#and the 'power' to bring about change sharing the same 'will' -

[neyafromfrance95]

the essence of sauron's feelings for galadriel makes him the perfect partner for her.

galadriel's greatest desire is to be a queen in her own right, to have power over all else in the kingdom of her own.

and this is sauron's proposal to her.

sauron is not proposing to make galadriel subservient to him, to make her into a consort. he is proposing to give her that which she desires. he would be her consort in that scenario, her queen-maker. he promises to make her stronger than the foundations of the earth, to bring all middle-earth to its' knee to worship the light of its' queen. this is not a description of a queen consort, but of a god queen.

trop doesn't change lotr!galadriel's greatest desire, it just adds more context to it - sauron himself becomes her temptation for power! her desire for him represents her desire for power.

we don't talk enough about how galadriel sees herself as the chosen one. she has a god complex. she believes that there is this greater than life reason why she alone is destined to defeat the darkness and protect the middle-earth, and everyone should accommodate her in her quest of a great glory.

and sauron knows her mind. he sees who she is and who she wishes to be. and he wishes to make galadriel into a great authority she desires to be. he chooses her as his god to worship.

the truth is that they couldn't be any more compatible with one another.

there is more nuance to it. sauron sees his likeness in galadriel, and he empathizes with her when she opens up about being alienated bc of her darkness. he genuinely repents for causing it and chooses to help her achieve her ambition by following her lead. and that is the feeling he wants to bind to his very being, the feeling of being forgiven by the one he had helped ruin when he served the darkness as he helps her heal by serving her light, the feeling of being free of morgoth's darkness through binding himself to galadriel's light. bc in his mind, he can be absolved of this darkness through serving galadriel. in his mind, to heal himself he needs galadriel to need him.

in his mind, galadriel is the one being who is his mirror, she shares his darkness, and yet, she overpowers it with her willpower. so it makes sense that sauron believes only galadriel can free him from morgoth and do so by binding him to herself. sauron sees galadriel as his savior.

sauron's proposal is literally him begging galadriel to bind herself to him by accepting power he offers her. binding that feeling to his very being = bending his knee to worship the light of his queen. and sauron expresses care through servitude and experiences love through worship.

so, subtextually, sauron asks galadriel to accept his love.

his feelings for her border worship and possessiveness, and since she rejects his worship, he resorts to desperately trying to possess her. but the undercurrent of his groping is the same - she is the only one who binds him to the light. as in, the part of him that loves her is the only part of him that is absolved of the darkness. and he wants that feeling back the way he felt it when he fought at her side.

subtextually, it is underlined that sauron tries to recapture her being in his creations, and it is the feeling of being bound to her that he covets. he holds onto their connection and keeps it with him always.

also, sauron and galadriel's compatibility and connection don't make for an inherently corrupt dynamic. in theory, she can be a great leader and he can be her good follower. but as it is, sauron would inevitably cause galadriel to succumb to the darkness and she would never outgrow her pride and greed.

[lennsart]

I see that you're a prince Legend enjoyer. Mind if I tell you about my hc about that? Jsjsjsjajsjs

- His clothes are the only ones that have golden thread. Something only royals can have, still the rest of his clothes are made of common cotton.

- He gave up his right to be the king. But he's still a prince, and he helps Fable in anything he can. He's a free soul, and Fable knows that.

- His uncle is, in fact, the captain of the royal guard. Because of the triforce in Legend's hand (another hc that all the Links have the triforce on their hand, it's just more visible on some of them) everyone knew he was the next hero so the royal family told the captain to take care of Legend and teach him how to use a sword.

- But Legend's uncle saw more in him than just a prince/hero, so he also taught him the value of hard work with the apple field. And tried to save him from his destiny, that's why he tried to save Fable before Legend.

- Almost nobody knows that Legend is a prince. So, for his kingdom he's only an adventurer and he's ok with that.

- The chain knows he's a prince. But they only use that title to tease him.

- Legend often tries to flee from royal events, but Fable stops him. He learned to dance and he sometimes played for the people. In the end, he stays on the events for about 20 minutes, and then he's out of there. He has a small social battery and feels overwhelmed. He also doesn't talk in those events, he prefers to use sign language.

Hello hello, I do not mind at all I love receiving headcanons :D

All of this is interesting !

I like the detail of the golden embroidery being a sign of nobility :0 Four do have them too though if I remember correctly... (Four, something to share with the class...? Lmao no but it could have changed between his time and Legend's, or it could be a gift from his Zelda, who is his best friend in Minish Cap I believe)

I have to admit, I also like the darker take of the royal family supposedly being blessed to only have girls (in the public's eye) since only the women of the family have Hylia's powers... Meaning they abandon/hide Legend at his birth for being a boy D: the drama !

But I never really bothered to think about a way for the royal family to have abandonned Legend without that, and your version do work very well ! The triforce is a powerful sign, but for a public figure to have it... It's ought to bring bad people's attention !

(also yeah in my heart all the Links have the triforce on their hands too hahaha)

I also (in my personal stories !) don't feel the need for Legend to actually give up on the right to be a king, since Hyrule's princesses must be such powerful historical figures... Even if you don't take in account the "only girls" thingy, maybe they at least should get on the throne first ? Sure, we only saw kings in LoZ games, but they never had a queen ; maybe they only get on the throne when the queen dies ?

(Again, you don't have to agree haha ! I do enjoy multiple contradictory headcanons at all time ; I'm just typing as I'm thinking, it's not to dismiss what you told me)

In any way, yeah, I absolutely think that Legend don't want to be king/a noble, and stays the friendly adventurer in his kingdom !

Once the chain knows he's a prince they absolutely tease him to no end haha ! But I do think he wouldn't tell them before a loonnng time (eyeing the "average nobody" line, which gets hilarious with this headcanon). I also would love for him to reveal it by mentioning it casually and everyone losing their mind wondering if he's joking lmao

And omg I think the exact same about his social battery hahaha ! (If only for projecting myself on him not gonna lie 😂)

I do think he has a fun time, especially if he plays like you say— he likes to make people happy ! But put him an hour in here and the boy's brain is absolutely fried. 24 hours nap to ensue !

[cosmic-navel-gazin]

“Rumata felt a strange sense of painful ambivalence. He knew that he was right, yet in some strange way, this rightness lowered him before Arata. Arata was clearly somehow superior to him— and not only to him but to all those who had come to this planet uninvited and who, full of helpless pity, watched the tumultuous bustling of its life from the rarefied heights of dry hypotheses and alien morality. And for the first time Rumata thought, There is no gain without a loss. We’re infinitely stronger than Arata in our kingdom of good and infinitely weaker than Arata in his kingdom of evil.”

— Arkady and Boris Strugatsky, Hard to be a God    

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Naga King // Part 2

Part 1

Shian is the King of the Naga, the valued birthright of his family to one day earn the tribe’s respect as they murder the reigning King if they don’t offer their service to the heir. Many other tribes and kingdoms may say this is brutal but it was his way of life. 

“My King! A warrior of the canine race was found on our borders–how would you like to proceed?”

“The same we always have. Devour them.”

“Yes, my King.”

It was how his family established a kingdom in a world where the human kingdom was in the mood to acknowledge different tribes as kingdoms. Word has it that a hero had come to the humans that would unite all the separate tribes with some peacekeeping power. Naturally, Shian thought such a thing was the stuff of dreams; instead was planning to make the journey to gauge the threat of this new being. But of course his strength brings so much attention the chatty little snakes couldn’t help sharing about the oddest thing.

“Did you? Did you hear?

“Yes! Yes, I did! So beautiful! A beautiful thing!”

“A naga youngling! A naga youngling and their human parent!” 

“What a sight! What a sight to behold.”

Granted this news was not delivered maliciously but that didn’t matter to Shian. As King of the Naga it was his duty to protect the clear separation of all humans and Nagas. History and biology spoke volumes—Nagas are the better creatures. Shian was more eager than anything to prove this, especially on the journey to observe eliminate the hero meant to unite them all. But of course, this changes when he meets you.

“Oh (Y/n)! I saved our dearest Nox from a wild boar and I saved the body for a hearty meal!!! Can’t I come inside now!”

“No!”

“Please!? Wouldn’t you like it if I didn’t break the window, this time?”

Since he’s met you everything has changed. Now that he’s discovered that his destined mate is a fiery little human he’s had no choice but to reconsider. Now he can adore your flaws as a human and admire your unique traits even more. His skepticism about other humans hasn’t completely gone away but he’s plenty more merciful now that he has you to woo. 

“HISSS State your name and business human!”

“-I-I- just wanted to deliver the fruits I always do sir!”

“Hmm my mate did mention something about their usual shipment….fine but thank your stars I’ve decided not to gorge myself on those eyes of yours.”

“Y-y-yes Sir!”

Not to mention you have an adorable little Naga son! Not that he finds Nox particularly cute on his own but it’s the words he parrots from you that make him a delight to be around. It’s a biological thing that Nagas interested in a mate aren’t fond of their children previous or otherwise. Even when they’re created together, there’s a strong chance that paternal love humans expect may never appear. But he’s found when he acts as though that’s what he’s doing you excuse more of his behavior.

“Now to strike with your tail you’ll have to shift your weight like this."

“Oh I see!”

“Yes…good job…”

“Are you looking back at the window, again?”

“Well of course I am! You said they were looking, right?!”

He does find that the more time he finds with Nox he doesn’t hate him. He’s sure if he was any other little snakeling in his kingdom he’d fully be invested but this is the snakeling in the way of attaining his mate’s complete attention. This is why it’s easier to blame him than accept you’re not very interested in giving him your attention anyway. It does annoy him that Nox isn’t unaware of this. The little narc snakeling is happy to string him along; baiting him with his praises to you to learn things from him.

“What?! I thought you weren’t watching the fight?!”

“I didn’t but the forest talks. So how do you move so fast across the forest like that?”

“Hmph that’s a secret. Family secret, actually.”

“Oh, that’s a shame…guess I ought to tell them you could never see us being a family.”

“What?! That’s not what I–”

“Guess I'll call out in one. Two. Thre–”

“Okay okay pay attention I’m only showing you once.”

“Yes!”

In the Naga King's heart of hearts he kind of really loves likes this domestic life with you two. It feels as though the whole world is right when he can spend all day following and pestering you as he learns more about you. But it won’t stay that way forever. And unfortunately, his entourage and advisors will find him. Reminding him of that pesky hero he has to eat meet. It’s simple to debate with his team about taking you with him or sending you back home to his newly constructed castle. Of course, he neglects to ask your opinion on the matter and must reap the consequences.

“My (Y/n)...why are all of my servants tied on the drying line?”

“They started moving my stuff. I thought I told you and your little buddies to stop touching my house.”

“ But how are we supposed to move you to my castle?”

“What?!”

“(Y/n)...please put down the knife!”

After talking you down committing his entire entourage to chores you wanted done he ordains that you should try accompanying him on his mission to the human kingdom. Leaving out the part about the hero he suggests that he leave some of his servants to tend to your home and babysit Nox. This is entirely so that he can convince you to come to his castle one day. Not just so he can enjoy some alone time with you. And while you’d like to refuse Nox thinks it’s awesome. When you aren’t chasing the Naga servants away they regard him with kindness and very giving. And it’s that same observation that has you kissing Nox goodbye as you depart for the human castle.

“Alright, Nox be good…try not to grow up too much while I’m gone.”

“Of course not…if you want I can send my shedded tail skin to you so you can ‘see me grow up. ”

“Nox don’t do that. That’ll be weird.”

“I thought so too but the others say it’s an endearing thing.”

It’s going to be hard, returning to civilization. Since you’ve been isekai’d you limited almost all of your interactions with other humans and now you were going to meet the protagonist. But you wouldn’t let your mind be completely occupied because you would be distracted by the obsessed Naga king.

Part 3: ....

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

Astro Notes : Short N Sweet <3 Neptune's Revenge

Neptune 1st House - Popular energy. Very well known for their beautiful, majestic energy. Could have a lot of haters but admirers at the same time. Energetically sensitive to alot of others emotions. Sometimes, it can be a lil confusing holding so much power. Because their energy can be mixed up with someone elses if they don't know how to tell the difference. They usually have a strong sense of self, its just other peoples opinions can get in away of that if they arent careful.

Neptune 2nd House - Could use some help on the financial train. They're organic to the way they use their money. I mean, they could be super horrendous spender, spending each and every dime on any and everything. While still some how always having more in their wallet. Or they could be pretty good at saving and are a little bit of a cheapskate.

Neptune 3rd House - Whimsical voices. Poetic writers. Creative thinkers. Very talented when it comes to the hands as well. Could be excellent drawers & painters. Neptune in the 3rd has an ability to travel to very interesting places that aren't too far at home. They may go on lil adventures here and there. But its always a treat. Its kinda strange how well they can be at finding good eats as well with all the travel they do. Could work abroad or go to college somewhere out of their comfort zone a lil.

Neptune 4th House - Has a lot of secrets when it comes to the inner child. Very free, sweet loving children. Can open a door to different realms like we're in Narnia or something. Angelic creatures who enjoy alone time near their favorite place. If they ever share that special place with you consider yourself lucky. They normally keep the things they cherish hidden for a long time.

Neptune in the 5th House - Artists who seek deep into the art and become it. Very creative & a one of a kind with the way they carry the emotion in what it is they do. Can have you thinking hard on what it is they are trying to convey, they are a master at making complexities more harder to figure out. Just be there in the audience and watch the show. You'll never leave the same again.

Neptune in the 6th House - Fun loving pet owners, they go hard for the planet and the creatures that come from it. Real advocates for change and don't take too kindly to insensitive people. Could need to sharpen their boundaries a little more with people. Also, are incredible writers and should tap into this side a bit more. You might end up surprised with what talents you have that could make you some money, or could be a really cool job.

Neptune in the 7th House - Romance is the thing that just keeps on given to these individuals. May need to put the rose colored glasses down. that man might not be for you, love. Don't forget to put more time into your own needs versus the needs of someone else. Your compassionate energy may run dry if you're not using that waterfall of emotion for yourself. People are drawn to 7th house neptunes alot more than you think. They are capable of seeing thru the veil, you just don't notice.

Neptune in the 8th House - Psychologically understands the reasons on why the universe is the way that it is and why the people in it behave the way that we do. Could be honest about a lot of things, dishonest about what they know. The world doesn't need to know everything, which is why the divine gifted them with certain antidotes. Only they can use this so bring healing to a certain nation (or individual) but not everyone can find this secret the way they can. This is normally given to them by spirit guides, ancestors, or thru drreams.

Neptune in the 9th - Impracticality is almost their birth right. They see things in a way that doesnt make sense at all but to them it means something. What I mean is that these people see the world bigger than what they people tell them. They could have big drams and not understand why they have them, but God put them their for a reason. So you can figure them out. You may want to travel and study abroad, or just move somewhere different and don't know how. Thats where all the magic happens, finding out and taking the risk. The sagittarian way.

Neptune in the 10th - Majestic auras. The highlight of the moment. The star. The siren. The energy healer. Do I keep going? Very special creatures who touched this earth to make their dreams come true, even if they have to figure it out themselves. Empathetic to the people around them and are big on helping out with anything whenever they can. The Queens & Kings of the law of attraction. Can attract what they want if they just believe it in it more.

Neptune in the 11th House - Community leaders. Ancients who know they way to what the true reality is meant to be like. Literally can change the world with the way they move, think, and go around helping others. Sweet and lovely people to be around. Needs healing in their own friend groups. Can be a little out there, but thats why people love them.

Neptune in the 12th House - Practical minds in a world that tells them their crazy. No they arent crazy, they just have multiple psychic gifts. And these gifts have a way in showing them things people aren't usually equipped with handling. They need more time alone and in nature to keep themselves grounded. Other wise, they will go crazy from the world telling them that their crazy... When really they know a little more than what they led on. The imagination is a fun place, but also a place where the most hidden becomes entirely to open. Seers of the daylight & the night.

[goldfades]

SCREAM QUEENS──NICHOLAS CHAVEZ

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for this request!

─ summary | after filming Scream with cooper and nicholas, you and nicholas develop a slow-burn romance filled with subtle tension.

─ pairing | nicholas chavez x fem!actress!reader, platonic!cooper koch x fem!actress!reader

─ warnings | sooo sweet and soft!! literally nothing except fluff and a few kisses at the end.

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

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The red carpet glistens under the flashing lights of countless cameras, and the hum of excited voices fills the air like an electric current. The Scream premiere is your first big debut in a film of this scale, and it feels like you're stepping into another world. Your breath catches slightly as you look up at the towering poster of your character, Sydney, splashed across the theater behind you. It’s surreal.

You smooth your dress—a deep, rich burgundy that makes you feel powerful, but in a quiet way, like you're not here to scream but to be heard when it matters. A few feet away, Nicholas stands in his sleek suit, posture rigid yet calm, looking every bit like he belongs. Stoic, as always. But there’s something in the way his eyes shift toward you when he thinks no one’s watching—a softness, a quiet admiration hidden behind his mask of indifference.

Next to him, Cooper is an absolute ball of energy, talking animatedly with an interviewer, his hands gesturing wildly as he laughs, completely unrecognizable from the unnerving, cold-blooded Stu he portrayed in the movie. His warmth is contagious, and you can’t help but smile, even though you’re more used to blending into the background at events like these. Still, this is your night too.

The interviewer finally reaches you, and your stomach flutters—not from nerves, but from the anticipation of sharing this moment. "How does it feel to be a part of such an iconic horror franchise?" they ask, their microphone hovering in front of you.

You glance at Nicholas briefly, his lips curling into the tiniest of smiles as if he’s silently encouraging you to take the lead. The smallest gesture, but you catch it. You always do. You gather your thoughts, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before leaning in.

"It’s… unreal," you start softly, your voice measured. "Scream changed the game, and being a part of that—it's hard to describe. It’s like stepping into a legacy, but also bringing something new."

You pause for a second, letting the weight of your words settle, and then continue. “It’s not just about stepping into Sydney’s shoes—it’s about understanding her fear, her resilience. Horror is… more than just jumpscares. It’s psychological, it’s emotional. It’s about survival, and I think that’s what makes Scream different.”

As you speak, you feel the lights and the noise around you blur into the background. Your focus is on the moment, on articulating what’s been buzzing in your mind ever since you landed the role. Sydney was never just a scream queen—she was a fighter, an anchor in the madness, and playing her was like learning how to channel that same strength in yourself.

The interviewer nods, visibly impressed, and moves on to Nicholas. You shift slightly, glancing at him as he takes a steady breath. His expression is the perfect picture of composure, but you can tell from the slight twitch of his fingers that he’s thoughtful about what to say.

“Well, Billy’s not exactly the hero,” Nicholas begins, a small chuckle escaping his lips, eyes narrowing with that subtle sharpness that made him perfect for the role. “But I think what’s interesting about him—and about the film as a whole—is the way it plays with the audience’s expectations. Horror has always been about tension, about twisting what you think you know. Scream does that, but on a deeper level. Billy’s... manipulative, sure, but there’s a layer of humanity there, buried under all that chaos. And that’s what makes him so terrifying. You don’t just hate him—you understand him.”

He doesn’t say much, but his words settle like a weight in the air, his voice low and reflective. You’ve always admired that about him, the way he can strip away all the noise and say something that matters, something you’ll still be thinking about long after the conversation ends.

And then, of course, there’s Cooper.

The moment Nicholas finishes, Cooper bounds into the spotlight, his energy bright and overwhelming, making everyone laugh before he’s even answered the question. “Oh man, playing Stu was wild,” he says, shaking his head with a grin that’s far too friendly for someone who spent the entire movie butchering people. “I had to turn off my brain to even think like him. I’m pretty much the opposite in real life, so going to that dark place took some effort.”

He laughs again, carefree, but you’ve seen it—the way he can flip a switch when the cameras roll. One moment, he’s this ball of sunshine, cracking jokes and keeping the mood light, and the next, his eyes go cold, his smile sinister. It’s what made his portrayal of Stu so chilling, so disturbingly real.

“But honestly, I think the best part was working with these two,” Cooper continues, throwing an arm around both you and Nicholas in one smooth motion. “We were like family on set. Every scene, every rehearsal, we got closer. There’s this... chemistry we developed that I think really translates on screen.”

You feel a flush of warmth at his words. Cooper’s enthusiasm has always been infectious, and you can’t help but nod in agreement, even if you’re not as loud about it as he is. The connection between the three of you—Nicholas, Cooper, and you—had been undeniable, a sort of unspoken understanding that had only grown stronger as filming went on.

The interviewer seizes on that. “It sounds like you all bonded a lot on set. Can you talk more about your dynamic? What was it like working together?”

You’re about to respond, but Cooper jumps in first, unable to help himself. “Oh, totally! It was a blast. I mean, there were some intense scenes, obviously—especially for Nick and her,” he says, nodding at you. “But between takes? We’d be laughing, hanging out, keeping it light. It’s the only way to survive a horror film without going crazy yourself, right?”

Nicholas smirks, leaning into the moment with his usual understated charm. “Yeah, Cooper’s energy definitely kept things interesting.” There’s that subtle warmth again in his tone, a softness in the way he talks about you both. “I think we balanced each other out in a lot of ways. You”—he nods toward you again—"you brought this quiet focus, and I think it rubbed off on me. It’s easy to get lost in a role like Billy, but watching you... I learned how to ground myself.”

The compliment, though wrapped in his usual casual delivery, sends a faint flush up your neck. Nicholas had never been one for big declarations, but when he did speak, it was always with meaning, as if he had chosen each word carefully, deliberately.

You find your voice again, wanting to contribute before the moment passes. “I think we each brought something different to the table,” you add softly, your gaze flicking between them. “Cooper has this incredible energy that keeps everything light, but he can flip a switch when it’s time to get serious. And Nicholas...” You pause, considering. “He’s... steady. There’s this calmness about him that keeps you anchored, even when the scenes get intense. It’s hard to explain, but it made working with him feel... safe.”

Your words hang in the air for a moment, and there’s a flicker of something in Nicholas’s eyes—a glimmer of appreciation, though it’s fleeting, quickly hidden behind his usual cool demeanor. But you catch it. You always do.

The interviewer, sensing the dynamic between the three of you, smiles warmly. “It sounds like you all formed a pretty tight-knit group. That’s rare in an industry like this.”

Cooper nods enthusiastically. “Oh, for sure. We’re stuck with each other now,” he jokes, but the sincerity behind his words is unmistakable. “I mean, how could we not? We’ve been through the trenches together.”

You smile, unable to suppress the warmth that floods through you. He’s right. Despite the long nights, the emotionally draining scenes, and the weight of stepping into such iconic roles, the bond you’ve formed with these two has been something special—something real.

As the interview wraps up, you take a step back, letting Cooper and Nicholas finish with their final thoughts. The night isn’t over yet—the premiere still looms ahead, and there are more cameras, more questions waiting. But for a moment, in the midst of the chaos, you feel a deep sense of gratitude. For the film, for this experience, but mostly for them.

For the way Nicholas’s steady presence has become a quiet comfort, his admiration for you evident in the smallest of gestures. For the way Cooper’s energy has pulled you out of your shell, making you laugh, making the hard days bearable.

And as you glance at them both, standing under the glow of the premiere lights, you can’t help but feel like something has shifted. Something subtle, yet undeniable.

───

“—that is not what happened, and you know it.” Cooper sighed dramatically as he glanced your direction, a mock upset settled on his face as you bite your lip, stifling a laugh. Nicholas watches the two of you, amusement clear in his expression.

You settle into the couch as you shrug, letting a small laugh escape your lips. "Okay, fine," you say, holding up your hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Maybe I don't remember it exactly the way you do, but come on, Cooper, you were the one who started it."

Cooper gasps, clutching his chest dramatically like he’s been mortally wounded. "I started it? Oh no, no. Let’s be real here. You and Nicholas were the ones conspiring against me from day one!"

Nicholas raises an eyebrow, a quiet smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Conspiring? That’s a bit dramatic, Coop.”

The host of the podcast, a friendly guy with a genuine smile, watches all of this unfold with a look of amusement, clearly enjoying the easy chemistry between the three of you. “So wait, wait. What exactly did happen on set? I need to know who’s telling the truth here.”

You lean back into the couch, crossing your arms playfully as you glance between Cooper and Nicholas. "Oh, this is good," you say, your eyes lighting up with the memory. "You tell him, Nick. I think you’ve got the best perspective here."

Nicholas, always the picture of calm, shakes his head slightly, clearly entertained by the chaos unfolding between you and Cooper. "Alright," he says, his voice steady but with a hint of amusement. "Here’s the real story. Cooper, as usual, was trying to lighten the mood between takes. It was one of those intense scenes—you know, where Billy and Stu are supposed to be... doing their thing."

Cooper jumps in, unable to help himself. "You mean brutally stabbing people?"

Nicholas just gives him a look, unfazed. “Yes. That. Anyway, Cooper decided to improvise a little—”

“A little?” you interject with a laugh. “He completely threw the script out the window!”

Cooper grins, not remotely ashamed. "Hey, I was trying to make everyone laugh! It was a tense day, okay? I thought Billy needed to lighten up. Maybe do a TikTok dance between stabs. You know, just to mix things up."

Nicholas rolls his eyes good-naturedly, the smallest chuckle escaping him. “Needless to say, it didn’t go over well with the director.”

“Or anyone else on set,” you add, giggling at the memory of Cooper’s ridiculous, over-the-top dance moves while still in full Stu costume.

Cooper holds his hands up defensively. “Alright, fine. It was a bold choice. But you two were laughing! Don’t try to deny it. I saw you both.”

Nicholas’s expression softens, and he nods. “I’ll give you that. You definitely broke the tension.”

The host laughs, clearly enjoying the banter. “It sounds like you guys had a lot of fun on set, despite the heavy material. How do you balance that, being in such a dark, intense movie but still having this kind of dynamic off-screen?”

You exchange a look with Nicholas and Cooper, your smile softening a bit as you think back on the experience. "I think it’s because we had to," you say thoughtfully. “When you’re dealing with a film like Scream—where you’re surrounded by horror and violence every day—it’s easy to let that weight stick with you. So we found ways to break it up, to remind ourselves that we’re just playing characters, that we don’t have to carry that darkness with us.”

Cooper nods along, his usual high energy subdued for a moment as he listens to you speak. “Yeah, exactly. And it helps when you’re working with people you trust, you know? Like, we got along so well from the beginning, so it made everything easier. Even on the tough days, I knew I could look at you guys and just... snap out of it.”

Nicholas glances at you, his expression a little more serious now. “There’s a lot of trust involved, especially with a film like this. You have to trust that the people around you are going to be there, not just as actors, but as friends. And we built that over time.”

You smile at him, grateful for the sincerity in his words. He may be quiet, but when he speaks, it always feels intentional, like there’s weight behind everything he says. And in moments like this, you’re reminded of just how much you appreciate that about him.

The host shifts in his seat, leaning forward. “That’s great to hear. It really shows on screen—the chemistry, the dynamic between you three. So, what’s next? I mean, after Scream, where do you go from here?”

Cooper jumps in again, back to his usual lively self. “Well, I think we should all do a rom-com next, right? Something light, something fluffy. Get away from all the blood and guts.”

You laugh, the idea of the three of you in a rom-com so absurd it’s actually kind of appealing. “Oh yeah, I can totally see Nicholas as the romantic lead.”

Nicholas raises an eyebrow, looking completely unfazed by the suggestion. “I don’t know about that. I think I’ll stick to horror.”

“Stoic, mysterious guy,” Cooper teases, leaning forward dramatically, pretending to narrate. “He’s hiding a dark secret, but deep down, he’s just a big softie.”

You and the host burst out laughing, and even Nicholas can’t help but crack a smile. “Alright, alright,” he concedes. “Maybe one rom-com.”

The host grins, looking between the three of you. “I would definitely pay to see that.”

The interview wraps up soon after, the room filled with easy laughter and lingering energy as you stand from the couch. You, Nicholas, and Cooper thank the host, chatting amongst yourselves as the podcast crew wraps up.

As you head toward the door, Cooper slings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. "Next time, we do the rom-com," he says with a wink. “We can be the love interests and... Nick can just be there. I’ll start writing the script tonight.”

Nicholas falls into step beside you, his hands in his pockets, watching the two of you with that familiar glint of amusement in his eyes. “I’ll leave that to you, Cooper.”

You smile, shaking your head. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

After the interview wraps up and the bright lights of the studio fade behind you, the three of you pile into Cooper’s car. He’s talking a mile a minute, still buzzing from the podcast, hands waving animatedly as he drives.

“Man, that was fun. Did you hear how the host lost it when we started talking about the rom-com? I think we should seriously pitch that,” he jokes, throwing you a wink in the rearview mirror.

You laugh, leaning against the window in the back seat, the city passing by in a blur of neon and headlights. “You’re never going to let this rom-com thing go, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Cooper replies, grinning. “We’d crush it. But first…” He slows the car as you approach Nicholas’s place. “How about we just hang out for a bit? Relax, watch a movie or something.”

You glance at Nicholas, who’s sitting quietly in the passenger seat, his eyes focused on the road ahead. He nods slightly, a small smile playing at his lips. “Yeah, that sounds good. It’s been a long day.”

Cooper pulls up to the curb, parking in front of Nick’s apartment. “Alright, I’ll grab the snacks, you two go ahead. I’ll catch up in a sec.”

You and Nicholas exchange a look as you step out of the car, the cool evening air brushing against your skin. There’s a comfortable silence between you as you walk up to his place, the quiet hum of the city surrounding you.

Inside, the atmosphere feels different—quieter, more intimate than the usual chaos of set or interviews. Nicholas’s apartment is minimalistic but warm, with soft lighting and a collection of books and records scattered about, telling more about his quiet, thoughtful nature than he’d ever openly admit.

You slip off your shoes at the door, glancing around as Nicholas sets down his keys and heads to the kitchen. “Want something to drink?” he asks, his voice casual but soft, like it always is when it’s just the two of you.

“Water’s fine,” you reply, following him to the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he pours a glass. There's something unspoken hanging between you, an undercurrent of energy that’s been building for a while now—something neither of you has acknowledged out loud, but it lingers, making your every interaction feel just a little more charged than it used to be.

Nicholas hands you the glass, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest moment. You feel the jolt of electricity, the way your skin warms under his touch, and you quickly look away, pretending not to notice the way your heart beats a little faster.

He leans against the counter beside you, his shoulder just inches from yours, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. “Today was fun,” he says quietly, his voice low in the soft glow of the kitchen.

“Yeah,” you agree, looking up at him, your gaze catching his for a second too long. “It was. It always is when we’re all together.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just holds your gaze with those steady eyes of his, and you can feel the tension growing, thickening the air between you. It’s not uncomfortable—it’s the kind of tension that makes your skin buzz, that fills the quiet with unspoken words, words you’ve both been too careful to say.

The front door swings open, breaking the moment as Cooper strolls in with a bag of snacks. “I’m back! Got the goods!” he calls, completely unaware of the quiet, charged moment he’s just interrupted.

You and Nicholas both turn away, the spell broken, but that energy doesn’t dissipate. It lingers, hanging in the air as Cooper throws himself onto the couch, oblivious as ever. “Alright, what are we watching?” he asks, rummaging through the bag. “Something funny, I hope. Or... maybe Scream?” He shoots you both a mischievous grin.

Nicholas chuckles softly and shakes his head. “I think we’ve had enough Scream for one day.”

“Agreed,” you say, settling onto the couch next to Cooper, grateful for the distraction but still hyper-aware of Nicholas as he joins you, sitting a little closer than usual on your other side.

You all end up picking a lighthearted comedy, something easy to watch without much thought, but your mind isn’t fully on the movie. The whole time, you can feel Nicholas beside you, his presence magnetic, pulling at you without even trying. Every now and then, your knee brushes his, and even the smallest touch sends a ripple of awareness through you, as if your body is attuned to his in a way you can’t quite explain.

Cooper, true to form, falls asleep halfway through the movie, his head dropping back against the cushions as soft snores escape him. You and Nicholas exchange a glance, both trying to stifle a laugh.

“I don’t know how he does it,” Nicholas murmurs, his voice low in the darkened room. “He was the one who wanted to hang out, and he’s the first one out.”

You smile, your heart skipping a beat at how close his voice sounds, the intimacy of the moment amplified by the quiet. “He always does this.”

Nicholas leans back, his arm stretching casually along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against your shoulder. The touch is light, barely there, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. You feel the tension building again, heavier this time, as if the universe is pushing the two of you closer, daring you to acknowledge what’s been simmering between you for months.

You steal a glance at him out of the corner of your eye, and he’s already looking at you, his expression softer, more open than usual. There’s something in his gaze, something unguarded, like he’s letting you see just how much he cares. The realization makes your breath catch.

“Hey,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper now. “You okay?”

You nod, but your heart is racing, and you’re not sure if it’s the quiet or the closeness, or the fact that, for once, it feels like the unspoken tension between you might finally break.

“I’m good,” you say softly, your voice catching a little, and you feel his eyes on you, searching.

For a moment, the world outside the apartment doesn’t exist. There’s just you and Nicholas, the space between you shrinking with every second, and it feels like you’re both standing at the edge of something, something that could change everything.

Nicholas doesn’t break eye contact, and neither do you. The air in the room feels thick, almost electric, as if the space between you is charged with something both of you have been too careful to admit. His arm rests casually on the back of the couch, but his fingers twitch slightly, brushing the barest edge of your shoulder. The touch is subtle, but it’s enough to send a ripple through you—a pulse of heat that spreads from where his skin meets yours.

You swallow, trying to keep your breathing steady, but you can’t ignore the way your heart races, thudding in your chest like it’s trying to communicate something your mind hasn’t fully processed yet.

Neither of you says a word, and yet, everything is being said in the silence between you. There’s a pull, an invisible string tugging you closer, and for the first time, it feels like maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t be so impossible to cross that line.

Nicholas shifts slightly, turning his body more toward you, and you realize just how close you are now. His leg brushes yours again, this time lingering. His eyes are darker in the low light of the room, his usual calm and controlled demeanor giving way to something more vulnerable, something he’s usually so good at hiding.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, but it carries weight, like he’s asking more than just about how you’re feeling in this moment. He’s asking if you’re ready, if you’re willing to let whatever this is between you two finally come to the surface.

You nod, your mouth dry, unable to trust your voice to respond. Your heart is pounding, and you’re acutely aware of every inch of space between your bodies—or lack thereof.

His hand moves from the back of the couch, sliding down slowly, deliberately, until his fingers are resting on your shoulder, gentle but firm, as if testing the waters. You don’t pull away. In fact, you lean in just a fraction, closing the distance, and you see the shift in his expression—his guarded facade softening as his breath hitches slightly.

It’s so quiet in the room now, save for the soft, steady sound of your breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. You can feel the tension building, thick and palpable, wrapping around the two of you like a thread that’s been pulled tight, ready to snap at any second.

He tilts his head, just the slightest bit, his gaze flicking down to your lips for a moment before meeting your eyes again. It’s a small, almost imperceptible movement, but it feels like the ground beneath you is shifting.

You lean in, your breath catching in your throat, and for a second, everything else falls away—the interview, the movie, even Cooper snoring softly on the other side of the couch. It’s just you and Nicholas, and the space between you feels like it’s vanishing.

His hand moves to the back of your neck, his touch impossibly gentle, and you feel your breath falter as your heart skips a beat. He’s so close now that you can see the way his pupils have dilated, the soft rise and fall of his chest matching your own.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with something unspoken, something fragile but undeniable.

You shake your head, barely able to manage the words, “Don’t stop.”

And with that, the tension that’s been simmering between you for months finally breaks. He closes the distance, his lips brushing against yours softly at first, tentative, as if he’s still giving you the chance to pull away. But you don’t. You lean into the kiss, your hand coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of it. His lips are warm and soft, and you can feel the unspoken words behind the way he holds you, the way his hand slips to the nape of your neck, pulling you in closer. There’s a gentleness to the kiss, but also a hunger—a need that’s been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

Your fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer as the kiss grows more urgent, more intense. The world around you falls away entirely, and all that matters is the way his lips move against yours, the way his hands grip your waist like he’s afraid to let go.

When you finally pull apart, your foreheads rest against each other, both of you breathing heavily, the room around you still thick with the weight of what just happened. You don’t say anything at first—there’s no need to. The look in his eyes says everything.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Nicholas finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, your heart still racing. “Me too.”

There’s a moment of quiet between you again, but this time, it feels different—less tense, more comfortable, like something has finally clicked into place. Nicholas watches you with that same look of admiration, the one you’ve caught glimpses of before but never fully allowed yourself to acknowledge. Now, it’s out in the open, undeniable.

Slowly, he leans in again. The kiss is slow, unhurried and easy. He hums at the taste of your lips, your hands reached up for his shoulders as you deepen the kiss. You both part after a moment, opening your eyes to meet his darkened eyes.

“Knew it.” Cooper rings out, his voice groggy and tired.

You both snap your heads toward Cooper, your bodies still close, as if you’re caught in the middle of a secret you thought no one else knew. He’s sitting up, rubbing his eyes lazily, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face as he watches you.

“Fucking knew it,” he repeats, his voice groggy but teasing, clearly amused by the moment he’s woken up to. His eyes narrow slightly, a knowing glint in them as he looks between you and Nicholas. “You two think you’re so slick, huh?”

You feel a flush creep up your neck, the heat of embarrassment mixing with the adrenaline still pulsing through you from the kiss. Nicholas tenses beside you, his jaw tightening for a split second before he exhales, leaning back slightly but keeping an arm casually draped around you.

“Cooper…” Nicholas begins, his voice steady but with a hint of exasperation.

“What? I’m just saying,” Cooper continues, throwing up his hands defensively, but the grin never leaves his face. “It’s about time. Thought I was gonna have to give you two a nudge.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Cooper, being Cooper, doesn’t seem fazed by anything, and it’s almost a relief that he’s not taking this too seriously. You can feel the tension easing out of Nicholas, too, his posture relaxing as he shakes his head.

“Were you even asleep?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at Cooper, trying to divert the attention away from the blush still lingering on your cheeks.

Cooper snickers, leaning back into the couch like he’s settling in for a good story. “Oh, I was out. But I guess I woke up just in time for the good part.”

Nicholas groans lightly, rubbing a hand over his face, but there’s a small, amused smile playing on his lips. He glances at you, a soft look in his eyes, and even with Cooper’s teasing, you can still feel that unspoken connection between the two of you—stronger now, undeniable.

“Well, now that you're awake,” Nicholas says, standing up and stretching, his hand lingering on your back for a moment before he lets go, “you wanna order food?”

Cooper grins, sitting up straighter. “Oh, I see. Change the subject. Nice try, man. But yeah, I could eat.”

You laugh, standing up as well, the warmth of Nicholas’s earlier touch still lingering on your skin. Despite Cooper’s teasing, there’s a lightness in the room now, like something that had been building for so long has finally settled. The moment between you and Nicholas wasn’t lost—it’s just the beginning.

As you walk to the kitchen with Nicholas, Cooper still muttering something under his breath about “finally,” you exchange a quick, knowing glance with Nicholas, and the spark that lit up between you earlier remains. There’s no rush. Whatever this is, it’s yours, and it’s just getting started.

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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[boobav]

There was always something unspoken between you and Viktor.

After the attack, you were certain you'd never get the chance to explore it. Find the words, hidden as they were, bring them together into something satisfactory. With smoke in your throat and blood on your tongue, you'd seen Viktor in the rubble, barely comprehended the mumble of Jayce's voice through ringing ears.

You thought then that the words would never be spoken. The sentence never brought to fruition, whatever that may mean. A ripe fruit left to rot.

And, now, with Viktor alive, weary against your headboard and awfully silent, you think again that the words are a lost cause.

"Can I see?" Is all you ask.

He raises a hand, sinewy purple accented by pure gold, and lets his robe fall loose to pool around his hips.

There's no sensuality in the way you examine him. The way you eye every curve in the dim candlelight, every meeting of gold and purple, the shade failing to find a name in your mind. The way you shuffle forwards, almost unconsciously, the way his hand finds yours when you come to straddle him. The touch is hesitant, fearful, almost. He looks to you for assurance as though weaving his fingers through yours could somehow offend.

Your free hand finds his collarbone, his chest, sinks down to his torso with a terribly gentle touch.

"Does it hurt?"

"I don't think so."

His voice, the sweet tone you've grown so accustomed to, remains intact. Changed, in a way, by a humming undertone. A simmering of something powerful present even in voice. Your hand finds his face, the pale skin beneath your palm, and the sound he makes is quiet. A mix of confusion and pleasure. Your thumb runs over his cheek, your fingers knead through his hair.

He's afraid, or something close to that. The sensation you bring to him seems to closely match the definition of fear, the uncertainty of it all. He slips his hand from yours, lets it rest instead on the curve of your waist. On skin covered by cloth. He feels it safer that way. He seems, now, to feel everything acutely at once, and yet, to feel nothing in its entirety. Apathy and passion pressed together into an amalgam of unknowns.

Your touch seems to be the only certain reality. Your quiet questions. Your deep breaths, your steady heart. He raises his hand to feel it in your chest. Encased in bone and flesh, your life, so terribly delicate against him.

The words sit heavy on your tongue. You feel almost like this is your last chance to speak, like the Viktor visiting you now is a shadow. No more quiet afternoons in the laboratory. No more shared lunches and exchanged laughs. Simplicity shattered, for better or for worse. He feels the same. You see it in his eyes, in the way his lips part, in the way his brow furrows so subtly.

"I should've said it sooner," you say, faces close, both equally enraptured by the intricacies of expression, "I care about you a lot. I should've..."

His kiss is gentle. It fills you with warmth, makes your chest feel as though it were stuffed with flowers and ginger. When you part, you watch the colours of his eyes swirl, mumble honeyed words against his lips.

It's selfish, you know. Thanking the powers that be that his life was spared, however changed it may be, however against persistence he may seem.

His face falls to the crook of your neck. You hold him like an idol, a prized possession thought lost.

And you hope, so deeply it burns, that he too can feel warmth in his chest. His hands wrap around you, the stream of something you can't begin to comprehend running through the skin, and you pray solely that he can still feel the way you do.

That the words can still find meaning in his mind.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Sometimes The Quietest Love Is The Loudest ~ KSM

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT: 3.7K 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅GENRE: established relationships, mafia au, arranged marriage, smut, breeding kink, MINORS DNI, thigh riding, make out, angry kiss, breeding, unproected sex - obviously - jealousy

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Seungmin x Fem!Reader 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - October 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

Things between you and Seungmin were...rocky, to say the least. The two of you rarely got along with one another but you were forced together no matter the feelings you held for another person. You came out of the walk-in wardrobes to find Seungmin standing in front of the large mirror in the shared bedroom you had. Dressed in a sharp black suit as he stood before it, adjusting the cufflinks on his sleeves, his lip caught between his teeth as he struggled to do them alone.

He was always meticulous about his appearance, never one to leave a detail unchecked. The event tonight was important—some gathering of underworld allies - you were sure he'd told you about it but you probably only paid half attention to him. But it was the same thing it always was with Seungmin, a power play. He was expected to win...Seungmin always won.

A soft sound caught his attention forcing him to look up from his cufflinks, and he turned to see you approaching him slowly. Your dress flowed elegantly around you, your expression neutral but not as distant as usual, something that made him feel a little uneasy. Without saying a word, you stepped in front of him and gently reached for his tie, loosening it and then straightening it with deliberate care.

Seungmin stood still. Almost frozen in place as he watched you closely. He wasn't used to this...your touch, your closeness without the usual tension between you. It felt almost alien, but somehow… nice. For the first time since the arranged marriage had been forced upon you both, you weren’t cold or dismissive toward him. You were kind and caring over his suit and he didn't know if he should have checked you for some kind of alien tampering.

"Thanks," he murmured, his voice lower than intended as he searched your face for any clue to this change. It wasn't like the two of you did this thing a lot. Whenever you were around family the caring and kind side of you came out but right now it was just the two of you. Alone.

You glanced up at him briefly, your fingers still lingering on the tie, smoothing it into place, your teeth softly biting your lower lip. The silence between you was no longer filled with awkwardness but something softer, though unspoken.

"No problem," You whispered before finishing off the cufflinks he had previously been struggling with. Staring down at the diamonds which were the gemstone of the month the two of you had been married in. You did your best to ignore the flutter you were feeling in your chest.

This whole thing had started because your parents had decided the two of you MUST marry. That the mafia prince and Princess were going to have perfect babies and bring two crime families together. They hadn't cared that you'd been in love with another, that your heart belonged to somebody else but he wasn't a part of your world...You weren't allowed him.

Seungmin swallowed as he watched you closely, feeling a strange tug inside him. This was unexpected, this brief moment of peace with you... yet he enjoyed it. He craved this from you, this was all he'd ever wanted from the start, something harmonious that you could build a relationship on.

He knew that things between you weren't ideal but he'd wanted to make it so, he wanted to be the one you'd turned to for things and to become someone you could love...or at least stand to be around for longer than you were contractually obligated to be.

Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out, quieter than usual, as though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"Why can't you be like this with me all the time?" The question hung in the air, filled with vulnerability he never allowed himself to show. For a brief second, he regretted it, he wanted to kick himself for letting the words slip out. His eyes searched yours again, hoping for an answer he knew he couldn’t have. You were in love with someone else. He had always known that. God, you'd screamed it at him the day of your wedding but he wanted you...he wanted you to at least be calm and peaceful with him....Even friends, and no amount of formality, no perfect tie, would change it.

You blinked, caught off guard by the softness in his tone, you hadn't been expecting him to say anything. You opened your mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. But for Seungmin the silence was enough of an answer.

Seungmin’s expression shifted back to the familiar mask he wore in public. His eyes hardened, and the vulnerability vanished, replaced by the careful calculation of a mafia prince who couldn’t afford weakness.

"Never mind," he said, stepping away from you, the distance between you reappearing as quickly as it had faded. He smoothed down his suit jacket, straightened his posture, and glanced at the door.

"Guests are waiting." He grumbled, and without another word, he walked out of the room, leaving you standing there, the tie perfectly straight but the gap between you two still unresolved.

As the door clicked shut behind Seungmin, you stood alone in the quiet room, your fingers lingering in the air where his tie had been just moments ago. You sighed softly, the coolness of the room sinking in as you faced your reflection in the mirror. For so long, everyone around you had assumed you were still in love with him—the one who occupied your heart long before this marriage. And maybe, at one time, you had been. But now? Now things were different.

Your old boyfriend was a memory you couldn’t seem to escape from—the one everyone thought you pined for. And perhaps, in the early days of this forced marriage, you had clung to the idea of him. The idea of an escape from everything...It had been easier, and safer, to focus on what you had lost rather than deal with the reality of what you had gained. But somewhere along the way, without you even realizing it, Seungmin had started to slip into the cracks of your defences.

It wasn’t his words—because there was a rarity between you both. But his actions spoke louder than any of the silence between you. The way he made sure your coffee was brewed just how you liked it every morning, without fail - even when he was busy. How he brought home fresh flowers for no reason at all, sometimes setting them quietly on the dining table as if he didn’t want to make a big deal of it.

He wasn’t expressive with grand gestures or romantic declarations. But every weekend, when he could have easily buried himself in work, Seungmin made time for you. He would set aside the weight of his responsibilities, and his title as mafia prince, and simply… be there. And it wasn’t just about showing up—it was the intentionality of it. He always made sure your birthday was a day off for him, no matter how hectic things got. How he would mark your family’s special days on his calendar and never let work interfere.

These small, quiet acts of consideration had wormed their way into your heart, piece by piece. You couldn’t deny that part of you had grown used to him—maybe even more than that. Sometimes the quietest love is the loudest.

Maybe you weren’t the only one who had grown used to this life that you shared—this marriage between you. Maybe Seungmin felt something, too. You thought back to his question, the vulnerability that had slipped through for just a second. The way his eyes had practically burnt into the side of your head,

"Why can't you be like this with me all the time?"

Maybe, if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t hate the idea of trying. The doorbell went wrecking your mind before you straighten out your dress, ready to go and join your husband and the rest of his guests.

The evening had been a whirlwind of distractions, one after the other, keeping you and Seungmin apart. No matter how hard you tried, someone was always there—another conversation, another handshake, another person demanding his attention and leaving you with nothing. You’d spent the whole night stealing glances at him, your heart tightening each time he turned away, wondering if he even noticed. Wondering if he could feel how much you'd been staring at him all night. All you wanted was a moment alone, a chance to talk—really talk. To air all of it out. To tell him everything you'd been holding back.

When the opportunity finally came, it was almost a relief. The music slowed, and you caught his eye across the room, you knew your parents and guests were going to want to see you together and this was the perfect chance to talk alone with him. Without hesitation, you moved toward him, slipping through the crowd until you were finally by his side. You slid your glass into the waiter's hand and smiled up at Seungmin. He met you with a soft look, one that was reserved only for you in the midst of all the chaos.

"Shall we dance?" You asked, your voice low, intimate, as if the crowd had faded and it was just the two of you. Seungmin was completely shocked but nodded. Smiling more you began by taking his hand as he pulled you onto the dance floor. His touch was firm, and grounding, and the closeness between you felt different tonight. As his hand settled on your waist, pulling you just a bit closer, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of what you were about to say. This was the moment you’d been waiting for all night.

"I’ve been thinking," you started, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked up at him. The lights around you made his eyes look like they had a million stars dancing in them, your heart was racing from how close you were to him and you could barely breathe,

"You've been thinking..." He desperately urged you to continue. He would have had to be a blind man not to have noticed you watching him all night and he wanted to know why.

"Maybe we could—" Before you could finish, a voice cut through the music, freezing you in place. It was a voice you hadn't heard in a while but it still sent the same chills down your spine as it did all those years ago,

"Yn." You stiffened instantly, recognizing the voice behind you. Seungmin’s body tensed beside you, his eyes narrowing as he looked over your shoulder, you could tell by the dark look in his eyes who it was but your heart sank knowing he'd shown up here.

On the night you were finally going to tell Seungmin you wanted to make this work. That you wanted to try again. He was here.

Your old boyfriend - Kai - Malakai Rhodes.

"Please," he begged, stepping closer, his eyes filled with desperation you hadn’t seen in a long time but you stepped back, Seungmin moving with you.

"Just… just give me a moment to talk." He begged.b Seungmin’s grip on your waist tightened, his jaw clenching,

"We were in the middle of something, Yn...Tell me what it was you were thinking of," Seungmin begged, his eyes pleading with yours as you stared back at him, you could feel the heat of Seungmins jealousy radiating off him, though he remained composed. His eyes never left you, watching, waiting, as if daring you to say no.

"Seungmin-" He squeezed you softly and shook his head. Silently begging you not to do this. People were staring in your direction and they all knew who Kai was to you.

"Don't do this, people will talk," he whispered to you... But you couldn’t avoid it. You’d known this moment would come, eventually. You gently pulled away from Seungmin, giving him an apologetic look. His eyes flickered with hurt as he watched you willing to go to someone else but he didn’t stop you.

"I’ll be right back," you whispered, but you could tell by the way his jaw tightened that it didn’t ease the tension between you, standing up you pressed your lips to his cheek softly. Seungmin stood there, rooted in place as he watched you walk away with the man he’d always known was still a shadow in your heart. His chest tightened, anxiety blooming inside him as he watched you two speak. He couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t need to. The way your ex-boyfriend leaned in close, the way his eyes pleaded with you, stirred a possessiveness in Seungmin that he’d never felt this strongly before. He hated how this man still had the power to pull you away, even for a moment.

Seungmin's fingers flexed at his side, restless, as jealousy churned in his gut. He couldn't hear anything, couldn’t know what was being said. All he could do was stand there, his thoughts spiralling. What if this was the moment you decided to leave? What if you were planning to leave him tonight? Was this you going to leave and make him look like a fool?

The conversation didn’t last long, but for Seungmin, every second dragged out like an eternity. When you finally turned back to him, his pulse quickened. You walked toward him, your expression conflicted as if you were about to explain, to say something that would make it all make sense.

Before you could utter a single word, Seungmin grabbed your wrist, pulling you close with an intensity that left no room for questions. His lips crashed against yours, fierce and wild, as if he needed to remind both of you who you belonged to. It wasn’t soft or gentle—it was desperate, claiming, a kiss that held all the words he didn’t know how to say.

He poured everything into that kiss—the jealousy, the fear, the anger—and you couldn’t help but respond, your hands finding their way to his chest as you melted into him. For a moment, the world faded again, just like on the dance floor, and all that existed was the two of you, tangled in a mess of unspoken emotions.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing ragged, he searched your face for something—an answer, a reassurance, anything. But he didn’t let go of you, his grip still firm, his forehead resting against yours.

"I don’t care what he said," Seungmin muttered, his voice low and possessive.

"You’re mine," he growled out before dragging you into the hall, your lips once again crashing against one another in a heated kiss. Everything the two of you had been holding back came out in this one kiss, your hands pushed into his hair and tugged softly on the strands.

Every kiss was wetter and needier than the one before as you moved your way up to your shared bedroom.

One minute you'd been standing in the hall the next you were pinned to the bedroom wall with his thigh between your legs.

"You're mine."He repeated, biting down softly on your leg and sucking on your exposed skin, and making his way down to your collarbone.

"Seungmin please," You beg, you weren't exactly sure what you were begging for, more kisses, more friction, just more. Your hips moved, grinding down against his thigh as you let out a loud moan of his name, you desperately chased your release as you rubbed your clit on his pants.

"No underwear? I should spank your ass raw." Seungmin whispered in your ear, smirking as you continued to grind down against him enjoying the way you were getting off when he'd barely even started on you yet.

"It ruined the dress," You whined making him chuckle softly as he shifted his leg a little,

"Look how pretty you are when you're needy for me, none of this talking back," He whispered in your ear as you continued to grind down against him,

"Don't stop," You begged, the words sounding more desperate than you had intended them to but you didn't really care. All you cared about was getting close to a release you'd been needing for months.

"Never, princess." He moans in your ear. You continued to grind against him, your release building and building as you rubbed needily and frantically against him.

"Come for me princess," He whispers in your ear, biting down on your ear lobe as your orgasm rips through you.

When you came down from the high you looked at Seungmin who was pointing over at the bed,

"Go. Dress off. Legs spread." He ordered, ripping off his tie all the while he kept his eyes on you.

You hadn't needed to be told twice, you stripped out of the gown and laid on the bed, your legs spread as he smirked down at you. His eyes were on your bare core as he slowly licked his lips,.

"You don't have to do that-"

"have to, no. Want to? Yes." He chuckled as he slowly sank down to his knees in front of you,

"Seungmin-"

"Do you want this pretty pussy eating out, princess?" he cocked his eyebrow at you. He wasn't expecting you to protest at this part but he wouldn't continue unless he had your full consent.

"Yes, but-"

"Do you enjoy being eaten out? Does it make you uncomfortable?" His fingers slowly tailed up your naked thigh sending a shiver through your body as you shook your head,

"What? N-no, but I know some guys don't-"

"Guys who don't eat their girl's cunt and make her cum at least twice before entering her are selfish and I will scrub their names from your memory." He growled before delving in. He surrounded your bud, sucking it into his mouth and making you buck off the bed,

"Jesus-"

"Just Seungmin," He groaned against you. His tongue darts out, tasting your sensitive skin as he continues to eat you out. It felt all-consuming as you cried out his name, not giving a shit about the guests you both had downstairs.

"S-Seungmin!" You cry out as he continues to taste every inch of you. Groaning against your clit, sucking and teasing every inch of you. His hands were over your thighs as he dragged you into his mouth, almost as if he couldn't get close enough. You moan loudly, completely under his control.

"Fuck, Seungmin." You whimpered as you ground your hips down to his face.

"Please let me cum," you begged as you dragged your nails through his hair, he growled getting rougher with you until you came around his tongue, crying his name out louder than the last time. Your body went limp against the mattress and a giant smile took over your face as you giggled looking up at your husband who was now stripping in front of you.

"You know what I'm going to do tonight?" He asks, tapping the head of his cock at your entrance, your eyes on each other as you bit your lip.

"What?"

"I'm fucking a baby into you, that way there's no doubt your mine." Seungmin watched as your cunt clenched around nothing and he chuckled to himself.

"You want that princess?" You nod needily at him as he slowly pushes into you, your moans filling the room as he fills you for the first time ever.

"Y-You're so big." You whimpered, your nails digging into his skin softly as he smirked.

"You're good for a man's ego, princess." He laughed softly before moaning as you clenched tightly around him. Slowly he began to pull out, only to push deeply back into you,

“Fuck, this pussy was made for me,” Seungmin groans breathlessly as he glides his calloused palms over your thighs and pushes your legs to your chest to whisper in your ear.

“I’m gonna fill you up, love. You want that, don’t you? Of course, you do... I’m going to fill you up with my cum and make you carry my fucking kid—” He grunts loudly as he nods his head/

"Seungmin!" You cry out, clenching around him and whimpering as you nod your head at him. Your fingers found their way into his hair and he began to kiss your neck and your collarbones leaving a trail over your chest.

"Scream for me princess, let everyone know that your Husband is the one making you cum for him." He growled at you, his jealousy taking over him as he continued to fuck into you roughly like it was his last day on earth.

“You’re a naughty little princess. I felt you clench around me when I said that,” he chuckles lowly and your cheeks heat up in sheer embarrassment, but you can’t stop the whine that left your throat,

"Wanna be yours forever," you moan out, looking at him so he knew you were being serious about all of this. That he was the only one for you now.

"yeah?" His hips stuttered ever-so-slightly and you could see him trying to figure out if this was the truth, you leant up, wrapping your legs around him tightly as he continued to thrust into your needy and waiting cunt.

"Make me yours, make me carry your babies, Seungmin." You beg, his hips desperately moving as he pounded into you, your pussy clenching around him as you came once again, your mouth falling open in ecstasy. That was all it took for him to fall with you, his cock twitching as he spills deep into you, your legs still locked around his hips as you let out a small whimper.

The two of you lay there, his cock still buried deep inside of you as you stared at the ceiling. You knew he was going to ask about your ex sooner or later and you wanted to tell him.

"So...about Kai." You said breathlessly.

"He was coming to say he was asking my permission to ask someone else to marry him," you finish, your eyes nervously finding Seungmins as he stared down at you,

"And I told him yes because I was falling for you." You whisper, barely finishing the words before Seungmin kissed you needily, his cock twitching inside of you as you giggled.

"Again?" You asked as he growled, kissing your neck.

"I told you, I was going to fuck a baby into you Mrs Kim." He moans, his thrusts sloopy at first but picking up.

You were in for a long and eventful night.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @piercedddriver

[ginnsbaker]

My Sundown

Summary: You’ve been a Hydra agent for as long as you can remember, when Wanda Maximoff and her brother, Pietro, volunteers for Hydra's human experiments.

Word count: 10K+ | Tags: Wanda Maximoff x GN!Reader | Warnings: Only mentions of smut. Hurt/comfort. Reader is a little older than Wanda. Some angst. | A/N: I missed writing for Wanda, and have always wanted to write canon-ish oneshots for the MCU character. Main Masterlist

-

When they first bring her in, she looks like she's been through hell—eyes hollow, skin pale, a storm simmering just beneath the surface. Her hands tremble, not from fear, but from the sheer, unbridled power flowing through her veins. The room seems to shrink under the weight of it, as if even the walls are aware of what she’s capable of. The other recruits are scared and jittery, but she’s different. Her brother too—both rough around the edges, like two sides of the same scarred coin.

“Where did they round up these rats now?” you mutter to Lev, who’s standing dutifully beside you—the only person you've let close enough to be called a friend in all your years with Hydra.

“Sokovian volunteers,” he corrects you, eyes fixed straight ahead, mirroring your own unblinking focus on the twins. Maybe he feels the strange energy coming off them too, or maybe it’s just the routine numbness that sets in after years of blindly following orders.

You nod slightly, though the term volunteer feels like a cruel joke. No one truly volunteers for this. 

“Agent.” 

Dr. List’s voice yanks you out of your thoughts, dreary and impersonal. He calls everyone that way, as if you're just another tool, interchangeable and anonymous. It’s an intentional tactic—strip away the names, and you strip any sense of humanity.  Without a name, you’re not a person; you’re just a weapon at their disposal.

But you know he means you.

You step forward. “Sir,” you reply, maintaining a ramrod straight posture, your eyes fixed on a spot just beside his perpetually scowling face. It seems all villains share that same dour expression, but if this woman—this girl—makes it through the experiments and officially joins the ranks, she might just break the mold, looking more like an angel than a monster. You quickly shake off the thought, stifling a grimace at the odd turn your thoughts have taken.

When you risk a quick glance at her, you catch a ghost of a smirk playing on her lips, as if she knows exactly what you were just thinking.

“You’re to oversee Wanda Maximoff’s progress,” Dr. List continues without sparing you a second glance. “Ensure she complies. If she doesn’t…” He lets the threat hang, but you don't need him to spell it out. You know what Hydra does to those who don't meet expectations.

“And the boy?” you ask, genuinely curious about the other twin.

Dr. List gives you a sharp look, like he suspects something. Questions are frowned upon here, but ever since you laid eyes on Wanda, a persistent tingling has crept up the back of your neck.

To put it bluntly, she unnerves you, and you'd much prefer to deal with her brother.

“Strucker decided to…take a more hands-on approach with him,” Dr. List says.

“Understood, sir,” you reply crisply, reaffirming your commitment to your orders. You steal another glance at Wanda, only to feel a rush of heat when you realize she’s been watching you the entire time.

-

Wanda looks even more formidable once she’s showered and changed into fresh clothes. You can’t decide if it’s because the sinister gleam in her eyes remains untouched or because the grime and hardships of life on the streets have been washed away, revealing a haunting beauty beneath the dirt. Clean, she’s striking—but that beauty only makes her more dangerous. You’ve tried to delay any direct interaction with her, but this morning, Dr. List visited to follow up on the initial assessment, leaving you no more time to postpone. After a week of stalling, you’re out of excuses, and there’s a lot of ground to cover.

As she steps out of the small bathroom, her damp hair clings to her shoulders, softening her otherwise sharp features. The moment she becomes aware of your presence, her gaze locks onto you, and she begins to comb the wet tendrils back with her slender fingers. Your hand tightens around your keycard involuntarily as you take a deep breath, reminding yourself that Wanda is just like any other volunteer who entered the organization and never left its walls to see the light of day. Besides, you’re armed, and Wanda is not. It’s ridiculous to be this on edge around someone who's at a disadvantage.

“You,” Wanda murmurs, her accent rolling off her tongue like a slow, winding river.

“Shall we begin?” you ask, keeping your tone even and detached. You can’t afford to let her see how much she frighte—affects you.

Wanda ignores your request. Instead, she tilts her head slightly, studying you with a keenness that makes your skin prickle. You meet her stare, determined not to show any cracks, even though your heart's hammering away.

Finally, she nods—a small, almost imperceptible movement. 

You clear your throat and motion towards the small cot given to them as beds. “Please, have a seat,” you say.

This time, Wanda complies without a word. 

You glance around the room, searching for a seat, and silently berate yourself for not arranging one beforehand. It’s a small oversight, but it makes you feel foolish. With no other option, you settle against the farthest wall, opposite her, and lean against it, though it doesn’t make you feel any more grounded than you did a second ago.

In your hand is a file detailing everything Hydra knows about her, which isn’t much. You open it with a practiced ease, flipping through the pages, but you’re aptly aware of her eyes on you, watching your every move.

“Wanda Maximoff,” you start. “The procedures you're about to undergo are highly experimental. Hydra won't be held responsible for any injuries, no matter if they're permanent or temporary.”

Including death. But you are prohibited from disclosing this to avoid causing panic or stress among the subjects.

Wanda says nothing, her expression unreadable, but you can sense she’s lingering on a thought. Not sure what it is, you go on, falling back on the lines you've memorized these last few months.

“These procedures will enhance your natural abilities, giving you powers beyond what you may or may not currently possess. However, there are risks involved. Do you understand the nature of these risks?”

Wanda nods again. It’s the same answer you’ve received from countless other volunteers, most of whom had no idea what they were truly signing up for. But there’s something different about her, something in the way she holds herself that tells you she knows exactly what she’s getting into—and she’s not afraid.

“There will be a series of physical and psychological evaluations. We will push you to your breaking point and beyond. It is crucial that you cooperate fully. Resistance will only make the process more difficult, both for you and for us.”

You scan her face for any sign of fear or hesitation, but she's a blank slate. It’s as if she’s made peace with whatever fate awaits her here. That bothers you more than you’d care to admit.

“We will also be conducting interviews throughout the process,” you continue. “These will assess your mental state, your thoughts, your fears. Everything you say will be documented, and nothing will be private.”

Wanda's eyes narrow a touch, the first sign of any emotion since she sat down. It’s subtle, but you notice it. Maybe the thought of her mind being picked apart like a lab specimen is getting to her more than the threat of physical harm. Or it could be something else entirely.

“We’ll begin the physical tests tomorrow,” you say, closing the file and hugging it to your chest. “For now, you should rest and eat as much as you like. Your room is monitored constantly. If you need anything, just ask, though your movement around the facility will be restricted.”

The mask of indifference slips back into place. Wanda leans back on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows in a display of casual ease. 

“Do you have any questions?” you ask, mostly because you have to, not because you really want to know. You figure she won't ask anything—most are too scared or too defeated to speak up. 

But Wanda Maximoff isn't most people.

“Why do you do this?”

You can’t help it—a faint smile begins to creep across your face at her question. Most volunteers, when they ask anything at all, are fixated on their own impending ordeal, too scared of what's coming. 

But Wanda isn't asking about herself; she's asking about you. It feels like forever since anyone showed that kind of interest.

Pausing at the doorway, you turn your head just enough for her to see the profile of your face. 

“I do what I'm told,” you say, dodging the deeper question she posed—the real why behind your actions. The truth is, you stopped asking why a long time ago. Reasons tend to blur into excuses when moral lines are crossed in an organization you once trusted.

You're already tapping your keycard against the scanner when Wanda speaks again.

“Will doing what you're told bring them back?”

Her question spins you around so fast it's almost like whiplash. How did Wanda know about that? Was it just a wild guess meant to throw you off? Whatever it was, it worked.

You open your mouth to reply, but the words stick in your throat. You don’t even remember the last time you even thought about them. You've never shared this with anyone—not even Lev. Only a handful of Hydra figures were ever privy to your past.

Wanda couldn't possibly know. Unless—

“Good night, Y/N,” Wanda says, her tone dismissive as she curls into a fetal position, turning her back to you.

If your theory holds, Wanda might be the key Hydra has been searching for—the one who can unlock the powers of the scepter that have eluded so many others. Her apparent ability to read minds could be the very breakthrough Dr. List has been waiting for. 

Finding yourself hesitating to report this discovery surprises you. It’s almost ironic how your conscience decides to kick in now, just when Hydra's goal seems tantalizingly close with the acquisition of the twins. You know what Hydra would do if they realized just how special she is, and the thought of them twisting her into something monstrous is something you can’t even begin to imagine.

-

In the days that follow, you keep quiet about your suspicions regarding Wanda’s innate abilities. You tell yourself that Dr. List will probably uncover them through his experiments soon enough. It’s definitely not because you're worried about what they might do if they decide to fast-track her program.

Yes, you’re just staying out of it, certainly not because you want to protect her.

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

-

Your next face-to-face with Wanda comes a week later.

Though you have merely been observing her through a two-way mirror, you've been plagued by sleepless nights since your last meeting, and not even the strongest sedatives at your disposal have helped. Thoughts of her well-being nag at you, despite Hydra's strict rules limiting interaction between volunteers and handlers to prevent any emotional attachments. Such attachments have formed before, and Hydra has always dealt with them ruthlessly.

When you enter her room, she's in the same position as before—curled up on her cot, making herself appear small and almost childlike. She looks up as the door closes behind you, her eyes meeting yours with a quiet recognition. 

As you step closer, the hollowness of her cheeks, the dark circles under her eyes, and her pale complexion are unmistakable. The word weathered hardly does justice to the toll her first week has taken. You know exactly what she’s been through. The tests here aren’t just tests—they’re torture, meant to break people down, body and mind. Even with her powers and confidence, Wanda shows the same signs of strain. She's slight, frail, and clearly, she's had as rough a time as anyone else here.

This time, you come prepared with a metal chair and a freshly prepared tea set next to it, and take a seat across from her.

“How are you holding up?” you ask, although the answer seems painfully obvious.

Wanda shrugs, barely moving, as if the effort to appear okay is too much for her. But then she surprises you.

“How long until Hydra enhances my powers?”

You weren’t expecting that. After everything she’s been through, she’s asking for more? You thought she’d be wary, maybe even broken by now. But the question says otherwise. She’s been through hell, and she’s still pushing forward, demanding more. Is she courting death?

“You seem in a hurry,” you say, hiding your worry behind a soft chuckle. 

Her eyes narrow. “I didn’t come here to wait around. If they want to use me, they need to make me stronger.”

Use me.

How disconcerting. She’s asking for more—more pain, more trials. As if everything she’s endured isn’t enough, as if she needs it to become something greater. It’s reckless and foolish, to say the least.

“We’re moving as fast as we can—”

“Move faster.”

“Wanda,” you say quietly. “What you’re asking for... it could break you.”

“I’m already broken,” she declares, cold and matter-of-fact. “If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

It’s only when you notice the disgust in her eyes that you realize you’ve been looking at her with pity. Wanda is about to snap back, likely to tell you she doesn’t need your sympathy, when her expression shifts abruptly to one of curiosity.

She tilts her head, studying you—or maybe, with the mirth in her eye, it’s more like she’s mocking you. 

“You look at me like that again, and I’ll ask you a question,” Wanda says, her voice low, almost a whisper.

You stiffen, uncertain of what's coming next, but before you can say anything, she continues.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

The question startles a laugh out of you, abrupt and a bit too loud—almost like you're trying to convince both yourself and Wanda how absurd she’s being. But as the laughter dies down, you feel your face heat up, your cheeks flushing a telltale red that you can't hide.

“No,” you say, your gaze dropping to the floor as you shake your head. You clasp your hands behind your back, one finger nervously picking at a cuticle. “This isn’t what this is about.”

Wanda smirks slightly, her lips twitching, amused by your discomfort. “Isn't it?” 

For a split second, you start to doubt everything. Did you really want to sleep with her? It's been ages since you've even considered intimacy with anyone—maybe too long. Life here doesn't leave space for that kind of thinking, and even if it did, the situation wouldn't allow it. Your heart's been shattered so often you're sure there's nothing left to give—especially not to someone you've only known for a week.

Wait—love?

This is, at best, lust—nothing more.

“No,” you repeat with more conviction.

Wanda’s smirk fades into a slow, knowing smile. “Fine. Just know the offer stands if you ever change your mind.”

A proposition. It’s not the first time you’ve received one, but this offer sticks with you longer than you’d like. Wanda’s already spent too much time in your thoughts, and you’re desperate to shake her off and get back to the task at hand. But she makes it maddeningly hard to do so.

Without looking at her, you clear your throat and begin the routine interview. You refuse to focus on the fact that she’s just openly considered a physical encounter with you—and you’re definitely not considering it in return. 

“Have you noticed any unusual side effects since the last session? Headaches, nausea, dizziness?” you ask, skipping the pleasantries.

“No,” she says dryly. “No headaches. No nausea. No dizziness.”

You jot down her answers, ignoring her evident disinterest in the proceedings.

“Any changes in your sleep pattern?” you continue.

“No.”

“Any unusual pain or discomfort?” you ask, forcing yourself to meet her gaze, but her focus is on the rings on her fingers. The prisoners—volunteers, you correct yourself—aren't supposed to keep any personal items. It baffles you how she managed to hold on to those cheap pieces of metal and silver.

It takes Wanda a moment to respond. “Just the usual soreness.”

You suspect it's more than just soreness. She’s probably downplaying the pain, so you make a note beside her answer.

“Alright, we’ll keep an eye on that. Any changes in your mood? Irritability, anxiety, anything like that?”

Wanda shrugs. “Depends on the company, I suppose.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Noted. We’ll stick with the same regimen for now. Any concerns or questions about the next phase?”

“What happened to them?” Wanda asks, steering the interview off course.

Annoyance flares up as she probes again, prying into your business. “Don’t you already know?” you snap, your patience wearing thin.

But Wanda doesn’t even blink. She isn’t scared, and that just irks you even more. She should be, if she knew what you’ve done to others who’ve pushed your buttons. You’ve never hesitated to throw your weight around with those who make your job harder.

“Sometimes what really happened and how we remember it are two entirely different stories,” she says, taking a deep breath before she continues. “Our mind protects us from the truth. It obscures what’s real, and what’s not becomes all we remember.”

You're stone-still, your mind drifting back to the past Wanda keeps prodding at. You don't even have a picture of your family anymore. Their voices are gone from your memory, and you're barely holding onto their faces. It used to tear you apart, thinking about them, but now there's just emptiness. You realize Wanda can’t rattle you—she has no leverage because there’s nothing left inside you to disrupt.

You’ve got nothing.

“Y/N?” Wanda presses, her features tightening with concern. 

You consider throwing her blunt words right back at her, but you hold off. Instead, you set the clipboard down on the counter with a soft clack. Turning to the medical cart, you grab a tray of needles and tools, then bring it over to her bed. Wanda's eyes widen slightly, and she scoots back as you sit down on the edge of the mattress. It’s satisfying to finally see her react with something other than that usual smug, unshakable attitude. You pick up a syringe, fill it with a bright yellow liquid from an unmarked bottle, and swipe a cotton ball soaked in alcohol over the top.

“What’s that?” Wanda asks evenly, though you can detect traces of doubt in it that suggest she’s trying to put up a brave front. 

“Supplements.”

Wanda raises a skeptical brow. 

You lift the syringe slightly, letting it catch the light so she can see exactly what you’re holding.

“May I?” you gesture toward her arm.

Wanda eyes you warily, then gives a quick nod.

With her consent, you scoot closer until your knees almost touch. You gently roll up the sleeve of her scrubs, exposing her arm. This close, you can see the goosebumps on her skin and feel the slight tremors running through her. You hadn't noticed before, but she's shivering—not from the cold, but probably from a fever.

Instinctively, you press your palm against her forehead. Wanda flinches but doesn’t pull away. Slowly, she settles into your touch and lets out a small sigh.

“You're hot,” you blurt out, and then quickly realize the unintended double entendre. Fortunately, Wanda lets it pass without comment. You retract your hand and hold the syringe up to her arm, poised but something stops you.

“What are you waiting for?” Wanda prompts impatiently.

You're thinking of straying from the usual protocol, knowing the yellow meds might worsen Wanda's condition, especially with her fever spiking. Deciding against it, you put the syringe down and grab another bottle off the cart, this one filled with a clear liquid.

“Change of plans,” you murmur, prepping the new syringe. You nod at her for her arm, and she shifts closer, making it easier for you. When you depress the plunger, it's quick—so quick that Wanda barely feels the needle's prick.

You pull out the needle and press a small bandage onto the spot. “All done,” you announce.

Wanda massages her arm, feeling no real pain at the injection site. “T-Thanks,” she murmurs softly.

You acknowledge her gratitude with a nod and start collecting your notebook and tools. As you rise to leave, Wanda's hand shoots out, her fingers wrapping around your wrist urgently. You turn, meeting her striking, green eyes.

“I’m sorry about your family,” she murmurs quietly. Her words solidify your suspicion: she came to Hydra with powers already in tow. Mind reading or memory extraction would be invaluable to Hydra, and now, with even more power at your fingertips, you find yourself hesitating to use it.

If Dr. List catches wind of your hesitations, the reprisals will be brutal.

You glance down pointedly at where she's holding your hand, but Wanda doesn’t let go.

“It was a long time ago,” you whisper.

“Time doesn't really heal that kind of loss,” she says, still holding onto you.

“No, but you learn to live with it,” you reply, feeling the truth of your own words.

Wanda's hold slackens but remains. You feel awkward standing there, yet something holds you back from pulling away. You hadn't realized until now how starved you were for such a simple, human connection.

“I lost my parents the same way,” she shares.

“I'm sorry,” you say, and you really mean it. You can't read Wanda like she seems to read you, but in this brief moment, with the walls down, you decide to ask, “Is that why you came to us? To avenge your parents?”

Wanda's grip loosens completely, and she lets go of your wrist. You rub the spot where her fingers were, still feeling the warmth she left behind.

“‘Avenge’,” she spits out. She draws her knees to her chest and hugs them close. “I hate that word. Pietro and I, we're here to stop them. I wish… I wish they’d just leave Sokovia alone. They won’t leave because we can’t fight back.”

Your own past with Hydra comes to mind as she speaks. Back then, you joined because you were out of options. No country to fight for, no people to call yours. It strikes you how different Wanda's motivations are—rooted in something far more personal and noble. She deserves more than what Hydra can offer. 

Wanda looks at you, waiting for an answer. When you don't say anything, she pushes, “Do you think we made the right decision coming here?”

You're all too aware of Hydra’s real agenda. They're not about peace. They're here to extend their control, to bend the world around their so-called divine mission. 

“Sometimes, you don't know if it’s the right choice until it's too late to change it,” you say, knowing it’s not much of an answer. It's just the bitter truth you've come to know. It's all you can offer Wanda.

“Can you do me a favor, Y/N? Will you look after Pietro?”

The same way you’ve been looking out for me, Wanda thinks to herself, relieved that there’s only one telepath in the room.

“No promises,” you say.

Wanda gives a slight nod and starts to withdraw again. She settles back down on the cot, turning away from you, the conversation clearly over.

-

Lev sneaks into your room just before midnight, the door giving a soft creak as it swings open. Though friends, you typically keep to your own spaces. You blink sleepily at him, fighting to sit up and shake off the grogginess.

“Dr. List decided to skip ahead,” Lev says in a rush, closing the door with a gentle click. “He’s moved forward with exposing the twins to the scepter.”

“When?” You're wide awake now, sitting bolt upright in bed.

Lev’s eyes dart to the small window in your room before returning to you, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “An hour ago.”

That can’t be good. It’s far sooner than anyone had anticipated. Dr. List’s decision to advance the timeline without further testing could have unpredictable consequences. You swing your legs off the bed, your brain ticking through the possible scenarios.

“What’s the status now? How did Wan—the twins react?” you ask, grabbing your jacket and shoes and throwing them on without taking your eyes off Lev.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. They rushed them to the Observation Chamber right after the exposure. Everything’s been kept under wraps.”

You pace a few steps, mulling over your next move. Exposure to the scepter has been lethal for everyone. Even with Wanda's unique abilities, there’s no guarantee she’ll pull through when others haven't.

“We need more information. Can you get access to the observation logs?”

Lev nods, though his expression shows his apprehension. “I’ll try. But security has been tighter since the exposure.”

You catch the anxious twist of his mouth at the idea of sneaking around, and choose to spare him the risk. His relief is palpable when you tell him, “I'll handle it myself.”

He sighs in relief. “Be careful…”

Only a select few can get into the Observation Chamber, and your badge isn’t on that list. You're going to need something stronger than just caution.

-

You slip your underwear back on, feeling Laura’s eyes tracing the contours of your body. 

After Lev left, you headed straight for her. Laura Brown, the Hydra director's daughter, hadn't seen you in almost a year, but the nature of your previous encounters left little doubt she'd be open to reconnecting.

Laura reclines on the bed, a sheet loosely draped around her, smirking as she watches you.  “I knew you'd come back eventually,” she purrs, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.

You straighten up, deliberately avoiding her eyes as you button your shirt. “I need a favor, Laura.” 

She leans back against the headboard, the sheet falling to her waist and revealing her bare chest. “This sounds serious.”

“I need to get into the Observation Chamber. Tonight,” you say. You despise asking her—or anyone, really—for favors, but you need to see Wanda. It's imperative.

Laura's eyebrows go up, her smile growing. “Direct and desperate. What's in it for me?”

“What do you want?” you ask, even though you already know the answer.

She thinks it over, then answers, “Keep me company tonight, no strings attached. Just like the old days.”

“Done.”

Laura claps her hands, clearly pleased, and tosses you the badge from the bedside table. 

You pick it up, feeling a bit degraded, like you're picking up coins someone's thrown your way. “I'll be right back,” you promise.

-

The guards give you weird looks as you show up at the Observation Chamber. They had clear orders: only Dr. List or Baron Strucker can go in. But dropping the director’s daughter’s name does the trick. You flash her badge and they let you pass, no more questions asked.

The hallway is pitch-black. This place had been sleeping until now, woken up by the fact that Pietro and Wanda Maximoff hadn’t died like the others who met the scepter. Clearly labeled doors mark the new, grim function of the space.

You think about heading straight to Wanda's room, but you remember her earlier request and decide to check on Pietro first.

The soft beeping of monitors greets you as soon as you step inside his room. He's in rough shape, alive but barely hanging on. You quickly check the chart posted next to the door—it shows low blood pressure and a high dosage of Epinephrine administered, with a note that his chances of survival stand at only 57% as of 11:30 PM.

He looks much thinner and more worn than the last time you saw him, his condition evidently worse. His eyes are bloodshot, his skin pale and stretched tight over his bones. As you move closer, you notice his body trembling, a sheen of sweat covering him despite the room's chill.

Quickly, you pull the extra covers from beneath his bed and wrap them around him, trying to stabilize his shivering. Then, you snag a water bottle from a nearby stand, helping him take slow, measured sips. 

Pietro looks at you, his eyes filled with confusion and pain, struggling to form the words. “Who are you?”

“Just someone who made your sister a promise,” you say, scooping up some water in your palm and gently drizzling it over his head. Pietro sighs in relief. “Get some rest now, and try not to die.”

His eyes flutter shut in seconds, his breath smoothing out as sleep claims him. You linger just a moment to make sure he's really out, then hurry off towards Wanda's room. Your heart pounds in your chest, fear pulsing through you. Pietro was in rough shape; how bad might Wanda be? You cling to a shred of hope that she's holding up better.

The air stays heavy as you enter Wanda’s quarters. You tread lightly, making sure not to disturb her sleep, and check the medical chart by her bed. Unlike Pietro’s dire prognosis, Wanda's stats are steady, but still troubling. Her breaths are regular, without the distressing shivers that torment her brother.

What strikes you is how normal, how peacefully she's sleeping, despite her recent exposure to Loki’s scepter. 

Relieved to see her condition isn’t more severe, you end up at the foot of her bed. There isn’t much to do after confirming she’s stable, and you know you should head back to Laura. But leaving Wanda’s side proves difficult once you're there. Almost immediately, your mind floods with ideas on how to get her out of Hydra’s clutches. If they fully realized her potential, it wouldn't just be dangerous for her—it'd be catastrophic for anyone in their path. Internally, you start plotting escape routes and thinking about who might be willing to help.

It’s strange to think how you went from one of Hydra’s most devoted agents to scheming against them.

Lost in your plans, you're jolted back to the present when you feel a gentle nudge against your thigh. Wanda's foot is pressing against you. She's awake. You look up to find her eyes open, wary and searching.

“Y/N,” she murmurs, her voice raspy from lack of use. “What—what happened?”

You subtly shift on the bed, making sure her toes aren't touching you anymore. You're not sure when you became so acutely aware of Wanda’s proximity, or of the points where your bodies meet.

“What do you remember before all this?” you ask.

She rubs her forehead, straining to recall. “There was a room... a stone emerging from the scepter. Bright lights… then nothing.”

You nod, already knowing half of what Wanda just told you. This is the first time anyone has lived to tell about their experience with the scepter, and you were hoping for more insights into how it unleashes its power. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about trying it yourself, wondering if you could resist its effects. Being Hydra, curiosity about power was a constant temptation.

“You weren't supposed to be exposed to the scepter yet,” you admit quietly. “Dr. List sped things up, maybe because he suspected—”

“Pietro,” she cuts in, her thoughts finally catching up. “Was he exposed to it too?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes widen, clouded with worry. “Is he okay?”

“He’s alive,” you say. “I just saw him before coming here. He's stable, but it’s precarious.”

Wanda’s face crumples as soon as the words leave your lips. Before you can react, she throws her arms around you, her face buried in your shoulder. You freeze for a moment, uncertain how to respond. It’s been so long since you’ve held someone like this, since you’ve allowed yourself to care enough to even consider it. But then you feel it—tears, warm and wet against your neck. She’s crying.

After a moment, you hesitantly wrap your arms around her, holding her as she trembles against you. You can feel her fear, her desperation. It cuts through your defenses, the ones you’ve built so carefully over the years.

You tighten your hold on her, offering what little comfort you can, but inside, you’re battling your own fear. You can’t afford to care about her this much—not here, not now. But as you hold her, feeling every shake of her body, you know it’s already too late.

Wanda's sobs slowly subside, and you pull back slightly, intent on offering some kind of reassurance despite how foreign it feels to you. You reach up, brushing away her tears with your thumb, trying to find the right words, but they don’t come. Instead, as your hand lingers on her cheek, she pins you with a quiet stare. Before you realize what’s happening, Wanda leans in and presses her lips softly against yours.

The kiss is brief, just a fraction of a second, but it leaves you utterly breathless. She pulls back almost immediately, watching you, waiting to see how you’ll react. For a heartbeat, you're stunned, but then something ignites inside you, something you’ve been holding back without even recognizing it. 

Acting on pure impulse, you reach up, grasp the back of her neck, and pull her in for another kiss. In an instant, you take control effortlessly, letting the animalistic and Hydra part of you come to the forefront. Your thumb presses roughly against her chin, coaxing her mouth open, and you slide your tongue in, staking your claim. Wanda responds with a gasp, her hands clutching at your shoulders, but you’re too far gone to think about anything except the taste of her, the way her body molds against yours.

You tilt her head back, deepening the kiss further, your other hand sliding down to grip her waist, pulling her closer still. The feel of her, the heat of her skin under your fingers, it’s intoxicating, and you can’t get enough. You've never allowed yourself to want someone this much. Just as you think you can't hold back any longer, Wanda's hand captures yours and guides it under her shirt. You're startled to find out she's wearing nothing underneath when your knuckles brush against her hardened nipple. That unexpected discovery is what compels you to pull back.

Wanda's lips leave yours with a wet sound, and she begins kissing down your jaw to your neck.

“Wanda, wait—”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” she says. Her breath is hot against your skin, and you feel her tongue trace a line up to your pulse point, leaving a fiery trail that makes you shiver. “You can claim your reward, you can have me.”

Her words snap you out of the haze, that single word—reward—ringing in your ears like a warning bell. You quickly place your hands on her shoulders, pushing her back gently but firmly.

Wanda blinks, confusion and hurt flashing in her eyes as she looks up at you. “What’s wrong?” She knows she’s attractive and has already glimpsed your desire for her during your visits, reading it in your thoughts. It’s why she finds your rejection so absurd—frustrating, even, given her openness.

“I'm not here for that,” you say, your voice coming out rougher than you intended.

“Then why are you here?”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, unaccustomed to openly discussing your feelings. “I came to see how you're doing after... after the scepter.”

“I'm fine,” she answers flatly.

You nod, still feeling the residual heat of her closeness. “Do you feel any different?” you ask, partly out of concern but mostly to shift the conversation elsewhere.

“I'm just tired,” Wanda says, closing her eyes and running a hand through her tousled dark hair. “Can we do this tomorrow?” She sounds a bit let down, assuming you're here just for a routine check—looking for any new powers or changes—as if she had hoped for something more personal.

“I'm sorry,” you quickly say. “I’m not here on any official orders. In fact, I shouldn't even be here.”

This revelation softens her look, her eyes narrowing slightly with renewed interest.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, “I'm working on getting you and Pietro out of here. It's not set yet, but—”

“Out of here?” Wanda cuts in, her eyebrows knitting together in puzzlement. “Why would I want to leave?” 

“You got what you came for, right? The power of the scepter? Now you can leave. Hydra isn’t what you think,” you explain, trying to make her see the danger.

“Look who's acting all self-righteous all of a sudden. You've been here for years, and I've seen you do things,” she retorts sharply.

“Stop looking into my mind,” you snap, irritated by her knack for sifting through your thoughts without permission and using your past against you. Just because she can doesn’t mean she should.

“You’re saying I’m wrong?” she sneers.

You shake your head. “Look, I’m just trying to help—”

“If you really want to help, just do your job.”

Her words hit you harder than any physical blow could. You knew better than to let someone get this close, to allow your emotions to cloud your judgment. But there’s no one to blame here but yourself. Wanda didn't even have to do much to earn your solicitude; it was your own doing, your own need to make things right that led you here. 

Hydra’s training kicks in like second nature, and you shut down the emotions before they can show, your face hardening into a mask.

“Alright, Wanda. I'll do just that.”

-

It’s easier the second time you’re with Laura that night.

After Wanda's dismissal, you find Laura’s body to be the comfort you need. You lose yourself in her, the way she responds to every touch, every move you make. Pushing everything else from your mind, you focus solely on her, making her come again and again until she’s too bone-tired to do anything but black out beside you.

After it's over, you slip out of her bed, leaving her to sleep off the night’s weariness, and return to your room. You don't think about Wanda. Not even once.

In the following days, Wanda's recovery is swift—too swift for your level of clearance. Dr. List decides she’s beyond your oversight and assigns her to a higher clearance team. You’re left dealing with new recruits, volunteers who are eager yet naïve, none of whom survive the brutal exposure to the scepter. Each failure hardens you a little more, cements the necessity of detachment. 

But even with countless deaths on their hands, Hydra doesn't back down. If anything, they’re more driven now, hungry for more power, spurred on by the success of the twins. Pietro develops superhuman speed, a skill Hydra quickly puts to use by dispatching him to enemy territories for intel. Wanda’s abilities become more varied, showing signs of what could be categorized as psionic powers. She demonstrates capabilities that suggest telekinesis, manipulating objects without touching them, and telepathy—which she employs at her whim. 

Sometimes you wonder if she ever peeks into your mind anymore. But then, with the kind of power she wields, why would she even bother with what you're thinking? You're not special. Not even your badge, which doesn't get you into sections of the base without currying favor with Laura Brown first.

The Sokovian base is sprawling, and encounters with either of the Maximoff twins are rare but unavoidable. Pietro remembers your visit that night. Now and then, he nods at you politely. Wanda, on the other hand, acts as if you don’t exist. If you pass her in the hallways, she looks through you as if you're invisible. So, you make it a point to stay out of her way, blending into the dull walls and shadows as much as you can.

This detachment suits you in a way. It allows you to focus on your duties, on surviving one day at a time in an environment where the stakes are always high and the consequences often lethal.

It leaves you with nothing to lose, because there's no one left to lose.

-

Weeks pass quietly until rumors start floating around that Wanda's been seeing someone inside the complex. It’s hard to call it dating, really, since concepts like love and trust struggle to take root in a place as bleak as this. It’s probably just two people keeping each other company through the colder nights. Still, you can’t shake off how much this bothers you. 

But it's not surprising. The twins' popularity has only grown, especially since, months later, no one else has matched their extraordinary feat of surviving an Infinity Stone—a term you picked up only after Hydra discovered what was really behind Loki's scepter.

Sometimes, you find yourself observing Wanda from afar, trying to figure out if there’s any substance to the rumors. Who makes her laugh? Who does she choose to sit with at meals? The more you notice your own scrutiny, the more you recognize a feeling of jealousy stirring within you, an emotion that’s prevalent among your peers but not in this regard. You're bewildered and annoyed by your own reaction—why should who Wanda spends time with matter to you? Whatever she does, whoever she fucks—it's none of your business.

You hate this feeling, but you combat it by heading to Laura’s room every night, as if she’s the cure you need to keep yourself in check.

-

“They’ll betray us someday,” Lev murmurs as you both amble through the dense woods, taking a rare break from the base for a smoke. He breathes out slowly, watching the smoke curl upwards. You don’t have to ask to know he’s talking about the twins.

“No sooner than Hydra will throw us under the bus when the Avengers show up,” you reply, stepping around a fallen branch. “We’re all expendable. You know that, right?”

Lev takes a deep drag, his gaze fixed on the trail ahead. “Yeah, I know,” he says at last, releasing a plume of smoke. There’s something in his eyes, a look that tells you he’s not saying all he could about the twins.

You eye him suspiciously. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Lev glances at you, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he's deciding how much to share. After a moment, he nods.

“Okay, I wasn't planning on telling you this yet, but I've been handed a special assignment—the Maximoff Contingency Plan,” he reveals.

You scoff at him. “You’re the contingency plan?” 

“No, not just me,” Lev chuckles darkly as he tosses his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out. “I'm involved, but it's more than that. We're working on a weapon, one that borrows from the tech of the Infinity Stone.”

The seriousness of what he's saying sinks in. Leveraging the power of an Infinity Stone means they're not messing around.

“And what's this weapon supposed to do?” you ask, not sure if you want to hear the answer.

Lev’s expression darkens. “You know what weapons are supposed to do,” he says tersely, turning to head back. “Let’s go.”

Hydra does not tolerate treachery. Even the mildest punishment is a swift death—a quick end, but an end all the same.

-

It’s only a matter of time before the Avengers find the Sokovian Base. Tensions had been mounting and Hydra's movements had become increasingly aggressive, drawing unwanted attention. When it all goes down, you’re in your room, scrambling to suit up and arm yourself with pistols—not to confront the Avengers, who are essentially gods, but to fight for your way out.

As the base descends into turmoil, you hear that Wanda and Pietro are attempting to escape. Hydra has a ruthless protocol for such situations: eliminate the entire unit to prevent any leaks. It's cleaner to destroy and rebuild than to let loose ends compromise the organization. Knowing about the contingency plan to eliminate the twins, you grab your radio and contact Lev, asking where he is.

“You’re just in time. I need backup. I've got Wanda Maximoff in my sights, waiting for the right moment to take her down,” he radios back.

“On it, I’m with you,” you reply, feeling the sweat bead on your forehead as you move toward his location. When you get there, you find Lev, poised and ready, his eyes fixed on the target through the scope of his rifle. You scan the surroundings, looking for hazards until you spot Wanda among the debris. Iron Man's missiles have turned the area into a deadly maze of flying rocks. From her fingertips, streams of red magic swirl, skillfully steering the massive boulders away from crushing both Hydra agents and civilians.

Wanda isn’t trying to escape—she’s helping fend them off. Seeing her save these lives, something inside you breaks. Lev has his rifle aimed at her, ready to pull the trigger while she's busy playing the hero. The possible outcomes flash through your mind: Wanda dead or imprisoned by the Avengers. The thought is unbearable. You've spent months pretending you didn't care, but now, faced with the reality of losing her, you realize all you want is for her to live, to be free—something you've long given up for yourself.

You're about to dissuade Lev, to argue her worth, her potential, anything to stall, when an explosion nearby startles Wanda. She turns, momentarily distracted, and Lev's finger tightens on the trigger, ready to end it all.

But you're faster.

He collapses with a shocked gasp, the life leaving his eyes as he hits the ground. The noise of his body falling draws Wanda’s attention. She turns just in time to see what you've done—for her. Her eyes, wide and questioning, boring into yours.

Why did you save me? They seem to ask you, those green orbs that have hunted you ever since you looked into them. There's no time for lengthy explanations—not that you have a solid one anyway. But with each passing second, the chance of escaping undetected by these so-called superheroes dwindles.

“You need to leave, now!” you yell at her, but she doesn't budge. Instead, she looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time with something other than disdain. It’s the same look she gave you the night the scepter awakened her powers. It’s a look that tells you that maybe she’s been pretending too, these past few months.

You’re about to sprint toward her, to drag her to safety if you have to, when a blur of motion sweeps her away. Pietro appears out of nowhere, whisking them both out of the base before the Avengers close in. 

For a second, you're left standing there, surrounded by the wreckage and the friend you just betrayed and killed. There's no time to grieve, no time to second-guess leaving his body behind—it's pure instinct that forces you to move quickly. You head towards an exit known only to the most important figures of the organization, a piece of information you picked up from Laura. She wouldn’t have given it away if you weren’t frequently sleeping together, those personal liaisons caused by trying to forget Wanda.  

It’s strange, in a way, how you both just ended up saving each other.

-

Several weeks after the Avengers demolish the Sokovian base, Wanda finds you at a small cabin you own on the outskirts of Novi Grad. The modest structure sits on a 2-acre plot near the woods—a spot you picked up when your stint in Sokovia stretched past thirteen months. You never really planned on settling here; you thought you’d be moved to another location and sell this land at a profit eventually. But life, it seems, had other plans.

You’re chopping wood beside the cabin when you feel her presence. Dropping the axe, you straighten up and spot her at the edge of the clearing. Your eyes quickly sweep her surroundings for any sign of Pietro, but it appears she has come alone.

“Why did you do it?” she asks once she's close enough. You take a few moments to take her in, hardly believing she's actually here, and touched by the thought that she sought you out. You've missed her presence, even though the last few months have only found you both inhabiting the same compound, breathing the same air but never speaking. 

Sometimes, lying in bed at night, you wonder why you can’t shake Wanda from your thoughts. You’ve even entertained the idea that she might have hexed you, that her magic has somehow ensnared your mind and… maybe your heart. It seems like the only logical explanation, because since the day you met, Wanda has never really left your mind.

“I did what I thought was right,” you finally answer, tucking your hands inside your pockets, not knowing what else to do with them.

“He was your friend,” Wanda points out softly. 

Your lips curl into a strained smile; of course, she’d know. She knows things about you that you'd never voice out loud. Wanda’s ability to read minds makes hiding anything impossible. Does she understand how deeply you care for her? She must. Wanda has always seen right through you, so why does she need to ask?

“Did you ever think about me after that night?” she asks out of nowhere. The night the Infinity Stone changed everything, when you were closer to her than you’d ever been before.

You're taken aback by her directness. This, too, she probably knows the answer to because you've thought of little else. 

“Everyday,” you say.

That night, you invite her to your home, the first person ever to share the space you once believed would always be just yours. Your living room is snug, with a three-seater couch and a medium-sized TV mounted on the wall. There’s also a fireplace that lights up the space with an amber glow as you hand Wanda a cup of hot chocolate.

You and Wanda find yourselves chatting about lighter topics. She shares her favorite shows from childhood, and you're surprised to learn she’s a big fan of American sitcoms. You enjoyed them too when you were younger, but not to the extent that you'd watch entire seasons over and over like Wanda did. Your preference leaned more toward books, gobbling up Agatha Christie novels when you were younger.

While you're in the middle of sharing a particularly funny memory from one of those old sitcom episodes, Wanda suddenly leans in and kisses you. Though your first instinct is to dive back into the kiss, you pull back instead. The last time you were this close, things escalated quickly before they crashed and burned.

“Are you sure?” you ask, searching her eyes for an answer. Learning from past mistakes, you want to make sure it's what she really wants.

She nods, her eyes steady and invitingly dark. “I’m sure.”

You close the distance between you, kissing her to your heart’s content. Before long, clothes are discarded, and you move from the couch to the bed, leisurely exploring each other, discovering how to bring one another to new heights of pleasure. 

As you lie next to her afterward, breathless and tangled in the sheets, you realize there’s no way to pretend anymore—you care too much to go back.

-

The quiet doesn’t last long. 

Tony Stark’s experiment goes awry, giving rise to Ultron—a global threat with ambitions that soon become clear. It seeks to bring about what he perceives as peace, by any means necessary. And just when you thought you and Wanda might have found some peace, she tells you she’s joining Ultron.

“It’s too dangerous,” you tell her. The twins and a robot against the entire Avengers team? The numbers alone put the odds against them. “We can stay here, help the people around us, and actually make a real difference.”

She shakes her head, her jaw set. “You don’t get it,” she argues. “You never will. You’re not…”

Special. Go ahead, Wanda, say it. Say what you really think of me.

“...you don’t have powers. You don’t know what it’s like to be able to change things and then just stand by, powerless.”

You were bracing for it, but it hurts all the same.

“So what am I then, Wanda? Just a bystander? Someone not worth listening to because I don't have powers?”

“I’m saying I have to do this,” Wanda mutters solemnly. “I’m the only one who can do this.”

You can see in her eyes that she’s already made up her mind. You’re still racking up your brain for something that might make a difference but she speaks again.

“I’m doing this for Sokovia,” she says quietly. “For everyone who's suffered because of Stark.”

You say nothing. Her fierce loyalty is one of the things you adore about her.

Wanda steps closer, her hand reaching out to touch your face, her thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “I’ll come back,” she promises. “When this is over, I’ll come back to you.”

You nod, resigned to the reality that you must let her go. “I’ll be here,” you say, your voice thick with regret that you can’t do more to protect her, to make sure she’s safe. “Waiting for you, right here.”

-

Pietro Maximoff dies riddled with bullet wounds—over a dozen of them. You learn the details of his death through a tabloid, days after witnessing Novi Grad being torn from the ground. 

A week later, Wanda comes back to you, just as she promised, but she’s not the same. The light in her eyes is gone, replaced by a ghostly void. It’s a look you know all too well, the same one you’ve seen staring back at you in the mirror for years.

A loss of purpose.

In the days that follow, you try to restore some normalcy, but nothing feels right. You cook meals she barely touches, sit beside her during long stretches of silence, and listen when she occasionally finds the strength to talk. It's tough, seeing her struggle, but you stay by her side, hoping things will begin to heal.

But they don’t.

Every day, you see it—the guilt, the pain, the loss. She tries to find reasons to keep going, but nothing seems to hold. And as much as you want to be the one to help her, to pull her out of this darkness, you know you're not enough. Not this time.

Wanda is adrift, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t anchor her to this life you’re trying to build. She’s lost her brother, her home, and whatever sense of justice she thought she could achieve by joining Ultron. And you—you’ve been running from your past for so long, and you’re simply tired of it.

You start thinking about what’s best for her, about what she needs to move on and find a new purpose. Deep down, you recognize that maybe the best way for her to truly heal is if you step aside.

-

Like Wanda, you don’t trust Stark. So, with the skills you’ve honed during your time with Hydra, you manage to find a way to contact Steve Rogers instead.

The conversation happens one afternoon, over a phone call. You tell him everything—your past with Hydra, the things you’ve done, and why you’re ready to turn yourself in. He listens without interrupting, letting you confess everything. You mention that Wanda's with you, and make it clear this isn't about trying to reclaim some lost sense of patriotism. You're doing it for her.

“You did the right thing by coming to me,” Steve says when you finish. “Wanda has so much potential. She deserves a chance to become who she’s meant to be.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice dropping to a whisper. You’ve known it all along, perhaps better than anyone. It’s why you’re doing this, even though it feels like tearing yourself apart.

Over the course of the conversation, you and Steve work out an agreement. You’ll serve a reduced sentence in exchange for all the intel you have on the remaining Hydra heads still out there. You’ll act as an informant, helping to bring them to an end, once and for all. And maybe, after you’ve paid your dues, there’ll be a chance for you to live something close to a normal life. When the call ends, you're washed over with a feeling of real freedom, despite knowing it might cost you Wanda all over again.

Later that night, you find Wanda in the kitchen, stirring a pot and humming a tune you don't recognize, looking more alive than she has in weeks. Seeing her like this is bittersweet; she’s here, but soon, you might not be.

She notices you and gives a small, relieved smile. “You’re back,” she says.

“Yeah, I had a craving for this specific brand of red wine…” You say, tossing out a casual lie since you did swing by the grocery store, and errands are a regular part of your routine.

“Red wine?” Wanda perks up. “Perfect, I’m just about done with dinner. It should pair nicely.”

The kitchen smells foreign but amazing, and you can't help but compliment her. “It smells incredible in here,” you say as you start setting the table. 

Wanda smiles softly as she turns down the stove and grabs a bowl to serve. You set out two wine glasses and place them on the table.

You pour a generous amount of red wine into each glass and watch as Wanda carries the meal over. 

“Thanks for dinner,” you say with genuine appreciation.

“Try it and tell me what you think,” she urges, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she watches you with anticipation.

You take a bite, the flavors unique and perfectly blended. Looking up, you see her watching you, eager for your reaction.

“Well?” she asks impatiently.

You laugh, then wipe the corners of your mouth with your thumb. “Don't you already know?” you tease, hinting at her telepathic abilities.

Wanda pretends to be offended, crossing her arms. “I haven’t read your mind in a long time.”

You can’t help but be a little skeptical of her claim. “Since when?”

Wanda blinks, her gaze veering away as she hesitates, clearly not eager to revisit the memory. 

You give her a gentle nudge, mimicking her earlier prodding “Well?”

Wanda turns to face you, her bottom lip pushed out slightly in a pout. “Since I saw you were sleeping with the director’s daughter.”

Saw? Did she see everything I did with Laura? The thought that Wanda witnessed it all like a scene playing out in front of her makes your stomach twist. You blush, mortified. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” you mumble, looking away.

Wanda shakes her head, trying to dispel her lingering jealousy. “I shouldn't have been peering into your head that much to begin with,” she says softly.

Your ears catch on a particular phrase. “‘That much’?” 

It’s Wanda’s turn to blush, her cheeks flushing deeper as she quickly downs the rest of her wine and then holds out her glass for a refill. Deciding to show some mercy, you pour her another glass without prying further. The conversation stalls into an awkward silence until you finally decide to break it by giving your verdict on the dinner.

“By the way, this is delicious,” you say, adding another serving to your plate.

Wanda's face lights up, her smile stretching so wide that she looks almost like a giddy child. But then, she is young. You can’t help but imagine how she'll fit in with them. Steve, in particular, seems like he’d be good for her. Even though you don't know him well, that one phone call was enough to get a sense of his character and leadership. He seems like the kind of guy who'd really look out for Wanda, in ways you can't.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” Wanda suddenly asks.

Your smile falls a little, but you manage to keep it there. You wish she could read your mind now, that she could understand the choices you’ve made today better than you could ever explain them. You’re not abandoning her—you’re setting her free from this life. You've done too many unspeakable things to ever truly deserve a quiet life with her. Eventually, your past will catch up to you, and the opportunity for Wanda to do something good might slip away if she’s still tied to you. You wish she could see how much you care for her, how much she’s changed you. Because of her, you’ve felt the desire to be good again, to be human again. To open yourself not just to grief, but also to love.

You wish—

“Maybe we can visit that lake you mentioned? I've spent my whole life in Sokovia but never really left Novi Grad,” Wanda suggests.

“Rain check?” you say, trying your best to sound like tomorrow isn’t goodbye. Steve wanted to move quickly, and you’ll be expecting him and a small squad tomorrow, no later than noon. “I’m thinking I might just stay in, catch up on some reading.”

Wanda cocks her head, a puzzled look on her face. You’ve been the one pushing her to get out of the cabin more, so your answer isn’t what she’s expecting. But she likes the idea. She just wants to spend time with you. The hole Pietro left in her heart is only bearable when she’s with you.

“Okay,” she mumbles, starting to clear the dishes. You place a hand over hers, silently telling her you’ll take care of it later. Leaning in, you plant a soft kiss on her lips.

“You want to go to bed early?” you whisper quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

She looks up at you, a playful gasp escaping her lips. 

“Just to sleep,” you add quickly. I just want to hold you all night, one last time.

“I might not be sleepy right off the bat, maybe if you tire me out—”

“Naughty,” you chuckle softly, giving her nose a gentle tap.

“You love it.”

“I—” Love you. You want to say it, but you don’t want to make it harder for you both when the time comes.

Without another word, you grab her hand, holding on to this moment, to her, for as long as you can.

[cazshmere]

Advice & Support for the Moon Signs 🫂

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER : Just a little reminder that you're doing great, even when it doesn't feel like it. Life can be tough, but you’re tougher, and the storm will pass. You are so deeply loved, just as you are, and it's perfectly okay to take a step back when you need to. Give yourself permission to rest, to breathe, and to simply be. You’re not alone—there’s a world of support around you, even in the quiet moments. Hold on, because better days are coming, and until then, know that you’re wrapped in warmth, care, and endless encouragement. You've got this!🩵🫂

🩵 Aries Moon

1. You don’t need to prove yourself to anybody. You are absolutely loved just the way you are.

2. Learn to balance your need for independence with the importance of meaningful connections.

3. Don’t let impulsiveness lead you to make decisions that you may regret later. Take time before you react and to think things through.

4. Embrace your natural leadership qualities, but remember to consider the needs of others too.

5. It’s okay to ask for help when you need it. You don’t always have to do everything on your own.

🩵 Taurus Moon

1. It’s okay to stay in your comfort zone at times. Don’t feel ashamed for taking some time for yourself.

2. It's okay to hold back from sharing your viewpoint at times, especially if you're not fully convinced of it yourself. Try to remain open to other perspectives and avoid being too fixed in your opinions.

3. Appreciate the beauty in the small things around you. It’s the little moments that make life rich.

4. Don’t let the fear of change keep you from evolving. Growth often requires stepping into the unknown.

5. Prioritize self-care and surround yourself with things that bring you peace and comfort.

🩵 Gemini Moon

1. Your thoughts are not who you are. Don’t define yourself based on them; you are so much more. Learn to separate yourself from your thoughts.

2. Stay curious and open to learning new things, but don’t overwhelm yourself with too many interests at once.

3. Take time to connect with your inner self, beyond the constant stream of thoughts.

4. Don’t be afraid to speak your mind, but remember that listening is just as important as talking.

5. Cultivate deeper relationships by sharing your thoughts and ideas with those who truly understand you.

🩵 Cancer Moon

1. It’s okay to put your needs ahead of others. You deserve the same amount of love and care that you give to others.

2. Create a safe emotional space for yourself, where you can retreat and recharge.

3. Don’t be afraid to express your emotions. It’s okay to be vulnerable with those you trust.

4. Build a supportive network of loved ones who appreciate your nurturing nature.

5. Trust your instincts when it comes to people. Your intuition is a powerful guide.

🩵 Leo Moon

1. You don’t need anyone’s approval; you are the amazing just the way you are, it might not be easy to accept this but trust me it is GENUINELY true.

2. Shine brightly and embrace your unique talents, but remember that true confidence comes from within.

3. Don’t be afraid to take the spotlight, but also allow others to shine beside you.

4. Surround yourself with people who uplift you and celebrate your successes.

5. Remember that your self-worth is not tied to external validation. You are worthy just as you are.

🩵 Virgo Moon

1. Take a breather. Let’s count down together : 5…4…3...2...1... okay now that you’re back to the present here it goes, you have nothing to worry about and everything around you is already fine or will get better soon, don’t loose hope. When you do feel anxious, try grounding methods and focus on the present.

2. Embrace the beauty in imperfection. You don’t have to be perfect to be loved and appreciated.

3. Practice self-compassion and don’t be too hard on yourself when things don’t go as planned.

4. Find healthy outlets for your analytical mind, like journaling or creative projects.

5. Remember that it’s okay to ask for help. You don’t have to do everything on your own.

🩵 Libra Moon

1. You don’t have to be nice to everyone. It’s okay to stand up to people who treat you poorly.

2. Seek balance in your relationships, but don’t sacrifice your own needs to keep the peace.

3. Surround yourself with people who make you feel calm and balanced as it is better for your mental wellbeing.

4. Don’t be afraid to make decisions, even if it means disappointing others. Your happiness matters too.

5. Cultivate meaningful connections that bring joy and balance into your life.

🩵 Scorpio Moon

1. I know it’s hard to be vulnerable and truly express yourself to others, but you need an outlet for your emotions. Try journaling or recording a voice memo to let yourself fully feel your emotions.

2. Embrace your depth and intensity—yes, you feel emotions more deeply than most, and there's nothing to be afraid of. It’s genuinely beautiful. Experiencing emotions at such a profound level is a gift, but be mindful not to let it overwhelm you.

3. Trust yourself to handle whatever challenges come your way. You are stronger than you think.

4. Don’t be afraid to let others in. True connections are formed when you allow yourself to be seen.

5. Remember that healing takes time. Be patient with yourself as you work through your emotions.

🩵 Sagittarius Moon

1. It’s okay to cry without immediately having to laugh afterward. Crying is just as beautiful as laughing, so please remember to let yourself feel your emotions.

2. Embrace your adventurous spirit, but remember that it’s okay to slow down and rest when needed.

3. Don’t be afraid to explore new perspectives and ideas. Growth comes from expanding your horizons.

4. Cultivate optimism, but also allow yourself to process difficult emotions without brushing them aside.

5. Surround yourself with people who share your enthusiasm for life and support your dreams.

🩵 Capricorn Moon

1. You don’t have to meet anyone’s expectations but your own. In the end, it’s what you want and you feel that matters. If something isn’t bringing you happiness, don’t force yourself to go through with it.

2. Focus on building a solid foundation for your future, but remember to enjoy the present moment.

3. Don’t let the pressure to succeed weigh you down. Take time to relax and recharge.

4. Surround yourself with people who respect your boundaries and support your goals.

5. Trust in your abilities and know that your hard work will pay off in time.

🩵 Aquarius Moon

1. Your feelings shouldn’t be shoved under a rug. It’s okay to feel; emotions are natural and an integral part of being human. Don’t be ashamed to vent to others.

2. Embrace your uniqueness and don’t be afraid to stand out from the crowd.

3. Surround yourself with like-minded individuals who appreciate your vision and ideas.

4. Don’t let the fear of vulnerability keep you from forming deep connections. You deserve meaningful relationships.

5. Remember that it’s okay to change your mind and evolve. Growth is a lifelong journey.

🩵 Pisces Moon

1. Sometimes people take advantage of your caring personality. Don’t let your guard down easily, and be very careful with those around you. As a Pisces Moon, you can sense energies, and energy never lies.

2. Embrace your sensitivity as a strength, but also set boundaries to protect your energy.

3. Don’t be afraid to dream big, but stay grounded in reality to make those dreams come true.

4. Cultivate a spiritual practice that helps you connect with your inner self and find peace.

5. Surround yourself with people who understand and appreciate your compassionate nature.

banner/pic credits @/ecojinri

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

[drdemonprince]

I routinely forget that periods exist, and its only been like two years since I stopped having them.

The whole concept of them and all the planning and the contingencies involved are just, swoosh, out of my mind. im only reminded that periods are a thing every couple of months or so when one friend or another is in pain and brings the subject up. a friend asked me about how my periods were recently and i was shocked not that she believed i still had them, but that i had ever been a person who'd had them at all.

Multiple friends of mine have gotten hysterectomies this past year, some after long waiting periods, and its got me remembering that my high school debate coach told me getting one was the single best decision of her life. Ive wondered to myself a few times what all the advantages of it are, beyond the obvious prevention of pregnancy piece, and it honestly took me months of thinkkng to remember that oh, oh yeah, right, some people have periods and some periods really hurt and for some people that is probably a factor.

periods are such a non issue for me i forget about what a massive toll they can take on many other peoples lives. and im only a month post op from top surgery, but i can tell its gonna be the same thing w having tits. im gonna forget how much pain and hassle and work it all was.

and I share this because it shows just how mutable human beings are, and how changeable privilege is.

if i can forget about the existence of a bothersome and dysphoric experience i had every month for decades within a matter of two years -- so much so that i forget other people still have to deal with periods -- then someone who grew up poor but now is rich cant ever be trusted to remember what poverty is like. an adult cant be trusted to remember the fear and powerlessness of being a kid. and a trans man can very much be oblivious to sexism and to the lived experience of being a woman, no matter his prior experience, because that is what privilege does to you once youve got it. it clouds over all the worries you no longer have to think about, separating your perspective from that of all the people that do still have to.

and idk, i think thats important for people to remember. no matter what youve lived in the past, if you get a little money, a little privilege, a little power, it changes you, and it makes you stop worrying about many things, and it makes you oblivious.

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: to blanc, you are the change he needed, and your pressing secret won't change that.

WARNINGS: mentions of mortality, blood. Vampire stuff.

COMMENTS: ok ok so @vivislosingitagain here is my thought process YOU like biting people and sucking their blood so YOU are a vampire. and HEY GUESS WHAT vampires are IMMORTAL kind of. and im pretty sure blanc is really fucking old so i think mortality angst would work great with him BUT WHAT IF HIS PARTNER WAS AS OLD AS HE WAS AND BIT HIM. that's the post.

also im so sorry if blanc is out of character i have seen this man three times in the routes ive played + the prologue oops.

It’s a clear night. The stars are bright in the sky, just as they were hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Blanc doesn’t know if they’ll ever change, but he takes comfort in their consistency. They’re stationary, unmoving, unshifting, just like him. He’s always been in Cradle, long enough to see the shattering of bonds between the armies and the first Alice fall. He’s seen the skirmishes and the blood and the carnage.

And he’s seen you, the one who followed him into the rabbit hole and into Cradle.

He remembers thinking you were cute. He remembers Oliver scolding him for speaking his mind, and he remembers you tearing your eyes away from him, a shy smile on your lips. You’ve always been alluring, in a way he never anticipated, and it makes him wonder if someone from the Land of Reason can really be magical like the people of Cradle.

It’s no use though—he knows the passage of time will take you away. He knows love (what he feels for you, there’s no doubt about it) is a powerful force, but it cannot break the way the sun and moon rise and fall, it cannot stop the stars from dying light years away, it cannot stop your inevitable aging.

He knows this, and yet he can’t let go. He greets you in the morning with a soft pat on your head, leaning over your bed as you stretch and yawn. His gaze softens when you rub your eyes and look over at him, and you’re looking at him like he’s the only thing you ever want to see.

He’s so selfish—he wants so badly for you to only look at him.

For someone so keenly aware of how mortal you are, he knows he's being awfully flippant about it. It’s the folly of man, to be so foolish as to yearn, but there’s always the possibility that fate will take pity on his poor soul and listen to its cries for his love to stay.

And so, the next night, a night that should be no different from any other, he breaks his routine. He keeps you up late, chatting over tea as the full moon rises in the sky, asking you if you want to go home. He watches you as you go quiet, your previously bright smile fading into a thoughtful frown. You’re staring into your tea as if it can give you the answer, and Blanc hopes the tea will give you the same answer he would.

I wish you would stay. I wish you would stay with me. I wish you would think I’m worth it. I wish that if I had to be hurt then you would be the one to hurt me because I’ve never loved anyone like you and I doubt I ever will. I wish you would be the one to thrust this dagger into my heart so fate doesn’t have the chance.

“...I want to stay with you.” you say, and Blanc knows you’re hiding something from him but he can’t bring himself to ask when you already look so worried.

“Are you sure?” he asks, reaching across the table to place a hand on yours.

Your head jerks up and you meet his gaze with parted lips—almost like you want to tell him but are far too scared.

“You can tell me anything.” he stresses, squeezing your hand gently.

“I’m not...” you purse your lips, looking away again as you choose your words carefully, “I’m not having doubts about staying here, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Blanc holds back his sigh of relief in favor of another inquisitive glance. Your brow furrows and he knows you feel his stare, your cute canines poking at your lower lip as you gnaw on it pensively.

“I have a secret I don’t think I’m ready to share yet.” you say softly, turning back to him, “I will someday. I just...need time.”

Blanc laughs, a sound that's full of relief and love and sounds like the wind chimes that hang in your no longer temporary bedroom’s window, the ones that have been there since you came and will be there when—if—you leave.

“Darling.” he breathes, staring straight into your eyes with so much love, “I have all the time in the world.”

The full moon sinks beneath the horizon and the sun comes up again. The teacups from the night before have been cleaned and placed back on their shelves, and the cake you two cut slices out of remains in the fridge. There are still traces of you within the house—your skincare is still in the bathroom, your toothbrush is next to his, and your chair still has a cushion of your favorite color. None of those things have been removed because you didn’t leave.

You’re still in your bedroom, sleeping soundly, but this time Blanc is there with you, his arms wrapped around you. His body is tangled with yours, your legs intertwining as the bed sheets knot themselves around your limbs. Your head is resting right over his heart, the part of him that’s pounding away for you. Gently, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and stares down at your sleeping face, the face that shows him all of your thoughts and emotions, the face that belongs to the person who loves him enough to stay.

He wakes you up with a kiss on your forehead, a kiss on the bridge of your nose, a kiss on your left eyelid and a kiss on your right, a kiss on your jaw—

He sighs when you start to stir, propping yourself up on your elbows. The bed sheets fall off your body like water cascading down the side of a cliff, and your bleary eyes have never looked more beautiful. He lays there, admiring you in the morning light as the wind chimes chime, the soft breeze from the cracked open window ruffling through your hair.

You shiver.

“Darling,” Blanc calls, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Good morning.”

You smile when you turn to look at him, and you allow yourself to fall back against the mattress next to him.

“Good morning.” you murmur, your nails tracing the curve of his cheekbone before tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, “You look so handsome.”

Ever the charmer, he’s rarely been charmed himself. And so he does the only thing he deems appropriate, and thanks you with a kiss on the back of your hand.

Weeks pass, and Blanc finds himself growing into this new routine. You're a sign of change, that he knows for sure. His own room remains vacant for the most part unless you decide to pull him into his room instead of your own when you’re ready for bed. It makes no difference to him where you go, only that he can follow you like the lovesick fool he is.

Except you’re not leading him to either of your bedrooms tonight.

You’re leading him outside, under the pale moonlight and into the chilly nighttime breeze. He looks up at the full moon and holds your hand a little tighter.

“Thank you for giving me time.” you say, the wind swelling as it passes between the two of you and further into the night, “I’m ready to tell you what I’ve been hiding from you now. It’s...not fair to keep it from you any longer.”

“I understand,” he smiles softly, cupping your cheek, “Go ahead.”

“I’m a vampire.” you say, and it takes his brain a few moments to catch up, “I’ve...found it hard to get blood in Cradle but since meeting with Kyle’s he’s managed to get me blood when I need it. I don’t like drinking from animals or people but it...has to be done for me to stay alive.”

Blanc’s brain is whirring as you spill your guts to him, your mouth moving faster and faster as you explain how despised vampires are in the Land of Reason, how people view them as monsters and how you’re certain you’re cursed.

Cursed. What a funny word to say to him.

“Is that why your canines are so sharp?” he blurts, leaning closer to your face.

You stop talking, bending backward just a bit at his sudden closeness.

“I—I’m sorry, what?” you ask, looking confused.

“Ah, well....I always thought they were cute.” he smiles kindly, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone.

“I...” you blink owlishly before shaking your head in disbelief, “Blanc, I just told you I’m a vampire.”

“Indeed you did.”

Your mouth falls open as if looking for the right words to say, and yet you come up with nothing.

“You can feed from me if you wish. I don’t want you to suffer any longer.” he offers like its the most natural thing in the world.

Still, you say nothing.

And then he murmurs your name, as soft as the flower petals brushing against your ankles.

“I don’t want to use you like that. I don’t want you to be a food source for me.” you grit your teeth, staring at the ground like you couldn’t be more ashamed, “I don’t want to be the monster the Land of Reason made me out to be.”

“You’re not. I give myself to you willingly, and I'll do it over and over again.” Blanc murmurs, hands slipping away from you.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt, leaving his collarbone open to the nighttime breeze and your eyes.

“My love.” he opens his arms for you and his shirt slips off his shoulder, leaving his skin vulnerable—

“I give myself to you.”

And he pulls you into his chest, as he whispers words of love telling you that you can bite him, drink from him, take all that you need and that it will be okay because he’d give you everything if you asked for it, and that you changed his life for the better, you brought springtime’s flowers and winter’s shimmering ice and summer’s warm sunlight and autumn’s delicate, beautiful leaves to a life that was so repetitive and boring until you arrived—a life that belonged to the man you see before you but not anymore because its yours and it will always be yours.

Tears prick your eyes as you kiss his skin, worshiping each freckle and small scar you can reach. Your canines poke insistently at his skin and you ignore the urge for one, two, three, four, five seconds before your mouth opens and you bite down, hoping the small gasp that leaves his lips isn’t one of pain. You’re careful not to take too much but it tastes so good and who knew drinking from the one you loved could make you feel so happy and full.

Blanc looks up at the moon as you feed, happiness and adoration blurring his vision as he thinks about you, you who trusted him enough to bite him, to tell him who you were, you who stayed behind for him even though you could have left.

He stares up at the moon and sighs because he’s in love. He’s in love with you.

And after you’re done, after you pull away and lick the puncture marks to soothe them, after you press a dozen more kisses to his skin, Blanc still loves you. His blood is smeared around your mouth but he pulls you in anyway, kissing you with everything he has because you deserve nothing less than that.

And he loves you.

Over and over again, he loves you.

He doesn’t know how long he’ll be aging or how long you will have by his side, but he knows that if you will forever be his constant, he’ll come out okay in the end.

[rosiethedragongeek]

I can't stop thinking about how Hiccup and Toothless' relationship is built on trust and has been built on trust the whole time. But more than that, it was built on trust from their very first scene.

Hiccup holds Toothless' life in his hands and he chooses to let him go, even though Toothless could very well (and might) kill him.

Toothless then has the power and he could easily kill Hiccup. He probably considers it just like Hiccup did, but he responds to Hiccup's kindness with kindness of his own, and he lets him live.

So when Hiccup goes down into the cove, there is already a tentative understanding between them that neither means to bring the other any harm. You have spared me, I have spared you, we are equal.

But both are still wary.

So Hiccup makes a decision to trust Toothless with his life again when he throws the knife into the lake. Not that the knife would have protected him much from Toothless, but it is presumably the same weapon that Hiccup would have taken his life with to begin with, and it's more about what it represents. So Hiccup gives the power in the situation over to Toothless when he throws the knife away. Now that Toothless doesn't see Hiccup as a threat to him, he calms down.

Toothless trusts Hiccup when he eats the fish Hiccup brought with him the first time, and the basket of fish the next time. Eventually, both of them are relaxed. Hiccup can just sit on a stump and draw in the dirt, Toothless can nap, there is no worry that one will kill the other. There is mutual trust.

They bond, Toothless shares his fish, Hiccup smiles (which Toothless clearly understands to some extent bc he smiles back), Toothless draws, Hiccup plays along w Toothless' game, until finally Hiccup decides to reach out to touch him.

He tried before, when Toothless was resting in the sun, but that didn't go very far, bc Toothless didn't trust him. But NOW, things have changed. They have spent enough time together that Toothless is less wary. But not entirely.

Hiccup sees this, that he is asking for trust from Toothless, so he puts his trust in Toothless first. He closes his eyes and turns away, and just like that, Hiccup once again shifts the power from himself to Toothless. (Cutting the ropes, throwing the knife). And so Toothless trusts him.

[calisources]

𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences were taken from different sources about romance, marriage and specially arranged marriage and what that entails. Mentions of affairs, mistresses, wedding ceremonies and medieval talks of what marriage entails follow. Change names, pronouns and locations however you see fit.

Marriage is a marriage, whether it is arranged or not. Both necessitate the same level of dedication.

It’s not an option to be best friends with your life partner; it’s a requirement for a firm foundation in a long-term relationship.

Arranged marriage is not always a bed of roses, but it is possible to achieve with love and faith.

It’s different for women, isn’t it? They have no choice where they go. They grow up in a prison and then get married into one.

Is there anything more courageous/stupid than saying yes to spend your life with someone you have no idea about?

The country was as much of a mystery to me as the man I had married.

One day you’ll be in love with me.

You could be a titled lady. 

I have avoided the fate my father had planned for me. Surely it is I who has won, not he.

I do not care about power and wealth, father. I want to marry for love.

But if you were matched, what do you think she'd be like?

We're supposed to be unable to keep our hands off of each other. 

In this case the time is not so important for me, the person asking for commitment is.

We are trapped by convention and must marry another.

Every good child knows: duty before your heart's desire.

I am to be a bride, but whose? 

I married you to stop the bloodshed, and you keep killing. When will it be enough- when?

I found out soon after we met that Leah’s father had promised her in marriage to some young Pole.

If I ever get into an arranged marriage, I want it to be like theirs.

Arranged marriages require effort; constantly and every day. And where there is love, you want to make these efforts.

A successful arranged marriage can help climb the biggest mountain and build the biggest empire.

An arranged marriage is like wine; it tastes good with time.

You will marry him and do your duty to your House.

You are my daughter and you will do as I say. End of discussion.

Love? What does love have to do with marriage?

He'll honour his duty to family and swallow it.

I was three when my parents promised me. When a deal was struck. 

 So I was raised to be his wife. I was taught my favorite color was gold because his favorite color was gold. I was told my favorite foods were his favorite foods

I never thought what it would actually be like to have him... be gone. 

I was raised for him, and now I am... new. I am brand-new. And I do not even know how to breathe air he does not exhale.

A bride at her second marriage does not wear a veil. She wants to see what she is getting.

Marriage is a financial contract; I have enough contracts already.

The dowry, not the wife, is the object of attraction.

Arranged marriages work like this. The girl is hardly asked and is expected to follow whatever her parents deem fit.

Marry, that marry is the very theme I came to talk of.

Maybe she'll be beautiful. Maybe she'll be rich. As long as she brings swords and men.

Perhaps love is a minor madness.

It doesn't matter who the seed is. The important thing is that it has a place in your womb.

Her maidenhood will seal an alliance and must be kept safe.

Every married woman knows a man can have mistresses and we must look the other way.

All I ask is, that you do not cast me aside. Have mistresses and lovers as you please, but confide in me as I am to be your wife.

A husband’s first and foremost job in a marriage is to protect and love his wife.

Touching without looking had been incredibly arousing.

In my opinion, most marriages are based either on money or the fear of being alone.

I want you in every way there is to want. I want you in any way you choose to share.

I'm free to do with my wife as I fucking please.

The marriage of convenience lasts until you become an inconvenience.

Ours is a marriage of convenience and nothing more.

From now on, you're sleeping in our room. There's no chance in hell I'm letting you sleep far away from me again.

You agreed to this marriage and didn’t even dare to ask my opinion on the matter.

You're going to bend, and so am I. We're going to compromise, negotiate, and distract each other.

Being together means our priorities are going to change.

Men marry because they are tired; women, because they are curious: both are disappointed.

I don't think I am likely to marry, Harry. I am much too in love.

It is certainly romantic to be in love, but there's nothing romantic about a definite proposal.

They are royals, whoever they marry is not their choice but who is better for the crown.

That is a match made in a boardroom.

Once you are wed to another, you will forget me. 

I will marry a man who desires me but I have no interest in. 

I will not be a secret kept in shadows. Once you are wed, I will leave.

How can I marry them, when I am in love with another? It is not fair to them, that I think of you when I’m with them.

Ever since I met you, no one else has been worth thinking about.

Behave yourself, out here, we are wed and what you do, reflects on me.

You are being sold like a mare and do not care.

Once I bore him a son, he shall be happy, I know it.

We hate one another but for peace, we must wed. At least, let us enjoy this part of the contract.

I am doing this for my family and for the terms you offer.

A marriage is simply an alliance.

All will be well, love can be found in a marriage. If not love, at least, good company. 

Do your duty and give him sons.  That’s all men want.

I will not be paraded around in a bedding ceremony. I will wed them and bed them, but I will not be humiliated. 

You think this title gives me power, but you forget, I am a woman.

I am lucky enough to have options. None who please me but at least, I can choose one.

Come to bed now, husband. It is our wedding night, after all.

[sixosix]

ONE LOOK (MEANT JUST FOR YOU) | WRIOTHESLEY

700 words of wriothesley visiting your home and pure fluff ensuing

Moving swiftly around the kitchen, the clinking of glass plates and glasses left you no room to detect Wriothesley's stealthy entrance. You only noticed him when you moved to wipe the table, only to see a broad figure standing by your doorway, a fond smile on his face.

The moment your gazes lock, Wriothesley takes it as his cue to gently shut the door behind him and make his way inside. He moves with some difficulty—limping, almost, and if you had been anyone else, you might not have noticed.

Your eyes track each movement. “Feeling unwell, Your Grace?”

“Yes, unfortunately,” he grunts out.

Despite that, his tone has this playful chipper to it that brings a smile to your face. You swipe over the table with a wet rag, leaving suds. “Anything that needs immediate medical attention? …Anything that you’ve kept from Sigewinne?”

“Don’t worry,” Wriothesley huffs a laugh, sinking against your couch. He groans out in relief as he melts. You wince upon hearing a crack here and there.

Wriothesley pays visits to your home whenever his schedule permits. While there are days when work keeps him occupied in his office, there are more than enough occasions where you can see that nothing has changed. This is still the same Wriothesley who shared affectionate moments with you in the comfort of your home and who flirted shamelessly and endlessly in his office at the Fortress of Meropide. He was never reticent about expressing his intentions and words. Good times.

You wring the cloth and let clean water run over your hands to wash the remaining suds off. You feel Wriothesley’s piercing gaze follow you around. “Want some tea?” You cast him a glance over your shoulder.

He flashes a wicked grin, able to look all regal even when he has his cheek pressed against your sofa’s headrest. “You know the way to my heart.” He shifts, extending one free arm outward as if preparing for a hug. “Though, I need you more than I need tea at the moment.”

A snort escapes you, diverting his attention from your stunned surprise at his shamelessness. “I’ll make you your favorite.”

Wriothesley says something about you’re his favorite but you tune him out in favor of not slipping and splashing hot water all over the floors you’ve just cleaned. He calls for your name again, dragging it out and wilting in defeat when you shoot him a stern and disapproving glare.

“Don’t distract me, idiot,” you say, watching the water steam and boil. As it does, you rummage through the cabinets for the cubes of sugar you’ve been buying more often because of that guy. “It’s not every day I was bored enough to take it upon myself to clean. I was taken by the burst of motivation.”

Wriothesley chuckles and thankfully lets himself enjoy the silence. The only sounds are the gentle padding of your feet around the kitchen and the clinking of tea cups against the table, all enveloped in a comforting atmosphere. Wriothesley's mere presence has the power to make anyone feel secure and at ease. It might be the broad shoulders or his feared name and title, or it might be the fact that he swore he would protect you as much as you protect him in sweet moments like this.

You place the two cups on the coffee table before him. Wriothesley then pulls you into his chest, causing you to yelp and tumble right into his waiting arms.

“Your tea is getting cold,” you say.

“Your lips look colder,” he says, his breath hot on the shell of your ear.

You narrow your eyes. “Wriothesley…”

He snorts, placing a kiss on your temple. “None of whatever you’re thinking, sweetheart. I just need you close.”

And keep you close he did. He has you trapped in his arms, but you feel far from trapped. You shuffle until your head is resting on his bicep, and you can meet his eyes. He’s silent.

“...Wriothesley.”

He fixes his heavy stare on your face, his own unreadable. “Hm?”

You press your hand against his jaw. “Is there something wrong?”

“God,” he murmurs, cupping your cheeks, “you’re so cute.”

Your heart flutters and threatens to flee from your chest. “I—I know. You should feel fortunate that you’re the only one who gets to hold me like this.” You try to sound haughty. It fails miserably at the warmth quickly spreading all over your face and your heartbeat, making you trip all over your words.

“I’m the only one, huh?” A gleam sparks in his eye, turning somewhat dangerous—fierce. “What I like to hear.”

for @naosaki with the chibi wrio pfp

[i-like-writing-stuff]

never changing; part two [ five hargreeves x reader ]

a/n: y’all this ain’t much i’m still trying to reacommodate myself back into writing but i will share a final part 3 to this imagine eventually!!!

again this is just fluff and banter i love keeping things light hearted

and i’m trying to heal myself with what could’ve been 😔

summary: you and the hargreeves siblings start your rescue mission

“Well, you all certainly look shittier than the other,” You crossed your arms awkwardly, watching the seven Hargreeves siblings as they were all clutching onto their bodies, sprawled across what used to be the fancy mansion that they grew up in.

Now it was just looking as beat down as your family.

“You’re fucked up in the head,” Ben groaned, making you roll your eyes.

“Coming from the dipshit who roofied his siblings with space juice… that’s a big statement,” Diego mumbled, as the others nodded in agreement.

After Gracie’s birthday party, you intended to go back to the office and catch up on some paperwork. The current case you were working on was truly a pain in the ass. Ever since you started working on it a couple of months ago, you didn’t think that anything else was more important than trying to win it. Boy, were you wrong.

You intended to leave the party a bit earlier, so that’s exactly what you did. Even if you felt like you couldn’t get enough of bantering with the family, playing with Gracie and most specially, talking to Five, you eventually dragged yourself back to the car and drove back to work. You needed that gathering, you truly did- in spite of the inevitably awkward moments.

That’s why when Five called you to inform to that Viktor got kidnapped, you didn’t hesitate to drive back to the mansion and regroup with the siblings to rescue their brother. One thing led to another, you managed to save him and even celebrate after that, but it wouldn’t be a Hargreeves mission without something going sideways.

“We have to get going, asshats,” Five reminded you all, stroking his hair.

You wanted to comfort him, as your heart sunk watching the dark circles around his eyes. His skin was as pale as a ghost, and he was groaning lightly through heavy breaths. His long fingers were running through his messy hair, as his other hand was holding the marigold jar loosely.

You always thought how stupid it was that you could just look at him for hours, just because he was so pretty. He could be doing nothing, you still couldn’t get enough of him.

This is so embarrassing, it’s been six years, you thought to yourself, looking away exactly as he caught a glimpse of your stare, Besides, he looks like he is dying. Handsomely, but dying, nonetheless.

The same man who kidnapped Viktor last night entrusted you with a rescue mission to bring his daughter back home. You decided not to pursue it, eventually, and before you went your separate ways, you all had a shot of Sake, ushered by Ben.

The rest is history.

Point is, everyone seemed to have their powers back.

“Shotgun,” You raised a hand, as the seven siblings started cussing at you on your way to Diego and Lila’s van.

You felt very nostalgic, since so many years passed without being with everyone. It was bittersweet, but you tried to promise to yourself to not get too attached. You liked your current life, and as lovely as it was spending time with Five, that led to nowhere. It was just a stupid little crush, anyway.

The family van was parked in front of the building, right in front of your car, so Diego started moving some thing into your car trunk to make room for everyone. Allison and Klaus were talking to Claire on the phone, as Ben, Luther and Lila were bickering about the sconces and Viktor was still trying to calm his nerves.

“You okay?” You placed your hand on Five’s shoulder, feigning a confident smile.

You were honestly so concerned for them, all of them.

“Just the most annoying hangover in my life,” Five placed his hand on yours absentmindedly.

Maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal, he appreciated your concern, he always did. When he got hurt in missions you were always scolding him and he acted annoyed with your protectiveness, but this was the first time he actually showed gratitude for it.

“But you don’t gotta get all up in my ass,” He added with a smirk, taking your hand off his shoulder.

There it was.

He still held onto it, proudly, as you rolled your eyes, not even noticing how naturally your hands locked together.

“Oh please, you’d love me to get all up on you,” You scoffed, making him chuckle.

“Since when are you so arrogant?” He wondered.

“I may have picked up a thing or two from you over the years,” You shrugged your shoulders lightly.

“Should’ve picked up the phone more often,” Five said, causing you to wave a hand in front of your face bored of how many times you’ve been told that;

“The phone that…”

“Works both ways,” He interrupted you, “Yeah, yeah.”

“Then you don’t really have a leg to stand on,” You declared with a smile.

“Is that right?” He took a step closer, eyeing you curiously.

If you were to ask him where did that come from, he really had no idea what to say. Five always was unpredictable, but this was something new. But then again, it’s not like your relationship was that cold- it wasn’t. However, he was playing with fire a tad too much.

It all felt so ridiculous. How could he still make your heart thump heavily just with a simple look? You felt so little compared to him, as hard as you tried to seem confident. With the help of your platform boots you were still almost reaching his chin, and that was to show you just how young you both still were, even if your mental ages begged to differ.

“You still look like shit,” You broke the ice, still trying to keep up a tough exterior.

“Bullshit,” Five grinned, obviously feeling a lot better.

Little did you know how much your simple presence helped his mental well-being.

Surprisingly, he thought to himself.

“Are you two gonna suck faces or can we move along?” Ben suddenly walked up to you and his brother, as the rest of the family was watching everything unfold as if it was a soap opera.

“Why’d you wanna watch your brother kiss someone?” You wondered, letting go of Five’s hand to climb into the car along the others.

“That’s not okay,” Klaus agreed.

“You’re getting weirder by the second,” Allison told Ben, as he tried to argue.

“What the fuck?” Diego turned to watch his brother disgusted, as Viktor was just silently side-eyeing the tentacle man.

“I fucking hate you all,” Ben said defeated, looking around the car.

“At least they don’t wanna watch their fresh 19 year old brother eat tongue,” You couldn’t help the banter.

“Don’t say fresh 19,” Luther chimed in as well, as the siblings turned to you now.

“He is 64, nothing about him is fresh,” Klaus pointed out.

“Shut the fuck up, fuckface,” Five only rolled his eyes.

And thus the road-trip begun.