#brilliant idea Grace

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A digital drawing based on María Álvarez from the film María, llena eres de gracia. There is a dull red border around the piece. Maria's face is only visible in a small square near the left corner of the border, looking off to the side with her hair messily drooping onto her face. Her mouth is open to show a sliver of her teeth, but her expression is unclear. This square is situated above a drawing of Mary - mother of God - but the angle is off and the elements don't align perfectly. Mary - who has a hand placed over her heart - is drawn with a blue, hooded robe atop a long-sleeved red shirt with a gold trim. She's wearing a doubled-up pearl necklace, which resembles the halo that is around both of their heads. This halo is made up of white, wrapped-up pellets of drugs. The background for Mary is a blue colour while María's is purple. On the border, the phrase "nombres/given name" (which is usually present on Colombian passports) is written, and below the border, in a larger text, it says "llena eres de gracia". The lineart is a thin, invariable, and dark blue.]

Inktober - Day 7 (Passport)

Film - María, llena eres de gracia (Joshua Marston, 2004)

[beloveds-embrace]

Please accept this brain worm for the fae!au. You brilliant queen you! What if one of the fae courtiers decided to begin giving gifts to their queen? Maybe it's jewelry, maybe it's exotic mounts for far away. Invitations to private garden parties or evening rides by the beach. I WANT THOSE BOYS JEALOUS!

I love jealous men ough 😩😩 || masterlist

It began subtly, at first.

A bracelet, left on your writing desk, its chain woven from moon-silver and set with a single, gleaming gemstone that pulsed like a captured star. There was a simple note; for the loveliest of queens, and no indication of its sender, but when you had worn it the next evening, a ripple of murmurs spread through the court like wildfire, for it did not bear the insignia of royalty nor of your husbands, and thus it could not be from them.

John’s gaze had flicked to your wrist, his expression dark. Johnny had stared for a long moment before forcing a bright grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Kyle merely hummed as he sipped his wine, though you did not miss the way his fingers tapped idly against the table’s surface. Simon said nothing- but later that night, you had felt his gaze lingering on the bracelet, his fingers curling slightly as if resisting the urge to remove it himself.

Then came the invitations.

A Lord, a high-ranking noble known for his wealth and charm, was the first to act openly. An invitation to his private garden soiree arrived, wrapped in deep indigo silk and sealed with golden wax. The Queen Mother, who had joined you for an afternoon tea, had raised a brow when you presented it to her, but she did not object.

“Go,” she had murmured, lips curling in faint amusement. “Let them see what you inspire. Do not disappoint me."

And so you had gone. The garden had been a marvel- twisting vines that shimmered under the moonlight, flowers that sang when touched, fountains bubbling with water that reflected glimpses of possible futures and the twinkling stars themselves. The Lord had guided you through it all with easy conversation, his eyes sharp, assessing, and it was not that hard for you to assume who had gifted you that bracelet from before.

Your husbands had not been pleased.

Johnny had arrived at your chambers that night, leaning against the doorway with arms crossed, warmth tempered by something cooler, something sharper. “Nice party?” he asked, voice light- too light. Claws dug into his clothes, almost ripping the fabrics.

You had only smiled, inclining your head; even now, you did not understand them. It felt like they could not stand you with others, yet did nothing to truly push them away. Did nothing to truly have you as theirs wife. “It was pleasant.”

He had frowned at that, grumbling. “Aye, I’m sure it was.”

Kyle was less subtle. Days later, when a noblewoman presented you with an obsidian-winged mare from the distant eastern courts- a beast rare and revered- he had appeared at the stables before you even had the chance to take your first ride.

“You think you’ll be safe, riding something like that?” he had asked, watching the creature with wary eyes.

You had smoothed a hand down the mare’s neck, feeling the power coiled beneath her gleaming hide. “... Would you like to accompany me?”

Something in Kyle’s jaw had tightened.

“I think,” he said, stepping closer, voice a low rumble, eyes dark as a storm. “that it’s a dangerous thing when courtiers start getting ideas.”

Still, the gifts kept coming. More jewelry, rare perfumes that smelled of starlit forests and distant seas, invitations for private evening rides along the beach under the silver glow of the twin moons. You accepted them all with the grace expected of a queen, but you did not miss the way John’s fingers tightened around his goblet during court dinners, nor the way Johnny’s laughter came a beat too late when you spoke of these offerings.

Simon was perhaps the most unnerving, in your opinion. He said nothing when you donned the sapphire choker gifted by a particularly bold noble, but you could feel the tension radiating from him as he stood behind you at court, the ever-present shadow at your back. One night, as you prepared for bed, you had caught the faintest touch against your throat- the whisper of his fingers against the gemstone before he withdrew, his eyes unreadable as he turned and left without a word. Too late did you realize that the choker was no longer around your neck.

John, however, was the one who finally snapped.

The court had been gathered for an evening of music and storytelling when the first Lord- whose gifts, unbeknownst to you, were no longer reaching you though they kept coming- approached, offering his arm as he invited you for a dance. You had hesitated- briefly- but before you could answer, a presence loomed behind you, warm and unwavering.

“My queen,” John murmured, his voice smooth yet sharp, his hand settling on your waist. “If you wish to dance, it should be with your husband.”

His hand extended toward you, palm open, waiting. The Lord had smiled- polite, knowing, unhappy- and stepped back with a murmured farewell.

As you placed your hand in John’s, the court watched. And your husbands?

Well.

They would make sure the rest of the court remembered exactly who you belonged to.

(Come tomorrow, you'd return to your room and realize all the gifts have been tucked away in black boxes set aside, and all of it replaced with gifts from your husbands).

[sadagios]

Icarus, and the Sunflower

PART TWO: UNFIXABLE ERROR

PILOT: PART ONE

3.4k words below the cut

SOME BEGINNING NOTES: - This AU is only character shipping, and references a lot outside the life series events (evo, hermitcraft, empires, etc). This is not meant to ship the CC’s themselves and if anything alludes to it, it is purely unintentional. - This is not canon-compliant ermmmm i do what i want and i will put every idea i have into this - No more bullet points this time... taking off the baby wheels - This is to add more to the first part! Please read that one before this if you haven't - Tags for this part? Game dev AU, Past BigB/Grian, a lot of BigGri flirting, some characters are real and some are fictional, this is only the pilot (part 2!), Grian is still down bad for Scar, absolutely not beta'd i only have one impulsive braincell, contains some fake chats

I. HALLOWEEN

The game awards have been announced, and it was the talk of the company. Evolutionists’ Portal has been online for 4 months now, and it built itself a dedicated fan base with a peak of about 80k players a month. Updates were still on the way, scheduled for Halloween and Christmas Day.

The team working on Evolutionists’ Portal hoped for a nomination, and maybe even an award. Gria hoped for this, as well, but he was too tired to even think with everything on his plate. Their art director quit suddenly, so he was carrying out two big roles, but even when the past art director was there, he was basically doing most of his work.

The team took notice of his exhaustion and invited him to the company Halloween party. Gria didn’t want to, but Martyn had a brilliant idea for making a bet: Gria believed they would get one nomination, and Martyn believed it would be two. If Gria wins, Martyn will get him breakfast every day until Christmas. If Martyn wins, Gria has to wear an outfit to the party of his choosing. Gria thought it was a harmless bet, and he’d actually benefit from it, so he agreed.

Jimmy is his closest friend in the company, but Jimmy was also busy with his work in Empires. There are talks of a big collaboration and he knows he can’t get ahold of Jimmy until it is settled. One morning, a cup of coffee appeared on his desk with a note attached to it that said,

“You might need a little boost in your morning.”

Gria had no idea who it could be from until he noticed a wrapped piece of warm, chocolate cookie beside the cup. He looked up from his desk and met eyes with Big B, who smiled and gave him a little wave before resuming his work.

His crush on Big B was no secret. The man is funny and handsome, and he and Gria started in the company together. Martyn was the first one to catch it, the way he gets giggly and embarrassed around Big B, and he’s been on Gria’s case since. Pearl found out about it through Martyn’s teasing, but she had the grace not to poke fun at Gria (only sometimes.) Jimmy still hasn’t caught on, and Martyn bursts out laughing every time Jimmy unintentionally third wheels or cockblocks Gria. Gria has an inkling that Big B might’ve noticed it, but he acts the same way around him, which Gria is thankful for.

The nominations were out the morning of the party, and they were nominated for “Best Multiplayer” and “Best Audio Design.” As soon as the news broke out, Martyn walked in stride to the art department and pulled Gria to the parking lot where Martyn’s car was parked. He opened the trunk, pulled something out, and gave it to Gria with a devilish grin.

Martyn: I’m so excited to meet such a popular singer tonight.

Gria peeked inside the dress cover, he wanted to die.

One night, the team went out drinking. Gria had a few more drinks than he should’ve. He doesn’t remember what happened, but Pearl recorded the whole thing; basically, he got so drunk that he started singing nothing but Ariana Grande songs. To put the final nail in the coffin, he might’ve sat on Big B’s lap as he sang one song.

Gria wore the outfit after being manhandled by everyone into wearing it. Big B wasn’t going to the party as he’d said days before, and while Gria was relieved not to embarrass himself, he also wished for Big B to be there.

Gria wore a ridiculously pink two-piece top and skirt, with a white furry shoal attached to gloves. Pearl also lent him her white boots, which surprisingly fit him well (and gave him a few inches.) The room cheered when he walked in, and he was too embarrassed to walk that Jimmy had to drag him around the room.

Pearl wore a cute green dress, which looked a lot like a character from Empires. Jimmy wore a Captain America costume, but instead of a star had a huge letter S at the middle of his chest. Martyn wore a pirate costume. 

Martyn: What a shame Big B isn’t here to see this.

Martyn teased, and Gria wanted to strangle him right there. Then, without warning, a finger poked his cheek. Gria turned and there Big B was, holding a bloody axe in a bloody costume. Gria remembered the game Big B told him about, a zombie game called “The Creaking Dead.” It was one of the things that led them to become friends, their love for zombie games.

The night went by, celebrating both Halloween and their nominations. Empires also had their own share of nominations, and Jimmy was so giddy that night.

Pearl pulled them four to the photo booth before they could get more wasted. Jimmy grabbed a weird-looking fish beanie and Martyn put on a Mickey Mouse headband. Pearl put on a sunflower crown that fit the gold accents in her dress. They made sure to put Gria and Big B at the center of the photo, and Gria tried not to explode with how close they were. Big B suggested they take a Polaroid photo after for keepsake, and before Gria could head out of the room and go home, Big B gave him a Polaroid photo with a message written in Sharpie.

"Glad I came by today, G. Happy Halloween. ♡"

II. VALENTINE’S DAY

Gria and Big B have been talking and texting each other non-stop for months now. People assume they’re dating, but when Jimmy asked, he clarified that they had no label. It’s true; they haven’t done much. They hung around a lot, and they might’ve fooled around during cold December nights, but it was an unspoken, casual thing. At least, that’s what it was for Gria.

On Valentine’s day, Big B invited him for dinner, and everyone teased them about being lovebirds. That night, Big B finally asked Gria to be his boyfriend.

Gria was happy. Overjoyed. Someone as kind and thoughtful as Big B, who treats him so well, wanted them to be exclusive. He wanted Gria. But the smile on Gria’s face slowly faded as his happiness turned into dread. Big B is too nice for him. Too perfect for him. Too much for someone like him.

Gria turned him down without explaining further. He saw the hurt in Big B’s eyes, but the man still treated him the same: with adoration and care.

Big B drove him home, and that was the last time they talked outside of work.

III. MARCH

Gria finally took some time off. Aside from the upcoming April Fools update, there wasn’t much to be done. The tension between him and Big B has been too much to bear, and he can’t shake the guilt he feels each time Big B leaves a warm cup of coffee with a cute note on his desk.

He lurks on the internet, bored out of his mind. He met this person, PotatoNutshell, and became friends over Hermitopia 6.

IV. APRIL FOOLS

< Let's play like cats, let's count to three. >

The gang liked the Alpha version of “The Life Game.” The map is good (which makes Gria proud as he designed it,) and the mechanics are simple enough to get used to.

There are several problems, though. The motion blur is making everyone sick, and the one who had it the roughest was Joel. The UI is also unintuitive, as you have to look at your wrist to see the messages and your health status, which you can easily lose track of. Then, the computer AI characters are indistinguishable from each other. It was supposed to be a battle royal game, but with only the players having unique skins, it feels a bit more like player versus enemy than a competition.

It was understandable, though, that it didn't have much character customization. The remaining two working on the game are a writer and a programmer, and they have no 3D modeling experience at all. Gria figured he could help out and tinker with it when he had time, especially with how the gang loved the game despite all its flaws.

V. SUMMER, a year later

Gria’s old friends finally messaged him that they added more things to the game, and it might be enough for a beta test. The only thing they haven’t figured out is the character models. Gria confirmed if they were planning to release this game, and the two said “no, not yet. Not anytime soon.” That gave Gria all the liberty to simply tinker with the game just for their own enjoyment.

He asked the team if they had any characters they’d like to mod into the game, preferably with 3D models so they wouldn’t have to worry about rigging and animation too much. Skizzleman suggested Hermitopia characters, which Gria wouldn’t contest because this gives him a great excuse to add Scar into the game.

They needed one more character, and Gria remembered the Empires plush on Jimmy’s desk. The team gave him a free plushie of the “Starboy, The Rivendell King” because all plushies of the “Codfather” were sold out, the one Jimmy usually played as. Still, Jimmy keeps the Starboy plushie on his desk and sometimes carries it with him to the breakroom when he takes a short nap. Gria found the image of Jimmy carrying this plush to be adorable, although he will never say it aloud, so he decided to add Starboy as their final character. He also had Gemini and Shadow Lady (as per Joel’s request) 3D models ready, but he’ll probably add them next time. Pearl also isn’t joining their session for now, so it would be good to save her favorite character for another time.

On one Friday night in April, they all logged on and waited to connect to The Life Game’s private server. Gria was excited to play until he received a message from one of his old friends.

A slight chill crawls up Grian’s arm. He gripped his VR headset, a bit hesitant after his conversation with his old friends. After a moment, he shook off his nerves and wore his headset. He looked at the server status reading “5/6 Players” and hovered his controller over the button that would let him play with his friends. Grian ignored the warning bells and hit “Join World.”

VI. HELLO, WORLD

Gria spawned into the world, a bit dizzy from the sunlight blasting into his eyes. He got off on the ground and surveyed his surroundings, and it seemed like the map was different from the last time. In front of him looked like a ruined portal, which he doesn’t remember adding to the map years ago. Could this be something his old friends added to the map for the Evolutionists’ Portal developers to see? Gria smiled at the sentiment. He looted the chest near it, and it felt a bit like cheating. He joined the game late, but he already had golden gear in his first minutes of playing.

He did some resource gathering, something which they learned was crucial from their alpha test. He travelled and spotted a village, and saw Martyn’s character completely raiding it. Out of all of them, Martyn might have been the one who became so immersed in the gameplay. Even before playing, he was discussing tactics and plans in their call. If it ever came down to it, he knows Martyn would be a formidable opponent with how into it he is. 

Gria traversed the map more until he hit the border. There’s no way to get through it, even if you force it. It also seemed like the friendly creatures weren't able to get past it. It’s a bit scary to think about how they’re stuck in this little box until only one of them remains. It’s a good thing all of this is just a game.

Being the creator of the maps for this game, Gria remembers where most of the biomes are on the map. He goes back to the village and spots Big B.

Excited and without thinking, he jumped in front of Big B and surprised him, which made Big B’s character jump back. But, when Big B met his eyes, he immediately laughed and smiled. 

Before Big B could strike up a conversation, Joel’s voice could be heard from a distance, he looked just like himself in real life, but he wore a costume that reminded Gria of Shrek. He shot Big B a quick look and saw he was wearing something similar to his costume during one of their old Halloween parties. Martyn’s character seemed different, too.

Gria noticed the little shop icon on his screen. When he clicked on it, it opened a shop of a multitude of items that can be bought with experience points. He checked out the costume section and saw that costume accessories were fairly cheap. He bought himself a red sweater, and now his character feels more like him.

He noticed someone trailing behind Joel, a blazing head of fire and red eyes. It took him a while to realize that this was Tango Tek from Hermitopia. When he spoke, both Gria and Joel cranked their neck at him, surprised he could speak. Hermitopia had no voice lines. Despite this fact, Joel excitedly conversed with Tango, prompting him to speak more. Gria excused himself, confused at how this was possible.

He went off to gather more resources before he headed to the village. He saw Big B yet again, and his cheeks flushed at how many times he had seen him by himself. Gria’s a bit awkward around him, but Big B greets him with a smile each time. 

Big B: Are you sneaking up on me, G? Gria, giggling: Hello there, B. Whatcha up to? Big B: Trying to survive the first night, and maybe even you? Gria: Well, I don’t think a danger. Not to you. Big B: A danger to my heart, maybe?

Gria bit his lip and walked away. Big B laughed behind him, and he couldn’t fight back his smile. He looked at the ground and saw Martyn’s faint green name tag. He grinned and turned to Big B, “Wanna scare Martyn?”

They made their way down Martyn’s mining hole, carefully, and they tried not to giggle like a bunch of kids sneaking out in the middle of the night. Gria heard Martyn, talking to himself, and he approached him behind before shouting, “Hey Martyn!”

The three hang around together in the mining hole, chatting and bickering while hoping to find diamonds. Martyn succeeds and even gives them two diamonds each for a sword. The two were dumbfounded at this generosity, and Gria gave Martyn his golden apple in return.

Martyn: I just gave you guys diamonds because we’re buddies, c’mon. Gria: You know what, you can have my most prized golden apple. Martyn: Ooh, what’s this do? Gria: It gives you extra hearts when you eat it. Martyn: You’re giving me hearts? Way to make Big B a third wheel. Big B: Oh my god.

Gria exploded into laughter at this, and Big B shook his head but smiled at the situation.

After the sun had risen, he parted ways with the two and spent his time around the village and looking for a place to stay. He came across another nametag below the ground, and he thought it might’ve been Jimmy. He went down and surprised the man, only to find that it wasn’t Jimmy. 

When he heard Tango speak a while ago, he couldn’t figure out how it was possible. However, he did know of a game around an AI girlfriend who wouldn’t let you leave the house unless you said the right words. To think █████ could add such a feature, for AI to understand and speak back to you, all in a year is quite impressive and he would like to ask him more as soon as they finish playing. He didn’t listen carefully when Tango spoke earlier, and it might’ve been more robotic than he remembered. But now, as Ren screamed in surprise and spoke how Gria spooked the hell out of him, it sounded too much like a real person’s voice.

After mining a bit, Gria went out to the world and built a base at a lovely ravine area. Unfortunately, his resources weren’t enough to make it look pretty, and he suddenly missed the creative freedom he had while playing Hermitopia.

After being alone for so long. He made his way back to the village. Much to his surprise, so many people were there. At the side of the village, a group of characters in iron gear approached him. They excitedly called out his nametag, Grian, to greet him. Just like Ren and Tango’s voices, they all sounded so real. Too real. 

Martyn, Big B, Jimmy, Skizz, and Joel were nowhere to be seen. He was surrounded by characters from a game he spent countless hours playing. They talk and bicker like they are real people, and they sound like real people would. Gria would never be able to think of better voices for them. 

Among the four of them, one stood out the most. He had disheveled hair and a huge scar on his face that went down his neck. Despite having a cape and scarf covering most of his torso, Gria can’t pry his eyes off his huge, exposed right tit.

Completely distracted, something suddenly fell into his hands. It took him a while to process that this man held his hands and gave him flint and steel. Gria looked up, meeting the man’s eyes, and he had this devilish grin that made Gria’s knees weak. He turned his head higher and looked at the man’s nametag, “Scar Goodtimes”

Scar put his arm around Gria and made him face the village, and one of the houses were burning.

Scar: It was Grian! It was him who did it! 

Gria couldn’t move. He couldn’t process what was happening, and he couldn’t care less about how Tango and Etho were trying their best to put out the fire. The man beside him, probably more than 6 feet tall, is Scar Goodtimes. He’s way different from what he remembered, he had shorter hair and markings instead of actual scars, but when he spoke, Gria might’ve melted into the ground if the man didn’t have his arm around him.

Scar: Geez, Grian, what a rapscallion burning down villages.

Scar grinned at him and gave him a wink. It was as if Gria’s hardware crashed. Cleo, BDubs, and Impulse were all talking to him, even playing their jukebox for him, but his mind was filled with one thing and one thing only.

“His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so—”

Something nudged Gria, and Scar was so close to his face that Gria thought he could be hallucinating. Scar whispered into his ear, asking for the flint and steel back, and he complied without a second thought. He gave him a grin before he ran off to the village. Etho and Tango followed suit in panic.

Gria finally breathed. He doesn’t know how this could be possible. He had organized an unofficial voice cast for Hermitopia before, but the chosen voice actor was so off the mark, and everyone else liked it but Gria. But now, Scar’s whisper loops in his head, and he would go to war just to argue that no actor can replicate the sound his ears had been blessed with.

While talking to Etho and Impulse, he saw the historical tree burn. Scar walked in stride and stood beside Gria, waiting for Etho to take notice. Gria and Scar share a mischievous smile as Etho runs to the burning tree. Scar watched the tree burn down, and Gria watched the fire illuminate his face.

Scar: Grian, want to take over the desert with me? Gria: Me? Scar: Yeah, you. Let’s make all the sand ours.

This marks the End of Pilot

Next > ACT ONE: STUCK IN THE DESERT

ENDING NOTES: Took a while to finish this one! supposedly there's more, but it was getting too long so I had to cut it here. The next update will be a bigger one, so it might take months before that is posted. I also plan to do more character design before moving forward with the actual life series events. If you've read this far, thank you for reading!

[imastoryteller]

The Paradoxical Character: 19 Unique Trait Pairings

Here’s a list of 19 wildly unusual, highly contrasting trait pairs that blend quirky or fantastical attributes. These could make for delightfully strange, otherworldly, or surreal characters:

Immensely Patient & Chronically Forgetful Character Idea: They can wait for years without complaint but never remember why they started waiting in the first place. Their endless patience is undercut by the confusion of purpose, creating an aura of timeless mystery.

Unbearably Charming & Involuntarily Invisible Character Idea: This character has charisma in spades but is cursed to flicker out of sight randomly. Their allure is magnetic, but people constantly forget they were even there, adding to their mystique and frustration.

Perpetually Cheerful & Pathologically Suspicious Character Idea: They radiate sunshine and kindness yet believe everyone is secretly plotting against them. Their optimism is baffling, considering they’re convinced of hidden dangers everywhere.

Mind-Reading Empath & Emotionally Oblivious Character Idea: Able to feel others’ emotions intensely, yet baffled by their own, this character has no clue how they themselves feel. They’re highly attuned to everyone else but entirely alienated from their own heart.

Limitless Curiosity & Existentially Terrified Character Idea: Endlessly fascinated by every detail of the universe, yet they’re constantly haunted by the fear of the universe itself. Every new discovery brings wonder and intense dread, creating a fascinating internal tug-of-war.

Brilliant Strategist & Hopelessly Absent-Minded Character Idea: A tactical genius who can plan a perfect heist, yet constantly forgets their own plan halfway through. They’re sought after for their brilliance but just as likely to wander off mid-operation.

Supernaturally Persuasive & Pathologically Indecisive Character Idea: They could talk anyone into anything—if only they could decide what they wanted to say. Their powers of persuasion are legendary, but they take forever to make a single choice.

Ancient Wisdom & Childlike Innocence Character Idea: Despite being impossibly old and wise, they approach every situation with the wonder of a child. They’re both sage and novice, baffling people who come seeking advice but receive only wonder-filled observations.

Obscure Knowledge Hoarder & Shameless Gossip Character Idea: They know every forgotten fact of history yet can’t keep a secret to save their life. This character’s deep knowledge clashes hilariously with their loose tongue, turning historical mysteries into idle chatter.

Zen-like Tranquility & Quick to Panic Character Idea: Usually the calmest person in any room, until anything unusual happens, at which point they’re the first to run. People turn to them for peace until their sudden freakouts reveal a hidden, hilarious irony.

Hyper-Logical Thinker & Ridiculously Superstitious Character Idea: Obsessed with logical consistency yet terrified of stepping on cracks or upsetting minor spirits. Their rationality makes them a master problem-solver, but they’re comically fearful of common superstitions.

Effortlessly Graceful & Magically Clumsy Character Idea: They’re naturally elegant in all they do, but objects randomly fly out of their hands or shatter in their presence. They’re revered for poise but cursed by chaos, creating an aura of unpredictable charm.

Telepathically Intuitive & Immensely Gullible Character Idea: Able to sense the unspoken thoughts of others, but easily duped by the most obvious lies. They sense everyone’s hidden motives but constantly believe in harmless nonsense.

Exceptionally Knowledgeable & Epically Lazy Character Idea: They’ve accumulated endless knowledge from books but refuse to do anything with it. They could save the world but prefer napping and observing others fumble around in ignorance.

Magnet for Coincidences & Cynically Skeptical Character Idea: The most absurd things constantly happen around them, yet they refuse to believe in coincidences. This character is a walking contradiction of fate and disbelief, surrounded by odd events they disdain.

Hyper-Attentive Listener & Mute Character Idea: They pick up every nuance of conversation and are incredibly insightful, but they can’t respond out loud. People find comfort in their presence but struggle to understand their silence and deep gaze.

Radiantly Optimistic & Obsessed with Disaster Preparedness Character Idea: Always smiling and convinced things will work out, yet constantly building bunkers and storing supplies. Their sunny outlook is shadowed by an apocalyptic readiness that baffles everyone.

Unbreakable Memory & Instantly Distracted Character Idea: They remember every moment of their life in perfect detail but are so easily distracted that they rarely finish sentences. They’re a walking history book if only they’d stay focused long enough to share it.

Boundless Energy & Always Asleep Character Idea: They have an endless zest for life and could do anything—if they could just stay awake. People are drawn to their energy, but they frequently fall asleep mid-sentence, leaving everyone in suspense.

[chaosdemonwrites]

Alright, here ya go @jubileeeeee! Apologies if it's really rough and thank you for letting me write a lil thing for your doodle! Hope ya like it!

It was during a time of peace, no more battles, no more conflicts as the Decepticons had grown quiet. The lack of tensions eased the minds of the Autobots and some decided to enjoy the calm while they could and others, they made sure to remain guard.

This was no different for Jazz and Prowl, two opposites who managed to attract, no one knew how or why but through it all, they've been each other's support. Each other's comfort. Not many had that honor to say, especially when Prowl was...well, Prowl.

Knowing the ever hard working and stoic Autobot was probably not taking a break, a brilliant idea came to Jazz's mind. If Prowl won't relax, he'll make him relax, one of the only ways he knows how.

Prowl could hear the upbeat rhythm, the bass practically bouncing off the walls, before Jazz even stepped up to the door to Prowl's office. A heavy sigh leaving the ever strict enforcer as his more enthusiastic and energetic partner entered the room with his radio blasting music from whatever channel he found.

Before Prowl could even mutter the first letter, Jazz had already bowed with an outstretched hand.

"May I have this dance, Prowler?" He'd ask, his voice playful as he put on the act of being some professional. At least it managed a small chuckle from Prowl, a chuckle Jazz smiled happily at.

"Jazzy, I don't dance, you know this" Came Prowl's response, amused but still a matter of fact. With eyes rolling behind the blue visor, Jazz still took Prowl's hand before he could grab the nearest data pad.

"Then allow me to teach you, I'll go slow, promise"

He couldn't believe it, Prowl couldn't believe he was actually considering the offer but before he could deny it, saw the reassuring smile that graced the other's features. One so sweet and playful, Prowl couldn't say no when Jazz smiled like that and with a sigh, allowed Jazz to lead.

One dance lesson turned into two, and soon enough, it was one of the very few ways Jazz could get Prowl to relax. They were each other's support, each other's comfort...and each other's dance partner.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Gotham's romance theory.

Danny is used to the theories circulating on the internet about him. Or rather about Danny Phantom. Anything ranging from him being an ancient god safeguarding some aspect of nature to Phantom being a manifestation of children's mischief.

His adventures with Clockwork and through the Ghost Zone had Danny popping up in various times throughout the course of history. No one could pinpoint when, where, or why Phantom appeared in myths and legends. Some people even argued that those ancient records spoke of another being because Phantom's diction was far too modern.

Danny thought it was a little bit hilarious to witness. He stumbled across a few forums the summer after freshman year and now hosts bi-weekly hangout nights where Tucker, Sam, and he scroll through the post to read to each other the most outrageous ones. Those nights usually end in laughter, so strong Danny's abs ache the next day.

His most recent favorite was the conspiracy theories posted by some guy in Gotham under the username , Bernard'sCookingTheories.

Apparently, Gotham had a "city spirit," a manifestation of a citizen's own will, and it went by the name Lady Gotham. According to the theorist, there were records of Lady Gotham appearing in Old Gotham back when it was known as New Gotham, walking around in a gown of smoke and face always covered by large hat. One would only be able to spot her at twilight, right as the world is bathed in Lady Gotham's darkness, and spotting her is a bad omen.

She used to bring her people good fortunate until her heart grew as clouded as her polluted sky, when Phantom-Prince of the Afterlife- broke her heart.

Danny was honestly surprised by how close Bernard'sCookingTheories actually got to his royal status, but he certainly never had a whirlwind romance with Lady Gotham, ending with him cheating on her. He doesn't even think Lady Gotham exists, but he appreciated the amount of research that the author put into thier posts.

If he didn't know the truth, Danny might have believed the theory, too. There was a lot of compelling proof Bernard'sCookingTheories dug up.

Danny visited Bernard's page, often checking in on more theories that involved the other heroes of the world and Phantom. He decided to make a PowerPoint to show Tucker and Sam at their next Hangout night with nothing but Bernard's blog content.

He clicked on it often throughout the day in those two weeks, hoping for updates on various theories like he was checking for new chapters in a story.

He never knew that Bernard's page was closed watched by his paranoid boyfriend, Tim Drake, who placed a tracker of who visited his lover's page. It was meant to ensure Tim's enemies - like Ra's- wasn’t bothering his civilian boyfriend, even if it was something as simple stalking his social media's.

When he got the alart, he almost threw on his Red Robin outfit in the middle of a meeting until he realized it was just a new fan of Bernard's brilliant mastery of the written word.

He did find it odd that a random guy in Amity Park, Illinois, was looking at Bernard's stuff so often. He wouldn't blame the guy if he fell for his lover's good looks- Bernard was one the handsomest man to ever grace this world , how could anyone not fall for him?- but he never posted a photo that wasn't proof of his research.

Maybe the stranger really liked the context, but Tim didn't think it was a coincidence that this person was in Phantom's well-known stomping grounds looking up theories of Phantom. He followed the IP to the origins, finding himself face to face with the son of the local ghost hunters location.

Well.....he never told Bernard, but he often thought his boyfriend's theories were cute and entirely wrong. However, if he was right, then he was arming Fenton with the means to kill a legend. Who knew what Prince Phantom's destruction would bring?

Not to mention what his undead court would do to Bernard. He doubts they would accept his boyfriend hadn't meant to bring the Prince harm.

Tim has only one choice.

He had to get Lady Gotham and Phantom back together so the powerful spirit would leave Amity Park and be safe without painting a target on Bernard.

Or he could get Fenton to move to Gotham and get away from Phantom.

Hmmm but how?

"Tim! My blog just got this new fan that's been talking about it without making fun of me! He agrees with me! He even messaged me to ask more about local urban legends. Which ones should I send? The one about Brown Bridge Lost Soul Mist or Batman being a reverse vampire? " Bernard practically skips into his outfit, looking utterly delighted. Tim's heart melts at the sight, feeling a goofy smile stretched across his face as his boyfriend babbles and then....it hits him.

"Bernard, how would you feel able opening a museum with me? It'll be all about Gotham's urban legends" Tim says lacing his finger under his chin, and grinning like a cat.

"Is this a proposal? Because my answer is yes"

Tim's grin stretches wider. "Wonderful. I know just who would love to help us set up the museum."

After all, he had noticed Fenton applied to multiple exchange programs at his school. He didn't get a single one, but that at least guarantees he would jump at a chance get out of Amity Park.

Once he was in Gotham, Tim left it up to Bernard to make him stick around. His boyfriend could get Batman to yield to one of his plans—at the time, he thought he was convincing Batman to help him save Tim, not Red Robin. Then, he could get anyone to agree to anything.

While Bernard worked on Fenton, Tim would hunt down Phantom and get him to rekindle his romance with a city's spirit.

[itertarot]

TAROT | FUTURE SPOUSE

What will your future spouse find so sexy about you? +18

Pick an image:

Pile 1:

Your future husband’s heart will belong entirely to you. What you share will be more about love than carnal desire. He will adore you with a warmth that feels like home, he’ll want to take care of you, to cherish you as something precious. He’ll find your mind unbelievably sexy, your ideas, the way you express yourself. You’re different from everyone around you. There’s something uniquely captivating about you, and it will intrigue him endlessly. He’ll always wonder what goes on inside that brilliant head of yours. If you love shopping, it will make your future husband extremely happy. he might even join you at the mall just to watch you try on clothes. He’ll love spoiling you and seeing you enjoy his gifts. The way you take such good care of yourself is a huge turn on for him. He’ll adore spending on you and seeing you with the finest things. Your outfits, your jewelry, your perfume… he’ll love it all. Your confidence will drive him wild. he’ll find it irresistibly sexy.

When you take charge of a situation, the way you command with both grace and precision will amaze him. You don’t even have to try, you’re just naturally incredible. He’ll melt when you allow yourself to be vulnerable with him, when you show him your scars, share stories of your childhood, and let him into your innermost world. He’ll find your softness and strength equally intoxicating.

I don’t see him as overly kinky, he’ll prefer making love over just sex. His desires are deeply tied to emotion, making every moment intimate and tender. Your future husband will adore your spontaneity, the thrill of never knowing what you’ll do next. If you randomly spout an unexpected fact, he’ll love it. If you decide to go to the beach at 4:35 AM, he’s all in. Not knowing what your next move will be? That’s his favorite thing about you.

They adore your legs, especially if you’re tall or have that elegant, long-legged silhouette. Your skin drives them wild, so soft and radiant. Some might even have a thing for your feet, but most? Their real fetish is being your devoted servant. They’re mesmerized by your hair, the way it falls, the way it moves. Your back? A graceful curve they can’t resist tracing with their eyes (or hands). And lingerie? Absolutely lethal. When you spoil yourself, indulging in luxury, is pure seduction to them. Short dresses and heels? A combo they’ll never tire of. And when you play innocent just to tease them? Maddeningly sexy. If they’re an artist, prepare to be their eternal muse, they’ll sketch, make a big painting of you to put on their private museum.

Your breasts? Perfectly proportioned, not just to your body, but to your very essence. You’re a masterpiece, darling. But nothing turns them on more than your vulnerability. Even as they kneel at your feet, they know the truth, you hold all the power!! And that’s exactly how they love it.

Pile 2:

Your future spouse is deeply drawn to the way you move through the world with quiet strength and compassion. There's something incredibly attractive about how you offer kindness without expectation, the gentle way you listen, the safe space you create where people feel truly heard. They admire how you never minimize others' pain, but instead meet suffering with open arms and understanding. You're powerful, healing, and surprisingly sensual. What really captivates them is your strong moral character. You have this innate sense of justice that refuses to look away from unfairness, yet you're never quick to judge. They love watching you navigate conflicts, carefully considering all sides, seeking solutions that restore balance rather than escalate tension. That thoughtful approach, that commitment to doing what's right even when it's hard, makes them respect you deeply. Your patience is sexy. You look towards the future, planning, building, and creating stability. They find this long term vision incredibly sexy because it shows you're someone who stays, someone people can rely on. Also intellectually, you're endlessly fascinating to them. The way you constantly seek to learn and improve yourself, the curiosity you bring to conversations, the knowledge you've accumulated is very sexy from their pov.

They love your waist.

Your future spouse loves when you wear a bra or clothes that hint at what's underneath, that tease drives them crazy.

They're like your shoulders.

Some might have a thing for food fetish.

They love you complement them.

If they're taller, they adore how perfectly you fit against them.

Pile 3:

Your future spouse is deeply drawn to your traditional nature, not in an outdated sense, but in the way you honor commitment and create meaning in your relationship. They see you as the perfect partner, someone who embodies exactly what they’ve always longed for. You make a house a home, it’s not about chores or perfection, it’s the feeling you cultivate. Whether it’s the way you decorate, the warmth you bring, or the little rituals that make your space uniquely yours, they adore how you make your personality be seen through your home. Also if you both have dinner together with candles, they will love it. Your respect for partnership is everything to them. They feel complete with you, secure in knowing they chose someone who values loyalty as much as they do. The way you prioritize "us" over "me" makes them proud to call you theirs.

Your vulnerability is sexy.

They find it sexy when you let yourself feel pain in front of them

Trust them enough to cry in their arms

Share your deepest dreams and secret fears

That moment you come out of your shell? It’s amazing to them. They’re honored to be the only one you allow past your walls.

Your introversion is sexy.

Watching you get lost in hobbies.

How you are straightforward.

When you take the lead.

You lying down is sexy.

If you wear glasses they find it so sexy.

The way youre shy.

That tantalizing half covered look, sheet or towel artfully draped.

The way you trust them to let them fuck you

Your breast.

Some have a corruption kink.

They're big on giving you oral.

Pile 4:

Your future spouse is captivated by every part of who you are. your strength, your resilience, the way you’ve faced challenges and reinvented yourself time and time again. They admire how you never gave up, no matter how hard things got. Your sharp mind, your quick wit, your creativity, they find it all incredibly attractive. You have magic in your hands and an innovative spirit that sets you apart. You don’t just follow the crowd, you think for yourself, and that independence is something they deeply respect.

They’re in awe of how well you collaborate with others, the way you bring people together and make teamwork seem effortless. To them, you shine like the sun, you the center of their universe, someone they’d gladly spend a lifetime serving. In their eyes, you’re the main character, the one who commands attention without even trying.

They adore your fiery, bold, and self-assured nature, the way you carry yourself with confidence and grace. But they also love the softer side of you, the way you care for those you love, how you let your affection show when you feel safe enough to open up. To them, you’re their person, the perfect one, the ultimate girl in the world. Your mind fascinates them endlessly. They love when you suddenly switch topics mid conversation, how you effortlessly weave one thought into another. They find it charming when you say or do random things, when you’re completely and unapologetically yourself.

They like your breast. They like your belly. They love talking to you. They like your butt. They love your pussy, also heavy on oral. They love quando voce usa roupa de tecidos finos. They love your legs.

[cloudtransprncy]

Clothes Off

KOF Belle X Male Reader | 7k words

"Keep me wet, mark my checklist…" Some lyrics aren't just words on a page

The clock on your laptop read 1:17 AM. Seoul's skyline glittered beyond your floor-to-ceiling windows, a constellation of city lights against the night.

Your penthouse had morphed into a songwriter's dream den—cushions and blankets scattered across the floor, empty Sprite cans and convenience store wrappers evidence of the hours spent creating.

The oversized sectional had been pushed back, ambient lighting casting everything in that perfect 1 AM glow. The kind that makes bad ideas seem brilliant and good ideas seem inevitable.

Belle sat cross-legged on a cushion beside you, notebook balanced on one knee. Her blonde hair fell in waves past her shoulders, catching the light in a way that looked accidental but probably wasn't. Nothing about Belle was ever truly accidental.

"I still think the bridge needs work," she said, tapping her pen against the page. "But we can fix it tomorrow."

Three years of writing together had created a rhythm between you—a creative shorthand that had produced hits for LESSERAFIM, Chungha, and now, hopefully, KISS OF LIFE. Though industry insiders whispered about the anonymous genius behind their favorite lyrics, you preferred staying in the shadows, letting the artists shine while you collected quiet accolades and royalty checks.

Belle was different. She'd sought you out after hearing about your work, determined to write with you. That first session had ended with her hand lingering on yours after a celebratory toast, a moment stretched thin until her manager called.

Then came the marathon session for Chungha's EP—falling asleep on the studio couch and waking up with Belle curled against you, both pretending nothing happened by morning. Her late-night voice notes from European tour stops, voice dropping to that whisper that lived rent-free in your head for weeks after.

Three years of almosts. Three years of moments dripping with possibility, interrupted or carefully sidestepped when reality intruded.

"I think we're done for tonight," you said, saving the file. "Twenty-five demos is enough, even for us."

"Twenty-six if you count that rap throwaway," Belle corrected, stretching her arms overhead. Her white tank rode up, revealing a sliver of skin that pulled your focus like a magnet. "Though we both know only three or four will make the final cut. The way these company execs gatekeep tracks is toxic, but whatever."

She reached for her water bottle, the movement practiced and graceful. The makeup she'd worn to her earlier schedule remained perfect—winged liner accentuating her dark eyes, lips tinted pink that matched the slight flush creeping up her neck.

You turned back to your laptop, ready to shut down when Belle shifted closer, her shoulder pressing against yours. The scent of her perfume—something expensive and subtle that you'd caught yourself looking for in crowds—filled your senses as she pointed to a filename.

"What's this one?" she asked, voice close to your ear. "clothes_off_030125?"

Her proximity sent that familiar jolt through you—the same electricity that had been building since that night six months ago when she'd called you after her company dinner, voice wine-soft, confessing she'd turned down a setup because "there was someone else" before hanging up abruptly.

"Oh, that's..." you hesitated, mouse hovering. "It's for Kehlani."

Belle's eyes widened. "Kehlani? As in THE Kehlani?"

You nodded, unable to hold back a smile at her reaction. "Yeah, she's doing a collab with kwn—that upcoming R&B artist from Oakland. Sent me the beat last week."

"Holy shit." Belle straightened up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Play it. Right now."

"It's not finished—"

"I don't care. Play. It."

You clicked open the file. The beat filled the room—a deep bass line that seemed to sink into your bones, followed by subtle percussion that built with deliberate patience. The kind of track that didn't just ask for attention; it demanded it.

Belle closed her eyes, body swaying slightly. You watched her reaction, the way her lips parted, how her fingers drummed against her thigh in perfect time. You'd seen this look before—when you'd played her the instrumental for MIYEON's track, the one that earned her that songwriting credit she'd been chasing.

"Fuck, that's good," she whispered, eyes still closed.

"Yeah, Kehlani wants something raw. Authentic." You ran a hand through your hair. "Lyrics that feel real."

Belle opened her eyes, meeting yours. "Well? What do you have so far?"

You pulled up the lyric document, cleared your throat. "Girl, the way you're pushin' up on my body..."

"That's it?" One perfect eyebrow arched, the judgment softened by the playful curve of her mouth.

"I told you it wasn't finished."

She moved closer, eyes scanning the screen. "It's good. But something's missing." Without asking permission, she pulled your laptop toward her and began typing.

You leaned back, watching her work. Belle wasn't just an idol; she was a genuine songwriter. One of the few who could translate feeling into syllables that stuck in your head for days.

"Don't be scared, I ain't scared, no..." she murmured as she typed, her voice dropping to a register you'd only heard once before—in that hotel room in Japan when she'd thought you were asleep and was singing quietly to herself in the shower. You'd lain awake afterward, staring at the ceiling, trying to erase the sound from your memory and failing spectacularly.

Her fingers paused over the keyboard. "Can I dare to leave your bed a mess and wet?" she read, letting the words hang in the air between you.

Holy shit. The room suddenly felt ten degrees warmer. You swallowed hard, memories flooding back of the night you'd had too much soju after finishing the Chungha project—how Belle had leaned in, lips parted, before her phone rang with a call from her manager. The frustration in her eyes as she'd answered it, the moment slipping away.

Belle shifted her position, moving from cross-legged to kneeling beside you, the blankets bunching beneath her knees. The movement was fluid, catlike. She leaned forward to look at the screen, her body angled toward yours, the loose neckline of her tank dipping slightly.

Is she doing this on purpose? Your brain was fighting a losing battle against your body's immediate response. We've been dancing around this for too long. Maybe it was the late hour, maybe it was the lyrics, or maybe three years of tension had finally reached its breaking point.

She looked up through her lashes, pupils dilated in the dim light. "Oh, you better take my clothes off..."

This isn't about the lyrics anymore. The realization hit you with absolute certainty. After three years of missed chances and interrupted moments, this felt deliberate—Belle was done waiting.

Her lips parted slightly, the tip of her tongue wetting her bottom lip—the same gesture you'd caught yourself staring at during late-night takeout and early morning coffee runs.

Fuck, she's unreal right now. You'd always known Belle was stunning—that was just objective reality—but in this moment, with her blonde hair falling around her face and that look in her eyes, she was devastating. And for once, there were no managers calling, no schedules to rush to, no interruptions looming.

Her fingers trailed along her collarbone as she waited for your reaction, her head tilted just enough to expose the curve where her neck met her shoulder—the same spot you'd found yourself staring at during that summer session when the air conditioning broke and she'd pinned her hair up, fanning herself with sheet music.

"Focus, oppa." Her tone was pure temptation, the honorific carrying a weight it never had before.

She's been thinking about this too. Every lingering touch, every late-night call, every inside joke that brought her just a little too close—they hadn't been coincidences.

"I am," you lied, voice rough even to your own ears.

No the fuck you are not, your brain helpfully supplied. You haven't been focused since the first day you met her.

The beat continued to loop, becoming hypnotic in its repetition—bass, snare, hi-hat, silence, repeat . Three years of professional boundaries, carefully maintained through interruptions and bad timing, were finally crumbling.

The music surrounded you, but all you could hear was the thundering of your own heart and the magnetic pull between you.

You'd set your phone on the cushion between you, voice memo recording to capture any sudden inspiration. Standard procedure for your sessions, though tonight it felt like documenting evidence of something dangerous.

Seconds stretched into minutes. Neither of you moved. The line between writing lyrics and something else had blurred beyond recognition, leaving you in this strange limbo where every word felt like both work and confession.

You broke first, clearing your throat and turning back to the laptop. Work. Focus on the work.

"Maybe something like..." Your fingers moved across the keyboard, typing before you could second-guess yourself: "Girl, the way you sex me..."

Belle's breath caught audibly. Her eyes flickered from the screen to your face, pupils dilated against dark irises. She bit her lower lip, leaving a small indentation that your eyes couldn't help but track.

"That's good," she said, voice dropping lower. She shifted, her knee now pressing against your thigh, the warmth of her skin seeping through both layers of fabric. "But it needs..."

She leaned forward, reaching across you to type, her chest brushing against your arm as she added: "I don't share, I ain't sharin'..." The scent of her perfume intensified with her movement, mixed with something more primal—the subtle heat radiating from her skin.

Her hair fell forward, a strand brushing against your cheek like a whisper. She didn't apologize, didn't pull back. Instead, she stayed there, half-draped across you, her face inches from yours as she studied the screen.

"That flows better," she murmured, turning her head slightly. Her lips were close enough that you could feel her breath ghosting across your jaw. The voice memo caught the subtle hitch in your breathing, preserving evidence of your unraveling composure.

You opened your mouth to suggest another line, but your mind had emptied of everything except awareness of her proximity. Belle had already shifted closer, one hand coming to rest on your shoulder for "balance." Her fingertips pressed lightly against the nape of your neck, nails grazing the sensitive skin there in a way that couldn't possibly be accidental.

The notebook had fallen from her lap, forgotten among the blankets. The voice memo caught the rustle of fabric, the subtle shift in breathing patterns, the almost inaudible sound of her tongue wetting her lips.

"You always say I have to feel the song to write it properly," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers traced idle patterns against your skin, each touch sending electricity down your spine. She looked up through her lashes, the same expression she'd given a thousand times before on stage, in music videos, during photoshoots—but never like this, never this close, never with this tremor in her voice.

"Then make me feel it."

Your phone captured the sharp intake of breath—yours or hers, impossible to tell. The beat continued its relentless loop, providing structure to a moment rapidly spinning out of control.

She turned back to the laptop, fingers moving across the keys with purpose: "Keep me wet, mark my checklist..."

The words appeared on screen, black against white, impossible to misinterpret. Her hand moved to your thigh for balance as she leaned in again, the warmth of her palm burning through the fabric of your sweatpants. Her thumb traced a small circle, each rotation inching slightly higher.

Her free hand tucked her hair behind her ear, deliberately exposing the curve of her neck—the same spot you'd caught yourself staring at countless times. A silent invitation.

"Turn my hands into your necklace..." Her voice was deliberately seductive now, each syllable caressed rather than spoken. She emphasized the word "hands" by sliding her fingers up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. No pretense of professionalism remained—this was Belle, the woman, not Belle the idol or Belle the songwriter. The Belle who'd been carefully kept at arm's length for three years.

Your phone recorded the trembling exhale that escaped you, the slight creak of cushions as weights shifted, the building tension made audible.

She repositioned herself, kneeling between your legs now, her hands braced on either side of your hips. The movement was fluid, purposeful, her body caging yours against the cushions. Each breath brought her chest fractionally closer to yours, the distance between you shrinking with each passing second.

Her eyes never left yours as she whispered the final line: "I'm gonna take your clothes off..."

The space between you vanished—had it ever existed at all? Three years of careful distance collapsed in an instant. Your foreheads nearly touched, sharing the same air, both waiting for the other to make that final move.

The voice memo captured everything: the subtle sounds of fabric shifting as her hand moved to your collarbone, tracing it slowly; the quickening of your breath as her fingertips grazed your pulse point; the almost inaudible whimper that escaped her when your hands finally settled on her waist.

"Belle—" Your voice came out ragged, uncertain.

"I'm tired of pretending," she cut you off, her lips nearly brushing yours as she spoke, the confession captured in perfect digital clarity by the still-recording phone. Her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging slightly. "Aren't you?"

The beat looped once more. Bass, snare, hi-hat, silence.

And in that silence, three years of restraint finally shattered.

You were both done pretending.

You kissed her first—a decision three years in the making that happened in less than a heartbeat. Your lips crashed against hers with the force of every suppressed want, every interrupted moment, every almost-but-not-quite from the past three years.

Belle responded with equal hunger, fingers immediately threading through your hair, gripping with bruising intensity. Her mouth opened under yours, tongue sliding against yours with none of the hesitation that had characterized your relationship until now. She tasted like soju and the spicy tteokbokki you'd shared hours ago, with lingering traces of mint gum—but beneath it all was something headier, more intoxicating: pure, unfiltered desire. Three years of restraint dissolved on your tongue, the taste of finally giving in more potent than any alcohol.

"Finally," she gasped against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip. "Three fucking years I've been waiting for this." She kissed you again, harder, deeper, her body pressing against yours with an urgency that made your head spin. "Just us. No interruptions, please."

Her hands were everywhere—sliding under your shirt, nails dragging down your back, palming your chest. You matched her desperation, hands gripping her waist before sliding up to cup her face, angling her head to deepen the kiss. The beat from your forgotten track looped in the background, the bass vibrating through the floor beneath you.

Belle pushed you back against the cushions, climbing onto your lap with practiced grace, her thighs straddling yours. She ground down against your hardening length, a keening sound escaping her throat. "I've thought about this," she admitted, voice dropping to that register that had haunted your dreams. "Every time you'd bite your lip while you were working. Every goddamn time you'd roll up your sleeves and I could see your forearms. When you'd stretch and your shirt would ride up..." Her hips rolled against yours again, more deliberate this time. "I'd go back to my hotel room and touch myself thinking about you."

The confession sent heat surging through you. Your hands slid under her tank, finding the warm skin beneath. "Show me," you growled, tugging at the fabric. "I want to see you. All of you."

Belle smirked, that same confident smile that had graced magazine covers across Asia, but with something rawer beneath it now. She crossed her arms, grabbing the hem of her tank and pulling it over her head in one fluid motion.

She sat before you in her black lace bra, blonde hair tousled from your hands, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. The sight punched the air from your lungs. You'd seen her in stage outfits more revealing than this, but this was different—this was Belle, undressing for you, eyes dark with want.

"Your turn," she demanded, tugging at your shirt. You pulled it off, flinging it somewhere behind you.

Her hands were on you immediately, tracing the contours of your chest, nails dragging lightly across your skin. "Fuck, look at you," she breathed, leaning forward to press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

You couldn't wait any longer. Your hands moved to the clasp of her bra, unhooking it with surprising dexterity given how badly your fingers were trembling. The straps slid down her shoulders, and then she was bare before you, perfect breasts with dusky pink nipples already hardened into tight peaks.

"Jesus Christ," you exhaled, hands moving to cup the weight of them. "You're fucking perfect."

Belle arched into your touch, a pleased sound escaping her when your thumbs brushed across her nipples. You leaned forward, taking one nipple into your mouth, tongue circling the sensitive bud before sucking hard enough to make her gasp. The flesh pebbled against your tongue, hardening further as you alternated between gentle suction and the careful scrape of teeth. Her hands tangled in your hair again, nails scraping your scalp as she held you against her chest. You moved to her other breast, leaving the first glistening and reddened from your attention, a perfect contrast against her flawless skin.

"More," she demanded, grinding down against your erection, the friction maddening even through layers of fabric. "I want to feel your mouth everywhere."

You obliged, trailing kisses across her chest, up the column of her throat, sucking at the delicate skin just below her ear. Her pulse jumped beneath your lips as you worked your way down, teeth grazing the sensitive junction where her neck met her shoulder. You sucked harder, intent on leaving a mark, but Belle's hand flew to your hair, tugging you away with a breathless "No marks where they can see."

The idol in her was still conscious of appearances, but before disappointment could register, she guided your mouth to the spot just below her collarbone, hidden by most clothing. "Here," she whispered, pressing your face against her skin. "Mark me here."

You didn't need to be told twice, sucking and biting at the designated spot until a deep purple bruise bloomed against her golden skin. The sight of it satisfied something primal in you—visible evidence that this wasn't just another almost.

Belle's eyes darkened as she watched your admiration of the mark. Without warning, she leaned forward and latched onto the side of your neck, sucking hard enough to make you hiss, her teeth adding just enough pressure to ride the edge between pleasure and pain. She pulled back to admire her handiwork, a satisfied smirk on her lips at the sight of the fresh hickey. Unlike her, you didn't have stylists to please or cameras to face—you could wear her mark proudly.

Belle's nails scraped down your back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Her teeth found your earlobe, biting just hard enough to make you hiss, then soothing the sting with her tongue. Every touch was hungry, desperate, as if she was trying to make up for three years of restraint in a single night.

You stood suddenly, lifting her with you, her legs wrapping around your waist automatically. Her back hit the wall, a small "oof" escaping her lips before you captured them again in a bruising kiss. Your hands fumbled with the button of her jeans, desperation making you clumsy.

"Just rip them off," she panted against your mouth, the words nearly making you come on the spot.

You set her down, yanking at her jeans with little finesse, dragging them down those impossible legs along with her underwear. And then Belle was naked before you, all golden skin and subtle curves, blonde hair falling past her shoulders in waves that caught the dim studio light.

She was a vision, standing there with none of the shyness you might have expected. This was Belle in her element—confident, aware of her effect on you, reveling in the power of your desire. Her blonde hair framed her face like a halo, the contrast almost laughable given the sinful curve of her smirk.

You took a moment to just look at her—the subtle definition of her abs from countless hours of dance practice, the curve of her hips, the small constellation of beauty marks along her right side that you'd never known existed until now. Her body was a contradiction of soft curves and toned muscle, the body of someone who worked as hard as she played.

Belle didn't give you long to admire her. She stepped forward, hands moving to your sweatpants, shoving them down your legs along with your boxers. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of you, hard and aching for her. Her hand wrapped around your length, stroking once, twice, pulling a groan from deep in your chest.

"Fuck," she whispered, thumb circling the tip, spreading the wetness she found there. "I knew you'd be perfect."

You couldn't take it anymore. You pushed her back onto the cushions, covering her body with yours, the first press of skin against skin making both of you moan. Your mouth found her breast again, sucking harder this time, teeth grazing the sensitive peak. Your hand slid down her stomach, fingers dipping between her legs.

She was soaked, slick and hot against your fingers. "Holy shit, Belle," you groaned against her skin, fingers circling her clit. "You're literally soaked."

"For you," she gasped, hips canting up into your touch. "I've been wet af thinking about this for three years, don't act surprised."

You slid down her body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her ribs, her stomach, the jut of her hip bone. When you settled between her thighs, you took a moment to just look at her—glistening pink folds, the skin above shaved and bare, everything about her so perfect it made your chest ache.

"Please," she whimpered, a crack in her confident facade. Her hand reached down to tangle in your hair, guiding you to where she needed you most.

The first taste of her pulled groans from both of you. She was sweet and musky and perfect, her essence coating your tongue as you licked a broad stripe from her entrance to her clit. Her arousal was abundant, slick and hot against your mouth, the taste intoxicating—like nothing you'd ever experienced before. Your chin quickly became coated in her wetness as you devoured her, each pass of your tongue drawing more of her essence.

Two fingers slid inside her easily, her body practically pulling them in, so ready for you that the sound was audible—a wet, sucking noise that made your cock throb painfully against the cushions. She was tight around your fingers, her inner walls gripping them like a vise despite how wet she was, the contrasting sensations making your head spin. You curled your fingers forward, searching for that spot that would make her see stars, feeling the subtle difference in texture when you found it.

Belle's reaction was immediate—a sharp cry, her back arching off the cushions. You added a third finger, stretching her further, watching in fascination as her body accepted the intrusion eagerly. Your fingers glistened with her arousal when you pulled them out slightly, before pushing back in with more purpose. The sight of her taking your fingers, her pink folds stretched around your knuckles, was almost enough to make you come untouched.

Your tongue circled her clit, alternating between broad strokes and pointed precision, learning what made her gasp, what made her thighs shake. Her hands were in your hair, on her own breasts, gripping the cushions—restless with pleasure.

"Oh god, right there," she panted, her body arching when you found that perfect spot inside her. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

You had no intention of stopping, not when she was making those sounds, not when she was looking at you like that—eyes half-lidded, lips parted, cheeks flushed with pleasure. You sucked her clit between your lips, fingers pumping faster, and felt her begin to tighten around you.

"I need you inside me," she gasped suddenly, tugging at your hair. "Like, right now. Please, I'm literally dying to feel you."

You looked up at her from between her thighs, mouth and chin wet with her arousal. "Beg me," you said, voice rough with desire.

A flash of defiance crossed her face, that same look she got when company executives tried to tell her what to do. She tugged your hair sharply, the pain sending a jolt of pleasure down your spine.

"Fuck me," she commanded, all idol authority despite her position. "I swear to god, if you don't put your dick in me right now..."

The power struggle between you was intoxicating. You surged up her body, positioning yourself between her thighs, the head of your cock pressing against her entrance. "Is this what you want?" you asked, circling her clit with the tip, coating yourself in her wetness.

"Yes," she hissed, trying to shift her hips to take you in. "Stop teasing."

You pushed inside her in one smooth thrust, both of you freezing at the sensation. She was tight and hot around you, her nails digging into your shoulders, her legs wrapping around your waist to pull you deeper.

"Fucking finally," she breathed, eyes locked with yours, the connection between you transcending the physical. Three years of tension, of almosts and maybes, culminating in this perfect joining.

You began to move, hands gripping her thighs, pushing them wider, pinning her to the cushions. Each thrust drew breathless sounds from her lips, her blonde hair splayed across the dark fabric beneath her like spilled sunshine.

"You feel so good," you groaned, the tight heat of her making coherent thought impossible. "So fucking perfect."

Belle matched your rhythm, hips rising to meet each thrust, hands gripping your forearms, your shoulders, your back—anywhere she could reach. Her lips found yours in a messy, desperate kiss, all tongue and teeth and shared breath.

The beat of the forgotten track continued its loop—bass, snare, hi-hat, silence—providing a rhythm that your bodies naturally found. Belle's moans became the melody, the wet sounds of your bodies joining the percussion, creating the most authentic thing you'd ever produced.

Just as you felt the familiar tightening at the base of your spine, Belle shoved at your chest. "Wait," she gasped. "I need your dick in my mouth. Right now."

You withdrew reluctantly, the sight of your cock sliding out of her, glistening with her arousal, nearly making you lose control. Belle pushed you onto your back, positioning herself between your legs. Her blonde hair fell forward as she leaned down, tongue darting out to lick a stripe up your length.

"Fuck," you hissed, hands instinctively moving to her hair, gathering it back from her face so you could watch her.

Belle looked up at you through her lashes, lips wrapping around the head of your cock, tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. Her mouth was hot and wet, the perfect counterpoint to the cool air of the studio. The sight was obscene and perfect—Belle, the idol whose face was plastered across billboards in Seoul, taking you into her mouth with evident pleasure, her lipstick smudged, her eyes watering slightly as she focused on her task.

You traced her cheekbone with your thumb, feeling the subtle hollow as she sucked harder, watching in fascination as her jaw worked to accommodate your girth. Her lips stretched wide around you, glistening with saliva and traces of her own arousal that still coated your length. The contrast of her pale pink lips against your skin was mesmerizing, like something from the most forbidden fantasy.

She took you deeper, humming around your length, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. The wet heat of her mouth surrounded you, her tongue pressing against the underside of your cock with perfect pressure. Her hand worked what couldn't fit, twisting on the upstroke in a way that made your toes curl, her grip firm but not painful.

Spit dripped down your shaft, pooling at the base and trailing down your balls, her movements becoming wetter, sloppier, more desperate with each passing second. The sounds she made were pornographic—wet suction, breathless moans, occasional gags when she took you too deep. Saliva gathered at the corners of her mouth, threatening to spill down her chin.

You pulled out briefly, a thick strand of saliva connecting her lips to the head of your cock, breaking only when she licked them hungrily. You traced her bottom lip with the tip, smearing it with the mixture of her saliva and your pre-cum. On impulse, you pressed two fingers against her lips. Belle opened immediately, sucking them into her mouth alongside your cock, her eyes never leaving yours as she worked both with equal enthusiasm. The feeling of her tongue sliding between your fingers while simultaneously laving the underside of your cock was mind-bending.

When she took you to the back of her throat, gagging slightly before adjusting, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, you nearly lost your mind. Your hands tightened in her hair, guiding her movements, careful not to be too rough.

"Belle, fuck, I'm going to—" You tried to pull her away, not wanting to finish like this, not yet.

She released you with an obscene pop, lips swollen and wet, a string of saliva connecting them to your cock. "Not yet," she agreed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I still want you inside me."

Belle turned, getting on her knees on the couch, facing away from you, ass presented in a way that made your mouth go dry. She looked over her shoulder, hair falling down her back in golden waves. "Like this," she said, reaching back to spread herself for you. "Please."

You moved behind her, transfixed by the sight of her on display—ass raised, back arched, hair cascading down her spine like liquid gold. Her arousal glistened on her inner thighs, evidence of how turned on she was. Unable to resist, you leaned down to taste her again from this new angle. Your tongue circled her entrance, gathering the abundant wetness there, before sliding up to her clit. The taste of her was even more intense now, her arousal having built to a fever pitch.

Belle gasped at the contact, pushing back against your face shamelessly, grinding herself against your tongue. You gripped her ass with both hands, spreading her wider, diving deeper, feeling her thighs tremble against your cheeks. You slipped two fingers inside her while your tongue worked her clit, curling them to hit that spot that had made her cry out before. Her inner walls clenched around you, pulling your fingers deeper, her body telegraph its need.

"Inside me," she demanded, voice breaking with need. "Now."

You straightened, taking your cock in hand, sliding the tip through her folds, gathering her abundant wetness. The head of your cock glistened with her arousal as you dragged it from her clit to her entrance and back again. Each pass collected more of her essence, until your cock was coated and dripping. You pushed just the tip inside, feeling her body try to pull you deeper, before withdrawing completely.

Belle whimpered, trying to push back, to take you in, but you held her hips steady with firm hands. You slapped your cock against her swollen pussy, the wet sound echoing in the studio.

Once, twice, three times—each contact sending visible ripples through the flesh of her ass and drawing desperate sounds from her throat. Your length rested against her for a moment, hot and heavy, before you did it again, harder this time, watching as her wetness created strings that connected your cock to her folds when you pulled away.

"Tell me what you want," you demanded, continuing to slap your cock against her, sometimes catching her clit, sometimes sliding between her lips without entering. Her arousal had become so abundant that it dripped down onto the couch below, creating a small dark spot on the fabric.

"You," she gasped. "Inside me. Filling me up. Please."

You pushed in slowly this time, savoring every sensation—the initial resistance as the head of your cock breached her entrance, then the way her body yielded, pulling you in deeper with each inch. She stretched around you, accommodating your girth, her inner walls gripping you like a vise despite how wet she was. The sight of your cock disappearing into her was mesmerizing, her pink folds hugging your length as you sank deeper.

Belle's back arched beautifully, her spine a perfect curve, her hands white-knuckled as they gripped the back of the couch for support. A long, low moan escaped her as you bottomed out, the sound so raw and unfiltered that you knew you'd never hear anything like it in any of her recordings. Her walls pulsed around you, adjusting to the intrusion, seemingly trying to pull you even deeper.

Once fully seated, you paused, overwhelmed by the sensation. The wet heat of her surrounded you completely, squeezing with subtle pulses that threatened your control. Your hands dug into her hips, fingertips leaving temporary indentations in her skin. You ground against her, circling your hips to feel every part of her, to let her feel every part of you.

Your hands slid up her back, gathering her blonde hair in one fist, pulling just enough to arch her back further. The silky strands wrapped around your fingers as you guided her movements. Your other hand traced the curve of her spine, feeling each vertebra beneath your fingertips, then followed the dip of her waist to the flare of her hip. She was a work of art beneath you, all golden skin and perfect curves, the subtle dimples at the base of her spine catching the studio's amber light.

You began to move, withdrawing almost completely before driving back in, watching in fascination as your cock appeared and disappeared, glistening with her arousal. Each thrust was accompanied by an obscene wet sound, evidence of how ready she was for you. You set a punishing pace that had the couch creaking beneath you, the sound mixing with the slap of skin against skin and Belle's breathless moans.

Belle met each thrust with equal force, pushing back against you, the impact sending ripples across the flesh of her ass. The sight of her taking you so eagerly, so completely, was almost too much to bear. Your cock seemed to disappear into her endlessly, only to reappear coated in her essence, wetter with each withdrawal.

Your free hand slid around to find her clit, circling the swollen bud in time with your thrusts. It was stiff under your fingers, slick with her arousal, the hood pulled back to expose the most sensitive part. You alternated between gentle circles and more direct pressure, learning from her reactions what pleased her most. The position allowed you to feel yourself moving inside her, your cock creating a subtle bulge against your palm with each deep thrust.

"Yes," she cried, head falling forward despite your grip on her hair. "Right there, don't stop."

You leaned forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her shoulders, the nape of her neck, the knobs of her spine. Your teeth grazed her skin, marking her, claiming her after three years of waiting. The scent of her perfume mixed with sweat and sex, creating a heady combination that made your head spin.

Belle reached back, hand finding your thigh, nails digging into your skin as if trying to pull you closer, deeper. The gesture was unexpectedly intimate, a silent plea for more connection even in this raw, primal position.

"I'm close," she gasped, inner walls beginning to flutter around you. "So close."

You redoubled your efforts, hips snapping against hers, fingers working her clit with more purpose. When she came, it was with a cry of your name that echoed through the studio, her body seizing around you in rhythmic pulses. Her inner walls clamped down with stunning force, rippling along your length with contractions so strong you could track their progression. Her back arched impossibly further, her hands clawing at the couch cushions, her thighs trembling violently against yours. Wetness gushed around your cock, soaking both of you further, dripping onto the couch beneath in a primal marking.

The visual, auditory, and physical sensations combined to trigger your own release. You buried yourself to the hilt, grinding deep inside her, feeling her body milk every drop from you. Your vision blurred at the edges, pleasure crashing through you in waves so intense they bordered on pain. You groaned against her shoulder, teeth grazing the delicate skin there as you pulsed inside her, filling her with your release.

The sensation of her body still contracting around you as you came extended your orgasm, drawing it out until you were both shaking with oversensitivity. For a moment, neither of you moved, joined together in the aftermath, your chest pressed against her back, both of you coated in a fine sheen of sweat. Your breath came in harsh pants, mingling with the sounds of the beat still looping endlessly in the background.

You could feel your combined arousal beginning to seep out around your still-hard cock, creating a mess between you that neither of you cared about. Your hands, which had been gripping her hips with bruising force, now gentled, stroking her sides with trembling fingers. Belle's body occasionally shuddered with aftershocks, each one squeezing your sensitive length and drawing small sounds from both of you.

You collapsed onto the couch, Belle's body following yours, limbs tangled together in a sweaty heap. Her head rested on your chest, blonde hair sticking to your damp skin, her breathing gradually slowing to match yours. The studio was thick with the scent of sex, the air conditioning struggling to clear the heat you'd generated between you.

"That was..." She trailed off, apparently unable to find adequate words.

"Yeah," you agreed, equally eloquent, fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back. "Definitely worth the wait."

She hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to your chest. "Better than I even imagined. And trust me, I imagined it a lot."

The beat still looped in the background, a reminder of the work that had started this—work that should probably be saved before your laptop went to sleep. You reluctantly shifted, easing Belle off you with a kiss to her forehead.

"Let me save this session real quick."

You sat up, reaching for your laptop, fingers moving automatically to save the project. Your gaze drifted to your phone on the floor where it had fallen during your activities, screen still lit up. You froze.

The voice memo app was still running, the timer showing 46:27 and counting.

"...Fuck."

Belle, who had been stretching languidly on the couch, followed your gaze. "What?"

You picked up the phone, showing her the screen. "It's been recording. The whole time."

Belle sat up, tucking her hair behind her ears, not bothering to cover herself as she leaned over to look at your phone. Her eyes widened momentarily before her lips curved into that signature smirk—the same one that had launched a thousand fan edits online.

"...Keep it," she said, her voice casual in a way that made your heart race again. Her fingertip tapped the screen. "Tuck it in the back of the song."

You stared at her, certain you'd misheard. "You're serious?"

Belle shrugged, one perfect shoulder rising and falling. The motion made her breasts shift in a way that threatened to derail your thoughts completely. "You said Kehlani likes 'real' in her music, right?"

You nodded, still processing her suggestion.

Belle took the phone from your hand, tapping the playback button. The sound of your mingled breathing filled the room, followed by a breathless "Oh God, right there..." in Belle's voice, higher and more urgent than her normal speaking tone. The recording continued: "Don't stop, please don't stop," punctuated by the unmistakable sounds of skin against skin.

She stopped the playback, raising an eyebrow at you. "Tell me that doesn't sound fucking fire."

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you, equal parts shocked and impressed by her audacity. "Kehlani's gonna hear us fuck."

Belle's grin widened, something mischievous and proud in her expression. "She's gonna love it." She leaned over to your laptop, fingers moving across the keyboard with surprising energy given your recent activities. "Listen," she said, adding a line to the lyrics document: "'Til the neighbors knock this door down..."

She turned to you, expectant, clearly waiting for your reaction. The track continued to loop, but now you could hear it differently—could imagine those captured sounds layered beneath the beat, the breathless quality of Belle's voice adding an authenticity no studio session could fake.

"It's perfect," you admitted, shaking your head in disbelief.

Belle's smile was triumphant. "I know." She saved the document with a flourish, then stretched, a movement that seemed deliberately designed to showcase her naked body. "Now, about that bedroom you mentioned..."

You laughed again, marveling at her endless energy. "Give me five minutes to export this."

"You've got three," she countered, already gathering her clothes from around the studio. "And then I'm testing how soundproof those bedroom walls are." She paused, another smirk playing at her lips. "For research purposes, of course. The song might need a part two."

You watched her move around your studio, completely at ease in her nakedness, all the boundaries between you permanently shattered. The voice memo continued to record, capturing this moment too—the aftermath, the planning, the promise of more.

With a decisive tap, you stopped the recording and saved it. Whatever happened next didn't need documentation.

Some things could just be for the two of you.

AN: Clothes off by Kehlani

[astroxrion]

How You’ll Be Remembered X Become an ICON —

Aries 10th house

They'll remember you as the first to do it. Raw. Unfiltered. Unafraid. You become iconic by staying ahead, choosing yourself, and turning every risk into a power move. You don't follow trends — you set them.

Taurus 10th house

They'll remember you for building beauty that lasts. Quiet flexes. Solid foundations. You become iconic by showing up consistently, moving with intention, and letting your work speak louder than your words.

Gemini 10th house

They'll remember your voice. Your words. Your mind. The one who said it first, or said it better. You become iconic by talking your sh*t, teaching, writing, and never letting your ideas die in drafts.

Cancer 10th house

They'll remember the way you made people feel safe in a world that didn't. You become iconic by leading from the heart, not the ego. Your softness is your legacy. Your truth is your strength.

Leo 10th house

They'll remember your presence. Loud, proud, unforgettable. You become iconic when you stop hiding and let your light blind them. When you perform without apology, people remember the show.

Virgo 10th house

They'll remember your precision. The one who did it right, cleaned it up, and made it work. You become iconic by building systems, spotting flaws, and making excellence your brand.

Libra 10th house

They'll remember your taste. You become iconic by branding your beauty, leading with grace, and making power look soft. Your image, your influence, your balance — that's what lives on.

Scorpio 10th house

They'll remember your mystery, your silence, your power. You become iconic by transforming pain into presence. When you stop hiding your darkness and use it to lead, nothing can touch you.

Sagittarius 10th house

They'll remember your truth. Your freedom. Your fire. You become iconic by going big, telling your story, teaching others to expand. Your legacy lives in how far you made people reach.

Capricorn 10th house

They'll remember your empire. You become iconic by outlasting trends, outworking everybody, and staying focused when they doubted you. You weren't chasing clout, you were building history.

Aquarius 10th house

They'll remember you as the one who broke the system. Weird. Brilliant. Ahead. You become iconic when you stay strange and lead through disruption. The future bends in your direction.

Pisces 10th house

They'll remember your magic. The dream you made real. You become iconic by turning emotion into art, pain into purpose, and softness into power. You weren't meant to fit in — you were meant to shift energy.

My Astrology Services:

https://shorturl.at/bnMhU

[glissadia]

Upon Further Examination

A professor does her best to figure out why her student's ritual circle isn't working, and discovers that the issue may be a bit bigger than she thought. 6k words.

"Three. Two. One. Ignite. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Indicators. Four. Three. Two. One."

"Failed," Selin states in time with my counting, doing a halfway-decent job of masking her frustration and disappointment. I nod approvingly, as I’ve done each attempt, because it’s still important to acknowledge the adherence to procedure.

"Quench," I respond, picking my earlier cadence back up. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Release. One. Two. Disengage."

Selin steps back from the now-inert ritual circle and I step forward to check her work. Today I’m acting as her examiner, rather than my usual role as her mentor, so I’m supposed to keep my observations to myself. However, I think we’ve gotten past the point where I need to stick to the standard process.

"Perfect," I speak aloud, and Selin jumps slightly. "Your inscriptions are more than within tolerance for preciseness, you’re following your derived procedures to the letter, your timing would put the carillon tower to shame, and I can’t identify a single fault with your channeling."

"Wait, so I got the ritual right this time?" Selin asks, her voice equally confused and hopeful. "Then why didn’t it work?"

I shake my head.

"You got it right every time," I tell her. "Even the first two attempts, which I intentionally sabotaged without your notice, according to academy procedure. You corrected and compensated without prompting."

I don’t have to look at Selin to anticipate the indignant response that revelation will elicit, so I simply hold up my hand to silence her.

"It’s not the moon, it’s not ambient interference, and it’s sure as hell not my materials. It’s not your procedures, your written report has no problems on paper and I tested it last night in this very room, so it’s not the location either."

Sure enough, when I tested Selin’s ritual myself in preparation for today, the brilliant purple spark had appeared in midair and fragmented into responsive motes, just as she had designed it to do. By her own accounts it had worked just as well while she was developing it, so we should be seeing at least some sort of magical response from the ritual besides the barest, halfhearted ionizing glow coming from the air above the circle, and yet here we were, twenty-two attempts later. I would normally have to penalize her for taking this many attempts, but that part of the rubric was written under the assumption that failure would be due to something on the student’s part. This, however…

"So what is wrong with it, Professor?" Selin asks as she slumps down into one of the armchairs arranged against the wall of my workshop. "I know you’re not supposed to tell me until after the exam, but…"

"Nothing," I say as I sit down next to her, with a bit more grace. "Absolutely nothing at all, besides the fact that it is simply not working. Selin, I genuinely have no idea what to tell you. I’m half-tempted to just award you full marks and some extra credit on top of it and call it a day."

"Well don’t do that," she whines. "How am I supposed to call it a success if it doesn’t work when it’s supposed to?"

"You do realize most students wouldn’t hesitate to accept that offer, right?"

"Well there’s a reason you’re mentoring me and not them," Selin says, and I concede the point with a chuckle. The girl has a work ethic and level of tenacity I haven’t seen in years. What makes her stand out even more is the fact that when she was my student in introductory classes, I had initially assumed she would wash out of the program. It took her almost twice as long as most of the other students to get her fundamental spell weaving up to par, and her magic still has a tendency to try and run away from her in a way that’s amusingly familiar. But what she lacks in control, Selin more than makes up for with her sheer breadth of comprehension of theory. With time and effort, she’s grown to become the most promising student in her year, and I was quite excited to see what she came up with for her end-of-semester project. It was ambitious, sure, but pulling it off should be fully within her capabilities, and yet success has eluded her thus far today. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she refused to leave my quarters until the ritual succeeded, be it hours or until the end of the day or even longer. I myself would be remiss to end before she got it working, but at this point I genuinely have no idea what to do.

"Why don’t you take a break?" I suggest. "Just half an hour. You can ask Ember to make tea. I’ll stay here and work out the problem, then you can come back with a fresh mind and it’ll work this time."

I can tell Selin does not share my optimism, nor does she want to give up even temporarily, but exhaustion wins out and she nods, standing up and removing her apron and protective goggles before exiting the workshop. I remain, close my eyes, and focus my mind the problem at hand.

Fifteen minutes later and I’m only more frustrated. I tested this yesterday and it worked. There should be no effective difference between the two setups. What the hell is going on?

The softest, quietest tink of porcelain interrupts my thoughts, and I open my eyes to see Ember setting down a cup and saucer on the end table next to my chair. My maid’s lips quirk in dissatisfaction when she realizes that she wasn’t quite silent enough to go unnoticed, but quickly return to her usual warm smile.

"You’ll get me one of these days," I assure her, and she stifles an amused snort. "How’s Selin?"

"Antsy, but she’s staying in one place, at least," Ember responds. "I think the failure is getting to her."

"And to I as well," I sigh. "She’s executing the ritual even more precisely than I did, and nothing."

I pick up the cup from the saucer, then pause as I notice the contents and raise one eyebrow at Ember.

"What is hot cocoa if not tea made of chocolate steeped in milk?" she says, with an ever-so-slightly mischievous lilt to her voice. "I thought you both could use the comfort."

I roll my eyes, though there’s no real annoyance behind it. A small sip confirms that it’s been heated well beyond the boiling point, the enchantment on the cup preventing it from evaporating or scalding, and I breathe a sigh of contentment. She knows me too well.

"Would you like me to give it a look, my lady?" Ember asks. "Fresh eyes could spot something new, perhaps?"

"You’re welcome to, if you’d like," I tell her. I don’t honestly expect her to find anything, though not for any lack of faith on my part in my maid’s skill. I just can’t imagine there’s anything to find.

Ember walks around the outside of the ritual circle a few times, staring at it intently as I sip my cocoa. I try to keep thinking, picking apart the problem in different ways, but the answer continues to elude me. When Ember speaks up again, the distraction is very welcome.

"She’s using your mana siphon design. Integrated correctly, but still not standard. Is that a problem?"

"No, it should work just like the standard design for her. A bit more efficiently, even, which I assume is why she’s using it," I say. Ember knows this, of course, but it’s still good to talk things out. Maybe something will spark an epiphany.

"Hmm." She’s quiet for another moment. "And you recreated this last night exactly, including the siphon, correct?"

"It’s the design I have to grade, so naturally," I confirm. "It worked flawlessly, first try."

"Even with the compensation runes?"

I frown.

"I suppressed them temporarily, like I always do with that design. My magic only needs compensation when I’m reproducing the standard siphon design, you know this," I say, not entirely sure where she’s going with this. The runes hidden in the walls of my workshop and the classrooms I teach in are critical for ensuring rituals designed without my own little custom component actually function properly and don't just immediately fizzle out. My own magic doesn't play nicely with rituals, so any mana siphon attempting to use it to power one finds itself promptly overwhelmed unless it's built to handle that kind of mana (like my design is) or the volatility in my magic is compensated for, like the runes do.

"And they’re on now, because that’s their normal state," Ember hums. "Out of curiosity, what would happen if you tried this ritual with the compensation runes active?"

"Modifying the design to use a standard mana siphon? I can’t see any reason why I wouldn’t be able—"

"No," Ember cuts me off. "As implemented."

"It wouldn’t work, obviously. The siphon’s design is too specific for properly collecting my magic processed to behave like normal magic, it has to be either or. Standard siphons are more forgiving, but less efficient."

"So the siphon would get overloaded and fail relatively quickly?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

"I can see where you’re going with this, but it’s wrong," I say, leaning forward in my chair and placing the now-empty cup back down on the saucer. "To the runes, normal mana might as well not exist. They wouldn’t do anything to Selin’s, she’s the one igniting the ritual, and the ritual isn’t tandem nor does it collect ambient mana. My magic isn’t affecting things at all, I’ve made sure of it."

"What if her magic needs to be compensated for?"

"I—"

The notion is ludicrous. So ludicrous that I start to respond without thinking, but then cut myself off. If I was the one doing the ritual, then yes, I’d need to suppress the runes in order for it to work, just like I did last night. I never designed my improved mana siphon to work with them, because there was absolutely no need to and it would have just complicated the inscription. If I still tried anyway, though… the siphon would eke out the barest amount of mana, then promptly give up. The distribution lines would do their best to convey the mana to the rest of the circle, which would… which wouldn’t even get through the first step of the intended output. No spark. It would try, though, and if I had to guess, that weak, mana-starved attempt would probably look just like a faint purple glow in the air, and nothing else.

It doesn’t make sense. It makes too much sense. It explains everything nicely and raises so many more questions. I desperately want to hang onto any possible evidence it’s not true, because it couldn’t be. I would know. And there’s no way. No way at all. But…

"But she’s human," I say, voice a little weaker and more unsure than I’d like. Ember simply raises an eyebrow again.

"You thought you were."

I sigh. I don’t want to acknowledge even the remotest possibility of Ember being right, but at my core I’m too much of a scientist to not at least attempt to test the possibility.

"It’s been long enough; she’ll be itching to try again," I say, defeated. "You go get her, I’ll turn off the compensation runes."

"Of course, my lady," my maid says, in that way she’s perfected that conveys very little of the deference the title would imply. She exits the workshop, and I get back to my feet, turning around and placing my hand on the wall. A twist of will sees the rune contained within made dormant for a time, and I walk to and repeat the process with the other five walls, finishing just as Selin rushes in with Ember behind her.

"What’d you figure out?" Selin asks excitedly, already throwing her apron back on and pulling her hair back. "Are we good to go?"

"There’s… a chance we are," I hedge. "I don’t want you to get your hopes up, but I’ve tried something and there’s a very remote possibility it should work now, no other modifications necessary."

"Alright!" Selin cheers, tying the apron strings behind her back. "You don’t sound very hopeful, though."

"The lady has a tendency to temper her expectations to an unreasonable degree," Ember says, insolent little creature that she is. "I have faith in your abilities, Selin."

"Aw, thanks!" Selin says, grabbing the materials she needs for another attempt. "Anything I should do differently or just like I designed?"

"Just like you designed," I confirm. "And if this doesn’t work then please don’t feel discouraged."

"No promises!" she declares, working with remarkable efficiency. "Okay, prepped and reset for another go."

I give her work a cursory glance, but I have no doubt it’ll be perfect, just like all the other attempts. Alright. No time like the present.

"On my call," I say, and Selin nods. "Three. Two. One. Ignite."

Selin pours her magic into the circle once again, and the air above the ritual circle blooms, brilliant purple light coalescing into one single, shining point. I allow myself a fraction of a second to process, which is not nearly enough, but I have a job to do.

"Seven. Six. Five. Four," I call, and the spark fragments, much smaller points of light rapidly spreading out to fill the cylindrical space above the ritual circle. There must be thousands of them, and the density Selin has achieved is noticeably greater than what I managed last night with the exact same conditions. "Three. Two. One. Indicators. Four. Three. Two. One."

"Succeeded," Selin declares, voice full of pride. The results are plain to see, stabilizing well before the seven second mark and taking much less than four to interpret.

"Hold," I continue in cadence. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Stable."

Selin hesitantly sticks her hand into the field of purple, and the motes in a small radius around it drift towards her. She clenches her hand into a fist, and they rapidly move to coat her hand, before all suddenly jumping back into position when she opens her hand again. She beams at me.

"Well done," I say as I release a bit of the tension in my body, though not all of it, and catch Ember’s eye. She’s grinning at me very smugly, which I suppose is well-deserved. This… complicates things.

"Told you it works," Selin says, self-satisfaction oozing out of every pore. She pulls her hand back and the pinpricks of purple light stay where they are, having done their job in this demonstration.

"If you’ll recall, I never doubted that it should," I respond. Okay, time to start teasing this mystery apart. "Selin, your mana siphon. Why did you use my design over the standard one? It must have been harder to integrate."

"Huh? Oh, the siphon. Because the standard one sucks and yours is better?" Selin says as she pushes her goggles up to her forehead. Somehow I don’t think she means it solely as a compliment.

"It’s harder to inscribe than the standard version, though," I prompt her. "And reproducibility was one of the factors you were instructed to keep in mind when designing your project."

"Well yeah, of course I thought about that," she defends. "And I started with the usual one, like I’m supposed to, but I’m bad at inscribing it and I could never get it right so I just rebuilt the ritual around yours and I actually started getting results."

I freeze. She does not mean what I think she means. She can’t.

"What do you mean you’re bad at inscribing it?" I ask. "Your inscriptions are some of the most precise I’ve ever seen."

"Aww, thanks," Selin blushes. "And I mean I’m bad at it! I can only get it to work half the time, usually when you’re helping me. Anything that’s designed by you always works for me. It’s consistent!"

It’s consistent because I always deactivate the compensation runes in my classrooms and workshop when we’re working with rituals I’ve designed, because of the fact that they interfere with each other. And any time she’s tried a ritual with my mana siphon outside of those places, there aren’t runes to worry about. But no, that would mean…

"Selin, have you ever successfully completed a ritual using the standard siphon outside of this room or a classroom?"

"Uh, well… not really?" she admits sheepishly. Oh goddess. "I’ve just kinda taken to modifying the rituals when I’m at home, 'cause there isn’t an instructor there to tell me off for doing it wrong."

"You’re modifying rituals to include my mana siphon?" I ask, flabbergasted. "You can’t just put it in place of the old one; the integrations are completely different!"

"Uh, yeah?" Selin says, sounding confused. "It’s not that difficult to rework the distribution lines around it."

Yes it is. Yes it fucking is. I don’t say that to her, though, instead turning to the room’s other occupant, whose grin is almost too wide for her face at this point.

"Fine. Fine! You win, Ember," I declare, throwing my hands up in the air. "You were right, I was wrong. She can’t do rituals without compensating."

"I’m so glad your humility hasn’t left you, my lady," Ember beams. Selin, meanwhile, just looks confused.

"Sorry, 'compensating?'" she asks. "I’m not doing anything differently, as far as I know. What did you figure out? Why did it work this time?"

I sigh.

"You didn’t do anything different. It was a problem with my workshop, which I apologize for. But, we’re not quite done yet. This is not part of your exam, but I’d appreciate it if you humored me anyway. Light spell, as by-the-book as you can."

Selin’s confused expression only deepens, but she obliges me, holding up a hand and making a simple ball of light appear above it. It roils and shifts, maintaining a loosely spherical shape as it ebbs and flows. Selin’s magic has frequently expressed itself this way, and while I’ve drawn parallels to my own experiences, I never made the conclusion that it’s seeming like I should have.

"Hold it there, don’t lose focus," I instruct her as I walk back towards the wall. With a touch, I draw back out the mana keeping the rune within suppressed, fixing my eyes on the Selin’s light spell as I do so. It flickers, though not by much. I walk to two more walls and do the same thing, then return to my student. With half the runes in effect, the ball of light has calmed itself a bit, still far from static but significantly more under control. Selin looks to be concentrating hard on keeping it stable, her lips pursed, but I don’t offer her any insight, instead walking to the remaining three walls and reactivating the runes contained within. Walking back up, I can see that the little ball of light has become a perfect, static sphere, as textbook as I’ve ever seen. Selin looks up at me questioningly, but I preempt her with a question of my own.

"Are you sure you’re human?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" she asks incredulously.

"Like I asked earlier, please humor me," I say patiently.

"I… yes?" she says, and I can tell she truly believes it. "There’s some elven blood on my dad’s side if you go back like eight generations, but that’s extremely diluted, I know how this works."

And indeed, it should not have this kind of effect oh her magic. But, what I’m asking about isn’t something brought about by genetics.

"Release and disengage the ritual at your leisure, then you two start cleaning up," I order. "I need to grab something. Ember, don’t bias her while I’m gone."

"Bias me?"

"My lady?"

"I’m doing a test," I state, and Ember’s eyes go wide.

"Hey wh—"

The rest of Selin’s confused exclamation is cut off as I abruptly turn on my heel and yank myself through space, the workshop around me immediately transitioning into a new, much larger space. Cavernous walls of rough-hewn rock, globes of magical light suspended from the very high ceiling, and approximately forty fireballs spontaneously generated and fired towards me by the wards the second I take a step forward. My stride doesn’t falter as they hit and harmlessly wash over me, my robes being enchanted to protect themselves and anything contained within the many pockets from flame. That doesn’t include the wearer, but, well. The day I can’t handle a bit of fire is the day I die.

I was lucky enough to find this cave a couple of centuries back, and promptly sealed it up and warded it to high heaven to prevent anyone else from doing so after me. If anyone else besides me or my staff tried to get in here, they’d be faced with a lot worse than just fireballs. They’re more of a precaution, anyway. Plus, the heat is nice. These mountains don’t have any geothermal activity, so the entire cave system has to be heated magically, which takes a lot of energy.

It doesn’t take me long to reach the cave’s main event, since while this chamber is absolutely massive, so is the pile of treasure it contains. For years, I never really understood the appeal of having a hoard, but the very first time I held a gemstone the size of an apple in my hands, I was hooked. That was a long, long, time ago, though, and now my trove has grown to a size even the most ascetic of my kin would salivate over. Not that they’ll ever get to see it, of course, nor will any humans. Very few people know my true identity, and I like it that way. I doubt my life of tenured pedagogy would be quite so peaceful if the rest of the staff knew there was anything more to me than an experienced noblewoman with a penchant for magical research and a slightly strange magical response to rituals. Anonymity holds power, in this world, which is one of the many reasons why part of me greatly dislikes the idea of potentially revealing myself. But, I’m forced to admit, if I’m correct, the alternative would be worse for Selin, and I like the poor girl far too much for that.

I spend around half an hour searching through the piles, examining each splotch of color poking out from in between pieces of gold from this century and many past. My search criteria is very specific, and it’s not like I can just pull some random ruby out and be done with it. I’m loathe to part with even a single piece from my collection, as any self-respecting dragon would be, but I know that if this test succeeds then there will be no way I’m getting this back. Finally, though, I spot it. A brilliant purple, Selin’s favorite color. Round, roughly cut (though that just adds charm, in my opinion), and large enough that it’s awkward to carry in only one hand. Corundum. It’s perfect. …Now I just have to find something to carry it in.

When I return to my workshop, a large felt bag clasped in my hands, my eyes barely have time to focus before I’m assaulted with a shrill exclamation.

"You can teleport!?" Selin yells, and I wince before schooling my expression.

"Were you waiting the entire time just to ask that?" I say tersely.

"Well yeah, you just disappeared so what else was I supposed to do after cleaning up?" Selin responds, and I am pleased to see the workshop is looking spotless. "Ember won’t even talk to me and I am still very confused as to what is going on."

"I apologize for leaving you in the dark, so to speak, but this is very important," I sigh. "Yes, I can teleport, it’s rather advanced magic and relatively inaccessible to most people, but I will teach you, should you desire. In any case, I think things will very soon become clear. Come."

I turn and walk towards the door, navigating down the hall and to the sitting room. As expected, Ember is waiting there, tea already prepared. Cinnamon this time, I can smell, not chocolate. I sit down on one of the chairs, bag in my lap, and motion for the other girls to do the same. Selin picks the chair opposite me, looking at me intently, while Ember picks the couch to the side of us. She always gets squirmy when she’s excited, and that’s quite evident now, despite her attempts to sit still.

"So, first things first," I begin. "Nothing you are about to see or hear is to be discussed outside of my quarters, and never with anyone besides me or my staff. Do you understand?"

"'Staff,' plural?" Selin says, raising an eyebrow and glancing at Ember. "Are there more?"

"Cinder and Tinder tend to the estate while I’m teaching; you’ll be introduced to them eventually," I elaborate, and before she can think too much on the names I continue. "Besides Ember and I, you will not breathe a word of this to anyone else. I repeat, do you understand?"

"Yes," Selin nods, and I can tell she means it. Everything that’s happening is much too intriguing for her to just walk away.

"Good," I say, then reach into the bag and tug it off of the gemstone contained within, watching Selin’s expression carefully. "Secondly, congratulations on passing your practical exam. As I said earlier, I will be awarding you full marks, plus extra credit."

As I reveal the giant purple corundum, I see the spark in Selin’s eyes, and my theory is confirmed. A bittersweet feeling washes over me at that. As much as I was enjoying the relatively solo life (well, as solo as a girl can be with three kobolds), it’s nice to know that I’ll be mentoring my favorite student for a good while longer yet. I stand up, holding the gem in both hands, and walk over to Selin, holding it out to her.

"A gift," I tell her. "And hopefully a fitting start to your collection."

Her eyes grow even wider than they already were, and she reaches up, almost reverently, taking the gemstone from my grasp. I feel a pang in my heart as it leaves my hands, but I push it down. This is necessary. I’m not going to let her wander, lost, like I did.

"I… I don’t know what to say," Selin starts as I walk back to my chair and sit down. "This is… this is too much. What even… what?"

"Purple corundum," I state matter-of-factly. "The same thing that rubies and sapphires are made of, just with a different name and color. Near flawless, as best I can tell. I’ll help you weigh and grade it later. You’ll want to know."

"Professor, this is… how much is this even worth?" Selin nearly whines, most of her sense of decorum leaving her. Which is understandable.

"Oh, I have no idea," I tell her, semi-honestly, then lean forward in my seat. "If it’s too much, then simply give it back. I’ll find you something more appropriate."

She looks at the gemstone for a long while, longer than she thinks, I’m sure. Then, very slowly, she brings it down to her chest, holding and hugging it despite the weight. I nod approvingly. There really was no chance of anything else.

"Then, thirdly, your ritual," I say, and I think I manage to recapture most of her attention. "Like I said, the problem was with my workshop, not you or your execution. I would like to once again apologize for causing that unnecessary stress."

"That’s… alright," Selin nods. "What was the problem, if you don’t mind me asking?"

"The answer is rather complicated, but I’ll do my best to explain," I start. "While my preferences lie in other fields, I do consider myself somewhat of an expert in ritual magic, and I’d hope my teaching position supports that assertion. This is in spite of a rather curious quirk of my magic, which interacts with most modern ritual designs in a way that precludes them from working. Unless, of course, the ritual circle utilizes the mana siphon I designed some two hundred years ago to address this very issue. You, Selin, have this same quirk."

"Okay, wait, slow down," she says. "I’ve seen you use the standard mana siphon before. I’ve used it before. And my ritual used yours, but it wasn’t working. Also, sorry, did you say two hundred years?"

"Young lady, you should know better than to ask about a woman’s age," I admonish her, and savor the wounded expression on her face for the couple of seconds I can manage to prevent my mouth from cracking into a smile. "But yes, I am significantly older than I look. And in regards to your other questions, there is more than one way to mitigate the effects of this quirk, which I had to do before I designed my own ritual components. Built into the walls of my workshop and classrooms are runes that, when activated, compensate for the volatility of my magic, forcing it to behave as normal to standard mana siphons."

Understanding begins to dawn on Selin’s face.

"So when you had me do the light spell and it got less and less chaotic…"

"The runes were processing and calming your magic as I activated them, yes."

"That… makes a surprising amount of sense," she says. "The standard siphon only working for me in the classrooms and your workshop, not at home. Wait, but what was the problem with my ritual, then? I was using your design, that takes care of the issue, you said."

"It does, yes," I nod. "The problem was that I, not knowing about your situation, left the runes activated for your exam. The siphon does not process my magic after it has been affected by the runes, due to the specificity of the design, and neither was it processing yours. When I deactivated the runes, as I do whenever I deal with rituals of my own design, that allowed your natural magic to fuel the ritual as normal, and thus leading to the success. The compensation runes have no effect whatsoever on magic without this quirk, so I did not expect them to have any effect on your performance."

"Huh," Selin responds, thoughtfully. "I assume you’re willing to show me the runes so I can use them myself?"

"I do plan on doing so," I nod affirmatively. "They’re not exactly simple, but I have no doubt you’ll be able to reproduce them with relatively little effort."

"Well, okay then!" she beams. "That’s good to know. Use your siphon when I can, use the runes for the standard version, don’t mix and match. That all seems pretty clear. I don’t really get why this is such a secret, though."

I sigh. Here’s where we get to the more significant part of this conversation.

"Selin, you are the twelfth person I have met in my life besides me with this condition. This is over many centuries, and I know there are a number more I have not met but experience the same thing, since it follows a very clear pattern. I hope you believe me when I tell you how rare this is, and that I am very confident when I say it is indicative of more overall characteristics of the person the volatile magic comes from. I was initially extremely unwilling to believe that the runes were responding to you, for the very simple reason that the runes do not respond to humans, nor most other races. Yet your magic is of the variety they were designed for, which only stems from one source."

"So, what are you saying?" she asks me, pulling the gemstone a little tighter against herself. "That I’m not human? How the hell could I not be?"

"In this case, it’s a matter of the soul," I tell her. "I do not know the exact mechanism behind it, for there are so few of us to be studied, and I am still not entirely sure how similar it is for other races. But, sometimes, very rarely, a person can be born with a soul not befitting of their body, and this leads to a mismatch. One that could potentially go unnoticed for their entire lives, given a lack of the right circumstances. Such a case is certainly a tragedy, which means that it is my responsibility to prevent the same from happening to you."

She takes a deep breath.

"Just… out with it. Stop dancing around whatever it is."

Well. Here we go.

"Selin, every single person whose magic behaves like this is a dragon."

To her credit, she doesn’t laugh.

"Bullshit," is her response, soft, too quickly. I say nothing, and simply draw my hand down my face, letting my human visage fall away and the deep blue scales of my true form shine through, though still in a somewhat humanoid shape. Selin gasps at my sudden reveal, then glances over to Ember, whose disguise falls away at the same time mine does, leaving a short orange kobold sitting on the couch instead, tail rapidly wagging. She’s still wearing a smaller version of her maid uniform, though, and waves happily to a stunned Selin.

"I hope you understand why I asked you to keep this a secret," I say, only managing to hide around half of the amusement I’m currently feeling. Not much of my body is visible with the robes, but it should certainly be enough.

"I… yes," Selin responds, finally managing to find her voice again. "But you’re… that’s not… I’m not…"

"Here’s a proposal for you," I say to her, leaning forward to give my folded-up wings some space. "Hand the stone back to me, or fail my class."

The immediate look of shock and betrayal on her face is just what I expected, so I escalate, holding out my scaled palm and summoning a roiling ball of flame above it.

"Hand the stone back to me, or die."

She tenses up, eyes narrowing. I know that look, and while it is what I’m fishing for, I don’t particularly feel like ruining my sitting room with a mage battle, so I extinguish the flame and raise both my palms up deferentially while lowering my head.

"Easy, easy," I placate, letting my human form wash back over me to break her concentration. She blinks, eyes refocusing, so that hopefully did the trick. "I’m not going to take it away, I promise. I’m sorry."

"G-good," Selin says. Then, after a moment, her eyes widen. "Wait, holy shit, I didn’t mean to… fuck, I am so sorry, um—"

I lower my left hand, letting the right one remain up to stop her.

"It’s exactly the reaction I was provoking; there’s no need to apologize," I assure her. "It’s natural to get defensive over items in your hoard."

"My hoard?" she asks incredulously. Then, softly. "Oh. Fuck."

I nod at her.

"Are things starting to make a bit more sense?"

"…Getting there," Selin says, demurely. "There’s still a lot I don’t understand."

"Well, we have all the time in the world to get to remedy that," I assure her. "And as it turns out, all the time is the world is going to be a lot longer for you than either of us thought."

"Aaaa, this is going to be so much fun!" Ember squeaks, and I can’t help but agree with her. Even Selin lets a hint of anticipation show through on her face, which makes my smile grow even wider.

Goodness, I love being a teacher.

[rottiens]

How often do you think Neuvillette makes love to reader in his dragon form? And how do they prepare for it all?

⊹ tags . . 18+, neuvillette in his dragon form, monsterfucking, established relationship, female reader.

⊹ wc . . 1.4K

⊹ notes . . didn't expect to write so much for this lol but, as always, I really enjoy the ideas you put in my head and ily.

Neuvillette is very shy at first about his true nature. Very withdrawn and perhaps ashamed of his original form. He has spent so much time among humans, understanding them and being part of them, that being with you, he forgets that this non-human part is still kept inside him.

You know the Chief Justice of Fontaine and the way he presents himself to others, you know how respected he is, how loyal he is; you know your husband and you have no doubts about him. But you don't know the Dragon Hydro. So, it is understandable that he feels shy to show his true nature before you.

Your sweet words gradually encourage him to trust you and what you assure him. You promise him so many times that no matter what you see, nothing will make you turn away from him— you do this by kissing his hand, pampering his neck, adoring his body that eventually, Neuvillette decides it's time.

As expected, his dragon form is as majestic as you had imagined. The imposing Neuvillette appears before your eyes, a being of breathtaking beauty and mystical presence. His winged figure combines the grace of an eagle with the strength of a dragon. His plumage is a symphony of colors that oscillates between deep blue tones and brilliant azure hues, creating a visual effect that evokes the power and serenity of the ocean.

You witness the magnificence of his transformation, a sight that takes your breath away and fills you with awe. As you approach, his eyes, deep and full of centuries of wisdom, look at you with a mixture of vulnerability and trust. You are honored and amazed by the faith he has placed in you, knowing that now, more than ever, you must keep your promise to stand by his side, accepting and loving every part of him, human and non-human.

His wings, broad and ethereal, appear to be sculpted from liquid light, adorned with undulating patterns reminiscent of gentle ocean currents. Each feather is outlined with silvery sparkles, giving the impression that a piece of the starry sky has been caught in its wingspan.

Neuvillette's head is noble and distinguished, with piercing eyes that sparkle with ancient wisdom. His silver mane flows back like a cascade of liquid silver. His words echo throughout the room, and he lovingly rests his forehead on yours, speaking to you through your thoughts. All the energy that fills the room bristles your skin, electric sparks that make your fingers move with a life of their own towards his face. Neuvillette drops into your hands, gazing intently at you with narrowed eyes.

Watching him, you can't help but feel that you are in the presence of an entity that transcends the mundane, a living connection between heaven and earth, the ethereal and the tangible.

"You are so beautiful, Neuvillette," you confess quietly to him. He lets out a sort of purr that fills the cave where you are, his tail visibly vibrating a tender blue, tossing back and forth like the waves of the sea.

The passing years have made him more comfortable at your side in his majestic form. You snuggle next to his body as he curls up next to you, his purrs like whispers on the wind lulling you into a placid slumber. But it is not until mating season that he realizes that opening up more with you has been both a blessing and a danger.

In that period, his desire becomes uncontrollable and his dragon nature intensifies. Neuvillette struggles to maintain control, but your gentle words and the trust you have placed in him give him the security he needs to fully embrace his true nature.

The mating gifts he has brought to you —pearls that glow even in the dark, coral crystals, jewelry created from sapphire— were now accompanied by something else. Something he considers terrible and carnal. Grunting, touching more than usual in public, slightly more possessive grips. It's second nature for you to join together in bed, to merge your bodies as one, to sink into you and make love to you all night long until you're both exhausted. But this season, there's something about Neuvillette that has him all the time with his pants tight, his hands sweating under his leather gloves and his boot clacking against the floor, he needed to be back home soon.

. . . He breathes heavily as he holds you against him. Your forehead rests on his as he recites one of the ancient poems stored on scrolls. His mouth is open, salivating, his majestic body jerking with every touch of your delicate fingers on the scales of his face.

"What's wrong?" your tone is almost pained, as if you are hurt. With a frown. Neuvillette hates himself for making you worry.

His whole body shudders as soon as your fingers tangle in the mane that hides his sharp eyes.

"My body doesn't seem to listen to me. I'm sorry, I'm burning up."

Your countenance softens, a tender smile tugs at your lips and Neuvillette jerks away from you, but you are quick to act and reach out your hands, stopping him in his attempt to escape.

"It's okay," as always, you encourage him. "I love you. In this and all your forms, Neuvillette. You have nothing to hide from me."

You prompt him, urge him to follow and explore his desires. It hurts his chest to see you so beautiful for him, to see you covered by a thin transparent cloth that barely covers your nakedness; your erect nipples are visible in the moonlight streaming through the cave and he pauses to think how firm they would feel under his tongue, your thin cotton panties soaked by a sticky layer of your arousal that provokes him just and only to push them with his claw and watch you squirm beneath him. Neuvillette suffers from not being able to control himself. But seeing you ready for him makes his animalistic senses fill with adrenaline.

Soon, he leaves the comfort of your warmth to push his face against your small body. You are so fragile, and he watches you carefully. His nose sniffs you, his scales tickle you, and you laugh. But Neuvillette is so focused on what he wants that he pays no attention to anything but that smell.

He descends under your body, determined. His face pushes the fabric up while he stands on all four paws so as not to crush you. His teeth tear at the fabric and you groan in surprise, for you have never seen him so desperate. Quickly, his long tongue darts out, cuts through the moonbeam and sinks between your thighs, exploring your slick folds with ferocity.

The dragon growls hungrily, devouring everything he can reach with his insatiable tongue. The split tip of his tongue does a dance on your clit, and you raise your hips in search of that pleasure, clinging to the silken sheets as waves of pleasure lash you. Neuvillette grunts, salivates and devours you as if for the first time. You melt with each lick until the impending end of your orgasm hits you.

Even after, he continues to lick you slowly, still greedy, still hungry.

Adoringly, his nose is wet from every trace of skin he gets, worshipping you like a deity.

After this, shame consumes him, so embarrassed to let this barbaric behavior that he has shown to no one else come to light, those instincts that make him lose his composure. Yet, with you by his side, promising him that everything is fine, that you are fine, Neuvillette allows it to happen a second time and then a third. How often? I think it happens spontaneously, but especially when he is in heat, he can't help but take you in his original form, in fact even if he won't admit it, in this state it is his favorite way to make love to you. Although he may lose control of his thrusts, he always tries to be gentle with you, always leaving a mark or two after the session.

These always start with him first in his human form, stretching you with his fingers, making you cum several times with them, then with his split tongue. Finally, when you're ready, one of his two cocks slides into you smoothly, so deep you don't remember how to breathe. Deep inside, he longs for the day when you can take both at the same time.

[silkysoftie]

𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬

shouto todoroki x female reader

summary: when his sweet girlfriend is nervous to meet his family, shouto decides to help take the edge off.

↳ warnings: 18+, nsfw, college au, quirkless au, established relationship, pet names, praise, tears, fingering, exhibitionism (aged up characters)

beta reader: @themellowminx

a/n: sorry this took so long! i meant for this to come out sooner, but i fell into a writing slump :( sho is a bit difficult to write so i hope i was able to do his character justice! enjoy <3

Little white puffs of snow floated slowly through the still evening air as Shouto quietly led you down the sidewalk to his family home, his palm warm in yours.

Winter had come at last, the days shortening, and the temperatures dropping. You’d met Shouto Todoroki in the spring. The fields of flowers he’d once stopped to pick from for you now hidden away under a thick blanket of snow. After the first snowfall of the year, Shouto had quickly decided winter was your best season, captivated by how you seemed to glow amongst the vast whiteness. Though he’d never mention it, he quite liked the dusting of red that covered your cheeks and nose in the icy air. He couldn’t help the little grin that tugged his lips at the sight of you, bundled up in a pink, fluffy scarf, hair windswept and frosty. You just looked so cozy.

Seeing as the two of you had been dating for some time now, Shouto thought it appropriate for you to finally meet his family. Rei, his mother, was delighted by the idea and invited you to dinner without hesitation, anxious to meet the girl Shouto always mentioned in his letters. Thus, the very next Friday you were at the Todoroki’s doorstep, shaking like a leaf.

What if they didn’t like you? After all, you’d always felt Shouto was way out of your league. For goodness’ sake, the man was built like a Greek god, all sharp angels and smooth muscles. When you’d passed by him on the way out of the lecture hall, his distinctive dual-toned locks catching your eye, you’d had to do a double take, astonished to share a class with someone so unfairly handsome. And to think, he’d noticed you of all people. You’d never been particularly insecure, but next to the campus heartthrob, you just couldn’t compare.

“Hello! Welcome in,” Rei opened the front door, her words soft and gentle, but filled with excitement. Your trembling seemed to worsen at the mere sight of her.

Shouto lightly squeezed your hand in reassurance before ushering you in. After greeting her son, Rei turned to you.

“I’m so pleased to meet you, Y/N. Shouto has told me so much about you,” Rei smiled at you warmly, a slight lift at the corner of her lips. Suddenly, you were struck by how closely Shouto resembled her. They had the same, soft shape to their face, straight nose, and long, sweeping eyelashes. Not to mention the way in which they observed the world around them, quietly, but perceptively. She was almost as unreasonably beautiful as her son. Maybe God did have favorites after all…

“Hel-” your voice wobbled embarrassingly thanks to your nerves. Shouto’s shoulders raised almost imperceptibly, his lips pressing into a thin line in attempt to smother a laugh. Yep, ok, time to go home and dwell on this for the rest of your life.

Clearing your throat, you tried again, “Hello, it’s very nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting me over.”

Rei’s smile widened, just enough that a flash of brilliant, white teeth peaked through. Beside you, Shouto swelled with pride, a little smile of his own making its way onto his face at his mother’s reaction to you.

“I also, um, brought you this,” Rei watched with interest as you fished around in your purse in search of something. After a moment you pulled out a small, ornate box, decorated with a delicate bow.

Shouto’s mother took it from you carefully, her movements graceful and slow. After opening the little box, a quiet gasp left her.

“It’s mochi from my hometown…” you wrung your hands together nervously, hopeful she’d like the gift since you’d picked it without knowing much about her tastes, “I know it’s not quite the holidays, but I thought you might like to taste it.”

“My goodness, this is very kind of you,” Rei murmured, her grey eyes examining the little desserts and their descriptions intently.

After a moment, she turned her thoughtful gaze back to you, “Thank you very much, Y/N.”

Shouto had a hard time schooling his features into their usual, serious expression when his mother was so obviously pleased. Rei was a rather reserved woman, a trait she’d passed on to him. And like him, she kept a tight hold on her emotions, her countenance always very carefully calculated. To anyone else, Rei might seem as cold as ice, but her son knew better.

She liked you, Shouto could tell.

Just as you were about to respond, a young woman burst into the hall, running over to where the three of you still stood in the genkan.

“I’m so sorry! I was brewing tea and didn’t hear you come in!” the words tumbled out of the woman in a rush, her glasses slipping down her nose in her haste.

“Y/N,” Shouto said in that temptingly deep voice of his, “this is my sister, Fuyumi.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Shouto mentions you and your cooking often,” you bowed slightly, a shy smile tugging at your lips. It was nice to finally put a face to the name. You wondered briefly if all the Todoroki children looked so incredibly alike. Shouto and Fuyumi shared, not only, their mother’s elegant bone structure, but also their coloring. Fuyumi’s white hair was dotted with the same shock of red that split Shouto’s evenly down the middle. Only their eyes set them apart, Shouto boasting both Rei’s deep, stormy grey and Enji’s electric blue.

Fuyumi beamed at your indirect compliment while Shouto’s eyebrows furrowed somewhat. You guessed he might be embarrassed that you would mention his comments about his sister’s cooking, seeing as he was a rather poor one himself.

“Please come in,” Rei urged you, “We set up the kotatsu today in anticipation of your arrival.”

Shouto helped you shrug out of your winter coat, his long fingers brushing lightly against your neck as he unfurled your scarf, sending a lick of fire down your spine. After dawning your house slippers, the two of you made your way through his family home, stopping every now and then to marvel at the beautiful, traditional, Japanese architecture.

Before long, the four of you were seated comfortably under a brightly colored kotatsu, sipping hot, green tea and chatting. As the tea slowly warmed you from the inside out, the heater worked to thaw your frozen limbs. More than once you had to stop yourself from letting out a sigh of relief, thankful to be out of the cold.

Unable to part from you for long, Shouto pressed himself firmly against your side, his hands fidgeting with his teacup as though he didn’t quite know what to do with them. The feeling of his thick, muscled thigh rubbing up against yours under the quilt did nothing to help calm your nerves. You made a point to focus on the conversation at hand, rather than the heat from his body seeping into yours.

“Natsuo will be joining us later, he has to work late this evening,” Fuyumi mentioned as she fiddled with the teapot, pouring another round for everyone, “and Touya is out doing who knows what.”

“Probably burning down an elementary school,” Shouto mumbled, more to himself than anyone. You hastily brought your teacup to your lips in attempt to hide your snicker. You’d heard all about Shouto’s oldest brother and his rebellious ways, leading you to believe that his comment was more plausible than not.

After regaining your composure you curiously asked, “And what about your dad?”

A somber silence settled over the table at the mention of Enji Todoroki. Your cheeks burned hot with embarrassment. Clearly you’d touched on a sore subject. Whatever good first impression you’d managed to make was likely now squashed. Good going.

“Our father is a politician,” Fuyumi explained quietly, “He’s almost never home… always at one meeting or another.”

Sensing your distress, Shouto huffed loudly, drawing attention to himself.

“That’s fine, more soba for me.”

Was that.. a joke?

A surprised giggle escaped Fuyumi as Rei’s eyebrows shot up, the two effectively distracted from your earlier blunder. You glanced up at the man next to you, all the love and affection you’d ever felt for him bubbling up in your chest. His heterochromatic eyes found yours, the smallest of smiles on his face. God, he was just so good… so good to you.

Mood officially lightened, the conversation carried on as if nothing had happened.

“So, Shouto, how are you doing in school?” Rei questioned.

“I am doing well. Y/N and I study together for our shared classes. I find her presence very helpful,” Shouto responded easily.

Overwhelmed with adoration for your boyfriend, you were unable to focus, a goofy grin pulling at your lips as you stared at your teacup, replaying his kind gesture over and over in your mind.

“Y/N?”

It was only when Shouto’s elbow lightly nudged yours that you realized Rei had asked you a question. Your hands flew to your face, flushed in shame.

“S-sorry, what was that?”

It was as though all of your earlier nerves rushed right back into your body, fingers trembling against the smooth, ceramic cup.

“I only asked if you were enjoying school,” Rei smiled encouragingly, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Oh! Yes, very much. My classes are all very interesting, but I have to admit, I enjoy the ones with your son the most.”

A little smirk tugged at the corner of Shouto’s mouth, clearly pleased with your answer.

“I’m very glad to hear it,” Rei laughed a bit, “As much as I’d love to keep chatting, Fuyumi and I have to get dinner started.”

You floundered as she got up to leave, not wanting to seem impolite, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Thanks for offering, but you’re our guest. We’ll take care of it. Like Shouto has told you, I’m an amazing cook!” Fuyumi puffed her chest out in pride, a brilliant smile on her face. Shouto merely grimaced, deflating a little in his seat.

The two left for the kitchen, leaving you and your boyfriend to your own devices.

“Ugh…”

You folded over, forehead smacking against the top of the kotatsu table. Shouto chuckled quietly, one of his large palms coming up to rub at your back.

“They probably hate me,” you whined, words muffled by the wood.

You heard a sigh escape your boyfriend followed by his smooth voice, “They do not hate you. In fact… I think they quite like you.”

The speed at which you were back up and staring at him was almost comical, Shouto’s mouth quirking up at the red mark on your forehead.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you considered his words. Could they really like you? You’d fumbled and stuttered your way through the entire conversation, for crying out loud! Not to mention the slip up regarding his father; you shuddered at the mere memory.

You knew that Shouto, of all people, would never lie to you and if the genuine look on his face was anything to go by, he didn’t plan on breaking that streak of honesty anytime soon, but…

“Ah.. I don’t know! I’m not very good with meeting new people. What if I mess everything up?!” your hands found your cheeks once more, scrubbing anxiously at the flushed skin.

Shouto caught your hands in his, squeezing tightly in an attempt to calm you, “You are not going to mess anything up.”

But his actions had the opposite effect, his warm touch sending shivers up your arms and worry bubbling up inside your chest. Here he was, always so incredibly good and kind, and you were just… well, you were just you! Plain, old you!

“Oh, I am! I’m going to mess everything up and they’ll hate me forever! And then you’ll dump me and we’ll never get married and we’ll never have babies, and-“

Shouto’s lips were suddenly on yours, hot and demanding. Coincidentally, all thoughts seemed to fly right out of your brain, leaving only buzzing excitement in their wake. Your surprise allowed him to slip his tongue inside without much effort, his mouth working expertly over yours.

To put it simply, Shouto kissed you silly.

When the two of you came up for air, panting slightly, he reassured you, “Love, they like you. I know they like you. I am not going anywhere and we can have all the babies you want. You’re overthinking.”

You stared at his lips, a little dazed from the unexpected kiss. Blinking a bit to clear your head, it took a moment for his words to register, but when they did, you frowned, “I know, I just… Ugh! I can’t help it!”

His warm hand slid under your chin, tilting your face to meet his unwavering gaze.

“Then let me help.”

It was a simple—well, it was more of a command than a question—but it had your mind short circuiting all the same.

“Please?” Shouto tilted his head in question, his innocent expression a stark contrast to the implications of his words, “Will you let me help you, my love?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, unable to resist him when his eyes were burning holes into yours with such an intensity it turned your bones to jelly.

His lips stretched into a lopsided grin before he dove back in, hungrily capturing your mouth with his once more. While you were distracted, one of his hands snaked its way under the kotatsu quilt, finding the soft, little space of flesh above your tall, knitted socks and giving it a light squeeze. A squeak of surprise escaped you, but Shouto swallowed it down, fingers tracing a familiar path up your leg. A path you recognized all too well.

It took all your strength—both mentally and physically—to pull away from his addictive taste, “Sho... what are you doing?”

He eyed you curiously, looking as though the answer were the most obvious thing in the world, “Helping.”

You gaped at him, a furious blush staining your cheeks. He couldn’t be serious. For goodness’ sake, Rei and Fuyumi were just in the next room over!

“W-what? I thought we were just gonna kiss! What about your f-family?!” you managed to stutter out, incredulous.

Shouto shrugged, eyes flickering to the hallway and back, “Can you be quiet?”

You nearly choked. Here and now, Shouto Todoroki was going to kill you. They’d find your lifeless body in his family home and wonder what could have happened. Your ghost would float above them, cries for justice falling on deaf ears. And your boyfriend would stand there, knowing he was the cause behind the mysterious heart failure.

“What?!” you cried, but Shouto was unfazed, carrying on as if you hadn’t spoken.

“I think you can,” he murmured thoughtfully, fingers drumming against the inside of your thigh.

This behavior was so incredibly unlike him, that you were at a loss for words, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, “B-but, but-”

“Shh,” he hushed you, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin, “stop worrying and let me take care of you.”

All complaints died on your tongue when he leaned in close, his warm breath prickling your skin as his broad shoulders once again filled your vision. Your heart lurched when his fingers trailed up your thigh, teasing their way up under your skirt. A squeal caught in your throat, your panties sticking uncomfortably to your core. Was he really going to do this right now?! But when his mouth moved forward to capture your own, locking you in another passionate kiss, your thoughts quieted, a happy, little hum escaping you thanks to his skillful tongue.

It seemed this was the response Shouto had been waiting for, because the second you accepted his lips, his deft fingers found your panties, tracing lightly along the hem. He paused a moment, perhaps surprised your lack of safety shorts, but recovered quickly, a single finger hooking under the band. You tried to pull away from him, to remind him of his family in the next room, but he was undeterred, kissing away your protests.

Ever so slowly, his fingers inched under the fabric, resting against your heated skin. You chased after his lips when he pulled away from you, his chest heaving and eyes half-lidded behind his bangs. He was so utterly beautiful that it nearly took your breath away, arousal licking at your core. The air between you had grown warm, whether from the heat of the kotatsu or the moment, you didn’t know.

Shouto looked to you for permission one last time, a single, white eyebrow raised and an unspoken question dancing in his irises. All you could do was nod, so thoroughly bewitched by his beauty.

In an instant, his hand was on you, right where you needed it most. Gone were the fleeting touches and gentle caresses, having been replaced by desire and desperation.

Your boyfriend waisted no time in sliding his fingers up your folds, his eyes gleaming with interest when they came away covered in slick. Shouto’s tongue darted out to lick at his lips, his breath coming a bit quicker thanks to the discovery. He was getting worked up embarrassingly fast, pants already feeling a little tighter.

After a bit of light petting, he finally slid one, long finger inside your sopping entrance, his pace torturously slow and hitting all the right spots. You held back a whine, lip caught between your teeth and your gaze flicking between him and the hallway. A low rumble came from deep in Shouto’s chest, displeased by your divided attention.

In attempt to win you over, he leaned forward, lips grazing along your neck, finger still pumping in and out of you steadily. That seemed to do the trick, your posture finally relaxing and your eyes falling shut. Shouto inwardly celebrated, glad to have finally calmed you.

As he nipped and kissed his way down the column of your throat, his hand picked up the pace, finger thrusting into you a bit faster. The muscles in your thighs tensed and twitched, making him smile against your skin before sitting up, anxious to watch your pleasured expression twist with each careful drag of his digit against your clenching walls.

Hiking your skirt up for better access, Shouto added a second finger without warning, the loud squelch of your wetness making heat rise to your cheeks. An involuntary moan ripped from your throat, prompting him to slap a hand over your mouth.

You both froze, waiting for Rei or Fuyumi to come storming in at any moment, but that moment never came.

“I know it feels good, but you have to stay quiet for me, alright?”

You nodded obediently, whimpers muffled by his large palm. As arousal dripped from your pussy, your knees fell open of their own accord, making space for his hand to slot against you, cupping your heat. Letting your head loll back, you gazed up at Shouto, glittery, little tears brimming in the corners of your glassy, unfocused eyes. It was a precious sight, one that was practically begging for his affection.

Leaning down to place a gentle kiss against the back of his own palm was the best he could offer, knowing your voice would betray you should he let you free. A pathetic whine tumbled from you, desperately wishing it was his lips on yours instead.

“You’re doing so well, love,” he reassured, “I know you want me to kiss you right now, but we can’t risk someone hearing those sweet noises of yours. Just hold on for a little longer, ok? Do you think you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

Surely this man would be the death of you.

Your nails clawed at the arm that held you, eyes rolling back when his fingers found that special spot deep inside of you. It felt as though you were on fire, skin burning underneath his touch. All reservations and embarrassment faded away, blinding you to anything other than the rhythmic tempo of his ministrations. Chasing the high that continued to elude you, your hips rolled, grinding down into his palm.

Sensing your impending orgasm, Shouto’s hand lightly pushed against you, urging you down to the floor carefully. Crawling over you, he resumed his brutal pace, finger fucking you as though there were no tomorrow.

You were so damn close. Just when you thought you couldn’t handle anymore, his thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive bud delicately. He just looked so devilishly handsome hovering above you, sharp eyes watching you closely, fascinated by the way your body squirmed.

“Think you can cum for me? I know you need to,” Shouto cooed, thumb and fingers working in tandem to bring you to the very edge.

Your legs quivered, hips jerking up uncontrollably with each press against your clit. Frustrated tears finally slid down your hot cheeks, unable to keep them at bay any longer.

“Pretty girl,” he whispered, a blush of his own settling at the top of his cheekbones, in awe of how angelic you looked underneath him.

His words were your undoing.

Shouto quickly replaced his hand with his mouth in hopes of suppressing your cries. A strangled sound left you, climax tearing through your body with unexpected force. But your loving boyfriend kissed you through it, thumbing away the tears that trickled down your face.

Just when you were beginning to catch your breath, mind still reeling from such an overwhelming orgasm, a knock at the door cut through the silence.

Startled, you sat up abruptly, accidentally knocking your forehead against Shouto’s, “Ack!”

Shouto hissed through his teeth, gingerly rubbing at the welt that was beginning to form when a loud voice rang out from the genkan, “Hey, it’s me, Natsuo! You guys left the door unlocked!”

You and Shouto shared a panicked glance before scrambling to tidy yourselves. Quick as lightning, you adjusted your skirt and rolled your knitted socks back up your thighs.

Rei’s gentle voice answered from the kitchen, “Hi, honey! Dinner is almost ready, Fuyumi and I will be right out!”

While the two of you adopted your former positions under the kotatsu, Shouto reached out and ran a hand through your mussed hair, carefully brushing through the tangles.

“Thanks…” you huffed out, winded from more than just the rush to look presentable.

But before your boyfriend could respond, Natsuo was striding into the living room, briefcase in hand and hair tousled from the winter weather. He plopped down onto the floor across from you, groaning appreciatively as he stretched his stiff legs out under the quilt, basking in the warmth of the heater.

Once he’d settled in, he bowed his head at you politely, “I’m so sorry I’m late. You must be Y/N. I’m Shouto’s older brother, Natsuo.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you choked out, cheeks ablaze as the reality of your risky behavior set in.

Next to you, Shouto sat straight as an arrow, shoulders squared and spine ridgid. He wore a pained expression, though if Natsuo noticed, he didn’t care to mention it.

Suddenly, Rei made her way back into the living room, Fuyumi following closely behind, their arms burdened by many plates and trays of gorgeously prepared food. They’d gone all out, making sure to include all the traditional favorites, the love and care they put into the meal evident. Once everything was laid out on the kotasu table, the two sat down, admiring their handy work.

Conversation flowed easily, Rei asking Natsuo about his day at work and how the office profits were doing. Fuyumi got to work dishing out appetizers, occasionally piping in here and there.

After awhile, Rei’s observant gaze turned on you. You couldn’t help but flinch under her watchful eye, a nervous smile dancing on your lips.

“Y/N, dear, you look flushed. Are you feverish?” Rei’s eyebrows furrowed with concern, the look of an anxious mother staining her elegant features.

You glanced at Shouto, who appeared to be rather uncomfortable with his erection straining against his pants, thankfully hidden by the thick quilt. He merely stared back, a promising look in his eye.

“Maybe I caught a cold on the walk over?”

“Don’t worry, I will take care of you,” were, of course, the next words out of Shouto’s mouth.

tags:

[ilovecatfr]

things to script for you dr

beauty edition

(None of these are my work) these are some of the acc on tt I got them from and I recommend: @ theunknownshifter / @cattleya_ley / @reality_traveler_ / @irenesrealiity /@shiftingwithmily /@kiintsugiis

To others,there something about me unreal and and divinely beautiful,something that's from another world.

I'm bewitchingly and overwhelming beautifu.l

Im insanely seductive and charming to any gender.

My eyes have a jewel like effects that when light hits them, they light up with many different colours, like a gem would.

My beauty is like unspoken beautiful things in life and such brung to bring life in colours.I make everything seems much more colourful around me.

Just by my presence everything seems better and more colourful and brighter.

My movements are effortless, as il I glide through the world with an ethereal lightness. My posture is naturally poised, landing an air of regality to mine presence. The softness of mine skin invites gentle caresses, and mine touch is as gentle as a feather's kiss.

I hold an insane amount of pure femininity-a natural and exquisite state of perfect beauty.I am the best example of one of earths finest creations, the universe took its time perfecting every inch of me, down to the smallest flawless details. a sublime figure, graced with a certain magnificent aura to match.

My aura is a manifestation of my inner beauty, an ethereal glow that surround the l exudes a sense of purity, goodness, and an irresistible magnetism that draws people towards me. My presence is calming, as if I carry a piece of heaven within them. It is a palpable energy that radiates from my being, capturing the hearts and minds of all who encounter me.

Im what most people would see as a beauty fit for royalty, the kind of beauty that would capture the attention of a king or emprior, and send all men and women to their feet

it's not a burden to gift me expensive things it's only a reward for their hard efforts to provide for a beautiful princess

People constantly feel the need to re-visit where they last saw me for a dopamine spike.

My voice sounds like it was straight out of heaven itself, people beg for me to speak just to hear my voice.

My hair is always perfectly in place and sits perfectly, my hair has a beautiful shine to it as if the moon is being reflected on it.

My presence and gaze itself makes others begin to see the world through different lenses, and notice the beauty of being alive; my very being can drive others to tears, my beauty is unable to be comprehended by the human mind, im unreal.

My existence itself baffles anyone who sees me, as if im testament to the idea that life itself was a work of art. I'm a composition of countless perfect melodic notes, each one contributing to the symphony of existence.

My presence is overwhelming and exceedingly strong. it holds so much pure soul and life, all while being centered around someone so mystically beautiful as me is chilling and intimidating.

My beauty transcends the ordinary and is ethereal, evoking a sense of being from another world. It is unlike any other and has a mesmerizing quality that captivates those who lay eyes on me.

My distinctiveness sets me apart from the rest, making me an exceptional individual who cannot be replicated or duplicate.

it's not just my delicately carved facial features that are enchanting, but also my impeccable sense of style and graceful demeanor that radiate an undeniable charm.

My beauty cant be put in any category; it is unable to be defined by preexisting 'types', setting a new standard of unobtainable perfection. some cold and sharp features, some soft and whimsical, I am the perfect balance of beauty. an equal amount of each and every kind of look you could imagine; bringing it all together and forming something brilliant.

My eyes are magical almost brainwashing. People lose their focus on anything but my hypnotizing eyes when having eye contact with me.

I am the kind of beautiful people never recover from. There is something so devastating about the way I exist-like I was sculpted not just to be admired, but to be longed for. My presence doesn't just enter a room-it lingers, curling into the corners of people's minds and refusing to leave. I don't just catch eyes-I hold them hostage. They don't just want me-they ache for me. I am the addiction no one wants to quit.

[guiltyandashamed]

beach day with brothers + dateables!!!

headcannons: beach day (brothers + side characters)

Diavolo had the brilliant idea to host a full-day beach getaway at his private artificial beach. It features shimmering white sand, crystal-clear saltwater waves, and a state-of-the-art sun that mimics the perfect warmth of a human-world summer day. Everyone was invited. Swimsuits, drinks, games, and even a fire pit for roasting food by moonlight (the artificial sun does set eventually). It’s rare to have everyone relaxed in one place, so the day is something special.

Lucifer

At first, he's very much the dad of the trip. Clipboard. Schedule. Trying to make sure everyone packed sunscreen, water bottles, and spare towels.

Arrives in black swim trunks and a crisp, partially unbuttoned linen shirt he refuses to take off for the first hour.

Stays under the large shaded canopy with a drink in hand, sunglasses on, pretending to read but mostly watching over everyone.

You convince him to go for a swim. Eventually. He gives in only because it’s you, and ends up surprisingly graceful in the water.

If you splash him, expect revenge but in the most calculated way. He’s not above dunking you playfully. If Mammon tries splashing him he's holding his head underwater for a concerning amount of time while Mammon thrashes about.

Ends up walking along the shore with you when the sun starts to set, a rare soft expression on his face as he listens to you ramble.

Sighs dramatically when he sees the shenanigans his brothers are involved in.

Mammon

The first one to run into the water, yelling “BEACH DAAAAAAY!” at full volume.

Hawaiian shirt open, board shorts, and designer sunglasses.

Tries to impress you with backflips off the dock. Fails. Pretends it didn’t hurt.

Is constantly trying to initiate beach games—volleyball, frisbee, tug of war, sandcastle competitions. Loses half the time. Doesn’t care.

Suggests burying someone in the sand. Ends up being the one buried after losing a bet. You sit and talk to him for a while, picking sand out of his hair.

Pulls you into the ocean, especially if you’re standing too close to the edge. “C’mon, don’t be boring! The water’s perfect!”

Gets extremely jealous if he sees anyone else putting sunscreen on you. Immediately demands to do it himself. Badly.

Buys matching seashell bracelets from one of the vendors. Won’t admit it’s cute, but he's always making sure you're wearing it.

Leviathan

Wears a rash guard and swim trunks with anime character print. Brings floaties. Even though he can swim.

Spends the first hour hiding under an umbrella with his phone and a cooling towel. Eventually, you coax him into the water.

Loves snorkeling once he gets going. Spends half the day with a snorkel mask and fins, pointing out coral and fish with excited gestures.

Brings waterproof game consoles and challenges others to Mario Kart in the shade.

Gets shy around you in a swimsuit, especially if it shows a lot of skin. He tries not to stare. Fails. Blushes violently.

If you play in the tide with him, he relaxes into it, laughing when you chase each other around the shallows.

Builds a sand sculpture of Henry 2.0 and acts like it’s no big deal, but beams when you praise it.

Satan

Shows up with a good book, sunglasses, and a sunhat that somehow looks annoyingly classy on him.

Picks a spot slightly away from the crowd, claiming it’s for “peace and quiet,” but you notice he keeps looking your way.

Wades into the water calmly, then ends up challenging Lucifer to a swimming contest just to stir the pot.

Spends part of the day collecting interesting shells and smooth stones. Gives you the best ones without saying much.

If you sit beside him to read, he will occasionally murmur commentary to you, low and intimate.

Secretly loves the idea of you in beachwear but keeps his reactions well hidden, until someone else comments, and then he's suddenly standing very close to you.

Helps the Little D's build sandcastles and explains the physics of how sand holds shape. Somehow, they love it.

Gets very competitive when involved in the beach games. Especially if Lucifer is involved.

When you lie down beside him near the end of the day, he traces a small circle on your back with a lazy finger and says, “This wasn’t a bad idea after all.”

Asmodeus

Fashionably late but impeccably dressed. Swimsuit? More like a full beach look: designer shades, sheer sarong, glitter sunscreen.

Gasps when he sees you. “Darling, you look stunning—but next time, let me style you too!”

Spends most of the day posing for selfies, dragging you into half of them, applying lip gloss like he’s on set.

Teaches you the “perfect beach photo angles,” then takes a scandalously good photo of you and makes it his lock screen.

Flirts nonstop, both playfully and sincerely. If you look even slightly sun-touched or flushed, he fawns over you.

Starts a tanning circle with fancy drinks and gossip. Pulls Simeon in for juicy stories, much to the angel’s dismay.

Tries every water activity but hates getting his hair wet. “Beauty before fun, babes.”

At sunset, he grabs your hand and leads you to the water’s edge for a photo. He says the skies beauty is nothing when in comparison of you. You hold hands while walking along the shore.

Beelzebub

Shows up early to help carry the food, grills, umbrellas, everything. Walks shirtless without even noticing the effect.

Wears blue swim trunks with little hamburgers printed and a big smile. Greets everyone like it’s a family reunion.

Immediately scouts the food tables. Devours an entire platter of sandwiches before lunch. Apologizes sincerely.

Loves beach sports. Volleyball, swimming races, tug-of-war—he’s game for all of it. You team up with him, and you always win.

Brings you drinks without you asking. Wipes the sweat from your temple with a towel like it’s nothing.

Offers you his giant towel to sit on if yours gets sandy. Doesn’t mind sharing it, actually, he prefers it.

If you seem tired, he lifts you up bridal-style and takes you to a shady spot without hesitation.

At the end of the day, he shares a bite of grilled pineapple with you, his voice low and content: “Days like this are the best, huh?”

Belphegor

Complains the whole way there, dramatically yawning and dragging his feet. “Sun? Sand? Effort? No thanks.”

Ends up stretched out under an umbrella within ten minutes, asleep with a straw hat over his face.

Wakes up when he hears your laughter. Watches you from his shaded spot for a while before pretending he wasn’t looking.

Eventually joins you in the water, floats on his back, eyes closed, just listening to your voice. “This is... kind of nice.”

Builds lazy little sand mounds around you while you sit. Calls it a “defensive perimeter.”

Gets annoyed when others flirt with you. Won’t say anything, but suddenly appears at your side, shoulder to shoulder.

Asks you to take a nap with him in a hammock strung between two palm trees. When you say yes, he hums softly as you both sway.

Murmurs, half-asleep, “You make this whole place better. Just so you know.”

Diavolo

Absolutely thrilled by the beach idea. He personally arranged the sun, weather, and waves. “It’ll be fun!” he says, grinning like a golden retriever.

Wears brightly colored swim trunks and insists on matching floaties. Looks ridiculous but makes it charming.

Tries every single beach activity, from surfing to grilling. He's not particularly good at any of them, but his joy is contagious.

Drags you into water games with him, laughing when he falls over and splashes you.

Organizes a sandcastle-building competition, with prizes, and names you a judge.

Hands you a drink halfway through the day and earnestly says, “Thank you for spending this time with me. It means a lot.”

At sunset, he quietly watches the sky shift colors. You sit beside him, and he nudges your knee with his. “We should do this again. Just the two of us.”

Barbatos

Shows up perfectly prepared: picnic basket, umbrellas, refreshments, towels—all color-coordinated and neatly packed.

Wears modest swimwear and sandals. Somehow still looks graceful.

Spends most of his time setting things up and making sure everyone else is comfortable. Doesn’t ask for anything in return.

Brought the Little D's to help set up and to serve food, but let's them play around in the meantime as long as they don't cause trouble.

You catch him once, standing alone in the shallows, pants rolled up, letting the water rush around his ankles. He looks... peaceful.

He lets you coax him into sitting for a moment. You feed him fruit, and he smiles, truly smiles. “You bring out my softer side, it seems.”

Makes you the perfect drink to cool down, garnished and all. Later slips a shell into your bag with a quiet note written on parchment.

Tucks your hair behind your ear if the wind blows it around. Doesn’t say a word about it.

Solomon

Wears a half-buttoned linen shirt and swim shorts that are probably enchanted. Looks like he walked out of a resort magazine.

Is weirdly good at beach volleyball. Smirks every time he scores. “Want to play doubles? I always win with you.”

Teaches you how to draw magical sigils in the sand that animate briefly before washing away.

Starts a bonfire using a snap of his fingers, then sits beside you, playing with the firelight and your shadows.

Laughs at Diavolo’s antics but sneaks you away from the crowd just to walk along the water’s edge. “I like when it’s just us.”

Gets a little possessive if someone flirts too much with you, he’ll suddenly show up at your side with a casual arm slung around you.

Asks you to dance with him in the sand after most have gone home. No music, just the sound of waves.

Simeon

Wears tasteful white swimwear and brings an oversized sunhat that somehow makes him look angelic and rich.

Offers to help Barbatos serve drinks and snacks. He’s the charming host type, complimenting everyone with that soft voice.

Watches you with a fondness that’s easy to miss unless you’re looking for it.

When you join him under the umbrella to rest, he hands you a cold drink and says, “You look radiant in this light.”

Is incredibly flustered if you tease him about his beach body. Turns red but covers it with a laugh.

Later, walks with you at the edge of the water, letting the foam rush over your feet. “Moments like this feel... timeless.”

Offers to rub sunscreen on your back in the most respectful and innocent way, but that little smile he gives when he touches you says otherwise.

Mephistopheles

Shows up overdressed, insists the beach is “beneath his status,” then proceeds to enjoy it more than anyone else. He'll talk someone's ear off about Diavolo's ingenuity in setting the whole thing up.

Wears old-fashioned striped swim trunks and carries an umbrella he refuses to share unless you ask nicely.

Complains about the sand but helps you build a sand sculpture of the RAD tower anyway.

If you’re in a swimsuit he likes, he gets tongue-tied for a split second before scoffing and looking away.

Brings sunscreen from the human world and brags about it. Offers it to you like he’s doing you a favor.

Gets into a ridiculous water fight with Mammon and drags you into it as a “shield.”

Pretends he doesn’t care if you sit next to him on his towel, but adjusts his posture to be closer to you as the day goes on.

Thirteen

Immediately sprints toward the water, dives in headfirst, and does a backflip just to show off.

Wears a two-piece swimsuit with skeletons and pastel flames on it. Carries a surfboard even though she can’t surf.

Dares you into games and races. “Loser owes the winner a favor. You scared?”

If you wear something cute, she whistles. “Looking good, human.”

Buries Mammon in the sand while he naps. Writes “Dunce” on his forehead in seaweed.

If she catches you getting tired, she drags you onto a floatie and pulls you around the water like a lazy river.

Hogs all your snacks but shares her favorite juice with you. “You’re the only one I’d share this with. Feel special.”

Raphael

Shows up with zero fanfare, dressed simply, and settles in the shade with a book.

Declines most invitations to play or swim. until you ask, and then he quietly obliges.

Very protective. If the waves seem too strong or someone splashes you, he steps between without comment.

Doesn’t flirt, but the way he towels off your hair or hands you water feels deeply personal.

When you sit beside him, he lets his guard down just a little. “You seem happiest here,” he says softly. “That’s worth more than any mission.”

Wades into the shallows with you and silently watches the sky, arms crossed. He’s not the type to say it, but he enjoys your company immensely.

During beach activities, he rarely puts in effort but he does surprisingly well. Almost wins the sandcastle competition.

At the end of the day, gives you his towel without being asked and waits to walk back with you.

[natsaffection]

OKAY SO LIKE I WAS JUS ON TIKTOK N LIKE THOSE SONG ACCS POPPED UP N IT WAS PLAYING “why’d you only call me when you’re high” i havent heard this song in a WHILE

n it jus like sparked my next greatest idea😇 SO imagine football player! nat n cheerleader!reader, they’re both insanely popular. But they’re in separate friend groups. And readers bestfriends also happens to be the one and only playboy, Tony Stark, with player Bucky Barnes in second place. And Reader had her eye on Natasha for quite a while and actually finds herself asking out Natasha one day.

BUT unbeknownst to her, Natasha had a plan in her mind. Natasha assumed Reader was like Tony and Bucky and that she was trying to get a hit on her so she decided to “play along.” then breaking reader’s heart first.

ANGSTYYYY, and a fluffy ending

-💋

Whatever it takes. | N.R

FootballPlayer!Natasha x Cheerleader!Reader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! G!P Natasha, fingering, blowjob, Y/n smacking everyone, Break Up, Angstt

Word Count: 6,4 k

A/N: OKAYYY...I got very inspired by the song that Girl - olly murs, Also..Again a very good and creative Idea, dear Anon! Thank you for that. 🙂‍↕️

The Field buzzed with electric energy as the crowd gathered for the highly anticipated Football game. Natasha Romanoff, the star player, was at the center of attention, her presence dominating the field with an aura of confidence and undeniable skill. Her hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, her eyes focused and determined. She was a force to be reckoned with, admired and respected by both her teammates and opponents.

Natasha's journey to becoming a football player had been anything but easy. Growing up in a rough neighborhood, she found solace in sports. Her natural talent and relentless drive caught the attention of her high school coach, who took her under his wing. Despite numerous obstacles, Natasha's hard work and dedication paid off, earning her a spot on the college team and a scholarship. Her teammates became her second family, and the field her sanctuary. Over time, she learned to be wary of those who wanted to get close to her for the wrong reasons and to guard her heart carefully.

On the sidelines, the cheerleading squad prepared for their routine, each member wearing their immaculate uniforms, complete with shimmering pom poms. Among them stood you, a popular cheerleader known for your vibrant spirit and radiant smile. You moved with grace and precision, each action a testament to the countless hours of practice and dedication you had put into your craft.

Your journey was different but equally challenging. You had always been passionate about dancing and cheerleading, but your parents initially disapproved, insisting you focus on school. Undeterred, you managed to excel at both, proving you could handle the demands of school and cheerleading. Your determination and positive attitude earned you the respect of your peers and a leadership position on the team.

The cheerleaders took their positions on the sidelines, ready to kick off the game with an energizing routine. You led the team with a brilliant smile, your movements perfectly synchronized with the beat of the music. The crowd responded with cheers, their excitement palpable. As the routine reached its climax, you executed a flawless backflip and landed gracefully, drawing applause from the audience.

As the game began, you found yourself glancing repeatedly at Natasha. You had always admired her athleticism and fighting spirit, but today was different. Something about the way Natasha moved, the sheer determination in her eyes, captivated your attention in a way you couldn't quite explain.

Throughout the first half of the game, your eyes followed Natasha's every move. She was in her element, effortlessly slipping past defenders. She intercepted passes, set up plays, and scored with a precision that left the crowd in awe. Each time Natasha scored or made a significant play, you felt a tingle in your chest, an inexplicable warmth spreading through you.

During a brief pause in the game, you took a moment to catch your breath. You looked over at your fellow cheerleaders, who were engrossed in their own conversations and preparations. Your best friend Kate noticed your distraction and nudged you playfully.

"Earth to Y/n! You seem a bit out of it today. Everything okay?" Kate asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. You laughed softly and shook your head. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just watching the game."

Kate raised an eyebrow and glanced at the field, where Natasha was discussing strategy with her teammates. "Or watching someone in particular on the field?"

Your cheeks flushed slightly. "Is it that obvious?" Kate giggled and gave you a knowing look. "Only to those who know you well. You've had your eyes on Natasha the entire game. Do you like her?"

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. You had never really thought about it. Sure, you admired Natasha, but could it be more? The realization hit you like a ton of bricks..you had a crush on Natasha Romanoff.

"I... I think I do.." you admitted quietly, your voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd. Kate grinned, her excitement evident. "Well, it's about time you realized it! I think you should talk to her after the game."

Your mind raced, your nerves tingling with excitement and fear. You nodded slowly, your gaze drifting back to Natasha. As the game resumed, you cheered louder, your movements more energetic than ever as you kept your eyes on Natasha.

When the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the game, the crowd erupted in cheers. Natasha's team had won, and she was quickly surrounded by teammates and fans congratulating her on her outstanding performance. You watched from the sidelines, your heart pounding as you contemplated your next move.

"Hey, Romanoff! Looks like you have an admirer!" teased one of her teammates, nudging her towards the sidelines where you stood. "Yeah, don't let the hot cheerleader get away," added another with a grin.

"Bet she'd love to give you a private cheer.." joked another teammate, prompting a round of laughter. Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. The teasing comments from her teammates gave her the push she needed, despite her attempts to maintain a cool facade.

"Careful, Romanoff, she might be too much for you in the bedroom.." joked yet another teammate, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Nah, I'd love to know what it's like under her pom poms." and another one, eliciting another round of laughter.

Natasha's cheeks reddened slightly, but she held your gaze. She couldn't deny the magnetic pull, despite her reservations. She had seen it before, people wanting to get close to her for the wrong reasons, to bask in her glow rather than genuinely care about her.

"Guys, seriously, tone it down." Natasha said firmly, her voice cutting through their laughter. As the team headed towards the locker room, they had to pass by the cheerleaders. You saw them coming, and your courage wavered. You felt a wave of shyness as the team approached, and despite your previous determination, you couldn't find the words you wanted to say.

Natasha kept her gaze forward, the laughter of her teammates fading into the background as she passed by the cheerleaders. She briefly met your gaze, but the moment passed quickly, and she continued on her way without saying a word.

You stood there silently, frustrated with yourself for not having the courage to speak up, for missing the chance to connect with Natasha. You watched as Natasha disappeared into the locker room with her team, a mix of admiration and frustration welling up inside you.

"Come on, you can't tell me you're not interested." teased a teammate as they entered the locker room. Natasha sighed and shook her head slightly. "Just drop it now, okay?"

The days flew by, filled with classes, homework, and extracurricular activities. You found yourself constantly reminded of Natasha, whether through classmates discussing the latest soccer game or seeing Natasha in the school hallways. The memory of your brief interaction after the game lingered in your mind, making your heart race every time you thought about it.

One afternoon, you sat with Kate at your usual table in the school cafeteria. The bustling chatter of students talking and eating surrounded you, but your attention was focused on Natasha's table at the other end of the room. Natasha was deep in conversation with some of her mates, her laughter standing out above the general hum of voices.

"She really does look good.." Kate remarked, noticing your distracted gaze. You sighed, resting your chin on your hand. "Yeah.. I just can't get her out of my head. It's like everywhere I go, something or someone reminds me of her." Kate smiled understandingly. "Maybe it's a sign. You should talk to her, Y/n. You never know what might happen."

Before you could respond, the cafeteria door swung open, and Tony strolled in with his usual confident swagger. Tony was known for his charm and playboy reputation, always confident and seemingly able to get any girl he wanted. He spotted the two of you and made his way directly to your table.

"Ladies, how's it going?" Tony greeted with a grin, taking a seat in an empty chair. "Hey, Tony.." Kate responded lightly. "Y/n here is just crushing on someone."

Tony raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of you. "Oh? Do tell." You rolled your eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed. "It's really nothing. There's just this girl I like, but I don't know how to approach her."

Tony's grin widened, and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Well, you're talking to the master at getting the girl. Who's the lucky lady?"

You hesitated, casting a nervous glance towards Natasha's table. "It's... Natasha."

Tony's eyes widened briefly in surprise before a mischievous smile spread across his face. "Natasha, huh? She's a tough nut to crack, but I think you've got a chance. You just need a little push." You frowned, uncertain. "I don't know, Tony.. She's so... out of my league."

"Nonsense." Tony said dismissively. "You're great, Y/n. You just need to show her that. Come on, I'll help you out." Kate looked intrigued. "What do you have in mind?"

Tony's grin turned sly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Simple. You're going to go over there and ask Natasha out." Your eyes widened in panic. "What? No way. I can't do that!"

"Yes, you can," Tony insisted, leaning forward. "Just be confident. What's the worst that could happen? She says no? No big deal. At least you'll know you tried."

You glanced at Kate, who nodded encouragingly. Taking a deep breath, you stood up, your legs feeling wobbly. Tony gave you a reassuring pat on the back. "Go get her, tiger," Tony said with a wink.

You made your way across the cafeteria to Natasha's table, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel the eyes of other students on you, adding to your nerves. As you approached Natasha's table, you cleared your throat and tried to steady your voice.

"Uh, hi.." you said, your voice trembling slightly. Natasha looked up, surprise flickering in her eyes. "Hi."

You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the curious stares of Natasha's teammates. "I was wondering if... if you'd like to go out with me? Maybe we could grab a coffee or something?"

There was a moment of silence, and it felt like the world had stopped. Natasha's expression was unreadable, and your heart sank, fearing the worst. Then, a small smile tugged at the corners of Natasha's lips. "Sure. I'd like that." You blinked in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah," Natasha said, her smile growing. "Why not? It could be fun." Relief and joy flooded through you, and you couldn't help but grin. "Great! Um, I'll see you after school?"

"Sounds good " Natasha replied with a nod. As you turned and walked back to your table, you felt like you were walking on air. Tony and Kate greeted you with cheers and high-fives.

"See? I told you it would work." Tony said, looking quite pleased with himself. "Thanks, Tony. I owe you one.." you said, your smile not fading.

"Just have fun." Tony replied with a wink. "And don't forget to tell me all about it."

Natasha watched you, even as her teammates' conversations drew her back in. The cafeteria was bustling with life, but her thoughts remained on the unexpected encounter with you. Natasha's smile faded slightly as she continued to think.

She glanced over at your table, where Tony was animatedly talking with you and Kate. Natasha squinted slightly. Tony Stark and his buddy Bucky Barnes were notorious at school for their playboy antics, always bragging about their latest conquests. Natasha had seen too many girls left heartbroken by them and wasn't about to let herself become one of their pawns.

She knew better than to trust appearances, especially when Stark and his crew were involved. Steve and Sam exchanged looks but said nothing further. They knew Natasha well enough to understand that once she made up her mind, nothing could change it.

As her teammates turned back to their meals, Natasha's resolve grew stronger. She wouldn't be another notch on someone's belt. If you thought you could play her, you had another thing coming. Natasha would play along, but on her terms. She would teach you a lesson and be the one to walk away first.

Later, as the cafeteria began to empty, Natasha found herself glancing over at your table again. Tony had left, probably off to charm someone else, and you were deep in conversation with Kate. For a brief moment, you looked up, and your eyes met. Natasha gave a slight nod in greeting, and you smiled shyly before quickly looking away.

"Hey, Nat, you coming?" Sam called, breaking her train of thought. "Yeah, I'm coming." Natasha replied, grabbing her things and casting you one last glance before following her teammates out of the cafeteria.

As Natasha walked through the school halls with her teammates, she couldn't help but feel a sense of determination. She had been played before and had learned from those experiences. This time, she would be in control. This time, Natasha would be the one to break a heart first.

Later that evening, Natasha found herself getting ready for the coffee date with you. She dressed casually but made sure she looked good. After all, she had to maintain the appearance. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she reminded herself of her plan. She would make you think you had a chance, play the role of the interested one, but always with her guard up.

When she arrived at the café, she saw you already there, nervously fiddling with your phone. She took a deep breath, put on her best smile, and walked over to you. "Hey," she greeted you, sitting down across from you. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

You looked up, and your face lit up with a smile. "No, not at all. I'm just glad you came." Natasha returned the smile, but her mind was already at work. She would play the game, but this time, she would win.

Natasha leaned back in her chair, smiling at you. "So, tell me a bit about yourself. What do you do besides cheerleading?" You smiled and relaxed a little. "Well, I'm really into dance. I've been dancing since I was a kid. It's a big part of my life. What about you? How did you get into football?"

Natasha shrugged casually, but couldn't suppress a hint of nostalgia. "I've always been into sports. Growing up, it was a way to escape everything else. Soccer just became my passion." You nodded, your eyes reflecting genuine interest. "That's amazing. Watching you play is incredible."

"Thanks." Natasha replied, appreciating the compliment but reminding herself, "What do you want to do after school?"

"I'm thinking about studying dance and maybe becoming a choreographer.." you said, your eyes lighting up. "It's a long shot, but it's my dream." Natasha smiled, feeling a small connection despite her intentions. "That's the right attitude. You should go for it."

They continued talking, the conversation flowing easily. You shared stories about your family and friends, and Natasha found herself laughing at some of your anecdotes. Despite her initial skepticism, she found herself enjoying your company. You were warm and engaging, and Natasha began to wonder if she had misjudged you.

As the evening progressed, they finished their coffee and walked out of the café together. The night air was cool, and they strolled slowly, talking about everything and anything.

"That was really nice.." you said softly, looking at her. "Yeah, it was." Natasha agreed, feeling a twinge of doubt about her plan. But she quickly pushed it aside. "Maybe we could do this again sometime?" you asked hopefully. Natasha smiled, but kept her emotions in check. "Sure, I'd like that."

They said their goodbyes, and Natasha watched as you walked away, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She had to remind herself of her plan. This was about teaching a lesson, not getting involved.

In the following days, Natasha found herself thinking about you more often than she cared to admit. They saw each other at school, exchanged smiles, and even had a few brief conversations. Natasha's teammates noticed and made some teasing comments, but she brushed them off, determined to stay focused.

One afternoon, Natasha was in the gym working out when Tony and Bucky walked in. They were laughing and talking, as usual, about their latest conquests. "Hey, Romanoff, heard you're spending time with Y/n." Tony said, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't think you were her type."

Natasha gave him a cool look. "We're just hanging out, Stark. Why do you care?" Bucky grinned. "Just don't let her wrap you around her finger, Nat. Girls like her are dangerous."

Natasha clenched her jaw, her resolve hardening. "I know exactly what I'm doing." Tony shrugged, a sly smile on his face. "Just looking out for her. If you need tips on handling her, you know where to find me."

Natasha rolled her eyes and returned to her workout, but their words echoed in her mind. She had to stay focused. She couldn't let you get too close.

A few days later, Natasha and you were sitting together on the school steps, enjoying a rare moment of calm between classes. They talked about their weekend plans, laughing and sharing stories. "So, I was thinking.." you began, a hint of nervousness in your voice. "Maybe we could go to the movies this weekend?" Natasha hesitated, her plan and growing feelings clashing in her mind. She forced a smile. "Yeah, that sounds like fun."

As you beamed with excitement, Natasha's thoughts raced. She had to be careful. She couldn't let you get too close. She would go to the movies, keep up the charade, but always remember why she was doing this. But as they continued talking, Natasha couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she was still the one being played. You seemed so genuine, so different from the others. Natasha's resolve wavered, but she quickly pushed those thoughts aside. She had a lesson to teach, and she wouldn't be the one getting hurt.

Days passed, and their bond grew stronger. They spent almost every day together, finding comfort in each other's company. Natasha couldn't deny the feelings blossoming inside her, even as she kept reminding herself of her original plan.

One evening, they were at Natasha's house, sitting on the couch and watching a movie. Natasha's arm was around your shoulders, and you were snuggled close to her. The movie played in the background, but Natasha's attention was entirely on the girl beside her.

You leaned in and caught Natasha's lips in a tender kiss. This time, the kiss deepened, filled with a longing and passion neither could deny. Natasha's hands tangled in your hair as she pulled you closer, their bodies pressing together.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless. Your eyes searched Natasha's eyes, filled with a mix of desire and affection. "Natasha, I want to be with you. Completely.." Natasha's heart raced, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She wanted this more than she had wanted anything in a long time. But the nagging reminder of why she had started all of this lingered. Fuck it, just this one time. She pushed those thoughts aside and nodded. "I want that too."

They went into Natasha's bedroom, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. As they kissed and undressed each other, the outside world faded, leaving only the here and now. Natasha's hands roamed over your body, her touch gentle yet demanding. You responded in kind, your fingers tracing the contours of Natasha's skin, eliciting shivers and soft sighs.

Natasha took the lead, her movements confident and assured. She guided you to the bed and gently laid you down. Natasha's eyes glided over your body, appreciating every curve and contour. "You're so beautiful.." she whispered, her voice husky with desire. You blushed, your breath hitching as Natasha's hands caressed you. "Natasha..."

"Shh.." Natasha murmured, leaning down to kiss you deeply. "Let me take care of you." Her lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of soft kisses and gentle nibbles. You arched your back, your hands gripping the sheets as Natasha's mouth explored your body. When Natasha's lips reached a sensitive spot, a gasp escaped you, your fingers tangling in her hair.

"S-Shit, please..." you breathed, your voice trembling with need. Natasha looked up, her eyes dark with desire. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I need you." Natasha smiled, her hands gliding over your body, exploring every inch of you. She took her time, savoring every reaction, every gasp and moan that escaped your lips. When Natasha's fingers found your most sensitive spot, she teased you gently, drawing out the pleasure.

Natasha kissed her way back up to your lips, capturing them in a passionate kiss. "You feel so good." she murmured against your lips. "I want more of you."

Your breath hitched as Natasha's fingers grew more intense, your body trembling with pleasure. "Natasha... I'm so close..."

"Let go." Natasha whispered, her voice filled with warmth and encouragement. "I've got you." With Natasha's words and touch guiding you, you let go, your body shuddering with the intensity of your climax. Natasha held you close, her lips pressing gentle kisses to your skin, murmuring soothing words.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, you clung to Natasha, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You lay entwined, your bodies warm and satisfied. Natasha's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, and you sighed contentedly.

"I'm falling in love with you.." you murmured, your voice soft and content. Natasha's heart was full of emotions, but the nagging voice in the back of her mind doesn't stop. She kissed your head, holding you close. "I'm falling for you too.."

Natasha's breath caught as you kissed her again. Slowly, you began to kiss your way down Natasha's body, your lips leaving a trail of fire. Natasha's skin tingled with every kiss, her breath growing uneven as you moved lower. When your lips reached Natasha's erect member, a soft moan escaped her, her hands gripping the sheets. "Fuck...you don't have to..."

Natasha's body responded eagerly as your mouth closed around her shaft, your tongue moving in gentle circles. Natasha gasped, her hips bucking instinctively. "Oh God, Y/n..." Her grip in your hair tightened, guiding your movements. "Take it... d-deeper.." she commanded, her voice husky with desire.

Your hands held Natasha's thighs steady as you took her deeper, your mouth moving up and down with growing intensity. Natasha's breath came in ragged gasps, her hands tangling in your hair as the pleasure built. "Y/n..don't stop..." Natasha panted, her body trembling with need.

Your lips and tongue moved with expert precision, driving Natasha closer to the edge with each stroke. Natasha felt the pleasure rising to an unbearable peak, her body arching off the bed. "Fuck, I'm so close..." Her grip in your hair tightened, holding you in place. "I want to fill your mouth.." she whispered, her voice commanding and intense.

With your encouragement and skilled movements, Natasha finally let go, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her body shuddered with the intensity, her moans filling the room as she found her release. You held her close, your mouth and hands not stopping, prolonging the pleasure until Natasha was completely spent, and you swallowing every drop.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Natasha lay back, her breath coming in ragged bursts. You crawled back up to her, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. Natasha pulled you close, holding you tight. "You're incredible.." she said, her voice filled with emotion.

They lay together, their bodies entwined, and Natasha couldn't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Despite the nagging voice in the back of her mind, she couldn't deny the feelings that had blossomed between them. And that was dangerous. So, she made a note to end things in the coming days. It was always best to stop while things were still good, right?

A few days later, during one of Natasha's games, you were on the field with the cheerleading team, cheering loudly with the rest of the crowd. Your eyes followed Natasha's every move, your heart swelling with pride and affection. Natasha was in her element, moving with grace and power, leading her team with confidence.

At one point during the game, Natasha was tackled hard and hit the ground with a dull thud. Your heart skipped a beat, concern flooding you as you saw Natasha lying motionless before she slowly got up. "Come on, Natasha.." you whispered to yourself, your hands clutching your pom poms tightly.

Natasha shook off the tackle, waved away her concerned teammates, and signaled to the coach that she was fine. She caught your worried look from the sideline and gave you a reassuring nod. You breathed a sigh of relief, not realizing you had been holding your breath.

The game continued, and Natasha's team eventually won, the crowd erupting in cheers. As the team headed towards the locker room, you pushed through the crowd, your worry still evident on your face. You reached Natasha just as she was about to enter the locker room. "Are you okay?" you asked, your voice full of concern.

Natasha looked at you, a smirk playing on her lips. "I'm fine. It was just a tackle." You frowned, not entirely convinced. "Are you sure? That looked really bad." Natasha laughed, the sound cold and distant. "Trust me, I've been through worse." You nodded, but the unease didn't leave you. "Okay, if you say so. Just be careful, okay?"

"Of course," Natasha replied, her tone almost mocking. "See you later." You watched her go, a nagging feeling that something was wrong gnawing at you. You shook your head, trying to brush it off, and returned to your team.

Days passed, and Natasha and you still continued to spend time together, your bond seeming to grow stronger. You laughed more, shared more secrets, and your connection felt unbreakable. But Natasha knew it was time to execute the final part of her plan.

One afternoon, Natasha asked you to meet her at the park where you had shared your first kiss. You arrived with a smile, which quickly faded when you saw the cold, distant expression on Natasha's face. "Natasha, what's wrong?" you asked, concern creeping into your voice.

Natasha took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "We need to talk." Your eyes widened, your heart sinking. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

Natasha looked away, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "I think we need to end this. Us." The words hung heavy and painful in the air. Your face contorted, tears welling up in your eyes. "W-What, why? Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh, come on. Do you really think I didn't see through your little game? You and Tony trying to play me? I know all about your plans." Your face twisted in confusion and pain. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb.." Natasha said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You and Tony thought you could manipulate me, get into my head. Well, guess what? I was the one playing you. How does it feel, Y/n?"

Your eyes widened in shock. "N-No..Natasha! you misunderstood... I never-" Natasha laughed, the sound harsh and unkind. "Did you really think I meant any of it? You were just a game. I got close to you to show you how it feels like, when you get crushed."

Your sobs grew louder, your body trembling with heartbreak. "Please, Natasha. I don't understand... We were happy! Y-You said you loved me..?"

Natasha's smile widened, finding twisted pleasure in your pain. "Oh, that's rich. Love? You're really naive. This was never about love. It was about teaching you a lesson. You have no right to mess with me or anyone else with your kind!" You couldn't take it anymore. You turned and ran, your sobs echoing through the park. Natasha watched you go, feeling a cruel satisfaction. She had fulfilled her plan, proving she had control.

But as days passed, Natasha found herself constantly revisiting your conversations, reliving the memories of your shared moments. The photos, the laughter, the intimate moments haunted her. Every message, every smile in the photos brought a sting of regret and doubt.

She noticed a change in the people around her. Tony, who was usually so friendly and outgoing, seemed to avoid her. The usual camaraderie felt strained, and Natasha's frustration grew. One day, unable to bear it any longer, Natasha confronted him. "Hey, Stark, what's your problem?"

Tony's face darkened with anger. "My problem? What's your problem, Natasha? Why did you hurt Y/n so badly?" Natasha's anger flared. "What are you talking about? You and Y/n must find someone else for your games. I'm done being your pawn."

Tony's eyes blazed with fury. "Games? What are you talking about? Y/n never played games! She was in love with you, and you broke her heart for no reason!"

Natasha felt a chill run down her spine. "What?" Tony stepped closer, his voice trembling with anger. "You heard me. She loved you, Natasha. She was head over heels for you. Why would you think otherwise?!"

Natasha felt the ground shift beneath her feet. "But...No! You both scheme against everyone!"

Tony's eyes widened with realization. "Natasha, you got it all wrong.. Y/n is sincere. Have you ever heard anything negative from her? Do you think someone like her would betray anyone? Come on! She’s been devastated since the breakup."

Natasha's breath caught as Tony's words sank in. The pieces fell into place, and she realized the truth. Your tears, your heartbreak, your love..it had all been real.

"Oh my God.." Natasha whispered, her voice trembling. "What have I done?" Tony looked at her with a mix of pity and disappointment. "You messed up, Natasha. Big time."

Natasha's mind raced, guilt and regret overwhelming her. She had been so blinded by her own insecurities and assumptions that she had destroyed the one real thing she had. Now she had to find a way to fix it.

One afternoon, she saw you walking with Kate outside the school. Natasha hurried after you, calling your name. "Y/n! Wait, please!" You stopped, your face hardening as you saw Natasha approaching. Kate looked between you, sensing the tension. "What do you want, Natasha?" Kate asked, her voice icy.

"Kate, please stay out of this. I need to talk to her!" Natasha said, desperation in her voice.But Kate tried to protect you. "I think you've said enough. Leave her alone."

Natasha's eyes flashed with determination. She gently but firmly pushed Kate aside and stepped closer to you. Your eyes filled with tears. "There's nothing to talk about. You made it very clear how you feel."

"No, you don't understand!" Natasha pleaded, her heart aching. "I was wrong.. I thought you and Tony were playing me..Like hes doing with everyone. I was stupid and paranoid."

Your tears began to flow, your voice shaking. "You were wrong? You hurt me, Natasha. You made me feel like I was worthless."

"I'm so sorry.." Natasha said, her voice breaking. "I know I hurt you, and I regret it every second. Please, Y/n, give me a chance to make it right." Your face contorted with pain and anger. "Make it right? You think you can just apologize, and everything will be okay? You humiliated me, Natasha! You laughed at my pain!!"

Natasha tried to take your hand, but you slapped it away. "Don't touch me!" you spat, your voice raw with emotion. "You can't just walk back into my life like nothing happened!"

"Please, Y/n. " Natasha whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I love you." Your face twisted in pain and disbelief. "You don't know what love is." you said, your voice breaking.

Natasha's heart shattered at your words. "I was wrong. I didn't mean any of it. I was just scared...Please..." You shook your head, more tears streaming down your cheeks. "No, Natasha. You can't undo what you've done. You hurt me more than anyone else ever has."

"Y/n-" Your face hardened as you raised your hand and slapped Natasha across the face. "Stay away from me." you sobbed. Natasha stood there, stunned and devastated, as you walked away with Kate. She watched you go, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces. She had hoped for a chance to make things right, but now she was faced with the harsh reality of her actions.

Days passed, and Natasha found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything. She was a wreck at her games, her usual confidence and precision gone. She kept looking around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, but you were never there. Your absence was a constant reminder of her mistake, gnawing at her every day. Her teammates noticed the change, but Natasha couldn't bring herself to explain. She went through the motions, but her heart wasn't in it. She missed you more than she could express, and the guilt gnawed at her relentlessly.

She replayed the memories in her mind over and over again, the laughter, the kisses, the moments of pure bliss. She went through her old messages, the photos they had taken together, each one a stab to her heart. She had lost something precious, something real, and she didn't know how to live with it.

Her teammates tried to reach out to her, but she pushed them away, unable to face their sympathy. She felt she didn't deserve their pity. She deserved nothing but the pain she felt. Every day was a struggle, and every night she lay awake, her thoughts tormented by you. The guilt was unbearable, and the loneliness suffocating. She had made the worst mistake of her life, and now she had to pay the price.

One day, Natasha sat alone in the locker room after another disappointing game. She knew she needed a plan, something that would prove her sincerity and dedication. An idea began to form in her mind. It was risky and would require a lot of effort, but she was determined. She would plan something special, something that would show you how much you meant to her.

Meanwhile, you tried to move on. Kate and Tony had been supporting you, but your heart was still broken. You avoided places where you might encounter Natasha, but the memories of your time together haunted you. You missed Natasha, but the pain of betrayal was still fresh. One day, as you walked through the schoolyard, you saw Tony flirting with a girl. The familiar sight of Tony's flirtatious behavior made your stomach turn. You knew what he was doing, just proving his conquest list again. Anger boiled inside you, and you marched up to him.

"Tony!" you called, drawing his attention to you. He turned around, surprised to see you. "Hey, Y/n. What's up-" Without warning, you slapped him hard. "This is all your fault! Because of you, Natasha thought I was just playing with her!"

The girl Tony was talking to looked shocked and quickly walked away. Tony rubbed his cheek, wincing in pain. "Y/N, what the hell?!"

Your eyes filled with tears. "You and Bucky have such a terrible reputation, and it cost me the only person who really mattered to me. Natasha thought I was just like you because of your stupid games!" Tony's face softened as he saw the pain in your eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't know..."

"Just stay away from me," you hissed, turning to walk away, leaving Tony feeling guilty.

More days passed, and you continued to avoid Natasha. You ignored the countless messages she sent you, each one a plea for a chance to explain, to make things right. Your phone buzzed constantly with new texts:

"Y/n, please, talk to me."

"I was wrong, and I'm so sorry."

"I miss you..."

"Please don't shut me out."

Your resolve weakened with each message, but you couldn't bring yourself to respond. You were too hurt, too confused. One afternoon, someone convinced you to attend one of Natasha's games. "Just see for yourself how much she's struggling."

Reluctantly, you agreed. You sat in the stands, trying to keep your emotions in check as you watched the game. When you saw Natasha take the field, a sharp pain shot through your chest. The sight of everyone cheering for Natasha, unaware of the turmoil between you, made your wounds ache even more.

It was clear that Natasha wasn't her usual confident self. She made mistakes, seemed distracted, and looked miserable. Her coach was furious, yelling at her from the sidelines. "Romanoff! What the hell!! Focus now!" he shouted. The situation worsened when Natasha was tackled hard, causing the crowd to gasp in shock. She lay on the ground for a moment before getting up and trudging off the field, leaving her team behind.

She sat alone in the room, her head in her hands again. She felt empty and lost, completely broken. She went through the motions, showering off the sweat and dirt from the game, but the hot water couldn't wash away the guilt clinging to her. As she stepped out of the shower, her phone buzzed with a new message. You had finally responded:

"Fine. Let's talk. But don't expect much."

Natasha's heart leaped with hope. She quickly dried off, her fingers trembling as she replied, setting a time and place for your meeting.

When you arrived at the park, you were surprised to see that it had been decorated with fairy lights and flowers. Natasha stood there looking nervous and hopeful. "Hi." Natasha began, her voice trembling. "Thank you for coming."

Yoy crossed your arms, trying to keep your emotions in check. "What is this?"

"This is me trying to make things right.." Natasha said, stepping closer. "I know I hurt you, and i know I don't deserve another chance, but I'm begging you to hear me out."

Your eyes were wary, but you nodded for Natasha to continue You crossed your arms, your expression guarded. "You have five minutes." Natasha took a deep breath. "I know I messed everything up. I let my fears and insecurities take control. Tony's and Bucky's reputation made me paranoid, and I thought you were playing me just like they would. I was so wrong, and I'm so, so sorry."

Your eyes softened slightly, but you remained cautious. "I understand why you were wary because of Tony and Bucky, but that doesn't give you the right to treat me the same way."

"I know!" Natasha said quickly, her voice full of remorse. "I should have trusted you. I should have known you were different. I'm so sorry.." You took a deep breath, your emotions swirling. "You broke my heart, Natasha. How can I trust you again?"

"I know it will take time," Natasha said, pleading. "But I'm willing to wait. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. Please, Y/n, give me a chance..please.."

You looked into Natasha's eyes, searching for signs of dishonesty. All you saw was genuine remorse and.. love. You stepped closer, your resolve softening. "This doesn't mean everything is okay. It will take time, and you have to prove yourself."

Natasha nodded, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, of course. I'll do anything! Whatever it takes.." You glanced around the park, how much love Natasha put in it. "We'll start slow. Step by step."

A wave of relief and hope washed over Natasha as she held your hand. "Thank you, Y/n. I won't let you down. Thank you."

In the following weeks, Natasha worked hard to rebuild your relationship. She showed up for you in every possible way, being patient and understanding. You spent time together, talked through your issues, and began to heal slowly. It wasn't easy, and there were many ups and downs, but Natasha's sincerity and dedication shone through. You began to trust her again, and your bond grew stronger than before.

One day, as Natasha walked you home after school, she held your hand and smiled at you. "I have a surprise for you." she said with a mysterious smile. "What is it?" you asked, curiosity piqued, your heart beating faster.

"You'll see.." Natasha replied, leading you to a small dance studio nearby. "I know how important dancing is to you, and I wanted to do something special."

She opened the door to reveal the room reserved just for the two of you. The studio was softly lit, and gentle music played in the corner. You were speechless, overwhelmed with surprise and emotion. "Natasha... This is... How did you do this?"

"Someone owed me something.." Natasha said gently. "I thought we could dance together... Even though I don't really know how."

You couldn't help but laugh, and you spent the evening dancing together. Natasha might not have been the best dancer, but she tried, and you could see the sincerity and love in every movement. You laughed, stumbled, and simply enjoyed the time together.

After the dance, you sat down, Natasha holding your hand and looking deep into your eyes. "Y/n, I know I hurt you, but I promise I will never disappoint you again. I love you more than anything."

You smiled and squeezed her hand. "I love you too, Natasha. Thank you for never giving up." With time, trust, and patience, Natasha and you rebuilt your relationship stronger than ever. You both learned from your mistakes, grew together, and created a bond that nothing could break. The pain of the past slowly faded, replaced by a love that was real.

[enchanted-by-fae]

One Day - Azriel x Reader

Part 3

Pairing: Azriel x Hewn City!Reader

Summary: How Azriel felt during the party the other night. The two of you marry.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, angst, fluff, they're both kinda idiots ngl

3.1k words

A/N: Thank you so much lovelies for all of the support! I hope you enjoy this part, it's a doozy.

Part 1 Part 2

Azriel couldn’t help but stare at you when you weren’t looking. There she was, the female he would be marrying in two days time. You were standing across the room speaking to party goers, nobody he recognized. He couldn’t help but admire the way you spoke to them with a gentle smile gracing your face. When you walked into the ballroom with Rhysand just a few hours ago only one thought had come to his mind. You were without a doubt the most enchanting female he had ever laid his eyes on.

—

Before the party, Rhysand sat Azriel down in his chambers to have a discussion about his behavior.

“I swear to the Mother Azriel, you will not be cruel to this girl,” his brother scolded. Azriel couldn’t help but let out a scoff, “don’t scoff at me. I mean it, Az. She didn’t sign up for this either.” 

Azriel obviously knew that you weren’t the one who put the marriage together but he couldn’t help but feel a slight resentment since he only imagined himself married to his mate. The only thing holding him together right now was the deal he made with Rhys. He prayed to the Mother that he would meet his mate soon. He would’ve felt guilty leaving you to be with his mate after years of marriage.

“I’m not going to be mean to her, Rhys,” Azriel said through a sigh. “Can’t you just trust me?”

“That's the thing Az, I do trust you but,” Rhysand shook his head trying to come up with the right words. “After the whole Elain situation…” Rhys let out a sound of exasperation “you’ve become desperate, brother.” Now Az was really irritated.

Was he jealous of his brothers? Of course he was. Although he would never admit it out loud, he was ready to find his mate. He couldn’t understand how his two brothers were able to find their mates and he was the only one left.

If he was being completely honest he was hung up on Elain, the third Archeron sister. He had a silly notion that they must be fated, three sisters for three brothers. She was already mated, however, to Lucien. Azriel didn’t really have much against Lucien as a male, he seemed decent enough except for the fact he had the one thing Az wanted.

Last Winter Solstice he bought Elain a necklace. It was as beautiful as the female herself and she had loved it, to Azriel’s relief. She had immediately asked him to put it on her and it quickly turned into a heated moment between the two. Nothing had actually transpired except for a few innocent touches. Rhysand interrupted them before Az had the chance to kiss her. His brother called him into his office and gave him the reprimand of the century. 

Rhys had ordered him to back off of Elain or else Lucien could invoke a blood duel and his brother was not ready to go to war with the Autumn Court over this. Beron was a pain in his ass as it was, he did not need Lucien's death added to the problems. And Lucien would die. Azriel was someone to fear when it came down to a fight, it didn’t matter how good his opponent was. 

Azriel stayed pissed at Rhysand for a while after that. He did as his High Lord commanded and he distanced himself from Elain. She was now off living happily ever after with her mate. And now his brother was forcing him into a marriage. 

Tonight he was to meet you for the first time. Rhys had the oh so brilliant idea to host a party where the two of you could officially meet, hoping to make the actual wedding “less awkward”. Azriel thought that either way it would be awkward, it was an arranged marriage for the Cauldrons sake. 

Azriel glared at his brother as he continued to drone on and on about how he must “behave” himself. Finally, Rhysand finished monologuing which made Azriel send a silent thank you to the Mother.

“I’m going to her chambers to escort her to the party. I expect you to be there, ready to offer her a dance when we arrive. A smile wouldn’t be so bad either,” Rhysand then turned and left the room. Azriel was happy to be alone. He always valued his time to himself, it helped ground him. 

He moved to begin getting dressed for the party. Rhysand had requested that he forgo his usual Illyrian fighting leathers. Azriel opened his wardrobe and found a black jerkin that he’s pretty sure he’s only actually worn once before. 

He was able to get himself put together relatively quickly considering he wasn’t used to this style of dress. He looked at himself briefly in the mirror just to make sure everything looked alright. Shutting his eyes and taking one deep breath, Azriel centered himself. He reopened his eyes and walked out of his room to go meet the very female he would be marrying.

—

Azriel arrived at the opulent ballroom where the party was to be held. The first he noticed was how many people there already were. He was relieved to find that Rhysand wasn’t there yet, which meant you weren’t either. 

Azriel spotted Cassian, Nesta, and Mor all talking in a spot by the wall but the second he went to join them he felt a strange sensation. Soon it seemed as though his shadows were in agreement, swarming him to tell him to stay put. Just a moment later was when the doors opened again, revealing Rhysand and possibly the most gorgeous female he had ever seen. No, not “possibly”. He knew you were the most gorgeous female he’d seen. 

Wearing a shocking pale blue, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Azriel wasn’t sure if you were aware of the fact blue was his favorite color but he knew it flattered you nicely. The shade was unique too. It wasn’t one you saw in the night court too often, and this definitely remained true in Hewn City. Practically nobody here wore anything this light in color. He mentally praised your individuality. 

Your arm was linked to Rhysands as his brother escorted you over to him. His shadows were all over him now whispering in his ear “calm yourself”. They were right, he needed to get a grip. As you made your way over to him he was able to ground himself once more.

When they reached him Rhysand let go of your arm and gestured his arm towards Azriel, “Y/N meet Azriel.” Az tried his absolute hardest to remain cool. He had heard your name before but it was just registering to him how lovely it was. It seemed to fit you perfectly.

Rhysand then moved his arm towards you, “Azriel meet Y/N.”

Azriel plastered on his usual mask of “not giving a fuck” and gives you a gentlemanly bow, you giving a curtsy in return. He rises and returns to his normal height. Mother above he towers over you. He offers out a hand towards you, “a dance, my lady?” Azriel stands there for a moment as you stare at him. If he’s being honest, he didn’t hate it. He left his hand out for you to take while you were transfixed on studying him. He sees you glance down towards his hand and he follows the movement.

Fuck, he thinks to himself. He forgot to put on his gloves. You were looking at the scars plastering his hands. Azriel rarely forgot his gloves, especially when in public. He would ditch them every now and then when he was with his family, but almost the entire population of the Hewn City was here. 

He assumed your hesitance meant that you weren’t interested in dancing with him. He didn’t know how you’d feel touching his scarred hands. As he awkwardly looked away, he began to pull back his hand. He had barely moved when he felt your hand grab his. “I would love to,” you spoke so gently. Azriel couldn’t help but love the sound of your voice. He knew that he needed to protect you at all costs at that moment. You were too lovely to allow anything bad to happen to you. 

He couldn’t find words in that moment so instead he just led you to dance. As the two of you walked to the dance flood he couldn’t help but notice just how nervous you truly were. He keeps his hand on yours but he places the free one on your waist and you move yours to his shoulder. The two of you were as close as you could be in that moment. 

Your nerves were honestly making him worried so, as gently as he could he whispered “just look at me, ok?” You gave him the tiniest nod and he began to lead you into a waltz. That’s when he remembered Rhysands other instruction, smile. He offered up just the smallest smile. One meant only for you. He had to keep up his badass image afterall. The Hewn City knowing the Shadowsinger smiles? Not a good look. 

He could feel you relax the more the dance went on. Soon, he found that the smile he gave you was one he genuinely wanted to share. He felt as though he could be himself when close to you. The way you looked at him, he wanted you to look like that forever. 

No. This is wrong, he thought to himself. He couldn’t be doing this to you. He had a mate out there somewhere. A mate he was ready to be with the moment he found them. Azriel didn’t want you to get attached to him. Or rather, he didn’t want to get attached to you.

The waltz ended and he gave you a closing bow and you followed with another curtsy. Azriel quickly leans into your ear, “thanks for the dance,” he whispers. He had to get some distance. He has a mate waiting, he reminded himself over and over again as Azriel stalked off the dance floor. He felt like an ass for leaving you like that. But he couldn’t let you care for him. It would just make things harder. 

Throughout the evening he couldn’t help himself, taking quick glances at you whenever he could. Cauldron boil him, you were stunning. He made sure to make each look quick so you wouldn’t catch him staring like some creep. 

He was in conversation with Mor and Nesta when he felt eyes on him. He knew it was you, even without his shadows informing him. In that moment he decided to fuck it and meet your eyes one more time. He found you instantly. Azriel couldn’t help himself as he gave you just one more, barely imperceptible smile and went back to his conversation. Only being able to think of you for the rest of the evening, stealing glances whenever he could.

—

A loud knock on the door woke you from your slumber. You knew the day would be busy with people coming and going, it was your wedding day afterall. 

“Miss Y/N? We’re here to help you dress,” a maid called out. You quickly stretched and crawled out of bed. You weren’t typically an early riser but the ceremony was this afternoon, not allowing for much time to get ready. Finding the dressing gown you kept close to your bed, you shrugged it on and made your way over to the door. 

Opening the door, a cluster of maids made their way into the room. They carried in everything you’d be needing. Makeup, shoes, the veil, and your dress. The dress was glorious. It was long and flowing, sitting just off your shoulders with sheer sleeves. Your favorite part though was the bodice, which was adorned with a beautiful pattern of gold stars. It almost made you excited to be getting married.

As you sat at the vanity to have your makeup and hair styled you found yourself deep in your thoughts. Thoughts of Azriel. You would think the fact you found yourself so attracted to the man that would be your husband is a good thing. Unfortunately, after he left you to be with his friends at the party the other night you just became more anxious to marry him.

You only made eye contact with him once after you danced. It seemed he didn’t feel the same connection to you that you had with him. You did your best to make peace with that fact, not wanting to make things more awkward between the two of you. No matter how hard you tried though, you found yourself dreaming that he would one day share the affection you held for him. 

Your maids finished getting your hair and makeup done, helping you out of your seat and into the dress. If you thought it was stunning before, it was even more so while on you. They ushered you over to a mirror so you could see yourself as the veil was added to complete your look. You looked like the perfect Night Court bride. 

That was when another knock was rapped on the door. One of the maids went to see who was at the door. This time it was your mother and father. Somehow the time had flown by and the ceremony would be starting. 

“Hello, dear,” your mother greeted, making her way to you as your father followed behind. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

You pondered her question momentarily before answering, “fine, I suppose. It’s not exactly an ideal situation though,” you lament. 

“You’re a strong female, you’ll do well,” your father chimes in. He takes your arm, linking it through his. Your mother repeats the action on your other side. “We’ll walk you there together,” he continues.

There was something beautiful in your parents' marriage. While in public, they acted as any other married couple would in the Hewn City. But, while in the privacy of your family's apartments they were quite affectionate with each other. It wasn’t until after they married when they discovered they were mates. Their love story was one that always charmed you as a child. You grew up wishing for someone to care for you the way your father loved your mother. They had an arranged marriage too, afterall. Perhaps someday, you and Azriel could be like that for each other.

You look between your parents and they each offer you a reassuring grin before they lead you to the temple where the ceremony is to be held. When you arrived your mother let go of your arm to head inside alone. As per tradition, your father would be the one to walk you down the aisle. She gave you a final hug and went to find her seat.

“It’ll be just fine,” your father insisted. He was never this open with how he felt towards you, it was comforting in a way. It must’ve been because tonight you’d be leaving to live with Azriel. You gave him a smile of your own and the doors opened.

—

As soon as the doors opened to reveal your figure standing there with your father the organ player began their serenade. Your father began to walk, starting the descent down the aisle. All the fae in attendance stood in that moment. They watched as you gracefully walked side-by-side with your father. 

You hadn’t looked up yet, at Azriel. You found yourself anxiety-ridden with meeting his eyes again. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you wanted his approval and you weren’t sure if you’d receive it from him. While the two of you danced the other night, you could’ve sworn you felt something. A pull. He clearly hadn’t felt the same. 

You could sense the end of the aisle approaching and only then was it when you looked up. There he was, the male you couldn’t help but fantasize over. And in half an hour he would be your husband. 

He looked so handsome standing there. He was wearing a similar outfit to the one he wore the other night but this one had an intricate pattern embroidered on it. The closer you got you realized what the pattern was, as it was the same golden pattern on your dress. Golden stars decorated his lapels. You had no idea if he chose it himself or if someone had coordinated the matching set, but it made your heart flutter. 

Fully reaching Azriel now, your father let go of your arm to shake his hand. You just stood there, watching the interaction before Azriel offered his arm to you. He was wearing gloves today. You still didn’t fully understand your feelings about the matter, or him, but you never wanted to see his hands covered again. 

You took his arm and he led you the rest of the way to where the priestess stood. “We gather today in celebration of these two fae,” she began. Now that you were truly here, being married, you couldn’t help the queasy feeling you had. It wasn’t because of Azriel necessarily, but just how different your life would be. 

“Do you, Azriel,” the priestess turned towards the male standing beside you, “promise to have and to hold Y/N, to cherish and take care of, until death do you part?”

“I do,” he said with a rather casual tone.

The priestess turned towards you now, “Do you, Y/N promise to have and to hold Azriel, to cherish and take care of, until death do you part?”

Taking a deep breath, “I do,” you muttered.

The priestess smiled at you both, “then I pronounce you husband and wife, may the Mother bless you,” she proclaimed, turning towards Azriel again, “you may kiss the bride.”

You could feel Azriel go rigid beside you. The first kiss was something that had escaped your mind entirely. The entire part after the ceremony escaped your mind if you were being truthful.

You could hear him take a deep breath before turning to face you, the same moment you turned to face him as well. He softly cupped your cheek in his hand before leaning in. You closed your eyes as his lips met yours. 

The kiss was sweet. He was gentle, cradling your face like it was made of porcelain. And you couldn’t help but crave more. Almost too soon, he was pulling away. You opened your eyes and that’s when it snapped.

You instantly recognized the golden thread of the mating bond pulling you back towards him.

-

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