wanted to hear so he would kiss you back. He stayed when you didn’t protest as he pulled you to the bathroom and pushed you to your knees. And for this small request, the greasy hands on your body at balls and dinners or any other social gathering halved – now only the truly self-righteous felt they could touch you still.

The only problem was you truly did love the boy you had chosen. He had faults yes, but he was kind – he brought you flowers and kissed your cheek. But he also spoke over you, forced you into silence and took what he wanted. And he always wanted the same thing.

If anything it was his father’s fault. The military commander never leaving room for debate when he argues with his wife – and sons only become what they see in their fathers.

Your father had left with a younger woman a few months after your fourteenth birthday, and you hadn’t seen him since – only heard stories of him galivanting around the autumn court from your classmates. You could see the distaste your mum held you in as she realised she would have to stick around to look after you, not yet old enough to be married. Then Amarantha had taken hold of the country and that possibility had been thrown out the window anyway.

Weirdly enough not that much changed in your life when she took power, the only major difference was that now you had to block out screams before going to sleep and even they had become like white noise. You still drank with your friends on Friday nights, went out with your boyfriend on Saturdays and slept the pain away on Sundays. Your weekdays consisted of school, dinners, balls and whatever more your mother could throw together to appease the high queen.

That and the high lord of the night court had started making appearances at the events your mother threw. He was a cruel man standing so proudly at the queen’s side – but you saw something flickering in his eyes whenever people spoke, complimenting his power and rule. You saw what you felt as you laughed at compliments and lingering touches – you saw pain, but more importantly you saw anger. And right now you could use anger.

During one ball you watched him leave, taking an odd route – not the one that would help him escape the loud music but instead a long winding corridor leading to a series of smaller rooms. Without thought you peeled away from your company, muttering excuses and went after him – grabbing a bottle of wine as you did.

You found him reclining in an empty room and knocked on the door gently. He cracked open an eye – slow like a cat – and beckoned you in. You moved to perch next to him, leaning back with a straight back and letting your head loll slightly as you took a swig of the dark red wine, before passing him the bottle.

“You looked like you could use a drink,” you smiled, eyes focused on his sharp jaw as he held the bottle to his mouth with a laugh.

“One way of putting it,” he smiled. The two of you sat in silence for several minutes as you took in his beauty, his looks plus mannerisms all made him seem like a wild cat - a panther trapped underground.

“Why are you here?” he finally asked, and you raised a hand to trace that sharp jaw. But instead of devouring you as any lesser man would’ve, he brushed your hand away and held it tightly in his larger one. “That’s not gonna happen, you’re what sixteen?”

“Almost seventeen,” you said, cheekily. He laughed but shook his head, squeezing your hand before releasing it.

“You’re still a child,” he said matter-of-factly, and you scoffed, stealing your wine back to drink again.

“Yeah well that’s usually a selling point,” your voice was sad, but you didn’t dare let your eyes stray from his – refusing to show fear, “And you’re so nice to me, I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

He laughed as you pouted, “You practice this in the mirror or something?”

“Usually works in three seconds,” you confess, and he whistles under his breath, “Men are rather easy to manipulate when they’ve been trying to get into your skirts since your first bleed.”

“And you wonder why I’m not about to take advantage of you,” he laughed, and you smiled – a real smile, or real enough. “Plus I don’t think your little boyfriend would be pleased.”

“Eh, he’s never pleased - I don’t think this could make him worse.” Rhysand took the wine back and frowned.

“Does he hurt you?” his voice was sincere but the laugh you let out was not.

“Don’t all men,” he swore, and you laughed again, “Yet you foil my plan to make you fall in love with me and whisk me away to the moon.”

He laughed, but his eyes darkened with deep sadness you were sure you would never understand, “I think we both no that even I could not do that, but I might be able to crush your fly.”

“Little boyfriend? Fly? You really don’t like him do you?” you laughed, head lighter already.

“I don’t like any man who thinks they can hurt women,” he said, frowning when he realised through your passing back and forth there was no wine left.

“Shit that took us like five minutes,” you complained, and he laughed, waving his hand lightly as several more bottles appeared before you – you grinned as you grabbed another.

“So any friends with weaker moral backbones that I could marry?” you asked with a laugh, and he smiled at you.

“I’m sure I could find someone,” he leaned back again. You smiled – finally happy that one night might pass in the company of a decent man.

Soon, you’d find it would be more than one night, a close friendship quickly blossoming between you and the high lord. All your friends were convinced you were sleeping together but true to his word he didn’t touch you, and by the time you surpassed the age of eighteen you didn’t want him to. But that didn’t stop other men.

After a particularly bad argument with your boyfriend that had left you with a handprint on your left cheek you had broken up with him – sending away his apologies and flowers, smart enough to see he didn’t hold the mental capacity to change.

Plus you were beautiful and young, you could certainly do better. And you soon did – rich men who liked to buy you jewellery, and fine clothes, men who enjoyed literature and art and spending time with you.

And at the start of each relationship, for a few blissful seconds you would believe in their pure intentions. But then a hand would drift from your lower back to your ass, or the gentle kiss that followed a necklace would shift from your mouth to your breasts. Not one of them wanted to wait until you were comfortable, so you made yourself comfortable.

You pictured pretty, strong men were holding you down and making you feel something, slipping your own hand between your legs and they penetrated you to try and replicate what you were sure a lover’s touch must feel like. And as always – after the first time- they stopped asking for permission, you were their toy, so you no longer had choice over that part of yourself.

But through nice guys and bad boys, for fifty years you had Rhysand who was a friend – who treated you with respect and finally let you talk, let you breathe.

In the end he was the one who found you, in the backroom of a party – drunk and undressed. You were weeping, curled in a ball with your attackers’ seed dripping out of you, bruises decorating your bare skin. When he turned you over with his comforting hands he found your nose dripping red and the vibrant lipstick you wore smudged.

He helped you sit up and redress, took you home and stood outside the bathroom while you scrubbed yourself clean in scalding water – still unsteady on your feet. You changed into a nightgown silently and neither of you said a word when you crawled into bed next to each other, crying in your best friends’ arms as he tried to console you.

When you woke up, he was gone with just a scribbled message about Amarantha and the name of a healer he trusted. But you just placed it back down, turning onto your back and staring at the ceiling as hot tears ran into your hairline.

You barely ate anything for the days following your assault – fighting with your mother more when you rarely saw her and subsequently breaking it off with your current boyfriend. You had thrown his hands off you when he tried to touch you and the screaming match that followed ended your relationship.

Your bond with Rhysand grew only closer however as you spent nights drinking in candlelight, talking about anything and everything until you were sure he knew every inch of your soul and you his.

“You know what I’m going to do as soon as she’s gone,” you whispered one night as you stared at the twinkling lights you had hung on your bedroom roof to imitate stars.

“What?” Rhys had asked, never letting his eyes leave the ‘stars’ which he had laughed at and then proceeded to rearrange to make them more accurate. To which you threw a pillow at his head.

“Find a hill, or a pier, or a large pit or anything and scream into it until my throat bleeds.” You said and he laughed, the bed beneath you rumbling.

“Consider me on board.” He joked as you sat up to perch at your vanity – smudging the sharp eyeliner you wore with a small brush and applying some red lipstick.

“Wanna go out?” you asked him, and he sat up to with a small, sad smile.

“Can’t.” you understood his implication and frowned.

“I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t gutted me yet,” you tried to lighten the mood, but his face darkened slightly when he joked back.

“Oh she wants to, I’m telling her any information you give me about citizens, so she doesn’t.” He said, ruffling your hair as he stood to leave.

“That’s fair, I’ll keep an ear out,” you smiled, squeezing his hand gently before he left.

Things changed when Feyre Archeron appeared, you saw the way your friend watched her and realised you might be competing for his attention soon, but you were happy for him. Until he brought her to that first party – drugged and barely dressed. You felt the bile rise in your throat as you pushed down memories of yourself in such a similar position, and while you knew he would never hurt her – he was still a man. And you were foolish to believe for all those years that he was a man who would realise this was wrong.

Making polite excuses you left the party, picking up the tails of your dress as you all but raced home – ditching the dress and closing the blinds tightly as you made yourself food in your underwear. The sick feeling in your throat spreading through your chest and stomach as you ate, abandoning your meal halfway for a book and large sweater. And when he knocked on your door that night, desperate to tell you all about her – all about the human girl who he was sure could be his mate, you pretended to be asleep.

You barely spoke to him the whole time she was there, unable to look him in the eyes when she was so clearly out of it – and the feeling only grew when the next morning she would have all eyes on her. You understood that feeling. You instead spent parties flirting with Tarquin, the young high lord who was only a few years your senior or warding off marriage invitations with laughs and carefully placed words.

Rhys would sometimes catch your eyes – furrowing his eyebrows at you when you avoided his gaze, the sick feeling never really leaving. But it wasn’t until you watched Tamlin slay Amarantha with a smile that he tried to speak to you again. Feyre was Fae and leaving with her betrothed and Rhysand had just confirmed they were mates – and never had he needed his best friend quiet like he did now.

You were sitting when he found you, head in your palms and blood dusting the skirts of your dress. You had been sitting near Amarantha when it happened. You looked up when he neared, smiling sadly as he sat next to you.

“Want to go home?” he asked you quietly and you scoffed, standing, and moving to leave quickly. He followed after you, grabbing your arm as you wrenched it out of his grip with more ferocity than he had ever seen from you.  

“Don’t touch me,” he held his hands up, backing away to give you space as you got your breathing under control.

“What did I do?” he asked – smart enough to not presume anything.

“How could you think it was okay, after what happened?” your voice was quiet again, and so sad.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he implored, stepping slightly closer again. You raised your eyes to meet his and he understood, the darkness you carried in your eyes shining through – the memories that resurfaced in those dark moments. “I’m sorry, let me explain please.”

You let him hold your arm softly as he winnowed the two of you to your house where you sat down heavy and tired.

“I did it because she needed out of that cell, but I saw what they did to you and you’re a fae woman, she’s… she was human. So it meant that no one else would touch her.” He tried to explain, “And she wouldn’t want to remember.”

“That’s a horrible thing to do Rhys.” You stated and he hung his head low, “How in anyway was that helping her, to get her out you could’ve snuck her here or just take her to a ball and let her dress normally.”

“I’m sorry, I just knew this would’ve been the safest option,” he grabbed your hand again and squeezed it like he did all those years ago, “It’s over, we can go home.”

“I am home,” you laughed bitterly, gesturing to your house.

“No, you’re coming out of this city – we’re putting it behind us.” He stood and held out a hand.

“I know you’re trying to be dramatic and all, but I have to pack – and think.” You said and he laughed.

“Take your time,” he said, sitting back to wait for you, “And I know it might take you a while to forgive me, but I’ll wait.”

You had left soon after, as he revealed his city to you. Winnowing to a house where two beautiful women stood at the door, strong winged men appearing next to them almost instantly – all sharing the same tear-eyed look. Well, all asides from a short, dark-haired woman who simply smiled.

The men you presumed were Azriel and Cassian barrelled towards Rhysand, attacking him in the most violent hug you had ever witnessed. Mor followed soon after and Amren simply offered him a curt nod, to which he bowed slightly with a cheeky smile.

Cassian turned to look at you and everyone followed suit, you straightened up – not wanting to cower under their gazes.

“And this, this is (y/n).” Rhysand said, placing a hand on your elbow, “She’s the only reason I survived under the mountain.”

You smiled at him, annoyed still – but you still held so much love for him in your heart. You looked away when Cassian approached and wrapped you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground slightly.

When he released you he looked you dead in the eye, “I am forever in your service.”

“Cassian let go of the poor girl,” Mor exclaimed behind him, and you giggled, looking to Rhys for support.

“Forgot to tell you he’s a hugger,” he shrugged, and you shoved his shoulder.

“Oh did you!”  you laughed.

“Gotta get used to it, you’re part of the team now,” Cassian slung an arm around your shoulder as he guided you inside, “which means lots of hugs and long talks about emotions.”

“Don’t steal my best friend Cassian,” Rhys jabbed at his brother as you all moved to sit inside around a long table.

“He already had I’m afraid, can’t reverse love like ours,” you joined in, patting Cassian’s hand as he punched the air in victory, Rhysand feigning pain as he dramatically collapsed into his chair – a hand over his heart.

When you were finally seated you caught Azriel’s gaze, his eyes locked on you – having watched you interact with his family for less than five minutes and already completely enamoured. You smiled softly when you caught his gaze and he grinned at you, no words passing.

Later that evening – after too many drinks, you found yourself alone on a balcony you found, drinking in the fresh air greedily after all those years underground. You didn’t realise he was there until he was next to you – silent on his feet, his shadows a cool chill passing over your shoulders.

You tilted your head to look at him, in awe of his beauty. Not even Rhysand had awed you as much as this man was, his beauty unparalleled by anyone you had met before. He turned his gaze down to you as well, fighting the urge to reach out and touch you as he watched you move with such elegant curiosity.

“We haven’t had the pleasure of being formally introduced,” you smiled, lifting your hand delicately, “I’m (y/n).”

He met your hand halfway, lifting it to his mouth with perfectly poised and trained grace. “Azriel,” his voice was deep, gruff – and sent chills through you quickly. But when he moved your hand from his mouth you held on, the sparks flowing through you telling you all you needed to know. He similarly made no move to let go.

“Are we? I don’t really know how any of this works,” you laughed nervously but he smiled so warmly and tugged you slightly closer to him with the hand you were still clutching.

“You’re my mate princess,” he said, voice rough from disuse. You smiled widely, eyes forming tears as your gaze never strayed from him – finally getting one person who would truly love you, not your body – but you. He tugged your hand gently and you followed him inside, smiling and love drunk.

“We should probably go to the house of wind,” his voice was quiet as you furrowed your eyebrows at him.

“Me and Cassian have to share a room here, the bed are singles.” You smiled and laughed – irrevocably happy.

“Yeah maybe not,” you said, and he held your hand softly as he walked you to the front door, passed his past out friends, Rhys cracking an eye open when you walked past him, and you turned when he tugged your skirt gently.

You okay? He asked in your mind, and you smiled at him.

I’m perfect, why? You replied as he closed his eyes again, clearly too tired to hold them open - Azriel moving to retrieve your coats.

Just don’t feel pressured into doing anything you’re not ready for, Azriel is understanding he won’t get angry. A sort of cold feeling settled on your shoulders when you realised why Azriel wanted that extra privacy.

Shit forgot I had to do that you joked but Rhysand felt the stress growing, however before he could reply Azriel was by your side again and you were waving him goodbye, your smile tight lipped.

Honestly, you trusted Rhysand when he said that Azriel would understand – but so far you had yet to meet a man who truly respected the boundaries you set, a man who would truly wait. Azriel met your eyes in silent questions before scooping you into his arms, flying high above the house as you squealed in his arms, clinging tightly to his neck, and shutting your eyes tightly as you soared above the vibrant city.

He felt you tense as you neared the house, swooping lower in order to land on the large balcony attached to his room. He placed you on shaky legs gently and looked down to smile at you again – heart so full of love and peace.

Not only was his brother returned to him in one piece, but along beside him came you. His mate. His mate.

You caught his gaze and gave him a tight-lipped smile, terrified for history to repeat itself. You wanted to talk to him and know him – you didn’t want him to learn to love your body instead of you. And you were truly afraid to be touched again, you hadn’t been with a man since you were raped – fear stopping you before they could get close and walls slamming up if they tried.

“Are you okay?” Azriel’s voice was dripping with concern – genuine concern, and the way he said it made tears well up in your eyes. His own instantly widened as he sensed the sadness and fear rolling of you in waves, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you sobbed into his chest. “Oh sweetheart we don’t have to do anything, c’mon lets go sit down.”

He guided you through the glass doors and sat you down gently on the bed, holding you gently and coaxing you through your breakdown. Once your breathing had calmed slightly and you had pulled out of his embrace, wiping your tears harshly with the butt of your hand.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered quietly, terrified to anger your mate when you’ve only just found him.

“It’s okay darling, what’s wrong – did I do something? You’re not terrified of heights are you?” he asked, and you laughed softly, a smile growing on his face as his worries eased slightly.

“No, that was fun,” he grabbed your hand in his scarred ones and you gripped it tightly.

“Then what was it?” you looked into those beautiful, worried eyes and let out an exhale – bottom lip quivering.

“I just don’t think I can – I can’t do that tonight.” You whispered the words lowly, afraid of his reaction as you clung like a child to his hand.

“Hey, that’s okay – we don’t have to do anything until you’re ready,” he smiled, worries easing. You still wanted to be with him, just not in that way yet – and he could wait. He would wait a million years if you asked.

“Even if I’m not ready for a while?” You asked, and he held your face in his hands gently – looking into your tear-filled, defeated eyes.

“I would wait forever and then some – I have already waited so long to meet you, I’m sure I can last longer, especially if you’re next to me.” Your smile was so sad when you met his eyes.

“I’ve been told that before,” Azriel just pulled you closer to him with a cheeky grin.

“And were any of them your mate?”

“No,” you smiled at him again and he thought his heart was going to combust.

“Well then, I love to prove people wrong.” You buried your head into his chest as his arms came around you once more, “Would you like to sleep here, or would you like your own room?”

“Here is fine, I like the way you make me feel,” you said quietly, tugging on the bond experimentally. Azriel just smiled and tugged back.

“That works for me, I’ll get you a change of clothes.” He moved to stand but you stopped him – tugging on the dress shirt he wore.

“I want this,” you grinned cheekily up at him, and he laughed, but undid the buttons and pulled it off anyway – turning around to let you change in peace. When he turned back around you were looking up at him with wide eyes – looking impossibly cute in his shirt.

“It has holes in the back,” you complained, and he laughed, sitting down to tug off his trousers before sliding under the covers as you scrambled to lay in his arms.

“Well I do have wings,” he cemented his point by letting one drape over your shoulders as you sighed in content.

“Really, I hadn’t noticed,” you deadpanned quietly, burrowed deep under his arms and the covers. His chest rumbled with the silent laugh as he pressed a kiss into your hairline.

The next morning he awoke to you laying on his chest, tracing the scars on the backs of his hands with a delicately pointed finger. He stared in wonder, and you must have felt his gaze because you turned your head to meet his eyes, face still puffy from sleep. As you whispered to him that morning, your chin resting on his chest as you gazed up at him until he rose to get your morning drinks. Barely daring to leave for more than a few seconds. And when he returned he was so glad he did – welcoming the sight of you curled up under his sheets with a shy smile and tired eyes.

“Do we have to do anything today?” you asked as you sipped your drink slowly, Azriel’s’ arm tight and secure around your waist.

“Nope,” he said, delighted at the prospect, “I just want to be with you and my family.”

“Sounds heavenly.”

True to his word, for the next few weeks that past, you and Azriel didn’t progress past slow, occasional kisses and lingering touches. But before either of those he was always searching your eyes – asking permission. And you truly fell in love with him during those weeks.

He was caring and consistent – never promising anything he couldn’t bring. And he cared for you, he cared for you past your body and looks. He wanted to be with you for an eternity.

One night, while you lay together, speaking lowly and listening to the rain fall outside your room – a glass door cracked open, you decided you were ready. You pressed closer to him, your lips meeting his own in a kiss more passionate than you had previously shared.

He followed your lead with just as much passion, but when you crawled into his lap he pulled away slightly.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you,” he asked quietly, hands coming to rest on your hips.

“I’m sure, I love you and I want to be with you.” You told him sincerely, “But I haven’t been with anyone in a few years so I’m a little out of practice.”

You giggled nervously but he furrowed his eyebrows, “But you told me about your boyfriends?”

“Yeah but I – stopped dating about five years ago.” You tried to explain quickly, old nerves being brought up, but Azriel pulled you closer and as always his touch calmed you.

“Can I ask why?” he watched you drop your head a little as you breathed slowly – determined to not let your fear rise, you would probably end up telling him anyway so you might as well get it over with.

“I was raped.” You stated and his grip on your hips tightened slightly as he swore.

“Darling, I’m so sorry,” he started but you stopped him with a sharp glaze.

“You don’t need to apologise, it happened and it’s over now.” He could practically feel you pull away, so he loosened his grip on your hips and instead brought his arms up to hold you against his chest.

“Who did it?” he asked, voice dark and dangerous. You muttered a name lowly – under your breath – and he pocketed in the darkest corners of his mind for later. His shadows itching to tear the man apart.

“Look (y/n), if you’re ready I am more than happy to oblige but I need to know you’re really ready, I will wait as long as you need.” You pulled away from his chest and kissed him gently.

“I’m ready, I trust you,” he smiled up at you from where you perched on his lap and you giggled and he flipped you over, laying between your legs with a feral grin.

He made you cum three times with his mouth and those beautiful, beautiful hands alone – more than you had ever experienced with a man and he hadn’t even received any pleasure yet. Except from the pleasure of watching his perfect mate fall apart on his sheets, over and over.

And when he lay over you, your legs pushed up and wrapped around his waist, and his forearms on either side of your head – he would later swear he had never felt more complete.

“I’m here with you remember, will be the whole time.” He assured you, voice soft as he lined himself up and you smiled.

“I love you so much,” you whispered, and he pushed in slowly, filling every part of you and pushing against every spot you didn’t know you had. You swore under your breath when he bottomed out, the slight pain quickly being reduced to please as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” you felt shivers run through your body at his gruff voice and smiled, moaning when he began to move.

He pulled his head from where it hid in your neck and watched as you closed your eyes – head thrown back with a smile – and his hips bucked, desperately trying to control himself as he watched you arch your back.

“Shit Az, you’re so big,” you moaned loudly, unaware of the trance you had pulled your mate into.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered with a harsh thrust, a hand coming to stroke down your face as you opened your eyes to meet his, “So perfect.”

You felt as if your heart was going to burst from the love that filled it as you reached up to kiss him softly – conveying every word, every thought, through that kiss. When you pulled away you were nearing your end, the sensations building in you without the need of a fantasy or your own hand.

You moaned his name, gripping his shoulders tightly as one hand instinctively moved to stroke down his wing. He shuddered above you with a loud groan – his thrusts speeding up as he to neared release, yours hips surely bruising from the force of his own.

“C’mon baby, need to feel you, need to know you’re mine.” His words ignited something in your stomach, and you clung tighter to him, kissing his sharp jaw as you smiled.

“I’m yours Azriel, now and forever.” Your gentle words pushed him over the edge and his skilful fingers dipping between your thighs brought you down with him. The two of you crying out at the sensations you shared as a growing need to never let him go consumed you.

He collapsed on top of you soon after and he intertwined your fingers with his own as your breathing evened out. He slipped out of you, and you smiled up at him as he sat up, rolling off your body and laying to the side while you came to rest your head on his firm chest. He brought his spare hand upwards – twirling strands of your hair slightly as you rested in silence. After a few minutes, you clambered into his lap and kissed him firmly as he pulled you impossibly close.

“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, and he felt his heart swell with gratitude to the world for giving him an angel that would willingly hold his hand and guide him out of the darkness.

“I am so in love with you,” he whispered back, and you giggled, a hand moving slowly to stroke him as you felt him harden beneath you again.

“Hmm, is that so?” you whispered.

Azriel, who had started pressing light kisses into your neck, nipped you gently, making you squeal, “What were you saying darling?”

“That I am also deeply, and unequivocally in love with you.” You replied and he rolled his eyes.

“Just putting me to shame with your big words.” He muttered and you giggled – crawling down his body.

“I’m sure I could make it up to you.”

[tiktokitssinoclock]

Hey, it’s the anon from the Jett cuddling request ! First of all, I really love the cuddling post ! I was thinking, can you maybe write about how Jett (I can’t help it), and other characters you want, reacts when the reader get wounded during a mission. Of course feel free to skip and don’t forget to eat, drink and sleep !

First I want to announce once again- I AM NOT DEAD. I AM SIMPLY AN OVERWHELMED STEM MAJOR. With that said, I have made a ton of progress on requests and a few WIPs I've been stewing on, so expect some posts from me this upcoming weekend.

Second, I adoooore a good hurt/comfort scenario. it's iterally one of my favorite tropes in fanficiton. I also adore Jett LMAOOOO, so I had a lot of fun coming up with ideas for this request! Thank you for submitting, Anon（＾ｖ＾）

SFW // Minors and ageless blogs, DNI // You will be blocked

Translations:

Jagiya - baby

Close Call - Jett

For her eleventh birthday, Jett's grandmother paid for a year of sewing classes for her. The older woman was an avid seamstress herself and was ecstatic that Jett was finally old enough to begin learning the art of the craft. She already had a mountain of ideas for lazy afternoons the two could spend together- prepping squares for quilting, trips together to the craft store to purchase bolts of fabric, pouring over hanbok patterns until they found one Jett liked. Jett always loved watching her work on clothes in her studio, so she had little doubt the girl would love learning to sew herself. She was absolutely over the moon, but there was just one tiny flaw in her master plan.

Jett hated every second of it.

For fifty two Saturdays, from four to six o’clock, Jett felt more like she was marching herself off to war rather than heading to the community center. She constantly pricked her thumb when sewing something by hand, couldn’t remember to include seam allowance to save her life, and almost always managed to jam the sewing machine after only a few stitches. Whether the instructor was running to fetch her a spare thimble or hurriedly untangling the thread of Jett’s machine, the annoyed girl found herself glancing at a calendar on the wall, certain that month would be her last.

Never again, she’d vow to herself.

I’m never doing this again.

And yet every week, every Saturday until that year was finally up, she found herself coming back. Fortunately, during that time, her grandmother found peace in the fact that her grandaughter simply wasn’t destined to follow in her footsteps.

Jett thought she’d finally rid herself of sewing forever, sticking to eagerly watching her grandmother work on new projects but never actively participating herself.

In the present, however, Jett once more found herself with a needle in hand. It wasn’t pin-straight like the ones she used to work with, though. It was instead sloped into a soft C shape, the medical-grade nylon threaded in it tinted a slight pink. She gingerly dropped it in the steel tray that came with the med kit, hardly registering the metallic ‘tink’ it made when it landed. Her gaze was fixed to her handiwork in front of her, eyes following every crooked line she’d sewn you back together with.

“Oh god,” she croaked quietly to herself, her voice quivering.

“Oh my god- It’s… um, it’s bad, isn’t it?”

Her hands trembled as she examined the shoddy job, her fingers brushing over the new stitches across your side as feather light as possible. Your skin was pinched together awkwardly in some areas,  the spacing between each stitch not nearly as uniform or neat as Sage’s were. The spots at each site where the needle passed through were slowly turning an angry red, clearly irritated at her attempts to clean and patch your wound. She could almost hear every whimper and pinched inhale you made with each incision, her shoulders visibly tensing with each sound that echoed back to her.

She should’ve known something was off as soon as you made it back to the carrier. Your complexion had gone visibly ashen and your skin seemed to have lost its usual warmth. It was such an odd thing, watching you shiver while also sweat profusely at the same time. You were extremely ginger with your movements, too, wincing whenever you shifted in your seat and pinching your eyes shut after every breathy laugh whenever Jett cracked a nervous joke.

It all happened so fast. Just when Jett noticed the blood soaking the side of your uniform, the red staining your hand when you finally peeled it away from your side, your eyes were already rolling back and the hold on your gun went slack.

Her only saving grace, the only thing keeping her from completely loosing her cool, was the unsteady up-down of your chest and your drastically tempered blood loss. She tried to steady her own breaths, moving to run a red-stained hand through her white hair before she caught herself. She froze, her fingers just grazing the top of her head. She hastily brought her hand down and awkwardly wiped it on her shirt. A small part of her knew it wouldn't wash out very easily, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“No, it’s not. It’s fine, it’s fine.”

She found herself smoothing back a strand of tangled hair behind your ear, expecting a small wince or a soft groan from you. Her heart skipped several beats when you gave zero reaction to the touch. Jett swallowed hard.

“You’ll be fine. Or better than last time, at least.”

“I have to agree with you there. Bullet holes are much harder to patch up,” Brimstone called out suddenly from his spot in the cockpit, clearly having heard everything she said.

“You did a good job. Sage is already waiting on the loading dock for us. She can handle things from there.”

Jett cleared her throat, but even still, her next words came out hoarse.

“How much longer?”

Brimstone met her gaze briefly in the reflection of the carrier’s canopy, his blue eyes flashing to your still form on the carrier floor before fixing forward once again.

“Six minutes at most. I’m going as fast as I can, kid.”

By the way Jett's face fell, he might as well have told her it’d be another eternity. She situated herself further on the floor, sitting cross legged with your head pulled into her lap. She kept a laser sharp focus on your breathing, occasionally glancing at the watch on her wrist.

“Five minutes, twenty-eight seconds,” she told herself.

If Brimstone noticed the way she occasionally bent down to brush her lips against your forehead, or the way her thumbs rubbed soothing circles on the tops of your shoulders, he opted against scolding her for it. Frankly though, she didn't think she would give a damn if he did.

“Never again,” she murmured against your temple, her vision growing blurry.

“You’re never making me do this again.”

~

You weren't sure what time it was. You weren't sure where you were, why your throat was so dry, or if you were standing or sitting down. You weren't even sure if you could open your eyes. Despite it all- the sudden awareness of a blanket being pulled further over your body, the foreign ache in your side with every breath, and the seemingly distant sound of metal chair legs scraping against tile- your mouth was moving before you could help yourself.

"That's what you said last time."

Your surroundings seemed to go abruptly still, the silence making your ears prick in a way that told you the room wasn't always so quiet. It was only interrupted by the hushed, sharp inhale that sounded from your left side. A pair of warm hands circled around your own, the usual feeling of fingerless gloves replaced by soft palms. You cracked a barely-there smile, knowing for sure it was your girlfriend sitting beside you.

"Huh?" Jett asked.

"You're never making me do this again," you quoted, the last words you registered hearing still fresh on your mind.

"That's what you told me last time."

"Oh... the carrier."

You could hear Jett sit forward in her chair, the sudden weight of her elbows making the bed dip slightly as she leaned closer to you.

"I was being serious back there. You're not allowed to let yourself get hurt like that anymore, okay? I can't-"

She let out a pinched sigh.

"I can't keep seeing you like that."

Guilt settled heavily in your stomach. Slowly but surely, you managed to open your eyes and blink a few times. It was like your brain was covered in molasses, even the littlest tasks requiring maximum effort. Had breathing not been an automatic bodily function, you might have been in some serious trouble.

Your vision swam as you slowly tilted your head in Jett's direction, a soft exhale escaping your lips as her face finally came into focus. She was exhausted, if the dark circles under her eyes and the disheveled state of her hair were anything to go by. You still found yourself longing to trace the lines of her face and tell her how pretty she was.

The ghost of a smile graced her lips as you attempted to give her a wave. The most you managed was a lazy raise of your hand. As if she could read your mind, she was speaking again.

"You're on some serious pain meds right now. They might make you feel a little off, and probably a little tired, too."

"I see."

It took you a lot longer than you'd care to admit to lower your hand, hating the way her brows pinched together in concern as you shakily rested your arm on your stomach. You hated to make her worry at all, but these past few missions, it seemed that was all you were capable of doing. Your eyes fluttered shut again as you took in a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Sunwoo. I thought it wasn't that big of a deal and I didn't want to freak you out over something small. I figured I'd find Skye when we got back and that would be that, but clearly-"

You jerked your head awkwardly in the direction of the infirmary's sign.

"-I was wrong."

Jett was silent for a beat, one of her thumbs rubbing thoughtful circles on the back of your hand. After a little while, the room was echoing with her quiet voice.

"I can't deny I hate seeing you hurt, but I'd much rather know ahead of time instead of finding out when it gets bad."

"I wasn't shot this time though, only stabbed. That's an improvement. I think."

She weakly chuckled. You gave her hand a squeeze, the sudden weightlessness of your body telling you that you were moments away from slipping back into sleep. Try as you might, though, you simply couldn't peel your eyes back open.

"You won't have to worry about it again, Sunwoo," you words were slurring, but that didn't make them any less sincere.

"I promise. I'll be more careful."

"Thank you."

You hardly registered the press of her lips against your cheek, your mouth moving ahead of your brain.

"I'll stitch myself up next time. Just give me the stuff. My work will outshine Sage's, I swear."

"I believe you, jagiya."

Jett stayed where she was long after your rambling had fallen silent and your breathing had gone slow and deep, your eyes moving beneath your eyelids as you dreamt. A familiar weight settled square on her shoulders, a mixture of determination and dread as she thought about the next mission coming up in a few weeks. It reminded her of the feeling she used to get on Saturday evenings, when she toyed with the lock on her bike before finally working up the courage to wheel it out of the garage. There was always a moment of hesitation, a fumble of her key.

But she always followed through because it was for someone she loved.

And just as she was sure to have a few bandaids in her pocket so she wouldn't have to nurse a pricked finger on the way home, she was already making a mental note to restock the carrier with more medical supplies.

"A fairy looses its wings every time I have to open a med kit, I swear," Jett grumbled, her gaze fixed on the way her fingers intertwined with yours.

"But if I can fly without them, certainly they can manage, too."

[randomshyperson]

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 23 - The Witch's Cabin (Part Two)

Thanks to my gif maker and friend of course, @abimess.

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. || Chapter Warnings: +18, smut.

Series Masterlist ||  Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Chapter 23 - Part XXIII - The Witch's Cabin (Part Two)

You weren't sure if Wanda wanted some time from you as well, as you watched her walk through the garden, sit alone on one of the benches while looking at the rocky mountains in the distance.

What you were sure of was that she was distressed. So much so, that even as she blocked out her emotions, strands of her discomfort escaped, and you felt your body shiver slightly.

Sighing, you put your hands in your pockets, resisting the urge to join her as you watched her from the balcony.

"Here, Miss." It is Charles who says beside you, with a mug of reheated tea. You raise your eyebrow in confusion, and he smiles tenderly. "I thought a hot drink would bring you some comfort." He explains, and you mutter a thank you as you accept the cup.

Charles stands beside you, watching the landscape in silence for a moment. When you take the first sip, and sigh lightly, he asks, "Did it help?"

"Not much." You reply. "I appreciate the intention, but I won't feel good over tea until she is."

It's a simple statement. And Charles just murmurs in understanding, not needing you to explain further.

There is another pause, before he speaks again.

"Then I think you should talk to her." He says.

"She said she needed some time alone." You retort, scratching the back of your head with your hand quickly, and placing the cup on the large one on the balcony. "I'm giving her space."

"Oh, I see." He murmurs. "Are you sure that the alone time included her protector?"

You give a short humorless laugh. "You know, people have weird ideas about this whole thing. We're still two separate people. Wanda can have her time without me."

"Of course she can." Charles agrees quickly. "Forgive me, I think I expressed myself badly. I didn't mean to say that you two aren't independent, or to put me on the same level as sensationalist wizards who don't know anything about ancient magic." He speaks, causing you to frown. "I only meant that it is my understanding that scarlet witches and their patrons have a special relationship. If I remember correctly, it is written that the patrons bring a profound sense of safety and comfort to their sorceresses when present."

You feel your cheeks flush, and you look away quickly. Charles doesn't seem to notice, or if he does, he says nothing.

"So...do you think she'll like it if I talk to her?"

" Well, she's your sorceress, you know her better than I do, Miss Stark." Jokes the man. "Don't let an old book tell you what you must or mustn't do."

You bite the inside of your cheek, lingering your gaze on the crestfallen figure of Wanda meters ahead.

"Thanks for the tea, Charles." You mutter before starting to walk toward the gardens.

To avoid frightening her, you make a noise with your steps, but Wanda only lifts her head when you are practically at her side.

And you swallow dryly when you notice the tears on her face, approaching calmly to sit beside her.

You don't have to say anything really, and you don't mind waiting for her to tell you whatever she needs to. But Wanda just waits for you to sit down, and then she leans against your body, sinking into your embrace as you run your hands around her.

She relaxes immediately with your touch, sighing. You think Charles was right after all.

Her tears cease, drying against your shirt, and she inhales deeply against you.

“Thank you.” She whispers, making you smile shyly, as you run your fingers through her hair.

"For what?" you whisper back, half-joking, not knowing exactly what you've done.

"For staying."

You sigh, hugging her tighter as your fingers gently scratch the back of her neck, and Wanda shivers against you, before relaxing completely. "I told you I'm never leaving."

You stand like that for a few more moments, until Wanda starts to move again. She pulls her face away to look at you, and you just smile at the intense way she does so.

"I'm sorry." She says, and you frown in confusion. She straightens up before continuing, taking a deep breath, as if she is finding the right words. "With everything Agatha showed us, I finally understood that I never had a choice on my fate. And before, when I was going to erase your memory, how angry you got, I didn't understand why. Because to me, I was making the right thing, sparing you somehow. But now, I understand." She confesses quickly, gesturing as her eyes fill with tears. "It was your choice. And I don't think you would ever forgive me if I moved on without you, when you chose to stay with me. And as much as I hate how dangerous this is, and I don’t want you to get hurt, you have the right to choose to stay by my side if you want, because those are your feelings and I had no right to try to take them away from you."

You nod, sighing, and raise your hand to her face, caressing her cheek.

"It's okay, darling." You say. "I haven't been angry in quite some time. But I appreciate that you apologized."

You move closer, kissing her softly on the lips before pulling away. "I guess in the end I broke my promise about not touching you before the apology." You joke making her smile. "I couldn't help it, you're just too irresistible."

Wanda laughs shyly, raising her hands to your neck, looking at you fondly.

"Do you want to talk about what we saw?" You ask next, and she sighs, nodding.

You spend the next few minutes talking. Wanda feels bad about the whole thing. About all the lies, schemes, and about never having had a real choice. No matter what would happen, she was always going to become the Scarlet Witch. And no one asked if she wanted that.

She didn't talk about Natalya, and you respected her time.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive Agatha completely for the things she did." Wanda confesses a moment later, you two are sitting side by side, looking at the mountains. "But a part of me will never be able to hate her entirely. And I detest that."

"It doesn't bother me that she matters to you, Wanda." You say. "Even with everything that happened, she really believed she was doing the right thing. And now she's helping us. And I know you've spent a lot more time with her than I have." You clarify quickly, and Wanda looks at you with a slight frown. "I just mean that even with the pain she caused me, it's okay for you to still care about her. I won't hold a grudge over it."

Wanda nods, reaching your hand up on the bench. She entwines your fingers together, and moves closer to lean against you, resting her head on your shoulder.

"Can we stay here just a little longer?" She whispers. The sunrise is approaching. You were going to say you would stay as long as she wanted, but your speech becomes a yawn halfway through, and she laughs softly. "Maybe the bed would be better."

You laugh softly too, and Wanda squeezes your hand before moving to pull you back into the house.

When you go through the kitchen, Agatha is there. She and Wanda exchange a look, but neither of them says anything, and you just follow the brunette in front of you upstairs.

You think you'll sleep until lunchtime at least.

//-//-//-//-//-//

You grunted in pain as you fell to the ground.

"Everything okay there, Stark?" Agatha's softly teasing voice made you give a wry laugh.

"Perfect." You grumbled as you stood up, wiping the dust from your pants. "Again please, and try something stronger this time, Agatha, I think you're starting to go soft on me."

The witch laughed, raising her wand quickly. The next spell hurt more than the first.

It had been eight and a half weeks since you had been in Agatha's house.

Things were going well, if you could put it that way.

After that day when Agatha showed the memories out of the pensieve, she and Wanda were on thin ice, and no memories were shared again. They treated each other politely, with occasional sharp pins, but nothing ever too aggressive.

Meanwhile, Agatha was really helping the two of you to become better sorcerers.

You think you never learned so much magic at once, but you weren't complaining.

Even Charles was helping you with potions, a passion he seemed to share with Erik.

And with the intensity of your studies, Agatha hoped that soon you would be worthy of pulling Rowena's diadem out of the hat, but she never seemed to find the right spot, and it was making everyone slightly frustrated, even if no one would admit it.

You haven't heard from the order.

With Fury's death, the radio went silent. You believed that no one but him had been arrested, or killed, because nothing was said in the Daily Prophet. But it wasn't easy to ignore the tightness in your chest at not knowing for sure.

Now that you were practically considering yourself a master at dueling, even if Agatha wouldn't admit that you had far more knowledge in defense against the dark arts than any other witch your age, you expected her to continue the lessons in Occlumency and Legilimency that Erik never managed to finish.

"You're not ready for that yet." She replied, for the third time you brought up the subject, and you sighed impatiently.

"But professor-"

"Erik taught you the basic level of that magic, Y/N." She interrupts, moving her hands so that the objects in the kitchen begin to prepare lunch around you. Wanda is in the house library, studying with Charles, and you had spent all morning practicing dueling spells, and learning to become more resistant to them as well.

Your whole body was sore from the times you fell to the ground when you were hit by stupefy and the most common duelling spells , but it was better than being knocked out at the first attempt if you had never practiced before.

"A master of legilimency would be able to dominate the minds of an entire city at once. You're not ready for that kind of magic yet."

"But I don't need to control an entire city, Agatha." You argue back, following her through the kitchen around the house. "You can just continue from where Erik started and-"

"Enough." She interrupts by turning to you, but she doesn't look angry, just impatient. "You won't leave me alone if I don't agree won't you?"

"No."

She sighs. "I can teach you Occlumency, Stark. But I won't teach you Legilimency, it's...against my vows."

You frown in confusion, "Your vows?"

But Agatha gives you only an insinuating look, and you understand.

As Legilimency is directly considered a forbidden, and dark magic, it would break her vow to only do the right thing by the scarlet witch, her promise to Natalya.

You've never been more curious to know how Agatha got around the perpetual vow for so many years, but the way she’s back walking tells you she's not going to share that with you anytime soon.

"Charles is a master legilimens." She continues talking, moving downstairs where the library is. You in her trail. "He can teach you."

"Really? That 's great!."

As you arrive at the study room, the huge piles of enchanted books surrounding you, your gaze immediately seeks Wanda's.

As Agatha tells Charles to teach you, you approach the girl, finding her distracted with a reading. You smile at how lovely she looks, and can't help but move quickly closer, and steal a surprise kiss from her that makes her sigh.

"Hey, you." You say as you pull away, and she giggles as she relaxes.

"Hey, you." She repeats as she stops you from moving away by holding you by your arm, pulling you back to kiss you properly.

"Hey little love birds, your first lesson in Occlumency is going to be tonight." Agatha warns in a tone of teasing, as you give an embarrassed chuckle breaking away from Wanda, leaning on the pilaster next to the chair she is sitting in. "And you, Miss Maximoff, can practice your natural legilimency skills with Charles on the same schedule as well."

"Yes, ma'am." You and Wanda answer together, and Agatha gives a warning sneer before turning, squeezing Charles' shoulder gently before leaving.

The man turns to you. "Miss Stark, please do not spill mud on my parchments."

You look down to your clothes immediately. Well, it wasn't your fault that Agatha had knocked you to the ground so many times. You were a mess, and you raised your hands in a sign of surrender.

"Sorry, Charles." You mutter as you walk away. "I just came to give my beautiful girl a kiss, I'm going upstairs to take a shower. See you two at lunch."

You give Wanda a wink of goodbye before walking away, being careful not to bump into books along the way.

//-//-//-//

You grumbled softly in pain as you removed your tangled sweater, realizing that perhaps you should have asked Agatha to go easy on the spells instead of challenging her.

Distracted, you startled when you heard knocking on the bathroom door, but relaxed completely when you saw that it was only Wanda, who smiled and leaned against the doorframe, looking up at you.

"Hey, babe." You greeted her, working to remove your shoes. "Do you want anything?"

"No, I just decided to take a break from the books." She replies. "But I would like to know how you convinced Agatha to teach you Occlumency so easily." She comments in a mixed tone of teasing and impressiveness and you laugh softly as you kick your untied shoes away.

"With my charm of course." You return, making her laugh.

When you motion to remove the shirt, Wanda bites her lips. "Allow me."

You stand still then as she steps up to your front, looking at you with the same tenderness that you look back.

Wanda works on the buttons of your shirt, and when she is finished, she pushes the material away, sliding it down your arms until it falls to the floor. You blush slightly under her curious gaze, but say nothing, letting her move the straps of your bra, and then open the clasp, soon the garment falls too.

She moves her fingers down your waist, to reach the zipper and buttons of your pants, and unzips them. You move timidly to remove the item as well, taking your panties with it.

Wanda gives a soft giggle, and you look at her curiously.

"What?"

"It's nothing." She says shyly. "It's...I just realized that it's the first time I've seen you naked."

You blush, but respond. "I wish I wasn't covered in dirt."

"I wish you weren't covered in bruises." She retorts sharply, and you swallow dryly. The purple marks around your body are a result of the spells, but you don't care about that. The pain isn't exactly strange after all.

"It was worth it, though." You retort softly, and think that part of you is really referring to getting stronger, learning new magic. But the other part, the part that knows it's all for the girl in front of you, adds, "You're worth all the effort."

Wanda looks away, swallowing dryly as well. "Don't say that."

"It's the truth, Wanda." You say simply, and she sighs, straightening her posture softly.

"But you don't have to say it."

"You want me to lie then?"

"I just don't want you to say it so proudly." She retorts almost scoldingly, and you bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to argue. She sighs, and puts distance between you, turning toward the exit.

You clear your throat, and call out to her. "I don't want you to be angry." You murmur. "I can't help it to say things like this, you know that."

Her expression softens. "I'm not angry, darling." She assures you. "I'll just get a towel for myself."

She leaves before you understand what that implies. Wishing you didn't look like a complete mess, you quickly step into the tub you left ready as soon as you arrived in the bathroom, and sink against the hot water, waiting for Wanda to join you.

Wanda doesn't take long. She leaves the towel in the sink, and smiles at you before she starts to undress, right there in front of you, as if she had done it a thousand times before.

You blush, but don't look away. And she doesn't seem to mind that you follow every movement of her hands, although her cheeks redden when she has her breasts exposed in the air.

Soon, she steps into the tub with you, taking the seat in the opposite corner, smiling softly as you hug your legs, looking up at her.

"I'm sorry I said that, I know you don’t like it and I shouldn’t have." You mutter. But Wanda just shakes her head, steeling herself to move closer, her hands touching your forearms.

"Don't worry." She says. "It's the truth after all. You are my knight in shining armor, and I can't do anything to change that."

You laugh softly, and Wanda smiles, stroking your skin with her thumb.

"I want to try something." She says next, making you look at her curiously. "Something I read about it this week. Can I?"

"Of course, darling." You say, and then she is pulling your forearms gently so that you stop hugging your legs, and you sink your hands into the water, waiting, as Wanda moves her fingers, guiding you so that you sit properly, and she sits between your legs. "What are you going to do?"

You ask curiously, even half embarrassed to have her so close, but Wanda just smiles, moving her hands out of the tub, where she makes the soap magically fly to her.

"First, I'm helping you get clean, babe."

She says, dipping the soap in the water before bringing it to your skin, lathering your shoulders gently. You relax under her touch, looking at her intently.

"Can I do the same to you?" you ask in a whisper, and she smiles.

"Of course."

Wanda raises the soap at face height, and with a flick of her hands, the item doubles itself to another. You raise your eyebrow. "Show-off." You tease, making her chuckle, as she hands you the other soap.

For the next few minutes, you help each other soap up amidst giggles, and stolen glances. Wanda's touch is as gentle and affectionate as her gaze, and you are so comfortable that you don't even have time to think about how intimate the whole moment is.

As you finish washing off the soap, Wanda begins to run her fingers along your shoulders. "Will you stay on your back for me?" She asks lowly, and you murmur in agreement before shifting to obey.

Without seeing her, your curiosity makes you tense up, and Wanda smiles as she moves closer, her hands on your waist. "Relax, darling." She asks against your ear, her fingers moving up your skin slowly as you obey.

"Do you remember last summer?" She begins, and suddenly you are feeling soft twinges on your skin. It's Wanda's magic. You don't know what she's doing, but it feels good. Little shocks around your back.

You just murmur, relaxing against her hand.

"When Papa taught you about mirroring magic, I mean." She continues, her tone low and soft. "So that you could take my damage from possible attacks."

"And you were so upset about my wrist breaking when you fell off a broom that you put me to sleep in Pietro's bed." You complete making her laugh.

"But I didn't send you away because I still wanted you in my house." She retorts and you laugh in agreement.

"Yes I do, darling." You say next. "I remember everything I went through with you."

Wanda bites her lips, blushing at your statement. But she continues to talk beyond that.

"There is another kind of spell like that." She says. "Charles was reading with me a line that said If the protector can take the pain, the witch must learn to heal the pain as well. You understand what I mean?"

You sigh softly as you feel the pressure of her fingers increase on the points where you knew you were injured. But it's not discomfort that you feel. It's a different sensation, like an electric shiver that turns into a gentle tightness.

"Yeah, I think so. You'll be able to heal my wounds now, right?" You ask with your eyes closed, instinctively leaning even closer against her hand as the pressure increases, and Wanda just murmurs in agreement, concentrating on her task. "That's pretty cool."

"I still need to learn it properly." She continues. "And I don't want to have to practice."

You chuckle softly at the comment. Of course she doesn't. For her to learn to heal your wounds, you would need to hurt her so she gets to practice, and that possibility is horrible for Wanda.

"I'm sure we'll find an alternative to that, Wands." You murmur lazily, so relaxed against her touch that you begin to feel sleepy.

Wanda continues for a few more minutes, and when she finishes, she goes around your waist with her hands pulling you gently against her, making you sigh.

"How do you feel?" She asks with her face resting on your shoulder, her arms hugging you as you relax against her.

"I feel incredible, love." You reply with your eyes closed. "Thanks to your magic fingers."

Wanda giggles, turning her face to kiss your neck, her lips touching your skin softly and making you smile and sigh.

"Can I make you feel even better?" She asks as she returns her mouth to your ear, playing with the lobe between her lips and teeth, making you hold your breath. "I could use my magic fingers."

You bite back a smile, nodding. Wanda inhales softly, settling herself better against the tub.

Her hands go around your belly with her fingertips, moving upward. You gasp when she reaches your breasts, stimulating your nipples between her fingers.

You let out a satisfied murmur, and your body gradually warms up.

When your nipples are hardened enough, and Wanda has you shivering, she wraps your breasts with her full hands, pressing the flesh against her palm, and you gasp, throwing your hips forward unter water.

"Wanda." You sigh softly as she continues to play with your breasts. "Don't tease."

"I'm not teasing darling." She murmurs back, returning the gentle caress against your nipples. "I'm just getting you wet."

"Just... touch me." You whisper, starting to move back into her, the tightness in your belly growing, and all she did was touch you softly. "Please."

Wanda lets out a sigh, like a giggle, and you don't have to look at her to know she's smiling. "I didn't know you were the begging type, babe."

You grumble under the teasing, but Wanda finally lowers her hands, and you shiver in anticipation, forgetting to respond.

She runs her hands down your inner thighs, but never where you want her. And when you sigh impatiently, she chuckles against your ear.

"Say pretty please again." She teases and you feel your cheeks burn, quickly turning your face to the left, putting distance between her mouth and your ear. All Wanda does is chuckles again, but this time, her fingers go straight to where you want her, caressing your entrance and you gasp.

“M-more.” You ask but she just stands still, her fingertips against your clint while her mouth kisses your shoulder and her other hand goes up to your breast, to repeat the moviments from earlier.

You have trouble keeping your eyes open, and when you try to force her finger against you, she just moves them away with a giggle while you grumble of dissatisfaction.

“Wanda.” You warn, but her hand just rests against your thigh.

“C’mon, babe.” She says. “You sounded so hot when you said please. Do it again.”

“No.” You retort stubbornly, but your affected tone makes her smile, her fingers moving closer to your warm center but still not touching and making you clench your closed fists.

"Say, please fuck me." Wanda whispers against your ear, and you feel a sharp, tightly pulsation in your belly, sighing heavily. "And I will."

But you didn't want to give Wanda a taste of victory, even as you came so close to begging for her touch. All you did was press hard against her, your ass fitted against her hot core, and she gasped in surprise and arousal, digging her nails into your thigh.

"Cheater." She murmured breathlessly, making you smile, but your advantage was short-lived when she pressed your breast into her palm, and without any warning, slid a finger into you, entering easily through both the water in the tub and your arousal.

"Oh." You moaned loudly, one hand gripping the edge of the tub as Wanda moved slowly inside, making you squirm. "More, babe. Please."

Wanda chuckles at your hopeless tone, but obeys, inserting another finger now. It slides between your edges with ease, and you bite your lips to avoid being loud. But when Wanda presses her palm against your clit as her fingers move in and out of you in a slow, torturous rhythm, you whimper, squeezing your hands on the edge of the tub until they turn white.

"You're so tight." Wanda whispers against your ear, her hot, wet breath sending shivers throughout your body. "My sexy baby taking my fingers so well."

You moan softly, becoming even more aroused by Wanda's words. She sighs against your ear, quickening the pace of her thrusts, and you begin to feel the tightness under your belly reaching the limit.

"W-wanda... I'm clos-oh" You can't maintain a coherent sentence, thrusting your hips in the same rhythm as Wanda's fingers move in and out of you, and Wanda grunts against your ear, her fingers sinking into you.

"Show me how it feels, Printsessa" She asks and you need to concentrate beyond pure pleasure to be able to share your sensations with her. When you do, Wanda moans loudly against your ear, the hand on your breast squeezing firmly, pulling you against her and making you gasp. "Is this how you feel with me, baby?” She asks with a breathless whisper. “It’s so fucking good." She whimpers, increasing the pace of her fingers, and now stimulating both you and herself, and you use your free hand to keep yourself from screaming, knowing that the noise would attract the attention of the other residents.

"I can't hold it." You whimper, your body beginning to spasm out of rhythm with the strokes, you are so close.

"So don't." She gasps back against your ear, and it's the next second that you come, your walls clenching against Wanda's fingers, and you see stars, your loud moan is muffled by her hand on your mouth when you can't keep the gesture and clench your hands under the water.

And you are barely recovering from your orgasm when Wanda reaches hers, sharing it with you, and you moan deeply, turning a complete mess against her, feeling your body explode with pleasure again.

You stand in silence, trying to normalize your breaths, Wanda's fingers slip out of you, making you sigh, but she keeps her hand on your thigh, until she joins the two at your waist, smoothing you better against her.

"I can't feel my legs." You mumble breathlessly, your body tingling completely from the intensity of the orgasms. Wanda just gives an equally affected laugh, moving one of her hands up to push her wet hair out of the front of her face.

"Too bad, I still want to taste you."

You grunt softly, feeling your face heat up. But you sure as hell won't protest when Wanda's hands start coming down again.

//-//-//-//-//-//

“It really worked.” You murmurs impressed, as you button a clear shirt up, getting ready for having some food since you and Wanda skipped lunch, being busy with things. The bruises that you once had, are all gone. A few red spots were seen, but nothing too remarkable as before.

Wanda bites her bottom lip, kneeling in the bed, still naked. The vision was a gift from heaven you could say.

“If you feel any pain, tell me.” She asks as she watches you dressing. “I could try to ease that too.”

“You’re too good for me baby.” You commented with a shy smile, getting closer to her again. Agatha liked well dressed manners, she said. That’s why almost every set of clothes she gave you had ties, and sweaters. You and Wanda teased her about being old.

And that's why you're knotting your tie, and Wanda is unbuttoning your shirt. Wait, what?

"Hey, hey." You quickly warn, holding up her fingers, as Wanda giggles with her gaze gleaming in mischief. "We can't stay here all day, sweetheart."

"Can’t we?" She retorts in a mixed tone of defiance, making a pout that makes you want to kiss her.

"You know we can't." You retort with a smile, caressing her cheek before buttoning the buttons she has opened. Wanda bites her lips as she watches you. "I can bring you something to eat, but eventually we have lessons."

"No, that's okay, I'll come down with you." She says but doesn't move from her spot, and you raise an eyebrow curiously, but Wanda was just waiting for you to finish buttoning your shirt before pulling you up by your poorly tied tie, rising to kiss you on the mouth.

You smiled against her lips, bringing one of your hands to her neck, kissing her firmly.

"Are you sure we need to go downstairs?" She murmurs breathlessly against your mouth, and you sigh.

"Maybe another ten minutes."

It takes another half hour for you to leave the room.

Wanda accompanies you, straightening your crumpled clothes before you head to the kitchen.

Fortunately, Charles had saved some lunch for you, and between smiles and stolen glances, you ate in silence.

And when Agatha asked you to join her upstairs, for her occlumency lesson, Wanda kissed you on the cheek and wished you good luck.

Agatha's private study room was dark.

Unlike the library, or Charles' offices, which were extremely cozy.

Here, you felt almost intimidated. But Agatha seemed relaxed, and you felt confident enough with your magic to enter.

"You know the fundamentals, Miss Stark, so let's not stall." She says as she walks over to one of the cabinets, working to remove her rings and place them on the wood. "Sit back and relax. And know that I'm going to try the real thing, Y/N. Just like an opponent would."

You swallow dryly, but murmur in understanding, walking over to sit in the armchair that Agatha seems to have left ready for you.

She turns around, and takes the seat in front of you. With a flick of her fingers, one of the books on the bookshelves in the room comes flying toward her, floating in the air, open at eye level.

She grumbles softly as she reads, probably checking the spells correctly, and then the book closes and returns to the bookshelf.

"In a fight, a wizard's mind can be their greatest enemy, Miss Stark." She begins, rolling up her sleeves, and you hold your breath in anticipation. "That's why you need to protect yours as best you can."

"Professor Erik taught me a few things." You mutter, but Agatha raises her eyebrow in disbelief, and you are almost offended. "Hey, I'm not that helpless."

"Is that what you think?" She challenges. "Look closer."

You frown in confusion, and try to understand what she means.

Then you notice the other figure in the corner of the room and almost jump out of your chair.

An illusion, Agatha never sat next to you, and she disappears the same second you noticed her.

"What the fuck....?"

"Illusions, Miss Stark, will be the least of your problems if the dark lord has access to your mind." Agatha warns as she moves from the shadows of the room, her hands folded on her belly, looking at you, who was still in shock from the last trick. "But I will teach you to recognize and escape false images first."

The first lesson is not easy.

Honestly, it is so exhausting that by the time Agatha frees you, you are stumbling sleepily to your room.

You fall into bed still in your study clothes, and are almost closing your eyes when Wanda walks in.

"Hey, sweetheart, aren't you going to dinner?" She asks, but you don't even open your eyes, muttering that you were going to sleep.

Wanda walks over to you, gives you a kiss on the cheek, and turns out the lights.

//-//-//

It takes another three weeks for something to happen.

Technically, a lot has actually happened.

You have learned to break illusions, create them, protect your mind from mid-level invaders, lie in a way that rings true in your mind and fools any invader.

Agatha won't admit it, but you are a very talented Occlumens.

And Wanda, is quite the opposite of that.

Charles often comments that maybe it's the power of scarlet magic, but he''s never seen someone who could manipulate the mind of others so easily. Not since Agatha, and the witch makes a sarcastic remark, but has a proud smile as she goes out to harvest carrots.

Where you are expert at protecting the mind, Wanda is at attacking it.

She doesn't have the same strength as you in blocking Agatha, but you can't invade anyone's mind without putting in a lot of effort.

"I think it's an interesting thing, actually. " Charles comments next to you, in the fourth week of studying mind magic, with the four of you sitting in the room, and Agatha in the armchair in front of you, while you have your wand raised and try to get into her thoughts. "You balance each other perfectly, you know? Y/N can protect your mind while you attack, Wanda. It's quite useful."

"Great observation, Charles." Agatha congratulates impressed, not seeming to have any difficulty blocking you even while talking to someone else.

"Does that mean I can get inside your head through her magic?" Wanda deduces in curiosity, but didn't expect anyone to confirm, her eyes glowing red and connecting with your mind.

You choke, firming your touch on your wand, and because you were already trying the spell, you manage to get into Agatha's mind without any problems with Wanda’s magic.

A small girl is running down a hallway; it's Hogwarts.

"Freak!" " Weirdo!" are the whispers of the crowds of children she is passing through.

And then the whispers change to "watch out, she's the principal' daughter" "I heard she killed that Ravenclaw boy"

A mirror. Agatha must be sixteen now, she looks young. She stares at her reflection, and then punches the glass.

"You are a disgrace to this family." A woman says in front of her as the memory fades to another, looking at her with contempt. "A scandal like this. Our coven will recommend your expulsion."

"I never wanted to be a part of this, Mama!" Agatha exclaims in a mixture of anger and hurt. "I hate those old backward women, I want to learn everything I can and -"

The slap is loud. "Rules exist to keep everyone safe, Agatha. You're too selfish to realize that."

It gets faster, the flashes. You watch Agatha grow up, study in hiding, kiss a girl behind the candy store who pushes her away when the older schoolmates laugh, you listen to the cruel comments, watch her buy the cottage, meet new people, and many colored lights, the spells she has already cast blending throughout the memories.

"Please, daughter, forgive me" She pleads in a crying voice, but Natalya looks at her with contempt. "I will do the right thing this time, please, I-"

"Swear it."

You see a flash of the day she took the perpetual vow, her hands entwined with her daughter, and then you see more quick flashes of lost moments, until you focus on the day she was alone in Magda's house again, her hand on the cheek of baby Wanda, now asleep.

"Forgive me, I have failed again."

The memory shifts, you watch Erik crying at a memorial service, many other people dressed in black beside him.

She talked to Erik about the girl, asking if he had noticed anything strange.

Visiting a mansion, your home. You see yourself, about five or six years old, playing in the backyard with your brother, the emaciated image of your father talking to her in a low tone, delivering a letter.

More unclear flashes.

Agatha writing the acceptance letters from the school that year, the name Wanda Maximoff emblazoned on the paper.

The day Wanda and Pietro enter Hogwarts, Agatha rummaging back into her old journals and books.

Agatha starts to resist then. You see two more flashes of class, before she pushes you and Wanda out of her thoughts, and you choke breathlessly, stumbling away.

The teacher gets up quickly, aggressively throwing herself at you two, and you cover Wanda with your body immediately, but she calms down, because Charles puts his arm around her waist.

"Agatha, breathe." He asks softly, and she seems to come to her senses, shaking her head, and casting an almost embarrassed look at you, before muttering apologies and leaving the room.

You and Wanda are wide-eyed, in shock at all you have seen for long seconds, as Charles sighs and moves to organize the books you had messed up when the lesson began.

"She's going to need some time." He says turning to give you a tender smile. "But don't worry, I can continue the lessons with you two. For now, I suggest a cup of tea to everyone, and we can continue tomorrow."

"S-sure, that sounds great." You mumble awkwardly, turning your face to Wanda, who looks troubled. "Everything okay?" You whisper to her, and she forces a smile, nodding.

You won't push it, so you even squeeze her hand gently before following Charles into the kitchen for tea.

//-//-//-//-//

Agatha doesn't leave her room for six whole days.

Charles just says that she is tired, and brings her meals.

You only study next to Wanda; it's not as if you can feel guilty about something she has done to you so many times.

And then, as if no time has passed, the former headmistress comes into the kitchen in travel clothes, while you are eating lunch.

"Good morning?" You exclaim in surprise, and the teacher only murmurs with a nod, picking up an apple from the fruit tray and turning toward the front door.

You exchange a confused look with Wanda before the two of you quickly stand up.

"Agatha, where are you...?"

"Hogwarts." She replies without stopping walking, as you follow her down the hallway to the exit. "Stephen has hidden the darkhold in the spiritual plane of the castle. I'll get it, and read it to Miss Maximoff as promised."

"I-" Wanda starts half uncertain, but Agatha gestures quickly.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." She clarifies. "We'll need him to perform the ritual as well. Please help Charles with the house, and if possible don't damage my vegetables."

And on the porch, she apparated.

You and Wanda stared at the empty space for a long moment.

"What just happened?" You mutter.

"Did our spell drive her insane?" She retorts back, and you sigh, turning to go back inside, and close the door, Wanda following you inside.

"I have no idea." You say. "Let's let Charles know she's gone, and try to keep him from blowing up other cauldrons while she's out."

//-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-//

Tag list > @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @helloalycia // @ensorcellme // @aimezvousbrahms // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight || @iliketozoneout || @blackwow34 // @spongebobtentacles || @cyberbonesworld ||

[wasabito]

➽ corruption collab masterlist — hosted by @ultimate-astridwriting and @bummie ♥️

➽ note: definitely gonna come back and edit this a bit more because threesomes are hard as fuck, no pun intended lmao happy v-day everyone!

➽ word count: 3.2k

➽ cw/tags: polyamory + body worship + threesome + praise kink + public sex + choking + handjobs/fingering + vaginal sex + squirting + established relationship

➽ pairing: akaashi x fem!reader x bokuto

💿 1. nasty — ariana grande || 2. come on — jhene aiko

With Valentine's Day fast approaching, it becomes rather apparent that love and romance are in the air. Storefronts are decorated in bubblegum pinks and reds. Flower shops promote their special bouquet arrangements at discounted prices. Even your favorite hole in the wall coffee shop has fallen prey to the spirit of cupid as they announce their new strawberry shortcake dessert and heart-shaped scones.

In lieu of staying home for the third night this week, your boyfriends escort you to dinner at an upscale restaurant in the city. They treat you to a five-course meal and a bottle of wine even pricier than the dinner itself. One would think, after three years of dating, you would no longer be caught unawares by their spontaneity. And yet, here they are, once again pulling the rug from underneath your four-inch heels.

Your gaze flickers from Akaashi's tranquil smile to Bokuto's wide grin.

Adjusting the napkin in your lap, you open your mouth to speak, then pause as the right words fail it come. Brain short-circuiting instead, you let out a confused, "Huh?!"

"We're taking you to Italy!" Bokuto repeats, about ready to hop out of his seat with excitement. He looks to Akaashi, "Three nights in Venice, right 'Kaashi?"

"Yes, we decided on Venice after you told us you'd always wanted to visit. Remember Koutarou's birthday last year?"

"But that was like months ago! Did you two honestly hold onto that drunk little confession this entire time?"

"Of course."

"Yup!!"

It's in moments like these when you are reminded of their history together, first as teammates playing volleyball, and eventually close friends. Not much longer after that, you'd met and fallen for Akaashi, then Bokuto, and thus began the relationship of today. While you find it a little ridiculous, it seems neither of them has any qualms about this trip.

After all, you are their lovely girlfriend. Why wouldn't they want to make your wishes come true?

Bokuto claps his hands, eyes sparkling. "Everything's already planned out, babe, so don't worry your pretty little head, okay?"

You can't argue with that. Reaching over, you take Bokuto's hand in your right and Akaashi's in your left. "Alright, since you two went to all this trouble for me, I guess I'll just sit back and enjoy it."

♥️

Venice is just as beautiful as you imagined.

It looks as if it's floating upon blue-green waters with lots of sunshine, beautiful architecture, and a vibrancy that makes it feel like the city has a life of its own. You are grateful you didn't come by yourself. There is no way you would've enjoyed it without Akaashi and Bokuto at your side.

"We're about a ten-minute walk from Piazza San Marco," Akaashi says as he taps his glasses. His sharp gaze is locked on the map in his hands, likely committing most landmarks and details to memory. "Would you like to check it out?"

"Yeah! Let's do it."

"Off we go, go, go!"

Thus, a majority of your first day in Venice is spent sightseeing.

The three of you take a gondola ride through Canale Grande, then have a peek into the Gallerie Dell'Accademia at Akaashi's insistence, though naturally, you wouldn't have come all the way to Italy and not visited at least one art museum. Afterward, the three of you go to the Le Mercerie shopping district and buy gifts for your friends before finally taking a pit stop for the most delicious gelato in the city.

The sunsets sooner than expected, casting the entire block in deep red hues. Bokuto's mood is greatly influenced by it, and the jetlag certainly doesn't help. He props himself against you, nuzzling you in a way that says he's itching for a kiss.

"Tired, Kou?"

Bokuto hums. "A little... More hungry than anything."

He leans in and pecks your lips with a sated smile. "Maybe I should eat you. I mean, how is it my girl's so damn cute? Not fair, I can't resist."

You snort at Bo's silliness but can't help shivering a little at the tiny implication of his words. He always did like to lay his head on your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites where he could.

So, the thought of him eating you out made you squeeze your thighs together.

Akaashi approaches with your frozen treats held between his long fingers; having overheard Bokuto earlier, he tucks his wallet back into his pocket.

"We'll get some dinner after we drop off these shopping bags. How does that sound?"

You eagerly take your gelato from him with a smile.

"Sounds like a plan."

Akaashi nods, standing at your other side, close enough to brush elbows though not as close as Bokuto, who was nearly hovering.

The three of you are in one of the narrow, maze-like streetways, basking in the warm, early evening glow. The sweet taste of fruit and cream on your tongue fills you with so much contentment, especially while being with your favorite people. You aren't sure if anything could top the way you currently felt, and the trip has just barely started.

Upon arriving at your temporary place of residence, a quaint little villa on the waterfront just along the shore of Punta Sabbioni Beach, Bokuto immediately kicks off his sandals, dumps the bags, and promptly falls asleep on the couch.

"It's so weird seeing Kou like this." You remark. "On any normal day, he's brimming with almost too much energy, but now he's all tired."

"Well, he did stay up an entire twelve hours on the plane. It was only a matter of time before fatigue caught up to him." Akaashi picks up Bokuto's shoes with practiced ease and places them by the others.

There is a fond smile running along the edges of his mouth as he tucks a throw around the man's larger frame. You help him adjust a spare pillow under Bo's head and then set off to explore the rest of the area.

It seemed like everything about Venice was taken straight out of a romance film, with its cobblestone paths, gothic cathedral architecture, crisp ocean waters, and authentic Italian cuisine. It is no wonder the city's known to draw hapless souls together in romance. Even you fell subject to it, and by each passing moment, you crave to be with your boyfriends.

You are standing at the balcony overlooking the beach, satisfied with your inspection of the villa when Akaashi comes to stand behind you. He holds onto the railings, caging you in his arms, and rests his chin on your shoulder.

"He was right, you know." He murmurs. "You do look good enough to eat."

Blunt as ever. Apparently, something's never change.

Though one might say that Akaashi is as he's always been after high school and college, there is no denying his boost in confidence. After all, he had landed not one but two rather attractive partners.

He kisses your cheek, then your jaw, before latching onto your neck.

The sun's scenic view on the horizon, reflecting upon the beach sands of gold and shimmering orange waves, makes for an excellent backdrop.

You turn to face Akaashi and pull him into a heated kiss. His lips convey a sense of devotion to you, and with each press of them against yours, you can feel just how bad he's yearning for more.

"Kei," you whisper. "Let's go inside."

In a moment, Akaashi whisks you off your feet quite similar to how Bokuto would, though you both don't even make it to the bedroom.

Your other partner had sat up on the sofa, hair flat on one side, scrubbing his eyelids.

"Guys, I'm freaking starving!" Bokuto groans. "Let's get some food or something."

He doesn't even notice how you and Akaashi are breathing heavy or how your clothes are sporting wrinkles that were not previously there. Regardless, Akaashi has food delivered while you went ahead to shower the day's journey away. There are still two days left. You'd get your chance with them at some point.

♥️

Sadly, the entirety of day two is spent indoors. Heavy sheets of rain continue to fall, muddying the shoreline. The three of you huddle on the sofa wrapped in blankets with subtitled movies playing in the background.

Even though you would've much rather been out exploring in the city, just sharing in your boyfriend's warmth would suffice for now. Akaashi hands you a steaming cup of something rich in both color and smell.

"What's this?"

"Just espresso." He takes the empty seat beside you.

You savor the taste while leaning against his shoulder. "Mm, nice."

Bokuto keeps his head on your lap, loving how you thread your fingers into his hair.

It is a tranquil kind of peace that soon lulls you to sleep.

Later, when you finally wake up, it's dark, and you're alone. A blanket had been tucked around your shoulders to shield you from the sudden chill. At some point, the television had been shut off along with every light in the room. You might've been a little scared if not for the voices coming from the second floor. Slowly, you creep up the winding staircase, dragging along the blanket around your shoulders.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Bokuto chuckles. "You're finally up!"

His hair is down, wet from his shower, and he holds a thin towel together around his waist. In his hand is a cellphone, and he doesn't hesitate to shove the screen into your face. "Say hi, Tetsu!"

"Hi Y/N, how's it going?"

You blink slowly, still trying to wake yourself up.

"Kuroo, hey… I'm well. How are you?"

"Great, just about to head out for a late lunch. I hear it's almost ten pm over there."

"Yeah, it's an eight-hour time difference."

You and Kuroo continue to chat while Bokuto towels off his hair and puts on clothes. Afterward, you let Bokuto resume his conversation and join Akaashi on the bed. The man had gone full editor-mode with his glasses propped up in his hair as he read through some work documents.

When you approach, he greets you with a kiss on the cheek. "You look well-rested."

"Is that your way of telling me I have drool on my cheek, Keiji?"

He cracks a tiny smile, eyes taking in your features, then he pokes your cheek with his index finger. "Perhaps."

You scrub the corners of your mouth with your sleeve and drape yourself over Akaashi, work be damned. This was supposed to be a special weekend for relaxing.

"I really wanted to go to the beach today." You pout.

Akaashi interlocks his fingers with yours. "Maybe we still can. It stopped raining a few hours ago."

"Really?!"

You hop off the bed and head for the window. He's right, the rain had long stopped, and the beach lay bare, lit by only the moonlight.

Maybe a short walk to the beach would do you some good.

♥️

The grains of sand feel cold against your feet without the sun to beat down on them, but you don't complain. The air is humid enough on its own that you forgo wearing actual clothes and instead wear a swimsuit along with Bokuto's old Fukurōdani windbreaker.

You walk along the shore, toes digging into the sand, letting the ocean waves lap at your feet to wash them clean again.

At first, it's so eerily quiet without a soul around except you, but even that doesn't last long. You hear Bokuto's voice bellow into the night as he jogs towards you in nothing but swim trunks. Behind him, Akaashi trails slowly after with a blanket in hand.

"We thought you might want some company." He says and spreads the cover on the sand several feet away from the water, content with just watching.

Bokuto grabs your hand and you go running to the water with him, but a second later, you both come sprinting back.

"It's freezing!"

"S-So co-co-cold!"

You collapse on top of him, fingers splayed across his bare chest. However, when you try to sit up, Bokuto has other plans. He keeps you pressed to his chest with both arms around your waist.

"Let me keep you warm, baby!"

You know he meant it in the most innocent way, but you can't help but think other thoughts. Your nerves fray at the image that blooms in your head and spreads like wildfire.

And as Akaashi strokes your back, you know he's probably read your mind.

It's the way your eyes seem to glitter with want that gives it away. Akaashi has always been rather observant, and so your silent cues are something he's always been privy to.

His nimble fingers curve around the nape of your neck, and he tilts his head to capture your lips in a kiss. This one is unlike the one from yesterday. There is no rush, no desire to quicken his haste; instead, he savors the taste of you like it's something to be thoroughly enjoyed.

Underneath you, Bokuto stirs, growing aroused at the sight of his two lovers' kiss. He can't decide whether he wants to join in or sit back and watch. But his large hand comes down to stroke your ass, resulting in a moan you breathe directly into Akaashi's mouth.

"You're not usually so forthcoming, Keiji," you whisper against his lips. "Eager, are we?"

Akaashi pulls away just enough to pepper your face in feathery kisses. "Can you blame me? When I have such a lovely girlfriend here."

As if confirming his words, he slips a hand under your jacket and cups your breast. The pads of his thumb brush along the seams of your bathing suit, caressing your nipple.

"Kou, let's show Y/N just how much we love her, yes?"

Bokuto didn't need to be told twice. He had been in entranced by you and Akaashi, completely taken by the way your lips danced upon one another. But now, he wanted more than anything to touch you, kiss you, hold you.

Bokuto cradles you in his lap, propping your legs open with his knees so Akaashi can kneel in front of you. It didn't take much for him to relieve you of your clothing, namely your swimming bottoms. But the second the air hits your bare cunt, you feel tense.

You aren't sure what it was, but the atmosphere is different. Both Akaashi and Bokuto are so focused on you, it feels like you're under a spotlight.

"You're so pretty, so beautiful," Bokuto says while squeezing your thighs. His warm breath tickles your ear as he presses his nose into your neck. Next, his lips follow suit. "Wanna fuck you, so bad baby. You'd like that, right?"

His words earn him a chuckle from Akaashi, who merely licks two of his fingers, wetting them and sliding into you. Your mouth parts, shaky breaths barely expelled from your lungs. You're hyper-aware of the fact that you're literally being fingered on a beach in the middle of the night, and you can't bring yourself to care. It feels good to be pampered by the two men you love.

For every moan, Akaashi gives you double for your efforts, thrusting his fingers just right, curving them in such a way that has your back arching off Bokuto, who has also taken to fondling your nipples. With every roll of his hips, you feel his cock against your ass, and it pushes you further into Akaashi's fingers.

Your impending orgasm sweeps by so close and yet so far away. All you can do is rock yourself faster.

"Please," you whimper. "W-Wanna come."

Akaashi crooks his fingers, pressing into the perfect spot that sends you hurtling over the edge. Your cunt spasms around his fingers, clenching in intervals you have no control over until his hand is coated with your wet, slick juices that keep coming the more you squirt all over him.

"She's so wet 'Kaashi. Look at our pretty girl."

Akaashi places a chaste kiss on your forehead with a smile.

"She's doing well, so far. Let's see if she can keep going."

Bokuto shimmies his shorts off enough to free his hard cock. He had been uncharacteristically patient until now, but that was soon to change as he lines himself up with your cunt, teasing you with just the tip.

Your whining is unintelligible, but both men understand you more or less.

"Give the pretty girl what she wants," Akaashi says. He strokes his own hard-on at the sight of Bokuto's pushing past your wet folds. "I know she can take more than that."

Bokuto has always been girthy, and it takes you more than a few seconds to adjust to his size, but when you finally do, it feels like heaven.

The position you're in gives Bokuto all the power to thrust into you like a ragdoll. But it's only when you make eye contact with Akaashi that you realize that it's, in fact, the other way around for him in particular. From where he sits, stroking his cock with flushed cheeks and choked moans, you see just how much control you have over him.

"Kiss me." You moan.

Akaashi doesn't let you repeat yourself. He kisses you long and hard even as you grip his throat with one hand and his hair with the other. He kisses you until his lips are red and bruised.

"Good boy. Both of y-you."

Bokuto groans loudly. "Say it again. Keep saying it!"

"Y-You're both so good. I-" your hips stutter against Akaashi's fingers that are rubbing circles into your clit. "Good, so good-"

That's all it takes to take Bokuto over the edge, blowing his load. "Perfect, so fucking perfect."

You can feel another orgasm swelling up inside your belly. You try to tell them but can't, too overcome by the feeling of your body tingling with desire. It's too much, overwhelmingly so; your vision blurs with unshed tears as Bokuto continues to pound into sopping pussy. Pleasure floods every fiber of your being until you're limp and every nerve in your body is set alight.

Bokuto slips out of you easily, a string of his semen following.

You can only look on in a drowsy haze as Bokuto leans over and kisses you and then Akaashi, working him over with a tight fist.

♥️

The following morning, you’re the first to wake, but only because there’s a limb jammed into your back and a heavy weight on your chest. It takes you a moment to realize, but it’s Bokuto’s elbow poking you and Akaashi’s head resting on you.

All three of you are a tangle of limbs in bed, but you aren’t sure how you’d gotten there.

“G’mornin’” Bokuto breathes. His lips caress the column of your neck.

“Morning.”

You shift into a more comfortable position. Though doing so presses Akaashi’s morning wood against your thigh.

“Keiji, you awake yet?”

“Mmm barely.” Akaashi looks up at you through his lashes, then smiles and nuzzles closer into your chest.

Bokuto, content with being your big spoon, reaches over to touch Akaashi, hands cupping his cheek. “It’s Valentine’s Day!”

“That’s true, should we do something special.”

Thinking about the previous night, you feel desire stirring in your gut. “Could we just... do it again?”

Both men look to each other then back at you, sporting matching smiles.

“Why not?”

[s0ulm8s]

boys like you (1.0)

✿ summary : alone and left in a mansion with nothing but your canvases and the dust slowly collecting on the window sills - a commission and a call from a childhood friend completely changes your life.

✿ genre : ot7 x f!reader, poly au, hybrid au, soulmate au, deer!seokjin, black panther!yoongi, great dane!hoseok, wolf!namjoon, calico cat!jimin, tiger!taehyung, bunny!jungkook

✿ warnings : mentions of death, maybe some mentions of assault, some fluff, reader is described as small (i.e smaller than jimin), slight age gap (reader is younger than jungkook)

✿ word count : 2.2K

✿ author’s note : i am inexperienced in hybrid aus, smut, and series so pls bare with me (not proofread yet)

✿ series masterlist! | 2.0

making yourself buckle down and work on the piece in front of you had proven to be more of a task than you had originally anticipated. the wide expanse of blank canvas you had stretched yourself 3 weeks ago, mocked you from the the sun room. it was only four days before you had to deliver your piece that you had really forced yourself to pick up a paint brush and do something useful.

the endless days spent alone in the vast building you now called home was doing a number on your psyche. the sheer loneliness seemed to eat away at not only your sanity but aided to your artist’s block - it was truly a gruesome cycle. locked away in an beautiful estate that you never asked for.

not only that, but working from home and having an all but nonexistent social life in a country you only permanently moved to a year prior was a fate worse than you had imagined.

you huffed, finally setting your small brush down on the easel, stepping back to assess your final draft. despite being so unmotivated and plum out of ideas, you were still proud of what you created - you had promised yourself long ago that you’d never sell a piece you abhorred, and you’d remained true to that promise thus far.

a blaring ring ripped you out of your critical trance trained on the landscape in front of you, startling you as your heartbeat quickened in pace.

“hello?” you answered, soft voice flowing through the other end as you anticipated the response from the unknown caller.

“yah! y/n! is that you?” the voice that responded was loud and excited, the baritone of it something you could never forget. a staple soundtrack from the summers you spent with your father in south korea.

“mingi? how’d you get my number?” you asked, a genuine smile flooding your face at the sound of his familiar laugh on the other end. 

of course, the two of you had stayed in brief contact since meeting as children. but as you grew, you saw less of each other. three years ago he and his boyfriend, yunho, had successfully started their own rehabilitation and adoption center for hybrids. the first year was hard, but the business quickly gained popularity and as the creator - he’d been exceptionally busy since her permanent move to south korea. they had two permanent doctors on staff, kim hongjoong and park seonghwa, along with a 24 hour staff. the workers were really exceptional, but you had only ever met their core group when the business first started. which included: choi san, jung wooyoung, choi jongho, kang yeosang, the two doctors, and of course the two owners.

“you were commissioned by a friend of mine! which is actually why i wanted to reach out.” he answered happily as your breathing evened and heartbeat finally settled.

“it’s good to hear from you, really. what can i do for you?” you asked sweetly, and mingi only briefly thought about teasing you for your soft tone and giving nature.

“would you be able to come to the adoption wing today? i’m working here all day as we’ve some new hybrids ready to find a new home. maybe in about an hour? you could join me on my rounds and we could talk. i’d like to see you, anyways. i’ve missed you.” mingi spoke professionally, but his admission made tears prick at your eyes. he almost sounded like the sixteen year old boy who had stolen your first kiss when visiting your father that summer and the memory of when things were simpler stung in your chest. your cheeks flushed. mingi smiled at your silence, knowing he had flustered his best childhood friend. you narrowed your eyes briefly, as he had tried to convince you many times in the past to adopt a hybrid of your own - but you had declined, not entirely convinced that you could provide an exceptional life for another being. because even though your knowledge on hybrids wasn't nearly as advanced as mingi’s, you still knew the basics. they weren't just animals, they were human. and there was no guarantee there. there never was with humans. you hesitate.

“y-yes. i can come by, i’ve just got to swing by and deliver my painting beforehand.” you answered as you both agreed on the meeting the time. “oh, and mingi? i’ve missed you, too.” you said genuinely as he broke into a toothy smile. it had been ages since he’d seen you, and though he knew he could blame it on his work - he didn’t know how to face you after the death of your father. he couldn’t bring himself to be there for you, to see you so broken, and he had blamed himself for that everyday. it was a relief to hear you say it. you had always been so forgiving, sometimes to a fault.

after bidding your goodbyes to the tall boy on the other side of the phone, you quickly changed clothes into something not completely ruined by the muted pigments of your paint, loaded up in your small suv, and you were off.

the delivery of your piece went smoothly, no heckling or disapproving gazes from the wealthy couple, which made your trip to TWILIGHT that much faster. you pushed open the double doors connected to the building in the right wing, clearly labeled ADOPTION. 

the smell of roses and lavender was strong in the reception area, the scent was welcoming and calming as you walked up to the front desk. 

“y/n!” the dark haired boy behind the computer called, finally rolling away from behind the screen. kang yeosang. “it’s so good to see you!” he exclaimed, eyes scanning your face as he made his way around the counter and pulled you into a soft embrace.

“likewise, yeo! it’s been a while hasn't it?” you ask rhetorically as you stare up at his daunting height.

“mmm” he hummed with a nod, releasing you. “i'll let mingi know you’re here.” he called, returning to his place behind the sleek desk, paging mingi, and then proceeding to catch up with you.

the small conversation didn’t last long before a pair of heavy footsteps drug your gaze to the wide staircase, mingi barreling down them.

you braced yourself as the giant scooped you up into a bone crushing embrace, spinning your small frame around in a circle as he let out a happy laugh. your arms snaked around the man’s neck to secure your place and return the hug.

you giggled happily as mingi finally set you down in your original place, looking down at you excitedly. had he gotten taller? impossible. maybe you had shrunk?

after an exchange of excited greetings, mingi gestured to his clipboard before finally asking, “you ready?”

you nodded softly and followed close behind as he guided you down the halls of the adoption center. he gave you the rundown of their center, showing you the wide expanse of spotless rooms sealed in by plexiglass to show the hybrids ready to be rescued. he explained that most hybrids were separated by predator, prey, species, breed, etc. but many were grouped together with their respective packs. the rooms were quite lavish, but not very homey. but what could you expect from an adoption clinic? the point was to find homes.

you passed many show exhibits, watching intently at the small dogs or tall humans sitting in the rooms patiently, playing with one another or napping quietly. you cooed at a few.

“so i asked to see you because i’d love to have your art displayed in our business.” he propositioned, leading you into an empty room as the automatic doors opened and shut behind you. you nodded, heart lurching a bit as you recalled your artist’s block. you shook the thought away as you observed the room. it was large, littered with scattered pieces of nice furniture and random toys. “ideally, i’d love to have your pieces throughout the whole establishment but this is my main concern.” he finished, gesturing to the empty space on the large wall, the one you’re faced with when first entering.

“are you wanting a mural?” you ask, voice now stable and a bit louder. 

“i'd like the piece to cover the majority of the wall, but i’d rather have it on canvas if that’s doable. in case it needs to be moved.” he explained as you nodded, taking in rough measurements of the space as mingi explained his vision for the space - effectively helping you circulate a few ideas on what you could create. you accepted his offer as he discussed payment and supplies with you, adding in an extra cost at the large measurement of the canvas you’d need custom made.

the air in the room grew a bit thick at the sound of a small beep, alerting the two of you to another door opening. your skin was now a bit hot and you suddenly became very aware of your surroundings. your fingers tingled a bit. usually a foreign feeling such as the one you were experiencing would send you into a panic, but it didn’t. if anything you felt quite calm as you looked on inquisitively at the distant thump coming toward the two of you.

“ah, it’s look like some of our hybrids are finished with their check ups.” mingi announced as you nodded lazily. he turned to you. “we usually send them into the lounge area for about an hour after routine check ups. helps them calm down.”

suddenly, you could pay no mind to mingi’s words as a black bunny rounded the corner, back foot slapping the tile exceptionally hard every so often as you smiled down at the creature happily. it stopped in it’s tracks as it’s gaze landed upon you, rearing up on it’s back legs, and tilting it’s head innocently as it examined you. 

you knelt down to greet him, the bunny immediately approaching you and sniffing your hand before accepting you and nuzzling into you closer. mingi was taken aback as he observed the usually reserved and nervous rabbit.

“hello.” you cooed, stroking the bunny effortlessly, careful to avoid his ears and tail, briefly recalling how sensitive they could be. “what’s your name?” you asked as mingi coughed.

“this is jeongguk, he’s one of our younger hyrbrids. the youngest in his pack.” he told you as you picked the bunny up and set him into your small lap. mingi almost gasped at the interaction between you and the rabbit as you pet him happily.

your trance was interrupted at the light purr and brush of a small calico next to you. you instinctively reach out to pet him, as he rubbed into your hand. “and who might you be?”

“this is jimin, the two are in a pack.” mingi attempted to explain, trying to understand the absence of jimin’s usually protective behavior and unable to tell you the full story before you asked him something he was not expecting.

“and they’re ready to be adopted?” you asked softly, not even looking up at mingi as he stuttered. the idea of adopting a hybrid didn’t seem so far-fetched now at how taken you were with the two animals in your lap. you could handle the bunny and cat, without a doubt.

“y-yes but we only adopt out entire packs together and -”

“of course, i wouldn’t dream of separating them. is there anyway i could meet them properly, as soon as i possible i think -” you interrupt. starting to gush a bit, voice hushed and excitable.

mingi cut you off, “no, y/n. you aren’t listening. they aren’t just a pack of two.” he sighed, as your gaze finally met his. “in fact they aren’t just bunny and calico, they’re pack also includes that of a wolf, black panther, deer, great dane, and tiger... their pack has been hard to adopt out as it’s so rare for such a large mix of predators and prey... but they found each other and experienced a lot together... it was only inevitable. and we can’t separate them, we refuse to. and they won’t leave one another.” he finally finished explaining as your expression fell. you let out a breath. seven hybrids. all male. and three apex predators, at that. the thought of suddenly thrusting seven knew faces - seven new men - into your home was intimidating to say the least.

you looked down at the two animals in your lap, the bunny almost looked cresfallen. gauging your reaction as his big brown eyes stared at you expectantly. as if he knew you’d reject him. mingi continued rambling on about how many adopters had expressed interest in at least one of the pack but were never willing to bring in all seven. it hurt your heart as you watched on the bunny and calico.

the estate your father had left you was empty, though. begging to be occupied. you had more than enough room and were blessed with an untouched inheritance. maybe this is what you should use it for. you had always felt too guilty to spend it. but nothing seemed more right, which was a shocking realization to someone who never thought they’d adobt a hybrid.

“could i meet them? the seven of them? i’d at least want to give them a chance... truthfully, i dont think i can leave them behind.” you admitted softly, the bunny and cat both perked up, ears raised and twitching.

“of course. i can arrange a meeting and speak with them tonight... i’ll gather their files for you to take home tonight. can you make it back in again tomorrow?” mingi asked after a deafening pause of hesitation, mouth hanging agape before coming back into reality.

“i’ll be here.”

[things-we-cant-say]

pretty little liar

Pairing: Ten x Female!Reader

Summary: In order to get your annoying ex off your back, you tell a little white lie that takes an unexpected turn.

Genre: College!AU

Warnings: Smutty smut, dirty dancing

Word Count: 4,867

A/N: Unable to withstand Ten’s power any longer, I had to start writing about him…or a version of him anyway. Hope someone out there enjoys my first dip into the ~imagines~ pond. ☺️

The party was in full swing by the time you and your best friend Amy arrived, the music so loud it could be heard down the street. It was a wonder the cops hadn’t broken it up yet but hey, the night was still young. Ducking through the arched doorway with Amy hot on your heels, you let her guide you into the foyer where you both stopped to take in the scene. The place was packed with people dancing, drinking and laughing—everyone apparently having a great time. Which was perfect for you because all you wanted to do was blow off a little steam and pretend you hadn’t spent the day fantasizing about committing the perfect murder.

You enjoyed school for the most part and you enjoyed your classes, but really you couldn’t wait for it all to just be over. Two extra years and your master’s degree in linguistics was almost within your grasp. You still weren’t one hundred percent what you planned to do with it (teaching was definitely out) but either way you were ready to dive into the real world. To no longer be stressed out about exams and papers and boring ass professors that constantly seemed to have a stain on their tie.

And to get far, far away from your stupid ex, Adam.

“Uh oh you have murder face,” Amy said as she peeped around to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shrugged. “Just in my head I guess.”

Amy hummed. “I get it. That’s why we are here though! To get fucked up and do something we regret in the morning.”

You laughed. “Guess we’re Uber-ing home.”

She grinned and grabbed your wrist, pulling you over to a table loaded with different types of alcohol. The guy ‘tending bar’ as it were winked as you two approached. “What can I get you for?”

“Something with alcohol but where we can’t taste the alcohol!” Amy exclaimed happily. “Oh! And if you’ve got any little umbrellas I’d like one of those too.”

He did finger guns and proceeded to cook something up in two red cups, sticking in two pink umbrellas when he was done. You and Amy took your drinks and after a cursory sniff, took a sip. The tequila wasn’t as strong as with a single shot but you could still detect it just not enough to make you stop drinking. Unlike Amy you didn’t plan to get completely fucked up but you weren’t going to say no to a nice buzz.

Cups in hand you migrated onto the dance floor and fell in with everyone else, bopping to the beat and scream chatting over the loud music.

“I really needed this!” Amy yelled. “Statistics is kicking my cute little ass!”

“I know what you mean!” You shouted. “But hey! Soon we’ll be done and actual jobs will be kicking our cute little asses!”

Laughing, Amy bounced up and down, sending her blonde hair flying. “Is that why you’ve been so grumpy lately? Or is it…he who shall not be named?”

With a sigh you took a big sip of your strawberry margarita. “Yeah. He keeps fucking calling me and leaving me these stupid ass messages, apologizing and shit. I’ve blocked him but he just uses someone else’s phone.”

Amy’s eyes stretched wide. “That’s like stalker behavior! Or maybe he really is sorry for what he did.”

You snorted. “Sorry for having sex with his ex in the backseat of my car? As far as I am concerned he can take his ‘sorrys’ and shove them so far up his ass they come out his mouth as safaris!”

Amy choked a little on her drink, hitting you hard on the arm in admonishment after she stopped coughing. “I hate you! I could have died!”

Her words made you smirk. “But did you? No but for real, fuck Adam. Fuck Adam and anyone who even looks like Adam!”

“Woo!” Amy threw both hands up into the air, yelping as liquid sloshed down onto her head. “Oh shit! Drink emergency I’ll be right back!”

Before you could say anything, she turned and hurried back towards the drink table. Alone in the middle of a dancing crowd, you didn’t know whether you should slink over to a corner or just keep dancing. That last thing you wanted was some random dude trying to groove with you. Of course if you decided to hold up the wall nothing would stop some random dude from trying to hit on you either. At a bit of a loss you drained the rest of your drink and did a I don’t really know anyone two step, hoping Amy would return soon.

The tequila settled nice and warm in your stomach, making you feel more at ease. Most of the people at the party were from your school but not ones you associated with on like, a daily basis. Sure you recognized a few faces from the library or cafeteria but there was no one you’d had more than a surface conversation with.

And then your eyes landed on him. Ten.

Ten was a…different sort of person altogether. He was the kinda guy CW shows thought actually existed in college, except he was very real. And very much fucking gorgeous in that unattainable way CW shows also loved. However, that sort of did him a disservice because as far as you knew, he was just a decent guy who happened to be able to do some pretty awesome things.

For example, he was an amazing dancer. The kinda dancer that just freaking mesmerized you when he moved. Had you wondering how in the hell had he taught his body to do that shit? One minute he was in total sync with everyone else and the next he was performing his solo and blowing your mind. He’d done some show a few months ago with a friend and you’d nearly flipped out of your chair watching him work. The body rolls, the attitude, the way he’d just commanded the stage…whew. Was it possible to be a fan of someone who wasn’t famous?

Then there was his art; things he designed himself or drew from memory. Art class was essentially where you’d sorta came to be acquaintances with him. You weren’t exactly good at drawing but you liked it enough that you wanted to improve, plus it helped you de-stress after particularly hard days. Ten on the other hand excelled and just like with dancing, it was interesting to watch his process. He’d described himself as a sensory artist so he wasn’t always as concerned with the end product as the professor sometimes wanted him to be. From your eye though he’d yet to create anything that wasn’t remarkable. In fact, more than once you’d wanted to ask him to design a tattoo for you, but felt it would be kinda weird. He had no idea what you were into after all. So far your conversations with him had consisted of colors and that one time he’d asked to borrow one of your brushes.

You were pretty sure he’d sold something to an art gallery.

Anyway so Ten could dance and he could draw and he could sing and he was fluent in several languages; as far as you knew the only thing he was kind of shit at was cooking. But who hadn’t set a class kitchen on fire once or twice? Or three times…

If he were an asshole—well people would probably still crush on him—you’d count that as a major flaw and want to keep your distance. But the kicker was that he could do cool things and he was nice. Dorky even especially when it came to cute animals. Was always posting pictures of himself at the animal shelter playing with the kittens and the puppies, or just acting like an idiot with friends. Yet it was that confidence that made him seem untouchable, and also made him sexy as fuck. More than once you’d fantasized about biting his Adam’s apple.

Heh.

Shaking your head, you fanned lightly at your face with both hands. Maybe stepping outside for some fresh air would be a good idea.

“Y/N!” Amy nearly tripped over her pretty sandals in her hurry to get back to you. “Weewoo weewoo weewoo!”

“Um…”

She grabbed your shoulder. “It’s a police siren! We have a code red situation here, I repeat a code red! Adam just walked in!”

“What?” You blinked and immediately looked towards the doorway, brows narrowing when you saw she was right.

Standing there in a white t-shirt in his formerly handsome glory was your ex-boyfriend, Adam. Once upon a time you’d thought the world of him; thought he was the kinda guy you could probably marry someday. The kinda guy you’d introduced your family to. Turns out he was the kind of guy that hooked up with his ex in your car repeatedly until finally being caught in the act. Sure it had been gratifying to make him and her walk home half naked but it had done nothing to quell the pain left behind. Thankfully though your pain quickly turned to anger and now you usually focused on not murdering him when he popped up. There was a lot you could forgive but cheating was firmly in the do not cross zone. Everything you’d felt for him evaporated the moment you saw him with her.

And he’d promised he was over her. Lying piece of shit, you thought to yourself.

“What the hell is he doing here?! Does he even know anyone here?” you asked with a frown.

“I dunno!” your friend said slowly. “It’s possible, big campus and all. Do you want me to help you climb out of the bathroom window?”

“Yeah my boobs aren’t fitting through one of those skinny ass windows,” you replied wryly. “Though to be honest I’m almost willing to risk it. C’mon let’s—”

It was too late. Adam spotted you like an arrow searching for its target, eyes registering shock and then elation. He reached you in three quick strides, opening his arms for a hug that he was damned crazy to expect. “Y/N. Wow you—you look amazing. I’m so glad we ran into each other.”

You huffed. “I’m not. I told you we’re over Adam. Or does me blocking your calls not get the message across?”

He exhaled deeply. “Look I know I messed up but I’m sorry. Classes were just really tough and—and Lucy and I would reminisce about old times…”

“Do I look like I give a shit? You cheated on me and we’re over.” The lie came so easily. “Besides, I’ve moved on.”

“Yeah!” Amy poked him in the chest. “She’s moved on so suck it!”

Adam arched a brow. “You’ve moved on?” He sounded skeptical and that made your blood boil. “Since when? And with who?”

You’d once heard that Hippocrates came up with the saying drastic times call for drastic measures though it wasn’t something you’d be willing to bet money on. However, standing there with your ex eying you like he just knew you were lying brought a whole new meaning to the idiom. You would one hundred percent be damned before giving him the satisfaction of gloating.

Tequila’s kicking in…

Without missing a beat, you put a hand on your hip and motioned to Ten. “Him. I’m seeing him.”

Amy made a sound like a cat having its tail stepped on while Adam gaped at you. “What? I—no. No way. You’re totally lying. I’ve seen the people he’s dated and you’re not his type at all.”

This bitch.

Twirling on your black heels, you strolled across the room to where Ten sat in an arm chair, chatting with a few of his friends. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you straddled his lap and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I know this is awkward as fuck—I’m so sorry—but if you just play along I will owe you big time. I’ll give you anything. You need a kidney? You can have a kidney.”

Ten’s friends had gone mute and as you sat back to gauge his reaction—or to possibly be thrown off of him—you bit your full bottom lip. His dark eyes were watching you calculatingly, his own lips pursed together like you were a riddle he needed to solve. Up close he was utterly breathtaking, all smooth skin and silky black hair that fell artfully across his forehead. He smelled incredible.

And then he spoke.

“There you are baby,” he said wrapping an arm around your waist. “I’ve been looking for you.”

That was when you figured you owed him your first born but it was fine. “Well, you found me. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

He chuckled. “You’re worth waiting for.”

His friends still looked confused though they didn’t have time to voice their opinions. Adam stalked over seconds later like a man on a mission. “So it’s true? You and Y/N are together?”

Ten tilted his head to the side and you saw the moment the lightbulb went off for him. “Yeah we’re together.”

Adam huffed. “Since when? For how long? Where did you two meet?”

Ten smirked. “Are you taking a survey or something?” He brushed his lips across your jaw, making you shiver. “The only thing that matters is that she’s mine. Let’s dance, Y/N.”

“I would love to,” you replied with a smile. You were also grateful he’d remembered your name.

You climbed off of his lap and took his hand, sending Adam a you thought look before pulling Ten out into the thick of the crowd. Your heart was beating a mile a minute but you felt too giddy to pay much attention to it. Plus, you knew Adam was watching you like a hawk and you didn’t want to let on how nervous you actually were. If he found out you were lying he’d never leave you alone and consider you pathetic to boot. Besides the nice buzz that was finally creeping down your spine told you everything would be fine. How could it not be?

Ten’s hands settled low on your hips and he gave you a little tug, pulling your back to his chest. You fit rather perfectly with him, his chin brushing the top of your head. Picking a rhythm in the song that thumped with bass, you began to move together. You rolled your ass against him and leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder, focusing on his breath as it ghosted across your neck. A silver of light wouldn’t have been able to get between you.

Normally you wouldn’t have dared to do something like this with a near stranger but your desire to make your ex suffer was bigger than your nerves. Besides Ten appeared to be all in on the ruse; his body twisting and curving in sync with yours, fingers on his right hand sliding up between your breasts to wrap lightly on your throat. His teeth nipped at your earlobe and you gasped. Reached around to his side to clasp his shirt for an anchor. You heard him chuckle and suddenly you were spun away from him only to be reeled back in, this time face to face.

The room felt like it was two hundred degrees. You weren’t exactly wearing much—a slinky black dress with tiny ties at the hem—but even that seemed too much. Without missing a beat though you and Ten continued to grind with one another, his thigh just barely pushed between your own. Every time you swayed forward to meet him the denim of his jeans rubbed deliciously against you, sending sparks sprinting through your veins. Both of his hands were on your ass as if helping to guide you, and as you met his gaze you couldn’t help but bite your lip at what you saw there. Desire, lust, hunger—no one had ever looked at you like that before. Like they could just devour you and still not have enough of you.

It made you feel powerful.

You grinned and wrapped an arm around his neck, fingers giving his hair a little tug. He hissed and lowered his head so that he could mouth at your bare shoulder, hands squeezing your ass so hard it nearly hurt. You weren’t sure when you started to get wet—maybe it was the moment you sat on his lap or he decided to play along with your dumb stunt—but you could tell it now. Your panties were sticking to you, your skin was on fire and it was becoming difficult to think straight. Honestly however you didn’t want to think at all, especially not if it meant not being in Ten’s orbit.

“Ten,” you whispered into the skin under his jaw.

He hummed, the sound vibrating through your body. You plastered your hand to his chest and pulled it down, nails catching on the thin material of his shirt until they were brushing along the zipper on his jeans. You gave him a quick squeeze—he was hard and straining—and he cursed loudly. Between one second and the next he was dragging you down a dimly light hallway, past kissing couples and one guy passed out drunk in the doorway of someone’s room. He swung you both into the first vacant room he came to; a lavish bathroom at the very back of the house. The door was closed with a swift thump and the lock clicked shut.

You licked your lips as he crowded you back into the counter, looking down at you with a tiny smirk. That part of your brain that yammered on about bad decisions was surprisingly quiet, so you figured it was beyond okay to pull him down for a kiss. As with most of the stuff he did, Ten was a damn good kisser. His mouth was soft and warm, his tongue playful and coaxing. He kissed you like he’d been waiting to kiss you for a long time. Until it grew deep and sensual. Until you were both panting with the need for air but neither wanting to let go of the moment.

With a gasp you tilted backwards a bit, your knees suddenly weak. “Fuck me,” you said absently.

“Can I?” Ten asked, chest heaving. “Can I fuck you?”

“God yes,” you replied, already pulling your dress up until it hitched around your waist.

Ten hooked his thumbs onto the band of your pink panties and slid them down your legs, laying them next to the sink. He looked you over with that same eye he used for his art but you could tell he liked what he saw. You grabbed his hand and brought it between your legs, spreading them wider for him. Two of his fingers slipped inside of you without any resistance to find you damp and aching, already so hot for him. He started a lazy rhythm—in and out, in and out—like he was in no hurry at all. Like he wasn’t driving you crazy all the way down to the tips of your toes.

He kept his eyes locked onto yours as he touched you, lips slightly parted like he couldn’t believe this was happening. That rang true for both of you. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever really be friends with Ten, let alone about to hook up with him. It was like you’d stumbled into some alternate universe.

Bringing his free hand up to your cheek, he smoothed his thumb across your lips, pressing lightly until you let him in. You sucked his thumb into your mouth and gave it a little nip, smiling when he smirked. When he deemed it wet enough, he pressed it to your clit and you moaned, your hips stuttering upward with a will of their own. He began a firm massage, working your clit this way and that, fingers still thrusting in their maddening motion. Of course he’d be great with his hands. Of course he’d be able to play your body like a finely tuned instrument.

Pressure started to build low in your stomach. “I—I’m…”

“Turn around.” Ten took a step back and made a show of sucking his fingers into his mouth, tongue darting out to lick between them like he wanted to savor every drop.

You whimpered but did as he requested, your eyes finding his in the wide silver mirror. You watched as he unzipped his pants and pushed them along with his dark colored briefs down to the floor. You hadn’t seen him pull out a condom but he had one; ripping open the packaging with his perfectly straight teeth before rolling it onto his hard cock. It was a delicious looking thing you had to admit, long and thick with a slight curve. If you’d had the time you would have gladly went to your knees for him.

A low breath shuddered out of Ten’s lungs as he pushed inside of you, his hands gripping your waist so strongly you were bound to have a few bruises later. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

It had been a while since Adam and nobody after him until now.

When he assumed you’d adjusted to the size of him, he pulled nearly out before driving back inside of you. You moaned and pushed back to meet his thrusts, feeling the pleasure shattering through you. Your breasts bounced as he moved and he reached a hand forward, tugging down the top of your dress so that he could cup one. He rolled your nipple between his fingers and pinched, bending over you so that he could bite down onto the tender skin of your shoulder. The motion sent him even deeper and you both groaned at the feeling.

“Te—Ten,” you stammered, losing your train of thought when he rolled his hips liked he did on the dance floor. “Oh fuck! Fuck!”

The picture you made in the mirror was a very erotic one; you could see every single expression on Ten’s handsome face. The utter enjoyment he was obviously finding in fucking you was written all over it; there was nowhere for it to hide. His head was tipped back, eyes fluttering closed only to pop back open so that he could watch himself shove into you over and over again. He had you up on your tip toes, nose just an inch from the mirror itself. He was always sexy but tonight that word took on a whole new meaning.

All you could do was try to give as good as you got.

You slapped a hand onto the sink to steady yourself and clenched around him, reveling in the low whine that escaped his throat. It kinda sounded like your name.

And then he was pulling all the way out, dick bouncing as he stumbled backwards. You blinked in confusion. “Wh--what’s wrong?”

Ten ran his fingers through his hair. “C’mon. I want you to ride me.”

He sat down on the closed toilet seat lid and you straddled him without a second thought, sinking down onto his dick with a full body shudder. With your dress around your waist and your breasts jiggling in his face as you bounced up and down on his cock, he traced his tongue around your nipple before lightly biting down. You tangled your fingers in his hair and panted out his name, letting out a squeak when his palm connected with your ass for a hard slap. Planting his feet on the floor, he leaned you backwards a bit as he drove into you repeatedly, eyes watching how well your pussy took him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your collarbone. “Gorgeous—you feel so good.” He bit you again, this time on the side of your neck. “So good.”

With one hand on his shoulder to brace yourself, you rose up and let yourself come down hard over and over again, feeling him pound so deep it was almost criminal. Had the music not been so loud you knew exactly what you would have heard; the sound of skin hitting skin as Ten fucked you like he owned you. Just for tonight, maybe he did.

You weren’t sure how long it went on but when you came it still managed to take you by surprise. Your body lit up like a Christmas tree from the inside out and you cried out Ten’s name, clenching around him, your nails digging into his shoulder blades. He muttered a drawn out fuuuuck and pinched your clit with this thumb and forefinger, making you jerk so hard you nearly tumbled off his lap.

“Ah! Ten!” You shouted as he kept it up. “I—no—oh god—”

Your pussy tightened around him again and he shivered, thrusts growing erratic as he came with a grunt. You trembled through a second orgasm almost in disbelief—usually the only thing that could get you off twice in a row was hidden under your bed in a shoe box.

Seconds later you flopped against him, attempting to catch your breath. He was still rolling his hips just a tiny bit, making all the too sensitive areas ping.

“Whoa,” he said breathlessly, wrapping both arms around your waist. “That was…”

You chuckled softly. “Yeah…” Chancing a look at him, you admired the way strands of his dark hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. He was glistening, shirt sticking to his chest. He smelled like hints of your perfume and you smelled like hints of his cologne. It was all so intimate.

Reluctantly you sat back and gazed at him, wondering if things were about to get awkward. But Ten just smiled and ducked his head a little, a barely there blush creeping up into his already flushed cheeks. It was so adorable you couldn’t have resisted kissing him if you tried. From the way he melted into you, he’d had the same idea.

After a few minutes of just enjoying the feel of his lips against yours, you forced yourself up off of him. Your legs shook; you had to grab the counter to keep from tripping in your heels. You could already tell you’d still feel him tomorrow and the thought made you kinda dizzy, but in a good way. Blinking at your reflection—your hair was a dark mess—you knew there was no way you’d be able to hide the love bites that adorned your skin. They stood out stark red and purple like a bruise.

Ten remained slouched on the toilet for a couple of moments before removing the condom and tossing it into the trash. He dabbed at his dick with a handful of toilet paper, and then pulled up his underwear and jeans. “So…can I ask you something?”

You fixed your dress. “Sure.”

“Who was that guy?” he inquired with a grin. “The one you obviously wanted to get away from.”

Oh shit you’d forgotten all about Adam! “Oh he—he’s my dumb ex. He jumped stupid at me and I—I wanted to show him that he’s an idiot. That I’m totally over him. I—I’m sorry for getting you involved.”

He laughed as he patted down his hair. “No complaints from my end. I think he got the message though.” Reaching behind you he handed you your panties. “Don’t wanna forget these.”

It was ridiculous to be embarrassed considering what you’d both just done, but you couldn’t help it. You took them from him and pulled them on, keeping your eyes on the ground. “Thanks… Look Ten—”

“I’m hungry,” he said interrupting you. “Have you ever had grilled dried pollack?”

“Um yeah once I think,” you replied uncertainly. “It was pretty tasty.”

Ten motioned behind him. “I know a place that makes it if you wanted to go. And…maybe afterwards we could just hang out. Talk.”

That sounded amazing. “I’d love to. But…”

He picked up on your meaning. “Y/N I sit next to you in all of our art classes. I make conversation with you for no reason. Do you really think I of all people forget my brushes? Honestly I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while but you’ve always seemed…disinterested.”

You were dumbstruck by his admission. “Me?! That’s just my face! You’re the unattainable ingénue or whatever!”

Ten chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh please the only thing standing between me and being a serious cat dad is having an apartment that allows animals. However, this conversation is pointless. You owe me and I’m collecting…if that’s okay?”

You huffed but couldn’t stop grinning. “It’s perfect.”

The walk from the bathroom to the living room had everyone staring with a few people letting out loud whistles. Adam had disappeared but Amy was there to give you a big thumbs up. You promised to call her later and then let Ten pull you outside into the warm night air, your fingers happily entwined with his.

[vannybarber]

Make Up Your Mind

Summary: You're ready, but Chris is making it seem like he isn't.

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: angst, SMUT, swearing, implied smut, insults.

Your body finally acknowledged the soreness between your legs when you get up to move to Chris' bathroom. You reach for a wash cloth on the rack and clean yourself up. Chris follows behind you with a shit eating grin on his face, clearly reminiscing the previous events.

Chris and you have been friends for about 2 years after working with him in Knives Out. You guys' childish personalities clicked right away and were literally each other's best friends. Only about 7 months back, you boldly told him that you wanted to fuck him. He was nothing less than down and you guys have been friends with benefits ever since.

Well up until recently. You both started acting like real couple. Going out to nice restaurants, touching in public, spending nights at each other houses and visiting each other's families. You both were enjoying the feeling of being together all the time, even without an official label.

Being around him so much grew out even more feelings. Not friendly feelings. But more intimate and longing feelings. To be with him. As his girl. More than just a friend to talk to. More than a nice body to play with.

There had been too many internet speculations asking why you guys don't just date already. Hell, you were asking the same damn question. But unfortunately, you know why. And you hate it.

"That little freaky number you did in there was something else, Y/N. 'Thou art truest freak' in the words of Shakespeare." He laughs, watching for your reaction. You just look at him smiling and shaking your head. The things that come out this man's mouth. You know damn well Shakespeare never said that shit.

"I told you from the start, boo. I know how to put it down." He eagerly agrees, hanging his wash cloth up and checking his fingers.

You observe him through the mirror. His bushy auburn eyebrows furrowed together while he picks at his nails. His sharp narrow nose that you feel against your right cheek everytime you guys make out. His beautiful red lips you've felt in many places on your body, preferably in places your eyes can't see. And his eyes. The ones that hold so much purity and happiness. Those perfect eyes.

This man is everything you want, but he just wasn't ready. That's the catch. That's the thing you absolutely hated. He had major commitment issues and people around you had more of a chance in anything than him ever settling down. It literally caused you physical pain. Because you couldn't change his feelings, no matter how many conversations you guys had or how good you fucked him.

Walking back into the room, you grab your bodycon dress you came over in and put it back on your body. You gather all your other articles of clothes throwing them into your handbag and take it out into his living room. He follows behind you in his grey sweatpants and dark green t-shirt. He always looks so perfect.

You flop on the couch and turn on the T.V.

"You wanna watch The Little Mermaid again, boo?" You turn around looking at him, seeing him raid the cabinets for snacks.

"Do you even have to ask me that?" He yells back when he finds his chips. You chuckle and start the movie.

"NO DON'T START IT YET I'M NOT READYYYY!"

"THEN GET YOUR SLOW ASS OVER HERE!" you yell back at him. His level of immaturity isn't even visible because of how high it is. It's unmatched.

After a few moments, he finds his way on the couch next to you with your double stuffed Oreos and apple juice, passing it to you. He had his veggie sticks cause he's so damn picky.

You both get comfortable and turn your attention to the movie.

After some time, it's the scene were Sebastian is encouraging Eric to kiss Ariel. You wish the real Sebastian would come over and convince Chris to be with you. Maybe he'd listen. Just the thought irritates you.

You huff lowly in annoyance. Chris notices but doesn't say anything. You always got frustrated at this part cause he took FOREVER to finally kiss her. So he brushes it off. Nothing he hadn't seen before.

While the movie was playing, you were getting even more frustrated in that moment. Chris had his arm behind your back and hand resting on your hip, laughing at Flounder. It was like he was playing a game with you that he didn't know he was even apart of. You shifted away from him a little. You hated feeling this way.

Little to your knowledge, Chris was watching you in the corner of his eye. He watched you as your mind raced and move constantly. Your eyes move around a lot when you think hard. He knew something was up.

"Jellybean, what's up?" You turn and look at him, pushing away the feeling the nickname presented you inside. He gave it to you after you bought him a Starburst jellybean gift basket to celebrate the end of you guys' filming.

"What do you mean? I'm fine" you lie right in his face. Like a complete idiot because he can see right through you. You turn back to watch the movie, but he grabs the remote and pauses it.

You roll your eyes, knowing very well he isn't letting this go. Why do you find yourself in these situations? You always end up fishing for trouble and you're not even using bait. It just comes to you. You scratch your head trying to come up with a way to dissolve the situation.

"When are you going to stop trying to lie to me, princess?" Another name he gave you. You prefer it over 'jellybean'. It made your body flutter even more. But at this point, you were tired of faking. Tired of covering up your feelings. Tired of being less than what you wanted to be to him.

Wasting no time, you take a deep breathe and spill.

"You know what Chris? I like you. There. I said it." You slap your hands down on your lap as you spoke.

"And I don't mean as a friend or as a fuck buddy. I've felt this way for a very long time. Even before we started having sex. I thought us doing this would make us closer, possibly forming a relationship."

You glance at him and continue when he doesn't say anything. He just looks at you.

"But it hasn't gone anywhere. I'm tired of faking my feelings towards you. I'm tired of coming over here acting like I just want sex when I want more. Way more."

By the time you finish, your head is down and your fingers are playing with the end of your dress. You cannot bring yourself to look up at him. You couldn't bear the rejection. All you hear are his quiet breaths. You fucked up.

Chris is a real talker. He could talk his ass off for hours into the next day. The fact that he isn't saying anything right now has you absolutely terrified, but ultimately embarrassed. You did this all for nothing.

"Y/N, I- I don't...uh" he stumbles over his words. That's all you needed to hear. You didn't need to bathe in it any longer.

You jump up off the couch, not forgetting to grab the cookies and juice, stick them in your bag and head over to your shoes. Chris is right on your tail calling you, trying to get you to stop.

"Hey princess wait" he calls behind you.

"Chris it's fine. I'm just gonna head home. I'm a little tired." Your soreness was the last of your worries, barely even feeling it anymore. You made an absolute fool of yourself and now you couldn't go back. It was a done deal.

"Come on, baby. I didn't mean to-"

"Chris!" You raise your voice at him. He shuts his mouth right away. Your shoes are on and keys in hand. "Its okay. I just don't feel good. I'll call you later. Tomorrow maybe."

You block out anything else he was saying and step out the door heading to your car. He didn't even try to stop you. He fucked up and it didn't need to get messier than it already was. He watched in guilt as you pull out his driveway and down the street.

You drive in complete silence. Normally, you'd be blasting Partition on the way after getting dicked down, but that was not the case. And it wouldn't be for a while.

Part 2 coming really soon 🤩!