#but less so when it inevitably gets dirty rip

[stiltonbasket]

a-Hua sees all this pre-wedding fuss and is like ??!! She needs a special wedding outfit too! and a bao pedicure and special hairdo. nhs comes through and she's treated like a tiny princess.

Her dress is made to look like a realistic lotus flower 🥺

[lure-of-writing]

His little Sister: I'm sorry

Summary: The mating bond between you and Azriel has been revealed and he isn't sure if any apology will ever make up for the hurt he has cause you.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: none that I know of

Authors note: Guys I just got my nails done so if there is typos it's because I'm not used to typing with daggers on my hands. But anyways that's not what we're here for. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Azriel was screwed. Royally screwed. Even as the spymaster of the night court he had no idea how he was going to get out of this one unscathed. First and foremost there was you. You were the mosting important thing in this giant mess that your cousin just caused and making sure you were ok was his first priority. That is once you inevitably get all of the hurt and betrayal out of your system. He could feel your emotions barrelling down the bond and it damn near made him crumple under the weight of your hurt. Next on the list of casualties was Rhysand. And by the look on the high lord's face it was a mixture of pure unfiltered anger and the need to protect his little sister. Azriel can’t blame him, you look like you could either rip him to shreds and bawl your eyes out while doing so.

Rationally Azriel knew that Rhys would never really do anything to hurt him but the other part knew that Rhysand played dirty when it came to his family and it was some sort of unwritten rule that he would go to the end of the world to make sure you were ok. If Rhysand played dirty before he was about to get filthy now. This would not be the first time he stepped toe to toe against a high lord, specifically against Rhys, but this time would without a doubt be different. This time Rhysand would pocket away all of the years of their friendship and in turn he would fight Azriel like a traitor. He, without trying, had broken your heart and betrayed your trust. To Rhysand this was the ultimate act of betrayal. 

Only being one hundred years younger than your brother means all three males were also relatively young in the grand scheme of things. Rhysand held your tiny body against his. The three males had taken a break forming training in the mountains to visit you in Velaris. It wasn’t often Rhysand was allowed to leave the camps, much less often for Azriel and Cassian. But with the arrival of a new babe they had been permitted to leave. It became a tradition to visit the ever growing babe once a year. Somewhere in the chaos of training for the Blood Rite you had grown into a teenager. Cassian was sprawled out on one of the couches in the cabin and Azirel had taken his place in the chair that was unofficially deemed as his. There in a seat a little bit bigger than his own but yet still smaller than the couch Cassian claimed you were curled up against your older brother, peacefully sleeping.

Rhysand had always disliked the way things were run in the camps, oftentimes they made his blood boil but something changed in him the day you were born. Rhys knew from a young age that he would be a protector. A protector of his friends, his family, his people and his court. But he never knew that the most precious thing he would come to protect was you. He never wanted in the camps, walking amongst those who would take any opportunity to clip your wings or even kill you without a second thought. Unfortunately there was nothing he could do to stop your visit as your father deemed it necessary. 

Silence was light in the room. Occasionally there was a pop or crackle from the fire, the sound of clothes shifting against the couch from Cassian and the light noise of you breathing. With a heavy sigh Rhys rubbed his face causing both males to look at their friend in confusion. “Something on your mind brother?” Cassian's deep voice filled the once quiet room.  For a moment nothing was said as Rhysand just looked deep into the fire before once again sighing and rubbing his face before throwing his head back to rest on the couch. “What if I’m not capable of protecting her?” The two males looked at each other in confusion before turning their attention back on their friend. Everyone knew that the power Rhys possessed was quite frankly, insane, to put it simply. “Rhys, I think you're forgetting you are there, bud.” Once more Cassian's voice takes over the room. This time in a gentle laughter. “It’s not that I’m unaware of what I am capable of.” Rhys stops speaking as he looks down at your resting form laying against him. Gently he moves a piece of hair that had fallen in your face. “I know what I can do. What I am willing to do to keep her safe but I will not always be around to protect her and that is what I fear.”

“Being her brother is the greatest honor I have ever been given but what if I fail? What will it cost her? Just her being here possesses a threat to her life. Those males out there would not hesitate to clip her wings or flat out kill her. What happens when I am needed elsewhere and she is in trouble? Who will save her then? I know my mother is training her to fight but I never want her to be put in that position where she has to. Making sure she is safe, happy and loved is all I want for her. I never want her to experience the world we have endured.” 

Neither males have a sister but they do have the love of siblings for each other and they know the lengths they would go to for the other males. They may not know what it's like to have a sibling but they do know what it's like to love you. Since the day you were born they have done nothing but love and dote on you. If you tripped and fell and scraped your knees Cassian would scoop you up and cradle you until you stopped crying. Only then would he set you somewhere where he could properly clean the cuts littering your body and then take you for a treat to make you feel better. Azriel would help you with any of the boring assignments your mother would hand out. “I don’t even know what this means!” you would groan out in frustration before dramatically letting your head fall face first into the book. Luckly Az knew you very well. Without looking up from what he was doing he placed his hand palm up in the book and waited for the impact of your head against his hand. 

Finally once your head was in his hand, did he finally look up. “You may not understand it right now but eventually you will and you will be grateful your mother made you do this.” Groaning once more you left your head where it was. “Easy for you to say you're like a genius or something.” You grumble while Azriel lifts your head for you. Gently he pats the top of your head. “Maybe if you studied more you could be one too.” A mixture of a frustrated groan and sigh made its way through your lips causing Azriel to chuckle. 

It was safe to say that they understood what a light you are in the world. In their world. And each male would do anything to protect it. “You know we would protect her with our lives, right?” Cassian now sat up on the couch. This conversation was important. “We have known her since the day she was born. We have watched her grow and reach each millstone just like you have Rhys. We would never let anything happen to her. If it were my life or hers, I would happily give up mine. I’m sure Az feels the same way.” And Azriel did. “You don’t have to worry about her by yourself. We can share the worry Rhys. You know you can count on us. If anything ever happens to you, we will protect her just as fiercely as you do. You know that right?”  And Rhysand did in fact know that but there would always be some part of him that thinks only he will ever be able to do a good enough job at keeping you safe. 

Apparently Rhysand was right. Only he would protect you. Azriel had broken his promise and now he would pay. Next on his list of people to deal with was Morrigian. At the moment she was not a priority but eventually would be. First he needed to survive the night. 

If Azriel were to go back in time less than a week ago, he would have been more or less avoiding you. After his talk with Rhysand about the more interesting part of your relationship the shadowsinger thought it would be a good idea to give you some space, not wanting it to seem like he was trying to pursue something with you. Obviously that was the exact opposite of what he wanted but he was also keenly aware of your brother's disapproval of any male you chose to date. Azriel was sure he wouldn’t fare better than the others. On the other side Azriel truly had no idea how you would react to you being his mate and that terrified him. 

He hadn’t seen you much since the training incident with Cassian. As much as it bothered him to not be able to check on your healing himself he had Cassian right there basically giving me second by second updates. Which he did appreciate but since Cassian knew you were his brother's mate he was being a little over the top. Which is why Azriel was not expecting to see you on the rooftop for the daily morning training session. 

Az and his shadows watched from across the room as Cass ushered you back towards the house. That was until you saw him and course corrected to be right in front of him. “You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” The hurt in your voice made him feel like a terrible person but he also couldn’t give you the real answer why. Not right now and definitely not right here. “I haven’t been avoiding you.” He knew he was whispering but he also knew there were more listening ears then just yours, mainly Cassians. Azriel watched as Cassian scooped you up and walked back to where he was herding you, just moments before you veered off on your own. 

As the shadowsinger and spymaster of the night court there wasn’t much, if anything, that made him nervous. The piercing stare of your gaze following his every move was definitely unsettling. But his male ego wouldn’t let him slip into that unflinching state of mind that he would usually find himself in when sparring. Now he was keenly aware of each move he was making while in front of you. His need to impress didn’t go unnoticed by his brother. Thankfully Cassian decided to have mercy on his soul and let him get in a few good punches as his repayment for when Cassian did the same to him while in front of Nesta. 

The daily sparring session was over sooner and also later then he wanted it to be. One part of him wanted to continue to impress you, even if he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that you were even impressed in the first place. The other part of him just really wants to get the awaiting conversation over with. Azriel headed over the bench where his long forgotten shirt and water bottle had been previously placed. He had barely gotten in one drink of water when you appeared in front of him. “Why have you been avoiding me?” It was the same question that you had previously asked him before being dragged away by Cassian. And yet this time it made him even more nervous then the first time you had asked him. The last thing Azriel ever wanted to do was make you feel like he didn’t want to be around you. Even before the bond he wanted to be around you every chance he could get and you knew that. He needed a reason you would believe. A downfall that came with spending all of his spare time with you is that you were able to tell when he was lying better than anyone else in the inner circle. There was only one thing he could tell you that wasn’t the full truth nor a complete lie. Rhys wasn’t a fan of the relationship, or lack thereof, between the two of us and he needed to step back in respect for Rhysand. 

Thankfully the mother was on his side that morning because you believed him. 

Opening up his arms in a form of some peace offering he’s quickly wrapped in your arms. Even though hugging anyone who was sweaty was something that he knew drove you crazy you did it anyways and it warmed his heart. But watching you place your chin on top of his chest just about made his heart melt. He prayed that you wouldn’t be able to feel or hear just how fast his heart is beating, and it is not from the training. 

Oh how Azriel wished he could go back in time to just a few days ago. Hell he would even go back to when he was avoiding you. Truthfully anything would be better than what was currently unraveling in front of him. 

“How long have you known?” Azriel tore his eyes away from Morr to look at you. The look of heartbreak that painted your face was like a suckerpunch to his gut. He took a sharp breath in. You were always stunning in Azriels eyes but looking at you now was like looking like a fallen angel. As much as the poetic beauty was undeniable he also never wanted to see that look on your face again. He would do anything to make you trust him again. 

“I-” Azriel didn’t realize just how dry his throat was until he tried speaking. Actually now that he was focused on his body he was pretty sure he felt like he was going to throw up. Swallowing he takes another deep breath. A quick glance to his right reveals Rhysand with a raised eyebrow and barely contained anger. “I’ve known since the war.” Azriel always imagined this moment would be very different. Just the two of you in private. And it would finally feel like a brick being lifted off of his chest. 

But watching your reaction to his confession felt like the opposite. He watched as you blew out a heavy breath and grabbed the back of Morrigians chair for support. Looking at the look he watches a tear finally free itself and makes its way to the ground. Just as quickly as the first tear had fallen the rest had also followed suit. He watches as you shake your head and look at your brother for the answer of what you are supposed to do. The dining room had never been as quiet as it was in these waking moments and Azriel despised it. Even if he was the cause of it. “You’ve known for almost a year and you never told me?” The spymaster watched as you fought against the lump in your throat only for your voice to crack on the last word. “Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to let me continue to dream about the love I desired. Let me think I was never going to get the love Rhys and Fey have? You’ve known for months!”  Azriel sat unmoving as your betrayal turned to sadness and then anger. You had never raised your voice and yelled at him before but he knew he deserved every ounce of anger you threw at him. “You-you out of all people knew how I felt about mates and yet you held this from me. My mate! I-I-I -oh my god.” Time seemed to slow down in that moment as he watched you grab your chest in pain then collapse to the floor. He felt himself rise. Azriel wasn’t sure why, was it to move to the other side of the table and comfort you? Was it in shock? Fear for your breaking heart? He wasn’t sure. It was like slow motion as Mor swiftly twisted out of her seat and caught your limp body on the way down to the floor. Together the two females sat on the floor. Morrigian had wrapped her arms around your body and held you pressed against her chest as you sobbed. 

“Azriel!” That was the commanding voice of a high lord. The force of which Rhysand said his name and allowed his power to wash over him was the only thing capable of pulling his focus off of your crumpled body. Looking back to his right he notes that Rhysand has pushed the chair he was previously sitting in far behind him. It didn’t go unnoticed how Feyre made her way to you with urgency. The primal anger and need to protect his family also didn’t go unnoticed by the shadowsinger. He was about to get his ass beat. If not altogether killed. Rhysand may have been mad at Cassian for hurting you but he did go easy on him, even if it resulted in a few nasty bruises littering his body. Azriel knew for sure this would be nothing like that time. Rhysand had a look of death in his eyes and Azriel was sure death was waiting to greet him. 

“Uh oh. Yeah you guys may want to get out of here it's about to get ugly.” Cassian also stood from where he was once seated and began stretching. Noting Feyres' worry Cassian continued “Don’t worry I won’t let them hurt each other too much.” He paused, “Well I won’t let them kill each other.” 

Only after everyone except Mor and Cassian had winnowed away his Rhysand lunge at Azriel. 

Ever since learning that you were his mate one of his shadows followed you religiously. He never even told them to do that, it was just something they did naturally. His shadows always were ones to keep an eye on you even if you were completely safe. 

That's how he found himself in front of the river house. His shadows danced around him in warning of the two females sitting in the living room still awake at this hour. Without looking at a clock Azriel would assume it was around three in the morning. Gently he pushes the hard oak door open only closing it after allowing himself inside the quiet house.  Azriel knew he could make his way to your room without either one of the females knowing but he assumed it was better to get everything that could tear him apart over with while he was down. 

“I feel bad for her. I know what it's like when the other person knows they're your mate and you're left in the dark. But this is something else. If Mor hadn’t said anything would he?” He could hear the voice of his concerned high lady. “Do we know if she even still has a mate? Rhysand looked like he was going to kill him.” Nestas' voice that usually dripped in sarcasm was dry as bone. Stepping into the room he made his footsteps louder than he would ever step to announce his presence. A sharp gasp was the only noise that Feyre made as she brought her hands to cover her mouth. “Oh my gods” The scraping of the chair against the wooden floor pulls his gaze from the spot on the floor he found particularly interesting to see Feyre making her way over to him. Over her shoulder he could see Nesta taking inventory of the damage Rhysand caused. “Are you ok?” He shrugs off her question but allows her gentle hands to move his head from side to side.

“How is she?” Everybody knew who he was talking about. Feyre led him to the couch ushering him to sit down as Nesta answered “As well as you can expect.” Feyre had stepped out of the room to grab a pain relieving tonic “She just fell asleep a few minutes before you got here” she pushes the vial into his hands “Drink” she insists. “I never meant for it to go like this. For it to get this far without me telling her. I just was waiting for her to feel it herself but then I just kept waiting and waiting and waiting and the next thing I knew I was sitting at that table listening to Mor tell her. I promise I never meant to hurt her. You know that right? You have to believe me.” The constant throbbing throughout his body finally forced him to drink the tonic in hopes it could even touch the pain he was feeling. “I’m sure you never meant for this to happen az. But why didn’t you just tell her. Anyone with eyes could see that she already had feelings for you.’’

“I wanted it to be her choice. I would never force her to accept the bond. All I want is for her to be happy no matter what.” A heavy sigh fell from both females before the peaceful silence filled the room. Nesta was the first to leave in hopes of getting at least an hour of sleep before she needed to be awake for training. With a gentle squeeze of his arm Feyre stands above him “I Believe you Az. But you need to understand how hurt she is currently feeling.” looking up he sees not his high lady or Rhysands mate but a concerned friend. “I know I can feel it through the bond.” Feyre smiles sadly before stopping in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Go be with her Az. You both need it.”

The warmth of the fire was the first thing Azriel noticed upon entering your room. Although fae ran warmer than humans you were the rare exception. Unless absorbing heat from the sun or another person you were on average at least ten degrees colder than anyone else. A small smile found its away to his face to see the fire going. His own personal relationship with fire may be nonexistent but for you he would endure it a hundred times over. The next thing he noticed was your sniffling and quiet sobs. In three large strides he was kneeing besides your bed. “Y/n” you name was like a whisper of a prayer in a silent coven meant for worship. He watched as your eyes opened to meet his and listened as a sob racked your body. “I am so sorry baby” Quickly he raised from where he was previously knelt on the floor and climbed into bed with you. The move to place your body on top of his was easy but listening to the silent cries of your heart breaking wasn’t. “I never meant to hurt you I swear.” 

Eventually the tears raining upon his chest and was replaced with the gentle breathing of your sleeping form. Azriel knew he should sleep but he couldn’t help but admire every part of you just in case this was the last time he  got to hold you like this. That's why he wasn’t startled when Rhysand barged into your room, startling you awake. “I told you to stay away from her. I’m going to kill you.” He promised. Azriel didn’t take his eyes off of your brother as you raised to sit in between his legs. Rhysand could do whatever he wished but Azriel wouldn’t leave without making sure you were ok first. “Rhys don’t. You may be mad at him, but Azriel is my mate.” The bond had never sung in happiness like it did basking in the warmth of your acknowledgement.

Taglist

@kemillyfreitas @lana08 @willowpains @username199945 @tothestarsandwhateverend

@kylaisra @lilah-asteria @nickishadow139 @br0klynbby @blacktreacle22

@amysangel @mp-littlebit @mybestfriendmademe

@olive-main @mariahoedt @tele86 @marina468 @fangirlloza010 @kennedy-brooke

[buckybabesonly]

An Experiment in Jealousy

Summary: You decided to try and make Bucky jealous. Now, you would pay the price.

Pairing: Bucky x female!Reader

Genre: Self-indulgent porn without plot tbh, lol

Warnings: slightly rough sex, dirty talk, slight!daddy kink, unprotected sex

Length: 2k

Bucky was the first man to ever make love to you. And boy, did he do everything right. He loved to pepper kisses all over your skin, worship your body, whisper I love yous and I'm so lucky to have yous against your mouth as he thrust into you slowly every night, eyes locked with yours as you both reached your climax.

Sometimes, less often, he would fuck you. When you had a fight and the inevitable make-up sex happened, or when you were just in one of those moods and ripped off his clothes with such ferocity that he just knew what you wanted, or when you told him outright that you wanted it fast and hard instead of gentle and slow.

Tonight, you knew what you wanted. You wanted him to use you, to own you.

And so you had spent the whole night flirting with Steve, playing it in such a way that just about bordered platonic without being too outrageous, but just enough to get Bucky ticking. This, coupled with how you had absolutely iced your boyfriend out all night and instead spoken to Steve with laser focus, would absolutely get you what you wanted. You were certain of it.

You watched Bucky from the other end of the bar to discreetly observe his reactions, his leather-gloved hand wrapped around a beer bottle, the other one lifting up to brush against his lightly stubbled jaw as he observed you. He took a sip of beer, his eyes piercing, and you could tell he was gently seething.

You suppressed a smile. Jackpot.

Bucky all but slammed you against the door of your shared apartment as soon as you had closed it, pressing up against you firmly as you gasped at his sudden movement. His hands framed either side of your head, body trapping you in place as you stared up at his icy blue eyes.

"Is that how you want to play, doll?" he murmured, gritting his teeth as your chest heaved against his.

"Bucky, please," you whimpered, not even pretending to be coy. You knew that he knew exactly what you were playing at, and now it was time to cash in.

"Please, what?" Bucky all but snarled, cocking his head to the side as you blinked at him.

"I need it. Need you."

"So desperate for my cock, are you? You want me to fuck you like the slut you are?" Bucky asked, eyes flickering down to your mouth.

His words sent delicious chills down your spine, arousal shooting straight to your core. Your hands grasped his leather jacket, moving to peel it off, but his hands were lightning. They wrapped themselves around your wrists and held them back against the door with a gentle thwack.

"No," he said sternly. "You need to be punished."

Your pussy was practically dripping. You were so wet that you were almost convinced he would be able to smell your arousal soaking through your panties.

"How are you going to punish me, daddy?" you asked in a faux-nervous voice, feeling his hard-on through his jeans already, heavy against your inner thigh. You knew he liked it when you called him that.

"On your knees," he said in his deep, authoritative voice, eyes daring you to object. His tone was void of his usual gentleness. Tonight, he meant business.

You sank down to the floor as he worked at his belt, unfastening the piece of leather and letting it snake to the floor.

"Take it out," he instructed.

You reached out and unzipped his jeans obediently, looking up at him with large, innocent eyes. You touched his bulge over his boxers as he sucked in a ragged breath, unable to hide the effect you had on him despite himself.

Tugging down the waistband of his underwear, his cock sprung free, thick and heavy and red, the velvety head waiting to be sheathed inside your mouth.

"Suck it and make daddy feel good," he commanded, his fingers lacing themselves through your hair.

You didn't need to be told twice. You opened your mouth and wasted no time in swallowing up his cock, his length barely fitting inside your mouth, but you tried your best. You relished the taste of him, the slightly salty tang of his pre-cum, urging yourself to take him deeper and farther down your throat no matter how your gag-reflex protested at the intrusion.

Your eyes teared up as he began to gently fuck your mouth, his hands tugging on your hair without the actual force to hurt you, but encouraging you to take more and more of him into your mouth.

"There's a good girl," he grunted, head rolling back in pleasure as you served him, your mouth forming a suction around his fat cock, your tongue gliding up the length of his dick as you released him with a pop.

Your eyes were wet as you dived in again to taste him, so addictive, enough to make you feel so fucking horny.

For a good five minutes, the only sounds filling the room were his dirty praises and the gargle of you choking on his cock. Eventually you couldn't hold in your needy whines any longer.

"Please, can you put it inside me?" you begged.

"Mmm. I don't know if you deserve it."

Panic flashed briefly within you. Bucky had been known to deny you of release before when you had been particularly naughty, and you mewled in protest. You didn't want to be teased tonight.

"Please, I'll be good. Need you inside me. Don't you want to come inside my tight pussy?" You knew exactly what words would make him attack you hungrily like predator on prey.

Bucky snarled and bent down to grasp your upper arms, jerking you upright to your feet. He shucked off his jeans which were still pooled around his ankles and picked you up with ease, bridal style, taking you to the bedroom. He tossed you onto your bed like you weighed nothing.

He shrugged off his jacket and tore his shirt off so he was completely naked, his muscular chest and arms flexing as he undressed. You were still on your back as he crawled onto the bed, positioning himself on top of you, knees on either side of your thighs. You watched as he hitched up the bottom of your dress so it rolled up to your waist, pulling down the neckline so your breasts fell out and presented themselves to him.

"You want this?" he asked, slapping his cock against your pussy through your panties. His hands reached down to grab your tits, squeezing roughly.

"Please, please, please," you chanted like a mantra, hands reaching out for him. You pushed your panties aside with one hand and took his cock in the other, urging him to go inside.

"Needy, aren't we?" Bucky chuckled, biting down on his lower lip. "Tell me what you want. Use your words, doll."

"I want your cock in my cunt," you said desperately, wanting - no, needing to be filled by him. "I want you to fuck me like the fuckdoll I am. I want you to cum inside me, please - Bucky!" You screamed out when he suddenly thrust inside you without warning, without letting you adjust as he entered you all at once.

He bottomed out with a groan, his cock stretching your tight hole.

"Oh god, Bucky," you moaned as he moved with ruthless speed, fucking in and out of your pussy with such force that your tits bounced with every movement. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he leaned down and kissed you angrily, tongue sliding into your mouth.

"This cunt is mine," he hissed, punctuating every word with a sharp jerk of his hips. "No one else. You belong to me. Say it."

"I - ah - belong to - ah - I belong you you, Bucky!" you whined, struggling to catch your breath. "Wait, not so fast, please," you moaned as he hit that spot deep inside your cervix with no mercy.

He didn't stop his pace, only moved to prop your legs up over his shoulders to allow him even better access to you, his cock seemingly sinking even deeper into you, in a way that felt impossible. You felt so full, so over-stimulated, you knew you wouldn't last long.

"Not so fast?" Bucky repeated with a humorless laugh, mocking you. "You wanted it to badly before, doll. I'm just giving it to you."

"Ah -Bucky - " tears of pleasure leaked from the corners of your eyes as you struggled to make a coherent sentence.

"Love how you're clenching around my cock. You were made to take my cock, to be filled up by me," Bucky said, the words making you wetter by the minute. "Gonna cum inside you, doll, gonna give you every last drop. Gonna remind you who you belong to. Gonna pound my cock into you until you beg me to stop."

"Daddy, please, cum inside me," you gasped. You could feel yourself reaching your orgasm, that feeling of pleasure creeping up slowly until you found yourself begging Bucky to keep going. "Please don't stop, don't stop, i'm almost there. Please keep fucking me, Bucky!"

A feral noise left Bucky's mouth as his cock continued to dive in and out of your sore pussy, never once faltering. You knew he could feel it when you clenched around him with a gasp, stars blinding your eyes as you came, his name falling off your tongue.

"Oh god," you gasped, heart beating rapidly as Bucky never stopped moving, smirking at your shaking form.

His hands reached down to flick at your clit as you squirmed, too sensitive.

"Bucky, no," you whined weakly, the pleasure too much for you as he continued to play with your pussy all the while his shaft disappeared into your cunt again and again, slick with your juices.

"You can do it one more time, doll, I know you can. Cum for daddy," Bucky grunted.

"Are you gonna cum inside me?" you asked as you felt the burning beginnings of another orgasm slowly stir inside you, biting on the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from screaming. Your hands made their way to Bucky's neck, pulling him down to kiss you again.

"You're my cumslut, aren't you?" Bucky asked, eyes boring into mine. "Or do you want me to cum on your tits? Your face?"

The image of him painting your face white with his semen was almost too much. Tempting, but you knew you wanted it all in you tonight.

"Inside," you requested, almost begging.

He grunted in acknowledgement, and you knew he was close as he continued to draw circles around your clit.

He sped up the pace, one hand reaching out to grab the headboard behind you, vibranium hand crushing the wood as his hips stuttered. He groaned loudly as he shot his seed inside you, unloading his cum inside your willing cunt.

"Fuck, doll, you feel so fucking good," he hissed.

It was your second undoing at the feeling of him filling you up, and you unraveled seconds after he did, tears streaming down your face at the absolute electric pleasure of it.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you sweating and panting, his lips burying themselves against your neck.

"God, that was fucking incredible," he said eventually, slightly out of breath. His cock was still inside your pussy, and you whimpered at the feeling of him sliding out of your hole as he softened, his cum following suit.

"You're leaking out of me," you sniffed in protest.

Bucky reached down to deftly slide three fingers into your used cunt, inciting a squeal from your lips, a teasing smile on his face as he lifted his head to look at you, challenging you.

His fingers fucked you, fucking his cum back inside, playing with it as you almost sobbed out loud at the feeling. Eventually he withdrew his hand and lifted his digits to your mouth, which you opened automatically.

You licked him clean, the taste of your combined fluids making you shiver with delight.

"Mmm, Bucky..."

You felt your eyes grow heavy as you finally came down from the high, but you could feel Bucky growing hard against you again, his hand pumping his cock to encourage it.

"Doll, we're not even nearly finished yet."

[chaosheadspace]

Hello! I'm sorry you're sick, and I hope you feel better soon! For the kissing meme, I would like to request Dreamling 23, in relief.

Hi, thank you for sending in an ask!

I did a direct continuation of this. Apologies for everyone who was waiting for the follow up, I am still sick and having not a great time. Enjoy!

Hob wakes.

He wakes with a feeling of doom, with a hopelessness he can’t quite place in his disorientation. His eyelids are heavy, his limbs even heavier. His ear hurts. The surface on which he’s lying is very hard. His cheek is sticking to it as he heaves himself up, slowly, carefully, wiping a bit of saliva from the corner of his mouth.

There’s a hand on his shoulder and, yes, a voice. Talking to him.

A bottle of water swims into his field of vision and he clumsily grabs it, drinks.

It comes back to him mid swallow, and he coughs. Dream, hit. Dream, injured. Mangled and bloody and weeping—

Hob takes a deep breath, trying to hold his own tears at bay and, inevitably, fails after not even a minute. He exhales, hard, and drinks the rest of his water, not even bothering to try and wipe at his eyes.

When the bottle is empty he blinks and forces himself to take in the person next to him. It’s a nurse, his hair cropped short, flashy sneakers. Sympathetic smile.

“Hey,” he says. “Better?”

Hob resists the urge to snap at him with some difficulty. Better? Hob doesn’t give a flying fuck how he feels himself. All that matters is Dream, that he is still here. That he doesn’t hurt.

“Is he—” Hob asks instead of ripping the nurse a new one. He needs to know, desperately.

“Your friend?” he asks. “In recovery. Got there like five minutes ago, that’s why I woke you up. Was a tough bit of surgery, I tell you.”

He's alive. Hob takes a deep breath, relief almost making his tired limbs shake. Alive.

“Where?” Hob asks, ignoring the nurse’s chatter, willing his numb legs to function. He needs to see him. Now. Anything else is secondary.

“Whoah, easy. He's still out. Might stay that way. We don't know.”

“You’re new, aren’t you,” Hob says, batting the nurse’s hand away who’s trying to help him get up. “Just— get me to him.” He really doesn't care for smalltalk right now, save for anything that gets him where he needs to be.

Every single inch of distance between him and Dream feels like a chasm, a fissure in the reality of how things need to be, the hands of fate tearing Dream away from him. And all Hob has to try and hold onto him are his painfully human fingers.

Dream looks very small in the chunky hospital bed, young but in a disturbing, sick way, a dried trail of blood still crusting the side of his face. He's pale, hollow, battered, bruised. But he's alive, and Hob is so thankful he feels like fainting.

It has taken him a long time to get used to the inevitable loss of the people closest to him, but he was never prepared for Dream to be one of them.

Hob takes Dream's unresponsive hand into both of his, kisses Dream’s knuckles, his fingers, limp, cold.

He sits at Dream's side, not feeling his own body, waiting, hoping. Still grateful that Dream's alive.

Dream doesn't wake up.

Hob sits there, the sun moving shadows about the room until he is removed by no less than two nurses and someone who he suspects is security staff. They strongly suggest that he go home.

Hob sits down again in the waiting area.

But after a few moments, the very unwelcome base necessities of human existence knock at his consciousness, life and living crashing into him again, however unwilling to experience them Hob is.

He hobbles to the bathroom to relieve himself, and discovers that he is not only very hungry, but smelly and a fair bit dirty, too. Defeated, Hob takes the bus home.

Dinner tastes like cardboard, despite his belly insisting on more. Hob doesn't even know where he got it. Did he cook? Did he get takeout? His mind seems like a blurred photograph to him, highlighting only Dream.

The shower hammers more tiredness into his muscles until Hob almost trips on his way out of the bathroom. He can't possibly sleep, will most likely spend all night worrying, but he lays himself down nonetheless. His chest constricts with another wave of tears but his eyes stay dry, and so he curls into his pillow, waiting for his breath to even.

The next thing he knows is the sun shining in his face, oblivious, traitorous. The restful night feels like a betrayal, and Hob's thoughts immediately try to make it up by kicking his worry into overdrive.

What if Dream had woken up, alone, afraid? Or worse, what if he—

Hob packs two bags, one for Dream—clothes, toothbrush, hairbrush, the whole works—and one for himself; snacks, music, books. Then he takes the bus again.

Dream hasn't woken up.

Hob pulls up a chair and sits down beside him, taking his hand. Then he gets out their current book and starts reading aloud.

Usually, it's the other way around, Dream reading to Hob before bed. Now, Hob continues for him. Hob reads until his voice is hoarse, and then he plays music. He stays until he is politely told to leave again.

This goes on for a week, then two. Dream continues to not wake up, and Hob stubbornly continues to be there, as he was meant to be, as he needs to be.

Most of Dream's bruises fade. He continues to breathe, and Hob hopes. There is only one way this can go, only one way this will end, and it will end with Dream opening his eyes. It has to.

Then, on the morning of the sixteenth day, Hob walks in on Dream sitting upright, held by the propped-up upper half of the bed, drinking a cup of water with shaking hands, assisted by a nurse.

The bag falls from Hob's shoulder onto the floor, and then he is kneeling on Dream's bed, straddling his thighs, accompanied by the surprised shout of the nurse.

There's a wet spot on Hob's jumper, soaking through his undershirt, the paper cup clattering to the floor.

Hob doesn't hear or feel any of it, except for Dream's face between his palms, the long fingers cradling him in turn, stroking weakly through his hair, the raspy whisper of his own name from a throat that hasn't spoken in over two weeks.

“Dream,” Hob sighs, kissing his brow, his nose, his chapped, dry lips. “Darling.”

There are no words in him, too many of his feelings trying to push to the surface at once. Dream's hands have wandered to his wrists, not pulling Hob's hands away but caressing his pulse, and Hob feels hot wetness in the corners of his eyes.

He pulls Dream close carefully, like he was made of paper, an origami creature that would fold and crinkle and tear in his embrace. Dream's chest trembles against his own with shuddering breaths and Hob realises that he's crying, so he holds Dream tighter, murmurs soothing words into his ear.

“It's alright,” he says, “I've missed you. I'm so glad you're still here.”

“I am sorry,” Dream warbles out, clinging to him far stronger than Hob thought someone could be after being unconscious and bedridden for so long, “so sorry.”

“Nothing of that,” Hob shushes him. “You're here. You woke up again. You're the most incredible person I know.”

After a while, Dream speaks again, muffled by Hob's shoulder.

“Hob…”

“Shush,” Hob says. “It's alright.”

“Hob. Legs.” Dream sounds insistent, fond.

Blushing, Hob scrambles to move off of him, flopping down at his side instead. He finds that the nurse has gone, giving them privacy, having left a bottle of water on the bedside table.

“Water?” Dream asks, his voice still more gravelly than usual.

“Of course.”

Hob takes a new paper cup from the stack on the table and helps Dream drink. In a few minutes there will be nurses and doctors again. But now, for a few precious moments, there's only Dream and him, thirst and thankfulness and raw humanity, beating hearts and breathing lungs and life.

On the balcony outside stands Dream's sister, smiling, watching through the window. She will not enter this room today. She had felt the urge to visit these past weeks, to linger. Only when it had faded completely did she come.

Her eyes meet Dream's over Hob's shoulder, and she smiles and nods at him. Then she gives in to the pull she feels from two rooms over, and departs.

Read the other kissy prompts here

[muzansfangs]

Friends.

Starring: Grimmjow x f!reader;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, creampie, vaginal sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, complicated relationship, mention to alcohol, friends to lovers, dom!Grimmjow, sub!reader, slight angst, mutual paining, feelings, forbidden relationship;

Plot: you were not even supposed to be friends, yet you enjoyed his company. That summer things changed, though. After some alcoholic kisses, you crossed the line. Every single time you were tangled into the bedsheets of a bed, you told yourself it was the last time. What a foolish rule not to do it again. The truth was some mistakes were bound to be repeated and this one was not an exception.

Track: Friends — Chase Atlantic, “Tell me we’re not just friends, this doesn’t make much sense, no”.

MASTERLIST FOR THE EVENT.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The rain pattered steadily against the window of your bedroom, a loud thunder exploding outside, as your cheek was pressed against the puffy lilac pillow you were clutching at tightly to brace yourself. Those, however, were not the only sounds piercing your ears.

Your breath was uneven, your lips were parted as you moaned softly for the way he was thrusting into you from behind. His chiseled abs, sweaty, contracted, were grazing the smooth skin of your arched back. His fingers were gripping your hips with an animalistic desire as he tried to increase the pace a tad more. Now, as you squeezed your eyes shut and isolated yourself from the rest of the world, the only sound you could hear were his raspy groans.

“Fuck” he cussed, one of his hand flying up to latch around the back of your neck and keep you in place.

It was too much. You were getting addicted to this and you knew you should have not even started. You blamed it on the beers you were sipping on that summer night at the lake, but it was just an excuse you had made up to feel less guilty about it all. Your friendship was ruined, inevitably.

The drunk giggles, the dirty comments he made and the way you let him hook his hands underneath your thighs to settle you onto the wooden fence bording the shore were just the beginning of it.

His spiky light-blue hair were stuck on his forehead, as he grunted at the way your inner walls were clenching around him so perfectly. You were made for him. You should have been his, you were his. The thought of you hanging around with other men, with Ichigo’s gang, truly irked him. However, he was in no position to retaliate. You were not his girlfriend. You were his bloody friend.

“Hold on, I’m almost there” he huskily said, leaning down towards your ear to let his hot breath fan your earlobe. He knew you loved it, he knew you could not resist him, especially when he was so deep into you.

You whined, your foreteeth sinking onto your lower lip as you tried not to make too much noise. He knew how to read your body, he knew you were on the verge of unraveling under his attentive, piercing blue eyes. You were so beautiful writhing underneath him.

His hand slided down between your parted, trembling thighs, searching for your bundle of nerves. It was so filthy, the moan that ripped out of your chest as he overstimulated you made you feel so ashamed of yourself. He had truly ruined you. Some droplets of sweat, falling from his forehead, ran down the curve of his nose and splashed onto the middle of your back.

“Grimmjow…” you whimpered his name, as his thrusts got sloppier and your knuckles turned white for your tight grip on the pillow. It was too good to be true, too unrealistic to last forever.

You reached your climax as he growled in pleasure, his sharp fangs biting down onto the tender crook of your neck, while he filled you up so deliciously. Panting, he stayed still into you to make sure not a single drop of his seed got to waste. It was his way to mark you, to remind you that you could try to fight it, ignore the connection you had, but your body belonged to him. No one made you feel the way he did.

You exhaled sharply, your droopy eyes fluttering open as you came to terms with what you two had just done for the umpteenth time. You wanted to rip yourself to shreds for being so stupid, but you did not. It was useless anyway. You had not idea of what you two had become, but you were far away from being friends.

As he pulled out of you and collapsed tiredly on the empty side of your bed, Grimmjow scoffed “Come on, say it again” he taunted you, his eyes scrutinizing the ceiling to entertain himself in the aftermaths of the recent events.

A stab through your heart would have probably hurt you less than his words.

You sat up, helping yourself to kneel onto the bed by pushing your drained body up with your elbows. You were glad he could not see your face in the dark room, because your eyes would have betrayed you right away. Your mouth was dry as you stared at your shaky hands planted onto the mattress. The silence swallowing you two was deafening.

“We need to stop. We are friends” you simply mumbled, not daring to dart your eyes on him.

Grimmjow sighed “You don’t really want this to end. If you did, you wouldn’t let me fuck you stupid every single time we meet” he pointed out, resting his arms behind his head as he directed his eyes on the nightsky outside your window.

It was still pouring, the wind blowing fiercely making some brenches of the tree tap onto the glass of the window.

“Stop it” you breathed out, clenching your fists in frustration.

“We used to watch movies, play video games and do some other shit friends do together, before we started this. Can’t you see it? Something’s changed and you need to stop being a coward” he blurted out bitterly, sitting up too to take a better look at you.

You seemed so fragile, so troubled by admitting that you and Grimmjow used to be friends. That was right, your friendship belonged to the past. Now you were something else.

“We are still friends, it’s not too late to make this stop!” you retorted, shifting your position to hide yourself from him. Yet, Grimmjow was not going to drop the argument. He was not done at all.

In a swift motion, he reached his hand towards you and grasped your jaw firmly. Your head was forced to whip towards him and your eyes finally met for the first time, since he crossed the threshold of your bedroom that night. He stayed silent for several seconds, watching the way your lower lip quivered and your eyes seemed to sparkle under the dim moonlight seeping from the window. Your eyes were teary.

“Cut the crap. Friends don’t fuck. I might be a dick, an insensitive brute, but I know that too” he said sternly, his fingernails digging onto your cheeks enough to make you stiffen, but not to leave marks onto the flesh.

He was right.

Once again, you struggled to spit out a single word and you felt your breath get shallow. A tear ran down your cheek and you felt Grimmjow’s grip on your jaw loosen, until he eventually dropped it and you quickly wiped the tear away.

“You know I like you. — you started, your voice merely audible as you swallowed the lump in your throat to finally confront him — But I’m scared. This is wrong. We were not even supposed to be friends, let alone start a relationship” you reasoned, hoping he would understand.

Perhaps, he did. However, he was not going to agree at all. He never had anything good in his life. Feelings were a foreign thing he had overheard some people talk about, when he roamed down the streets in search for nothing but valid opponents. Then he had met you. Now, for some wicked reason, he could not let you go.

“I cannot believe it. It’s because of them, isn’t it? You are ready to throw what we have away for the sake of your fucking friends. I can see it in your eyes” he fired back, standing up quickly and running his slender, calloused fingers through his messy hair.

Sorrow. Waves of nausea. Pain.

You had never seen Grimmjow act like that and it was your fault.

“Grimmjow—” you tried to say, but he cut you off abruptly, but grasping your ankle and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

You yelped, your eyes widening even so slightly as he hovered over you, your noses touching as he captured your lips into a fervent kiss. You returned it as soon as his lips met yours, your arms hanging loosely around his shoulders as you let him take every last shred of pride left in you.

“You know what? Fuck your friends. I need you” he whispered, breaking the kiss, before he bit your swollen, bottom lip and tugged at it softly to assert his dominance over you.

It was a bloody mess, but you could not deny yourself the bliss of having him in your life. As you let him have his way with you again that night, you moaned his name in a different way.

You wanted him, nothing else mattered.

[ughgoaway]

Oh my god yes! Imagine she doesn't even show him, just let's him find it when he's undressing her. He's kissing up her leg and over her thigh then all of a sudden it catches his eye

🎄

this is SO GOOD, and it's similar to what i was thinking, but I'll let you all know my first thoughts!!

(18+ brief non-proofread smutty thoughts below the cut)

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

see my exact thinking was you getting it before a big awards show, maybe the brits or even the Grammy's. you keep it a secret from matty, of course.

you knew they'd win. They always do. so you had a master plan for when they inevitably did, and mattys ego started to grow 10x the size. he always got cocky after a win, and you've lost count of the amount of award shows you'd been dragged away to fuck in the nearest empty room.

so when you hear that announcer say "and the winner is.... the 1975!" And Matty's hands are in your hair and his lips on yours within seconds, you knew everything was going just as you had expected.

they go up, matty does his speech, thanks you and annie as always. but when he comes back down, his hand is gripping the skin of your thigh so tight you wouldn't be shocked if it bruised.

as soon as the awards take a little break, you're being dragged away to a bathroom. matty's lips are on yours the second the door clicks shut behind you. his thigh is pressed between your legs, and you start grinding down without a second thought.

his hands are all over you, gripping and pulling. his mouth working furiously against yours, both your lips pink from the pressure. he's already pulling at the hem of your dress, "fuck get that pretty dress off for me baby. let's celebrate my win, yeah? wanna fuck you with my tongue until you're fucking crying. want everyone to hear what a slut you are for me"

you push him away and rest on the sink, pulling your dress over your head and letting it fall on the floor below. You try not to think too much about the fact your £3000 dress is currently on the dirty bathroom floor, which is quite easy when you meet Matty's eyes and see them tracing your body.

your dress was a backless number, so you went bra-less, much to matty's enjoyment. so his eyes linger on your tits for a minute, and before he can cast them down further, you're pulling him in by his tie and wrapping your legs around him.

Once his lips are on yours again, you grab his hand and bring it to your tattoo. matty thinks you want him to pull your panties off, so he tries to grip the fabric. when you pull his hands off the fabric, he's confused, humming against your lips. but when he lets you drag his finger around those 4 lines, he knows exactly what he's feeling.

the speed at which he rips away from you is like lightning. dropping between your thighs without a second thought with wide eyes. his jaw slack as he stares at the box, tracing it over and over again with his pointer finger.

"fucking hell, you been hiding this from me, sweetheart?" matty whispers, letting his hot breath brush over your skin and smirking as he watches the goosebumps erupt in his wake.

"wanted to get it as a congratulations present for your award, you like it?" you tease, rubbing the bottom half of your leg up and down his back, ever so slightly pulling him closer to the tattoo.

"what if we didn't win? you gonna get it lasered off?" he teases, pressing kisses around the thin black lines. you can't help but gasp at the feeling of his hot lips against your skin.

"mmmn knew you would win. even if you didn't, you still own me just the same, " you whisper breathily, throwing your head back as matty starts pulling your panties down with his teeth.

anyway, you can guess what happens next. basically, matty eating you out and going on and on about your new ink.

"my girl. I fucking own you. branded yourself with me, huh? right by your needy cunt. or is it mine now, hmm? because that's who it really belongs to, doesn't it? its my pretty pussy to use whenever I want"

anyway... very fucking filthy <3

[regarding-stories]

The dark abyss that is Andor

There were several things that led to Andor.

On the one hand, Disney screwed up its Star Wars intellectual property by handing it to complete hacks for Episode VII to IX, leading a potential cash cow to attract less and less viewers over the course of three increasingly bad installments. Seriously, The Last Jedi is one of the worst disappointments I've actually watched, and not only was I thinking "This can't get worse..." every five minutes only to be proven, "Yes, it can!!", it completely killed my appetite to see IX (and I would have left the cinema at that one's sheer stupidity). With VII, I saw it once with some initial excitement in a cinema when it released and a strange feeling afterwards, and I never revisited it. VIII I saw on two separate long-distance flights because I couldn't stomach the thing in one sitting. IX I didn't see at all, but devoured YouTube videos ripping it apart. Clearly, Disney had a Star Wars problem.

The other thing is the reboot that was The Mandalorian, especially season 1. The Mandalorian had a penchant for not very strong logic in its writing that you still accepted because you had so much damn fun and loved the characters. Given the fact that it clearly pulled lots of viewers into Disney+ that were loving its vibe that was true to the core of Star Wars, Disney management saw the fact that theaters and theme parks were closed due to COVID on the one hand and that big Star Wars movies were at risk of actually losing money on the other hand, and they did what executives are wont to do - they decided that if it worked once, it will work again and declared they will pump out TEN Star Wars series in the near future.

Meanwhile they cancelled also their ongoing series of "A Star Wars Story" movies that started with what could be called "Episode III.5" - Rogue One. Rogue One was plagued with production problems, so much so that seeming key scenes from the trailer weren't in the movie. "I rebel!", anyone?? Still, it turned out to be something new - a new kind of Star Wars story. It took the idea of a war movie (or its modern equivalent, Band of Brothers) and put it into the Star Wars cinematic universe. It did without an actual Jedi (kinda-sorta) and it showed a strong performance of Diego Luna as the morally gray Cassian Andor. And... (spoiler alert) ... it killed its whole cast in its finale.

I know people that say Rogue One is their favorite Star Wars movie. (But other people dislike it.) I hold it in high esteem. The way the resistance is portrayed also seemed to be somewhat subversive - both to its previous image on screen and to what is portrayable on screen for mainstream audiences in general. It became clear that unlike in the original three Star Wars movies resisting an empire is, on the ground, a dirty business and not just about big battles or commando raids. (Which then happen anyway. Because Star Wars.)

Then followed the lackluster Solo and the third installment Yoda was never made as Star Wars increasingly lost its ability to draw crowds into seats.

And thus it came to Andor

Now what do you do with a character that (spoiler alert? really?) dies. You make a bloody prequel. Which is funny. Andor is a prequel to Rogue One which is a prequel to A New Hope. Prequels, like sequels, carry the risk of rehashing the original material without adding anything to it (Solo ...) and being trapped by the inevitability of what has to happen next, curtailing its writing (Kenobi ...). But Andor season 1 betrays none of that. (Talk about being addicted to prequels, Disney...) It is a strong piece of cinematic art in its own right.

And yes, I'm saying art. About a Star Wars series. That's how I feel about it. Andor not only has strong execution, it has depth. It was a show that made me pause it and think about what just happened on screen. It's a show that gets deeper if you know about history, unlike most shows that actually reveal their shallowness to the knowing eye. (Looking at you, The Man in the High Castle. Boy, I hated that tripe.)

But even before we get into that, let me say how I impressed I was with its set and costume design. Whereas the Book of Boba Fett gave us cyberpunks on floating scooters, Andor poured a lot of heart into how everybody looked in their various environments, creating a more rich and varied Star Wars society by portraying various strata thereof, from the life of imperial senator Mon Mothma to the middle class living literally in her shade somewhere on the middle levels of planet-city Coruscant to the mining town labor class that we find Cassian in. It flawlessly cuts between different well-thought out locations, including, of all things, a holiday resort.

This is paired with some very strong performances by similarly strong actors. I mean, we all knew Stellan Skarsgard would deliver, sure. But Denise Gough absolutely kills it, acting-wise. Her delivery as a villain is perfect, the way she manages to always look so sour and annoyed already is quite something, how she normalizes evil into a technocrat career. Every flinch of her face conveys books of information to me as the fascinated viewer. She is at the heart of this series, and worth the price of admission alone.

And let's not forget Andy Serkis' heart-rending performance. Really, we're being spoiled. People are seriously acting, not just standing in front of a camera wearing costumes! In Star Wars!!

And yet, if it was only that, it still wouldn't have impacted me as deeply as it had. There's one more layer to this, and it's the massive bottom of the iceberg that is Andor. I haven't forgotten, even though I'm writing this a year after watching it.

(And definitely spoilers from here on onwards.)

Life under fascism

The second half of season 1 however can put deep horror into any thinking person's mind. It radically departs from previous portrayals of the evil Empire. It's not relying on cheap gimmicks like Episode VII where we see a village razed by the First Order. (So evil. So cliche, too. Also murdering Max von Sydow. Tsk, tsk. They had to get him off stage before any good acting happens...) Andor creeps under our skin and then reaps havoc.

(This part of this entry will become increasingly dark. You might not want to read on. Because fiction is one thing, and comparing it to historical reality is another. This is an actual trigger warning. Proceed with care.)

The first half of the season is standard fare, almost. Cassian gets himself in trouble and there is really no redeeming quality about it. He also gets everybody else into trouble. The Empire in its heavy-handed hurry to eradicate resistance actually creates it in the first place. And still... the lack of compunction about torture, about going victim by victim, vanishing people into its torture cells, breaking them... this is merely an overture. No hero is born here, but evil wears its mask imperfectly.

Cassian escapes his small world to eventually live the good life on a resort world, getting laid, pretending to be someone else. Instead of being caught as the fugitive and murderer and partisan he actually is by now, he simply gets caught up in the arrest of somebody else. The way the Empire "perpetrates justice" not only gets him arrested while having done no wrong (in that cover identity), he also gets sentenced by a court that doesn't even pretend to actually care about due process in any way. There's a machine of oppression, and instead of competently catching him, Cassian becomes caught up randomly in one of its many gears.

And while this may seem random, it's brilliant. It's one of the many reasons why resistance exists. Because the Empire's overreach is everywhere, grinding up people just living their lives while trying to perfect its control. The corruption of the desire for power leaks through in its banality.

What follows is Cassian's imprisonment, and this segment is brutal and horrifying on a deep level. The more you know, the worse it gets. Cassian is transported to a prison facility where he's forced into repetitive labor to make equipment for the Empire. There's a set of steps every labor team has to execute, and the team with the lowest quota gets punished with electric shocks. Day after day.

This is "Vernichtung durch Arbeit." ("Destruction through labor.") This is what the Nazis did to their political opponents. Before there was a Holocaust, there were concentration camps. And prisoners were made to work - the cynic motto across the gate of Auschwitz was "Arbeit macht frei." ("Labor sets you free.") People would gradually be ground down until they gave out in one way or another, fell sick, die of exhaustion, broke psychologically. The series never tells us its "inspiration," it just goes through similar motions. With the veneer of a super-clean techno prison over it.

Not only that, the very scene reminded me of what I read in a book about the Holocaust. Towards the end of the war the engines for the new secret weapon jet planes or rockets were manufactured by prison labor. Crews of malnourished prisoners would each execute a few pretrained steps and crank out more jet engines in slave labor than was previously done in the Reich's armament factories. This was the culmination of the Nazi system where all labor-intensive things like the bunkers of the Atlantic Wall or the underground factories of Dora-Mittelbau were erected by and on the back of slaves that were themselves gradually killed in the process.

Without ever breathing a word of what is portraying, Andor portrays the same. Skillfully, horribly so.

The devil is in the details

Some way into this horror, everybody gets their sentence doubled. The counter simply goes up. No explanation. Total helplessness in the face of total control. The deep gut feeling of "No one gets out here alive" or "It will never end" begins to descend. That number was a sort of life line for people to brave another day. And it lies!

As unbelievable as it may seem, people did get released from concentration camps, especially those on "lighter charges" like "antisocial behavior." But nobody really knew how long they had to stay or if they were to be released. Often, initially told they had to do 3 to 6 months depending on their conduct, and yet most people never left alive. A quick read in a book behind me says that 8 million people were sucked into the system, 7 million died, 200,000 left by being released by the system itself. The idea you might be released one day added false hope that in itself could create further psychological torture if it was dashed over and over again.

Then there is the "divide and conquer" approach to prisoner management. Work crews are led by other prisoners, rebellion and resistance is quelled within the ranks. This Andor merely hints at, but the Nazi oppression system skillfully created hierarchies to make sure a comparatively small detachment of guards could handle a large mass of inmates which could overwhelm them if acting together.

But it doesn't stop here, not in Andor, either. Eventually we learn that the Empire starts to eliminate the prison population. Rumors start to spread that an entire floor of the super prison was eliminated by electrocution. Just like the real Nazis the space Nazis start to construct yet another death machine to eliminate opposition.

And this leads to that sub-plots final chapter, the prison revolt. There are a few historical mass escapes, even from Nazi death camps. There's also the heroism of the two uprisings of Warsaw (including the ghetto uprising). Left with nothing to lose, left with nothing but death ahead, the prisoners overwhelm the guards.

And this happened in real life, too. It's probably based on the historical case of the death camp inmates that were forced to run the gas chambers and crematoria themselves. This is part of the Holocaust itself, the Nazis had finally dropped all pretenses and resorting to kill people in an industrial manner. And these people knew that eventually their whole detachment would be killed. They knew too much, were witnesses to this massive crime against them and humanity itself. They were also among those destined for death. Like in an antechamber of hell itself they were merely bidding time. So they managed one of the few mass escapes on record.

While Andor doesn't stray as far down the road as actual history does, it knows how to cite history for those who know. It's not made up of whole cloth. It actually is referencing the real history of the most inhumane version of fascism, but it does not put the fact in your face. But if you know, its chamber of horrors becomes so much deeper.

And that's why

This is what makes Andor an absolute masterpiece. It recreates the conditions without blindly copying the source. It adapts, but you can feel how deeply inhumane the circumstances are that it depicts. It gives you the bloody creeps, and even if you don't know how much it is rooted in darkness, you will still feel it. It shows. It tells. But it never spoils the source material.

This is art. This is the deep craft. The banality of evil, the careless, uncaring attitude of evil towards those it deems unworthy and not human. It's all on display. It switches us into the place of Cassian and of Andy Serkis' character as it draws us in as audience. We don't see what happens on other floors. We don't have the information advantage. We can only imagine. We are subjected to the fact that we can only imagine it. And so we share a bit in the plight of these characters. Sometimes not showing a thing is the highest accomplishment of movie making.

And this is why I'm pissed that a series that was planned for five seasons was already cut to play out in two. Because we need more of this and less of more Jedi doing backflips. Just like Loki plays on a completely different level than the rest of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Andor leaves all of Star Wars in its dust. If Rogue One was the attempt to tell a different kind of story in the same universe, Andor is the attempt at a different level of depth.

And this, more than Rogue One, makes it clear why they fight.

Watch it if you can.

And sorry if I horrified you.

[bro3256]

DKOldies is a scam (and here's why)

If you have been watching TikToks and YouTube Shorts recently then you certainly have stumbled upon DKOldies, they host an online store that exclusively sells used video games. The short videos they post are more or less advertisements for their business and on the surface there's nothing wrong about them, if anything the videos themselves can be entertaining. However as the popularity of DKOldies as grown, it's become more apparent that they are ripping buyers off and also contributing to the video game bubble we are in.

What do I mean by video game bubble? Well since 2019, prices for used video games have skyrocketed in value mainly due to demand from existing collectors but also investors swooping in and buying up games for the purpose of making a profit. As of me writing this post, the bubble has yet to pop but it'll certainly happen soon.

What does this have to do with DKOldies?

Simply put, they overprice the HELL out of their items. It's to the point where its even over the value you get on PriceCharting, but you might think that they're cutting you a deal since its half off right?

So those deals were never really deals to begin with, these items are released with these discounts in place and the Wayback Machine clearly shows that they've been doing this for years. This most certainly is false advertising which is illegal in many countries including where DKOldies operates.

But lets say you disregard the fake discounts and buy an NES bundle for... $250?!?

Well its advertised as being refurbished and you'd expect a pretty clean system especially since DKOldies regularly posts videos of them cleaning games and consoles. Unfortunately, you're not going to get a properly refurbished console as ReviewTechUSA recently put out a video of them unboxing this exact bundle.

Not only was the console still dirty but its partially cracked on the right side. The pins on both the cartridges and console were also not cleaned, which really begs the question if they're really taking the time to actually clean these games and consoles up, again this is clear false advertising.

They also tend to recommend pretty awful things for games, such as using those cheap AV to HDMI converter boxes to play your older consoles on a modern display. These boxes are not designed for video games at all and you'll certainly get a bad muddy picture on top of input lag. I would instead buy a proper upscaler that is designed for video games such as the various RetroTink upscalers. These add no lag and look amazing in comparison.

Now why do they recommend something this awful? Because they not only sell these individually on their site but is an option to be included in most bundles for an absurd markup.

It's even more baffling here since even if you were interested in picking this up, you can just go on Amazon and get one for cheaper.

To wrap things up, I want to mention that DKOldies does do online trade ins. Typically when you trade an item into a store, you'll typically get less than the current average value of the item which is how most local game stores deal with trade ins. DKOldies has a page listing their offers for trade ins and they are laughably low.

Several folks have even made videos talking about how ridiculous these offers are. DKOldies responded by hiding these prices and requiring that you email them to inquire about the price.

(Source: Retail King)

At the end of the day, DKOldies is a business and their focus is making as much money as possible. They've even made a video directly responding to the backlash they've been getting.

This video doesn't address any of the points many have made, if anything its propaganda. It's just a small business, a business that overprices the items they sell and is not transparent about their refurbishments. Unless DKOldies gets slapped with a lawsuit (which at this point is inevitable) then my only plea to those getting into used video games is to avoid DKOldies. If you can, buy from local game stores, go thrifting, and if all else fails eBay will absolutely cut you a better deal because everyone else beats DKOldies prices.

[illarian-rambling]

Happy STS! How are the chores divided among your cast? Is there a person who prefers to do the dishes or someone who will do anything to get out of doing dishes?

I'll answer for the people who actually live together lol

Within the Outcasts, chores are very strictly divided. Izjik is in charge of household repairs and outside work, like chopping wood. That does mean she has less work than most of the others, but she also is the main breadwinner of the household and often works twelve hour shifts on the docks, so they let it slide. When she gets home, she tends to pass out until dinnertime.

Speaking of dinnertime, cooking is Twenari’s job. Mainly because she's the only one who's good at it. She's in charge of meals, meal prep, and since she has the lowest tolerance for grime, she's also often the one who sweeps and mops the floors. With magic, this goes pretty fast.

Sepo and Djek have a delicate chore trade. Djek hates laundry with a passion, and Sepo has a thing about squishy food on his hands, so Sepo does laundry, and Djek does dishes. Djek is also in charge of keeping the bathroom clean, as he and his copious amounts of eyeshadow are the most likely to get it dirty. Sepo is actually really good at doing laundry and has learned to get almost every stain out, from blood to mystery potions.

For the other cast, Astra and Mashal are the only ones who actually live together. Before he ended up traveling with her, Astra's vardo was basically her adhd bachelor pad, but with more bunsen burners and random mechanical contraptions lying around. She cleaned what was necessary to actually walk through the place and didn't tend to cook so much as snack throughout the day. Once Mashal came along, he and his military sensibilities started to tweak out at her half dozen mugs of tea sitting forgotten, so he got to work cleaning. Generally, Mashal ends up doing most of the chores because A) Astra is the only one who actually has a job and he feels like he has to contribute somehow, and B) he understands how her brain works, and that if something isn't actively on fire, she won't remember to clean it. He does his best cooking as well, and isn't half bad for a robot with no sense of taste. The chores Astra does do are repairs on the vardo and sewing whenever Mashal inevitably rips his shirt.

Also, Ivander doesn't live with anyone, but Ceyrel comes over to clean for him pretty often. He hates when she does this, so half the time, she breaks into his apartment when he's not there and cleans up in secret. Though he'd never say so, Ivander is incredibly grateful for this since his curse makes it difficult for him to do house chores, but he's also kind of a neat freak. Thankfully, he can order food instead of having to endure her cooking as well.

This was a fun one, thanks for the ask!

[alovesongshewrote]

Could you share headcanons any fluffy The Lost Boys hcs? I love them being polyamorous with each other.

ofc! they're kind of chaotic, i hope you like them. there isn't much physical romance here, but the fluff still fluffs

It's totally Normal to Move into a Cave with the Homies and Care for the Homies and Gently Kiss the Homies and | General Lost Boys Hcs

Any fluffy hcs you say?

hehehehehe, ok

So, I 100% love and adore the “marko keeps pet pigeons in the cave” thing

I think he named them after everyone else 

There's a paul pigeon, a dwayne pigeon, a david pigeon

He will change the names depending on his mood

Like, if a certain pigeon and a certain boy are pissing him off at the same time

The boy and the pigeon share a name for a week

Paul is a regular victim of this

Rip paul

Speaking of paul

He’s got a sick jacket, right?

Yeah, yeah he does

And he takes that shit off at every opportunity

I don’t blame him, it’s california and they’re all wearing leather jackets 

In what has to be the summer

Idk if vampires can feel heat the way humans can, but like

Still

Anyway, he takes it off any chance he gets 

Someone’s kinda cold?

Here, have the jacket

About to commit an especially bloody murder?

Maybe take off the jacket, so it “won’t get dirty”

The boys got max’s sort-of girlfriend’s son to drink blood?

Time to take off the jacket

And ofc, this means that literally everyone else makes a game of hiding it when they inevitably find it lying somewhere

Marko does this the most, like literally, every time he sees the coat he just

Hides it

Dwayne will also hide it, with less frequency, but with more tact 

He puts that fuckin coat in the Weirdest Places, it’s great

And lastly, david plays the least, but when he does, no one can find the fucking jacket for a week

And he’ll just sit there, drinking blood from a wine bottle and eating unseasoned chinese food, completely unbothered, acting like he’s above it all

Paul knows who hides his shit tho

They all have tells

But he doesn’t say anything because the game is Fun

(bonus: laddie, the randomly acquired child that this polycule adopted, sweet Son Boy Allowed also partakes in the game- kind of.  He’ll find the jacket lying around and use it as a blanket.  It’s cute, makes undead hearts melt, laddie is Everyone’s son/younger brother and they Care About Him)

Also, speaking of jackets

If we go back to marko for a sec

I’ve got a hc that everyone is constantly on the lookout for extra shit he can add to his jacket

It’s genuinely really nice

It’s like 

A group project 

“Lets decorate marko- by The Lost Boys”

Anyway, onto dwayne 

I think either he painted the big ass cat on his jacket, or marko did

(marko likes to decorate things)

When the big ass cat first made its appearance, paul fuckin

Made a cat noise/growl at dwayne 

Yknow that weird growl sound dustin henderson makes in stranger things?  It’s that, that’s the sound

And it actually gets a smile out of dwayne 

Speaking of which- and this is more or less unrelated to anything- but personally i think the relationship between dwayne and paul is underrated 

They’re fuckin cute, ok?

Paul brings dwayne books (not necessarily good ones, but it’s the thought that counts) and if he isn’t hiding it, dwayne bring paul music stuff- tapes and such for the stereo in the cave

They know each other’s interests and they make an effort to support each other, it’s lovely 

Also, if he’s not hiding it, and if his hands are free, dwayne will hold paul’s jacket for him

As said, marko always hides the jacket, and david

Honestly, david hands the jacket to marko

Ik i sort of characterize paul and marko as the ones who Cause Problems On Purpose, but david is just as bad

Speaking of david

This bitch, i care about him

He acts like he doesn’t give a shit

Like he doesn’t love his boys

But that’s bullshit

He’d kill for them in a fucking second 

Also, i think he shields them from max’s less pleasant tendencies 

Like, he can’t hide them from max 

And he can’t hide max from them- not like he does with star

But if he knows max is in a shit mood

A real shit mood

He’ll do his best to get the boys to go somewhere else

He acts like a bitch, but he genuinely cares- oh my god

He’s

No, i don’t want to say it

He’s a fucking tsundere.

Ok, im gonna go sleep off that realization, wish me luck lmao

(Final bonus: if anyone ever questions the relationship, the boys just gaslight the shit out of whoever does the questioning.)

Paul, sitting in Marko's lap: What do you mean you don't kiss the homies goodnight?

Dwayne, hugging David from behind (which david puts up with for the bit, not because he enjoys physical affection, noooo): That's fucked up man.

Marko, with a hand in Paul's hair: You've gotta kiss the homies goodnight, man

oh god

this doesn't have to do as much with someone questioning the relationship, but

David: What do you mean your blood isn't in your homie's veins?

help, oh god, i need to sleep

[lavender-descendentheart]

Ya know I will once again come out of my little Void of nothing to talk about to talk about the thing that grinds our gears once more and also maybe write a little ready? No? Fuck it here we go

so LBD, we already know her the best villain the show had the one who got offed rather unceremoniously honestly Only one who got done as dirty as she was happened to be poor Azure poor boy now anyway I’ve been up many a night wondering with embrace your destiny how and why wukong showed that much fear when she showed up and why her motives in the end were inconsistent with her prior characterization with the whole “I will Rip the memory of you from this World” being before the special her Goal but hey I don’t write the show pretty obviously of course macaque didn’t get any proper karma but I digress pretty sure we know that show and special LBD are two different people but hey let’s try to merge the Sadistic memory eraser with the woobie sad woman who needed cuddles!

so like we know these two let’s not get into it cause this is just a random post I made after listening to a bloody animatic and is not worth that much effort when the fanbase for this bone woman is squarely in the large enough to fill a table at a restaurant level of size. Now personally I could just merge the two characters as LBD once being like any other demon perhaps even more unusually evil then others before she met people that caused her to change for the better now personally I suggest the old woman man and the young girl disguises she used as said individuals with a interaction like this.

she could connect with humans more and slowly change for the better making the inevitable blow that their deaths gave hit all the deeper especially if you assume she takes the forms they had at their time of death and that girl looked mighty young (haha I’m so clever making the bone lady probably watch a child die infront of her)

yada yada we already know the gist she tries to help people humans are innately flawed and the Jade emperor is sticking his head so far up and deep in his ass I’m pretty sure it’s making Macaque’s murderboner for wukong look Shallow in comparison blah blah she meets the fool emperor eventually loses patience and the chief of war the eventual Chaotic ghost gremlin pulls a France and Rewards the emperor as he deserves and then we have no concrete info on what happened next cause hey fuck LBD fans who want more of her actually getting screentime and genuine spotlight so all we get is the knowledge that wukong Enslaved to tripitaka(yes it is slavery he is being made to do something under threat of pain that is straight up slavery no matter how you try to spin it)

promptly found her and came into conflict now this is where it’s interesting considering LBD in the show well…she FUCKING HATES wukong so his defeat had to be pretty bad for her but she doesn’t really seem to out of character normally when seeing him hell even accounting the special which made her more panicky and less logical then she normally is still had her relatively Calm so she is obviously still ABSOLUTELY LIVID about it so what made this particular event this rage inducing as Show LBD wanted to Rip the memory of wukong from the world while special LBD wanted…well we actually had no idea what the fuck she wanted as no one said anything and possessing wukong was a Hail Mary she wasn’t expecting so that’s off the table so just gonna merge the two together right about NOW

now let’s say LBD is still very much ax crazy mega demoness but is ya know chilling out even with her going for worldwide plans insert wukong our resident traumatized beat up Golden slave boy who gets treated AWFUL by the fandom and funny enough others in the show for things that aren’t really his fault now let’s say LBD sees it as a normal occurrence a little surprised that the celestial realm is standing in her way as She expected better and more care for mortals then insert what I like to call the “Wukong Fisting Special” that everyone else in the show has experienced which obviously didn’t end well for bone lady here but hey gotta merge them together to get something better right? So let’s do that Let’s say that as Streaking Gold batters down Bones and Pierces through illusions just as he has done to those that were sworn to him a Silverish Blue struck by Grief and Fed up with endless Perdition catches a glimpse of that same Pain she swore to get rid of in the back of his Eyes as she’s struck down like all the other before and after her.

locked away in a cold desolate crypt by a Monk who knows nothing of what she has seen or done to “see” the error of her ways and repent for trying to…end pain and suffering and the last thing she sees is The Same Gold that struck her down not even looking at her as she is entombed Alive but hey there’s still the Violet Shadow she so graciously brought back in exchange for one favor after all surely he wouldn’t leave her to rot after she brought him back to life in exchange for opening a box right? RIGHT? Bing boom bam the slow realization as she Rots alive in that tomb and the inevitable desperate Panic that ensues as she tries to get out before she exhausts what little echoes of her power remain from her fight with Gold and all she can do now is lament her failure and presumably still be aware mentally of the darkness and the noises above and outside her Grave slowly going mad little by little piece by piece chipping away leaving her delirious confused and most of all ANGRY when she finally is unleashed taking cold Vengeance and merging it with Compassionate Grief until you get the Sadistic Silver of the Show tinted with the Blue Misery of the Special

yeah yeah way with words

we fucking love LBD and that’s our daily post now time to lament the lack of fanart for her and expand that damn au

[yandere-dandelion]

Cherry Wine: Yandere!Izuku/Bully!Reader— NSFW Version!

I was hesitant about putting NSFW in the original, so I decided to make a smuttier version. Hope you enjoy (:

Izuku doesn’t know why he’s so obsessed with you. You treat him like he’s dirt— less than dirt, actually. You treat him like he’s scum.

And you’re right to! He’s worthless compared to you! But you take the time to beat him up every day, and you touch him more than anyone else, even if it’s just to hurt him! You two must have something special. Deep down, you must love him, and this is how you show it!

Izuku treasures the scrapes and bruises that blossom on his skin like bouquets of roses and violets because they show that you touched him. To him, they’re gifts, tokens of your affection. He’s sad when they fade, but inevitably you’ll give him more.

He looks forward to every beating. When you shove him to the ground and he looks up at you, the sun behind you looks like a halo. You’re an avenging angel.

When you look down at Izuku, your eyes glint with malice—what beautiful eyes! Your beauty is breathtaking— or maybe he’s just winded from a particularly harsh kick to his stomach.

When you spit on him, he licks your saliva up like it’s nectar. When you yank him by his hair, he has to keep himself from moaning. When you pinned him against the wall, he nearly came in his pants, and as soon as you left, he furiously fucked his fist for hours to the thought of you.

When you stomped on his notebook and ripped the pages out, he kissed the boot print you left behind and placed the torn and dirtied paper in his shrine to you.

A few other items in Izuku’s shrine:

- A cup you drank out of

- Your chewed up bubblegum. He might have put it in his mouth after you spat it out on him, but he also might have been too scared to tarnish it with his own saliva.

- Endless pictures of you, all candid. Some were taken from afar, some from behind, some from outside your window, and some from in your room as you slept.

- Pencils and pens you’ve used, especially if you’ve chewed on them.

- Your dirty clothes, especially your underwear. He steals them from your room when he sneaks in. When he’s alone in his room, he might hold them to his face as he touches himself, breathing in your scent like a drug he can’t get enough of and imagining it’s your hand touching him, rather than his own, or he might wrap them around his hand as he fucks his fist and use them as a cum rag. When they lose your scent, he returns them to you, and of course he gets painfully hard when he sees you wearing them again.

A few things in Izuku’s notebook:

- A long, detailed entry about your quirk— he’s seen it in action many times when you used it against him.

- A long, detailed entry about you as a person— the foods you eat, the clothes you wear, the places you go, your smell, your sleeping position, your schedule, every mundane detail he can find. Some of these things you don’t even know about yourself.

- Countless drawings of you. Some of his drawings are familiar scenes of your face twisted into a hateful snarl or a sadistic smile, or more mundane images of you eating lunch, talking with your friends, or bored in your room. Others are more imaginative sketches of you smiling, laughing, or moaning as he fucks you, or of you fucking him.

- Long, detailed fantasies about you. As much as Izuku loves it when you’re mean to him, he would love it even more if you were kind. He fantasizes about your hands touching him gently instead of roughly, your beautiful voice saying sweet words instead of cruel ones, your gorgeous eyes looking at him with love instead of disgust. He fantasizes about you protecting him from his other bullies— you’re probably strong enough to fight them all off on your own. The scrapes and bruises on his skin can attest to that. He fantasizes about the life he’ll have with you— it’s all planned out, to the very last detail.

He fantasizes about your little “dates” turning into something lewder.

He fantasizes about you forcing his head between your legs, holding him by his hair.

He fantasizes about you pinning him against the wall and kissing him roughly, one hand holding his above his head and the other stroking his cock. He fantasizes about you tying him to the bed and riding him, using him for your pleasure as he’s unable to do anything but take it.

He fantasizes about you pegging him— you’d probably be rough and cruel, like you are with everything else, and degrade him with every breath. He fantasizes about you pulling his hair, spanking his ass cherry red, wrapping your hand around his throat, fucking him until he cries and then some.

And maybe he fantasizes about you fucking him gently, praising him, kissing him softly. “So good for me, baby, so good. Come for me. Good boy.”

But he also fantasizes about turning the tables, getting revenge for those years of bullying, tying you up and edging you until you cry and then some, then making you cum again and again until you scream.

He fantasizes about making you degrade yourself the way you degraded him.

He fantasizes about your terrified face looking up at him when he finally takes you like he’s wanted to for so long.

He fantasizes about you in his home, bound, gagged, and helpless for him.

He fantasizes about utterly breaking you and turning him into his perfect little pet. Doesn’t he deserve it, after all those years of torment at your hands?

For now, it’s just fantasy, but that won’t cut it for much longer.

[randomshyperson]

Rulers of The Multiverse - Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Chapter Fourteen

Summary: Strange’s faulty spell will cause a series of unexpected events, from your reunion with the love of your life in another world to the appearance of a child capable of traveling across the multiverse. This story follows the journey of a very tired Guardian alongside mischievous America Chavez and Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: (+18) explicit language and sexual content, violence, a lot of magic, found family, mentions of abusive past and trauma, mind control, use of illicit substances, mostly top!reader, soulmates analogies. || Words: 6.481k

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Series Masterlist

A/N-> I can't believe we are reaching the ending already, so glad for all the reviews so far. A lot of you were worried I would kill Wanda, i almost feel offended haha I hope it's not so confusing to read about Wanda and her variant, just remember that one it's a redhead. Good reading everyone!!

--//--

Chapter Fourteen - Inevitable - Part One

Earth-012S - Before

Wanda stared into the mirror with boredom in her expression. It was not her own reflection she stared back at, but a distorted image of a demon - who had been whining for almost forty minutes.

"[...] Your incompetence continues to impress me, Miss Maximoff." Chthon teased as a last resort, seeing the way the witch wasn't even paying attention. The attempted offense caused a small smile to appear in the corner of the other, who crossed her legs in her chair.

"My incompetence?" She repeated with mock debauchery in her voice, defiance shining in her gaze. "And what are your complaints, my lord?"

The title came loaded with sarcasm, but neither she nor Chthon wavered in their postures. The image of him became sharper in his demon form.

"I keep giving you all the answers you need, and yet, you keep failing." Reminded the demon, his figure circling in the room's reflection, "I wonder if it's not time to choose another variant, one that spends less time on jewelry and more time doing their job!" He charges between teeth, and Wanda gives a hoarse little laugh, raising one of her hands to her chin.

The golden bracelet with the five infinity stones glows in the low light of the room.

"Tell me, oh all-powerful Lord of Chaos, how infuriating is it to be limited to a phantom dimension?" Wanda teases as she stands up. "You must be so frustrated without new toys."

"Do not test my patience, witch." Retorts the god angrily. "Don't forget who you're talking to."

But Wanda only gives another hoarse giggle, moving to reach for the wine jug beside the mirror.

"The mighty god of chaos, banished by his own siblings to a dimension that bores him. I have goosebumps." She mocks and bites back a smile as the god squirms - the whole room shaking and a crack appearing in the glass - through the witch, doesn't flinch an inch.

"When I am free, I will rip your head off and display it as a trophy, you dirty witch-"

"That's why we have issues, my lord." Wanda cuts in, raising one of her hands and taking a long sip of wine afterwards. "It's always the same of the same thing. You cuss, and I cuss, and then you give me some bad clue and try to guilt-trip me into doing your dirty work, and the cycle repeats. It's getting boring, don't you think? Why don't you just tell me where she is."

"Because I don't know!" Chthon shouts impatiently. Taking a deep breath, he tries to calm himself down. "She got out of my influence, it was the guardian I'm sure. I don't know where they are, and you're too stupid to find them!"

"Your lies get in my way, Chthon." Wanda cuts in with coolness, one hand studying the gleaming stones. "I've been turning worlds over after what you asked me for, and all your clues have led me to dead ends. I proved myself worthy of all that power long ago."

Chthon gives a wry laugh. "Worthy? All humans are unworthy of ancient magic, Wanda Maximoff. Our agreement is a mere testament to my benevolence, and you are wearing out my patience. I suggest you find the Guardian before I find another witch." Declares the god seriously, and Wanda clenches her jaw, staring back at him until the image falters, and her red eyes are the only reflection.

Earth-012S - Present

Wanda felt her whole body ache all at once. She could feel the grass scratching her face, and hear the muffled sounds of footsteps, voices, and something like electricity.

She watched as you were thrown into the magical portal, and forced herself to sit up as she saw the knight turn in her direction.

You couldn't be dead, because she could actually feel you everywhere.

"Y/N." She called out once, twice. Until the Knight stood in front of her, sword in hand. Her chest was aching, she had felt the blade before, but now, all she could feel was the wetness and the itch. 

"How are you still alive, witch?" The knight questioned in a frustrated grumble, sword trembling between the fingers. "Is this some other of your illusions?" She shouted demandingly. Wanda lowered her head to her own wound, bloody fingers in front of her. But the cut was practically closed.

"Kill her! End this at once!" Someone shouted from the other side - Wanda was going to call it the female and equally show-off version of Steve Rogers with a British shield - to the Knight. But the figure was still hesitant.

"I sense Chthon in you. No more tricks, Wanda. This the end of the line." She declares before straightening her sword. And as she moves forward, scarlet magic holds the blade in the air.

"Now it's my turn." Wanda retorts, her magic expelling the sword away out of the knight's hand as other waves spring up from the ground, moving the roots until they lock onto her opponent's ankles and legs, forcing her to the ground.

The others barely have time to realize what is happening before the same magic envelops them, squeezing and straggling them to the limit - a warning not to try to fight.

Wanda presses the wound, now closed, for a second of confusion before she stands up properly and approaches the imprisoned Knight.

"Where is my family?" she asks earnestly and impatiently, watching the Knight struggle against the roots. 

"If you're going to kill me, do it at once!" She retorts angrily. "Don't turn me into one of them!"

Wanda tilts her head, raising her hand to their helmet. The knight struggles, trying to pull the face away, but with a flick of her fingers, the metal begins to shatter until it falls to the ground. 

"Y/N." Wanda gasps in surprise as she meets your face, a hard, angry expression, but still you. A few years older perhaps. A huge, deep scar on your right eye, to which she extends her fingers to. "How... what-"

"Don't play innocent with me!" Your variant shouted back, never ceasing to fight against the roots that were getting tighter by the second. "I can feel it, witch! I don't know how you fooled the sword, but I will find another way to kill you!"

Wanda took her eyes from the struggling figure to the fallen sword a few feet away. She used her roots to bring the item close, looking at it curiously.

"I felt the hit, I just don't understand how..."

"How did it not die? Neither do I!" Cut the irritated knight. "It was a trick of your dirty god, I'm sure of it! Let me go, Wanda! Let's have a fair fight for once. Without a sword and without your stones! Face me as an equal at least once!"

Wanda blinks in confusion at the whole thing. "My stones?" She asks and the Knight hesitates a bit as she lets her gaze run down.

"The infinity stones... Did you take them off? B-but..." 

Wanda sighs, shaking her head. "Y/N, I'm not the one you're looking for."

"But..." The knight hesitates confusion in her eyes before the anger returns. "Lies! I feel Chthon on you!"

Wanda sighs impatiently, looking around for some clue as to America's whereabouts or the version of you she should be looking for.

The van has had its trunk pretty much wrecked. Something had hit it so hard that it had opened a crater in the road, and when she saw the formation, she realized that it looked a lot like the cut of something, and it was not easy to deduce that it came from the sword.

Turning her attention to the item again, the roots moved the blade to her eye height, and Wanda raised her fingers to the glowing item.

"If you are going to use it to kill me, know that it will hurt you too." The Knight warns between teeth, causing Wanda to frown. "You are not worthy to wield it."

"I would never hurt you, Y/N."  Wanda retorts as if it were obvious, receiving an incredulous, tired laugh in return. Rather than insist, she traces her fingers across the blade, sighing softly as she recognizes her magic in it. "I can feel...you."

The knight grimaced. "Of course, you can, it's my sword."

Wanda sighs impatiently, pushing these curiosities away as she moves closer to the knight again, placing her hands behind the back of your neck. "Forgive me, dorogaya, I know you hate it, but I need to find your other version and our kid." That's the only warning before Wanda uses her magic to enter the variant's mind.

It is messy and heavily fortified. Much more so than any other mind, she has ever entered. She can feel the magic fighting against hers, pushing her out. And for a second she thinks she felt a third force, perhaps Chthon trying to overpower her again, before she gets anything really useful. A hiding place in some kind of temple.

She left her variant's head with a gasping sigh, blinking as she met your confused and oh-so-familiar eyes.

"You are not the Wanda I seek." The knight sighs affectedly. "But Chthon has you, too."

"No, detka." Wanda assures gently, one hand going to the cheek of the woman in front of her. "What you feel is not Chthon. You just feel my Chaos magic. I am the Scarlet Witch."

The Knight struggles against the roots in desperation. "No! Get out of here! Don't let her find you!"

Wanda frowns in confusion, but the Knight doesn't stop fighting until the roots start to hurt. "Please, Wanda! Don't look for her, leave this world now! Before she finds you!"

"I have to find-"

"She wants your magic!" The knight cut in desperation. "She wants it, and she'll do anything to get it! There can't be another forge, if she has you it will be a matter of time before she finds the guardian-"

"You are the guardian!" Wanda interrupts, surprising the other, "Or, well, your variant. Which you just threw into a portal."

The knight shakes her head in panic. "No." She gasps, and grunts at the roots. "Let me go! I sent her straight to it, we need to run. She can't get to your Y/N!"

Wanda hesitates, but it's you. And she is running out of options.

"Don't try to kill me again." She warns before the roots go slack. The knight falls to her knees but doesn't stay on the ground for more than two minutes, picking up her sword and getting up.

As soon as the other two girls are free, she is conjuring a portal.

"Now we get to work with the enemy?" It is Captain England who asks Wanda suspiciously, but the Knight gives a short laugh.

"Careful, Peggy. She's the Scarlet Witch, that pretty much makes her your queen." That's the response before your variant pats the surprised woman on the shoulder to encourage her to enter the portal, being accompanied by the other older witch. Before Wanda enters, the Knight touches her arm. "Forgive me for the hit, I thought-"

"It's all right." Wanda interrupts with a lopsided smile. "Let's just get this mess over with soon. I want to find, well, you."

The knight gives a small smile. "Sure, but another thing... If my eyes turn red, and it's not you, aim to kill."

Wanda swallows dryly, but her variant beckons her to enter the portal, and she just decides better to obey.

—--------

“[...] So, in this universe, Wanda snapped her fingers instead of Thanos?" You asked Erik - who had spent the last few minutes explaining to you about that universe in what you came to call the little headquarters.

The cell you were in was in Darkhold's castle, Wundagore Mountain, and according to Erik, it was the most efficient location for what the group had been planning for months.

"Exactly, Miss L/N." Erik agreed with a nod, and you resisted the urge to correct him about your last name. "The second time we needed to face the Mad Titan, someone needed to snap their fingers to wipe out his army. But Wanda..."

"Switched sides." Natasha interrupts the story with a scowl, bringing out what looked like destroyed traps. Erik sighs. 

"Romanoff, it wasn't like that."

"Or pardon me, Magneto, what would you call what the lady did later with her own people?"

You frowned in confusion. "Her people?"

Nat laughed humorlessly. "Mutants." She clarified. "Wanda didn't stop after Thanos. We had a plan, to use the stones to stop the titan, and destroy them after. But she grew fond of the power. When the fight was over, no one else could find her, not the stones, not even your body."

You widen your eyes. "M-my body?"

"Look, cutie, the reason Pietro was impressed with your affection for the witch is that after what happened to our Wanda and your variant, she went completely berserk. She used some kind of magic to travel between worlds and murder as many versions of you as possible."

You swallowed hard, glancing quickly at America, but the girl was busy with one of the others in the corner of the room and away from the conversation. "But why would Wanda, um, kill me?"

"We don't know exactly, but it must be because you are the only one who can stop her." Erik continues the story. "Look, Y/N, in this world, my daughter and you had a difficult relationship. Opposing natures in your abilities caused a certain conflict between you. It was a surprise when the conflict turned into love. But you, well, there is no easy way to say it. You died protecting the Mind Stone." 

"But it was no use, because Thanos already had the Time Stone, and he only needed to rewind it to get all five." Natasha says, her hands working on the broken traps. "Half the population blipped, and Wanda with them. Thanos prevented your death by using the Stone, but you grew different without her. When we brought everyone back, you and I..." Natasha hesitates, clearing her throat. "We needed to make a sacrifice. One soul for another. And well, you gave yours. I used the iron armor to get your body, and it wasn't an easy thing. But I couldn't leave you in that place..."

You look at them in surprise, but the redhead just sighs wearily before speaking again.

"So when Wanda came back from the blip, she found out that you had sacrificed yourself, once again, for the greater good or whatever other cheesy shit you used to say." Nat continues. "We held a funeral for you, tried to move on. But suddenly, things started getting pretty weird."

"Wanda isolated herself after she ran off with the stones. She came here, in this castle to study the darkhold." Erik takes over the story. "It was Pietro who found her first, and he only got out alive because he was smart enough to pretend to believe the fantasy she created here."

You look at them expecting them to complete, but it is Pietro who steps forward. 

"Imagine this place completely different, Y/N. Like a real castle, with fine tapestries and shelves of gold. It was like walking into a fairy tale, nothing like those moldy walls or that cold. I entered through the front door, and was welcomed by you." Pietro recounts. "Wanda used the stones to restore everything, and create a fake life. But everything was fragile and untruthful, she could not go far from the castle, nor you, nor..."

"Your daughters." Erik continues, and you widen your eyes. "Two little girls also made with magic. It was a perfect fairy tale. But it was destroying that reality from the inside out."

"Me or the guys who can't move things with their minds had no chance of stopping her, especially with the stones and all the power she gathered while being here." Natasha counters with a grimace. "So the sorcerers and her people tried."

"And Wanda snapped her fingers again." Pietro completes with a sad sigh. "She refused to move on, and with just a simple wish, all the mutants were gone."

"But you and Erik are still here." You comment as soon as you recover from the shock, and receive a humorless chuckle from the older man.

"Yes, and I should thank you for that." Erik retorts. "The Sword that your variant carries, has the power to cut between realities. You left Wanda, broke free of her command, and dragged a few of us into another universe. And as we tried to make our way back, we discovered what our Wanda was doing. Killing her way out to get to the version of you that can help her get what she really wants."

"She wants it to be real." You mutter in shock. "That's it isn't it?"

All three nod in agreement. Natasha speaks first:

"Your betrayal has shaken her, that was our guess. Because she brought you back to life and you, well, went behind her back and did the right thing." She says. "But then, when your variant explained to us about your magics, and about who you were, it all made sense."

"Not even the five infinity stones can create life, Y/N." Erik says. "Wanda needed ancient magic, and this place taught her all about it. The problem is that there can only be one Scarlet Witch, and she was not the one chosen."

"So she wants to steal my Wanda's magic?"

Erik nods. "And yours too."

"Mine?" you exclaim in confusion.

"Order Magic and Chaos Magic, when combined, create life." He explains. "It would make her daughters real, it could even bring you truly back to life."

"So the knight version of me, is like a living dead person?" 

"Something like that." Natasha comments running a hand over her neck. "I think it's in the middle. The blessing of the goddess of order and the soul stone keeps you grounded, probably. We don't know exactly how it works, but what matters is that you are standing, trying to bring the mutants back and stop your ex-wife."

You sigh loudly, getting up. Your body is hurting a little, but that will have to wait for later.

"Okay, that was a lot. But I need to find my Wanda, so tell me what I can help with?"

Natasha and Erik exchange quick glances. "You stay behind, we've been practicing this for a long time for new changes." That' is what the mutant declares, making you exclaim impatiently.

"What? No, I'm going to help!"

"Miss L/N, you can't even use your magic properly-"

"It is Miss Maximoff, and my magic is fine!" You retort, electric wires coming out of your fingers. "I'm going to find your daughter, both versions, and put an end to this big mess. And then I'm going to pack up my car and leave this universe!"

Natasha hides a giggle, impressed by Magneto's speechlessness. You step aside to walk over to America.

"Hey kiddo, come here a sec." You ask pulling her into a corner. "I want to ask you to stay behind."

America frowns immediately. "What, but I want to-"

"Help, I know." You interrupt her with a sad smile. "But, you're like, super important to me okay? And I don't want you to be in danger. And we've arrived in a world where it's gotten really bad really fast, and we're dealing with something way worse than crawling monsters, and I'm not going to risk you."

"But Y/N..."

"America, promise me something." You say looking into her eyes. "If things get worse, you will open a portal and you will leave this world. And you won't look back."

She immediately denies it with her head, her eyes filling with tears. "No, I'm not leaving you."

"Please, kiddo, listen to me." You insist, swallowing your emotion to speak seriously. " You know that I care about Wanda. Very deeply. And fighting her is not going to be the same as fighting someone else. I can't guarantee that..." You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. "She's not like another enemy, I would never want to hurt her. And maybe, in this world, I need to. And if I fail, I don't want you to be put in danger. So you need to promise that you will stay safe, while I search for our Wanda to be back."

America hesitates, but then hugs you tight, and you want to believe that she will obey.

"Well, it's time, so if you're going to help, move." Natasha breaks the momentum as she approaches, two rifles - visually encrusted with magic by the electrical markings on the tips - at her back. The group moves very quickly.

And you bid America farewell at the cell door. "Remember, Chavez. Things have gotten ugly..."

"Portal to another world." She completes, hugging you one last time before you turn away.

Natasha guides the group through the dark corridors. You realize through the windows of the castle that there is some sort of event going on outside.

"Those are the Chaos Worshippers." Pietro whispers to you as you make your sneaky way. "They're like henchmen."

"Oh, right." You mutter, and as soon as you meet up with the first group around the hall, you realize that Natasha and the others are using the fireworks to cover the noises of gunfire.

A moment later, something occurs to you.

"Hey, Pietro, you didn't tell me where to...?" But you keep silent because you are alone in the cold hallway. Your body tenses immediately, and it only gets worse when a giggle sounds in your ears, the sound all too familiar.

"You know what the most fun part of time loops is?" Asks the female voice that makes you close your eyes for a second. "No one ever realizes they are in one."

You watch the illusion of the hallway dissipate around you, turning into a destroyed large room. 

"What have you done with them?" You ask into the room, not knowing where the witch was yet, not being able to sense her.

"They are experiencing that ridiculous day again. Over and over." She replies. "This pathetic attack on the worshippers. It was very foolish of them to think I wouldn't find out they were in my own house, don't you think, Detka?"

You swallow dryly at the nickname, but the woman laughs softly again, and a moment later, you look forward, and she is stepping out of the shadows. 

Always, absolutely stunning, in every universe. It's unfair, to say the least. You sigh deeply, trying to remember everything you've been told. 

Bad Wanda.

Bad yet fucking pretty Wanda.

"I finally found you, Y/N." She says with a short smile, her brunette hair cascading down her shoulders, her red outfit completely dominated by the darkhold marks and making you swallow dryly. 

"I hope you're not disappointed." You manage to tease with a small smile, trying not to despair at the thought of America.

Wanda smiles, her eyes glowing red. "I kinda miss the scar, but you're still beautiful."

You give a confused laugh, "Scar?"

"Mm-hmm." Wanda murmurs, moving leisurely around, her fingers lighting the chandeliers one by one until you are able to make out the great hall you are in, and the statues on the walls. The largest of them, in the center, makes you swallow dry because it is exactly like the one on your back. "Didn't you get one in your universe? Here, it was a heartbreaking story. Little Sammy didn't want his sister to embarrass him at training so he decided to teach her a lesson."

You frowned. "My brother?"

Wanda bit back a smile, watching you intently. "Oh, you know him, then."

"Of course I do!" You retort. "My brother would never hurt me!"

Wanda gives a wicked little laugh, shaking her head. She crosses her arms, one hand brought to her chin, and you flinch as you notice the bracelet with the stones. "It's fascinating how stories change between universes, don't you think, darling? Your Samuel wouldn't hurt you, while in this world, hurting you was all he ever did."

You swallow dryly, trying to think of what to do next. Wanda seems to immediately realize your idea of buying time, and closes her fist, wrapping you in a magical chain in the blink of an eye that makes you grunt in pain.

"But I lied to you, dear." She comments as she approaches you. "The scar was much smaller before I ripped the stone from your eye."

“W-what?”

You grunt in confusion, being dragged across the room without difficulty by the thick, painful chains.

"Oh, yes, you asked me to, sweetheart." Wanda retorts, leading the way to a stone table. "You said it was time and that only I had the power to do it. Thanos could not have the Stone ‘cause it wouldn’t be fair for all those people to die. But it was alright, right, dear, since I could never hurt you, could I?"

You swallow dryly, trying to struggle against the chains to no avail, and soon, you are pinned to the stone table. Wanda sighs softly, as she approaches, leaning toward you until the hand holding the stones is caressing your cheek.

"So I put a hole in your face to destroy the stone, and I killed you for nothing." Wanda tells without a hint of emotion in her voice, though you can make out the tears in her red irises. "And when Thanos brought you back, what happened, kukolka?"

"You were blipped." You answer, your breath hitching as you feel Wanda trace her black fingers to your throat, and can hear the fabric of your t-shirt being torn. "A-and I sacrificed myself for the Soul Stone to bring everyone back wasn't it?"

"Funny thing." Wanda comments as she licks her lips, your torn shirt flying away into the distance, and her hand going down to your stomach. "Since you gave your soul, no matter how many times I snapped my fingers, you wouldn't come back to me. Not entirely. Always a whisper, a shadow."

"Perhaps it would be better to let me go." You suggest breathlessly, and Wanda gives a short chuckle. Your smile fades as you feel a deep pain in your abdomen as if your skin is tearing and burning. The surrounding candles burst into flames, and Wanda sighs deeply.

"The worst part about these toys, Y/N, is how fragile they are." Wanda mutters as she moves her hands away from you - stained with blood now - and nods to her own wrist with the stones. "No matter how many times I changed the fantasy, it never stopped being a lie. And we deserve better than a lie, don't you think, darling?"

You didn't answer, because suddenly it became hard to breathe. Your body began to burn, and spasm and your eyes began to glow golden. Wanda watched the scene with fascination, leaning toward you again, and whispering in your ear:

"Find them for me, dear." She commands. "So I can make things right for us again."

—-----

Wanda can feel Chthon in the walls. Still, he doesn't speak to her. There is only a low rumble of a laugh, a teasing. As if he knows she is there but doesn't recognize her only to leave the uncomfortable feeling beneath her skin.

Your variant brought her into an open room, some kind of hiding place. It was full of people, working with boxes of weapons or objects she didn't know about.

They seemed to be planning something big.

Peggy and the witch from before came out in front, the captain went straight to the front of an electronic map of a structure that resembled a castle.

"Where are we?" Wanda asked the knight, who offered her a tired sigh.

"The resistance." She replied. "What's left of the Avengers, Mutants, and Sorcerers of this world. All working to end the Witch's dominance."

Wanda crossed her arms in discomfort. It wasn't her, but it was still a version of her that had started some kind of tyrannical dictatorship. She decided to stick around your variant, it was the most familiar thing she had there. 

"Any sign of them, Peggy?" Asked the knight to Peggy who still had her attention on the map.

"No, Y/N, we're the same. No return officially for four weeks." Says the captain sadly. Your variant sighs in frustration, and Wanda asks what's wrong.

"A group has gone AWOL on a planned offensive." Answers the woman, and seemed a bit hesitant to continue, but at Wanda's glance, she sighed. "Among them, Wanda's brother."

"Pietro?" She exclaims in shock. "He...he's alive?"

"Well, we don't know." Peggy cuts in with a certain sarcasm. "It was risky to attack, but we planned it for months. And when it finally happened, it was as if the whole group just disappeared. I wouldn't doubt that she snapped her fingers again and-"

"I wouldn't hurt him." Wanda interrupts seriously and doesn't flinch from Peggy's stare. "Never. In any world. He's my twin."

"Well, in any case, he's gone. Along with some other soldiers quite valuable to us." Peggy still clearly doesn't believe Wanda. "We're preparing an infiltration mission, to at least find out if your variant is even still inside the castle-"

"She's inside." The knight cuts in. "I can feel her. But that doesn't mean she hasn't left."

The knight nods for Wanda to follow her to the other corner, where there are several note boards to which she nods.

"The Darkhold castle is the place where the God of Chaos prescribed the book of the damned. All the teachings are on the walls. There is a spell that allows a witch to transmit the consciousness to another version of themselves throughout the universe." Explains the woman. "It is how my-our Wanda has traveled between worlds and done so much damage. I, on the other hand, can only go physically, by using Oshur's sword to cut my way between the rifts of the worlds. And it's exhausting for someone in my condition."

"What condition?" Wanda asks.

"I am dead." The knight replies making Wanda's eyes widen. "There is much you do not know..."

"We don't have time for stories, Y/N." The elder witch with the staff cuts in, approaching Wanda. "Let me show you the truth, and we can continue to fight."

She allows the witch into her mind after exchanging a look of confirmation with your variant. And in a second, she sees everything that happened there. It overwhelms her, all the pain and suffering.

"Excuse me, I need... a moment." She asks quickly not wanting to have a panic attack in front of so many strangers.

She ends up in a hallway, her hand on her stomach and her forehead against the wall. There is a small improvised bathroom to her right, and she is grateful for the sink.

Memories of the witch flash in her eyes - ugly fights, the image of herself killing all those sorcerers, holding the bracelet, holding your body....”

"Sorry about that." The voice of your Variant makes Wanda jump in fright. She meets the eyes so familiar and yet so different in the reflection, as the variant approaches with a small smile. "They're not good at trusting strangers, especially if the stranger has the same face as the enemy."

Wanda gives a short laugh, turning around, her hands holding up her sinks. "It's okay, I can hardly imagine how hard it must be to look at me and not see so much death."

Your variant hesitates, taking up the free space on the wall. "I'm sorry, Wanda."  That's what she says, and Wanda only forces a smile, averting her eyes to her own feet. "If it's any consolation, I don't just see death when I look at you."

"And what do you see?" Wanda asks raising her gaze again and getting a small smile in return.

"I just see you."

Wanda looks away again, a short laugh escaping. "Yeah, I don't know what that means."

"I guess we'll find out." Your variant comments and Wanda sighs, brushing a strand of hair out of the front of her face.

"What's the plan?" She asks, deciding that she has already spent too long thinking about things when she should be meeting you and America. Your variant gives a soft chuckle.

"Well, the plan was to investigate the large, unknown, magical energy emission that appeared in Dragorin, and try not to lose anyone else along the way." The knight countered by crossing one of her arms. "And of course, the main mission of preventing the witch from finding both the Guardian and the Scarlet Witch, but apparently, we've already blown a stage."

"Where did you send her?" Wanda questions and your variant lets out a guilty sigh.

"To an abandoned cell in the eastern area." She replies. "I figured your Y/N was under the witch's control, and I wasn't going to send her straight to us. But it's an old hiding place, and she'll probably find it eaten. The little girl too."

Wanda lets out a relieved sigh. "Okay, let's go there then."

The knight frowns. "That's not how we do things-"

But Wanda cuts in with a short laugh. "Look, I don't mean to be disrespectful to all the fighting and planning, but, I've dealt with the infinity stones before. And chaos magic is endlessly superior. You guys don't have to worry about-

"It's not you I worry about." Variant cuts in with a seriousness that makes Wanda swallow dryly. "That version of you wiped out a population with a snap of the fingers. The stones may not be as powerful as ancient magic, but they do bad damage. The Scarlet Witch can survive a lot, but we have soldiers who don't count on the same luck."

Wanda presses her lips together. "Fine, I'll go alone then." Wanda declares but when she turns around, your variant holds her wrist.

"Please, Wanda, listen to me." She asks more gently now. "I dare not underestimate your mastery or magical power, but I am talking about a version of you that has been absorbing knowledge and other creatures, including master spellcasters for a considerable time, all to achieve as much power as she could." Your variant counters. "I must urge the minimum of caution, for if my Wanda is able to absorb your magic, it will be the end of everything."

Wanda tilts her head toward your variant. "Earlier, you corrected yourself. You called her our Wanda, instead of yours." Remarks the witch and watches the variant swallow dryly, looking away. "Witchbreaker memories don't show everything. What am I to you in this world?"

Your variant hesitates, shaking her head. "Nothing, not anymore."

"Bullshit."

"Wanda."

"I always know when you're lying." Wanda insists, raising a hand to the variant's face, sliding her finger across the scar in her eye. "Yet, this is different."

The variant swallows dry again, shuddering under the touch but keeping her gaze on Wanda. "No matter what existed between us, my mission now is with the survivors."

Wanda hums, tracing the scar. "What happened to your eye?"

"It doesn't matter." Variant says but Wanda firms her grip, and the woman grunts softly before adding: "You."

"What was in here?"

Variant sighs. "I had an accident when I was younger, my master thought I would bleed to death, so he put Agamotto’s eye in place, that being the mind stone. When Thanos arrived, you had to rip it out to destroy it so the Titan couldn't have it."

Wanda pulls her hand away in shock. "I blew a hole in your head."

Your variant sighs. "Wanda, it wasn't your fault-"

"You lost your vision as a child." She mumbles thoughtfully, a million ideas in her head at once. A million possibilities.

"Hum, yeah, but you used to make a little joke about it." Your variant counters with an awkward chuckle. "The first time you saw me with the stone, you joked that I was a such a good vision to look at. It was meant to tease me, but then it kind of became a nickname and-"

Wanda's eyes were filled with tears. 

Vision.

You were Vision.

How was that possible?

"[...] Anyway, it doesn't matter. That was a long time ago, and I'm dead, and I can't let my Wanda go on with this."

The witch frowns. "She's doing all of this for you, isn't she?"

Variant chuckles short, "No, Wanda." But the witch doesn't believe it, not one bit.

"Stop lying."

"I'm not lying!" The variant exclaims impatiently and takes a deep breath for speaking up. "She didn't…-I left her, okay? My Wanda brought me back, did everything for us, and I...I left her. I lost her. She's not... I don't feel her anymore. I just feel Chthon." She confesses with bitterness in her voice. "The first few nights, I could pretend I didn't. Wanda used the stones and kept changing things to take the uncertainties out of me, but over time, it all broke down. She is no longer..."  The variant cut herself off, emotion in her voice, and Wanda swallowed dryly. "That's why I say it doesn't matter what happened between us. I'm dead, and my wife is gone too. The priority has to be those people."

Wanda sighs deeply but manages a smile. She holds the variant's hand. "I will make things right, I promise."

The variant smiles but blinks a moment, and her eyes turn red. Wanda frowns. "Y/N?"

Suddenly, lips are on hers, and Wanda chokes in surprise. She instinctively pushes off the variant, confusion stamped on her face. The knight wastes no time in pushing forward again, pressing Wanda's entire body against the sink.

It's so familiar, and it's so you. Except it isn't. And while Wanda is busy trying to remember this, and trying to get free, the knight conjures a portal next to them.

"Y/N, stop-" Wanda pleads, pushing again, but her sentence breaks into an exclamation as she stumbles backward, and is falling at high speed.

She only has time to force her flight magic, before the variant jumps after her beyond the portal.

Both land on the ground with a very loud impact, and Wanda freezes as she hears her own laughter.

"I should have known you would make a theatrical entrance, my dear." Says Wanda's variant, sitting on the throne in front of the black stone table where you are tied up. "And I should also say hello to the honorable Scarlet Witch."

--//--

[raibebe]

The gentle Fighter - Jeno

Genre: fluff Words: 924 Summary: Jeno meets a not-so-unfamiliar stranger

Blocking. Swinging. Blocking again. Ducking. There. The perfect opening. Stomping his foot, Jeno commands a boulder from the earth beneath, hitting it as hard as he can in mere seconds, sending it flying across the arena to harshly collide with his opponent’s chest, making him lose his footing. A smirk flashes over Jeno’s features, as he uses his momentum to send stone after stone through the arena until inevitably his opponent falls over the edge, hitting the ground with a dull thud. Around him, the crowd erupts in loud cheers, screaming and clapping for his victory that he soaks up with a huge grin on his lips, his chest heaving with heavy pants and his fringe plastered to his face with sweat. “And that marks another win for the Gentle Giant, taking back his title as the champion!” The ringmaster shouts loudly, jumping into the ring next to Jeno who has to stifle a laugh at his fighter name when he had been fighting a guy about twice his size. Giving the crowd an overexaggerated bow, he accepts the bag of money that is handed to him. “I knew you could do it, kid,” the man gives him a tight-lipped smile while the seats around the circular platform are emptying, the spectators immediately leaving once the fights are over, “You should join the academy.” “I’m good,” Jeno waves it off. Even if he had dreamed of going to the academy to get proper training in earth bending and pro fighting ever since he had discovered his talent for bending, it would always be a dream if they weren’t going to lower their prices. “Give it a shot.” The man nods before he too leaves Jeno alone in the ring, knowing that he can trust the boy. 

Sighing, the earth bender runs a hand through his matted hair once he sits down where he had stored his belongings before the fight to count through the pieces of silver and transferring them into his own bag. It was less than he had hoped for but still enough to pay his long overdue rent. If his landlord would be nice about it, he could even afford to eat a nice meal. “Hey.” The sound of another voice startles Jeno, causing him to spill his coins all over the floor. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the boy immediately apologizes and drops to his knees in front of Jeno to help him collect his money. “Wait,” the fighter gasps when the other boy hands him the coins he had collected, his face oddly familiar despite never meeting him in person before. “You’re the avatar.” The others’ eyes turn into saucers before he nods slowly. “How did you know?” “Everybody knows.” “What?” “Everybody must know you’re the avatar. At least every earthbender in the area,” Jeno explains his words, suddenly feeling very out of place in his dirty shirt where he had ripped the sleeves off himself to allow more movement next to the boy coming from a respected family when he’s barely scraping by. He had probably learned earth bending from the masters in the academy while Jeno had taught himself and learned by watching other earthbenders and getting his ass handed to him in more than a handful of fights. “I guess I overestimated my ability to travel undercover,” the boy giggles, dusting off his knees. 

“Mark. My name is Mark,” the avatar introduces himself, traditionally bowing to Jeno who scrambles to repeat the motion himself. He might be poor but his aunt had still raised him to have manners.  “Jeno,” he smiled, gathering his stuff so Mark can sit down next to him. “I convinced my parents that they can’t simply master every element behind the wall of our estate from some old men and need to learn about the different cultures, see the world and you know get some experience that way,” Mark speaks slowly while Jeno nods along. He’s not quite sure where the avatar is going with this but maybe he just needs someone to listen to him for once. He seems nice enough and doesn’t make Jeno feel overly anxious with his presence. It’s rather calming even. “But I could need a companion on my travels. And a teacher.” For a short moment, Jeno simply blinks at the other earthbender while his brain works out the message of his words. Was the avatar really..?“Me? You’re asking me to travel with you?” “You’re like really good. I could learn from you,” Mark argues, “And maybe I could show you what I have been taught until now as well. We could learn from each other.” “I’m self-taught,” Jeno tries to explain himself, “I don’t think I know anything they aren’t teaching at the academy.” “The past avatars told me to trust my gut when choosing my teachers. That I would know when I meet them. And I have a very good feeling about you.” “I- And you’re sure you’re not just hungry?” At that, the avatar throws back his head to laugh loudly, slapping Jeno’s naked arm repeatedly. He sounds like a had genuinely enjoyed the joke which makes Jeno smile as well, he isn’t able to make people laugh like that very often. “Let me treat you to dinner and we’ll see how my gut feels about it after,” the avatar proposes once he had calmed back down, a sincere smile on his lips. And who is Jeno to deny both a warm meal and the avatar?

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Makeup [S.B]

Sirius Black x plus size!reader

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: a toxic relationship history and a bit of insecurity because of it.

A/N: I did a questionnaire a few days ago to see what kind of reader you would like me to do. This is the first one I do base on that questionnaire and I want to say the following:

The only reason the reader is specified as "plus size!reader" is that if there is someone who fits this description, feel comfortable.

You will never see something like "her FAT body" NO, NEVER

Much less that the One shot revolves around their weight (neither nationality, nor gender identity, nor sexuality nor all the things that they put in that questionnaire). I only write about NORMAL people in normal situations. All bodies are beautiful, we are all beautiful.

So, if you are a plus size person, welcome. If you are not, you can also read it without feeling left out in any way.

I really hope that you feel comfortable with everything I write and that you know that I seek to be as inclusive as possible. Without more to say, thanks for taking the time to read my stuff. Tell me your opinion, if you want!💕

You looked in the mirror one last time.

Sirius, the boy of your dreams, had asked you out on a date and you wanted everything to be absolutely perfect.

You had met him because you both lived on the same floor of the condo block and it was inevitable to bump into him from time to time. It wasn't the best place to live, it was small and a little dirty, but it was the only thing you could afford and the fastest you could find after that happened.

You liked the way Sirius smelled because when he crossed the corridors, you could perceive a mixture of leather (you supposed it was due to all the clothes he used of this material) and an elegant cologne that drove you crazy.

At first, it scared you a little to see him with that piercing in his eyebrow and his multiple tattoos, but later you realized that he was really nobody to be afraid of, on the contrary, he turned out to be a very tender and sweet boy.

The first time you spoke to him it was because you were struggling to open your door while carrying boxes and bags that you had brought from the supermarket. The boy noticed you were having trouble and walked up to you to offer his help, so (still a bit wary) you said yes.

Once he held your purchases, you could open the lock, but when you turned around, you noticed that Sirius was secretly looking at the contents of your bags and when he realized that you had caught him, he blushed.

"Sorry I'm a little gossipy," he said shyly "I'm Sirius"

"I thought you were a gossip"

"No, my name is Sirius" he laughed and it was your turn to blush.

"Oh, sorry"

"Okay, anyone can get confused" he murmured with his charming smile, handing you what he was holding in his hands "I live in the 512" he informed you. Of course, you knew he lived in that apartment; you had seen him come into its thousands of times "In case you need anything. You know, some plumbing or things that have to do with tools and that shit of men" he murmured kindly. You frowned a little and then he quickly added "I mean, it's not that girls can't do that and it's okay if you know how to do those things, you seem like a smart and capable person. It's just that sometimes it's tedious and requires strength... and it's not that you don't have strength, I mean...” Sirius couldn't continue because he heard you giggle and then realized he was looking like an idiot “Just call me if you need anything and if you want to do it, yes?” he explained to you and you nodded with a smile.

"Thanks for offering your help Sirius" you replied, looking at him over your bags.

"You’re welcome, miss..."

"Y/N" you completed. He smiled and wrapped a dark curl around his finger that fell unruly from his ponytail.

"I'll see you later then, Y/N. It was nice to greet you" he said by way of farewell and you nodded to respond.

You haven't felt like this with any guy since you met your dear (sarcasm) ex-boyfriend. The insecurities that he had created in you kept you from thinking about having something else later and you honestly didn't feel ready to have your heart broken again.

But Sirius continued to be kind to you. Whenever he looked at you, he made an effort to have a topic of conversation, even if you were not so eloquent, and little by little, he was gaining your trust and your affection. As the weeks went by, you became good friends who chatted in the elevator or occasionally (when you weren't late for work) went downstairs just to share a little more time.

Until one day Sirius showed up at your door with his clothes stained with something that looked like paint, his hair tied up in a messy way and smelling of burned food. He was so beautiful in his own way and you were so afraid of falling in love with him because you knew beforehand that having something else would be impossible.

After all, no boy would ever love you. It was something that your ex-boyfriend had commissioned to get very well into your head.

"Go out?" you asked a little confused after he asked you. You didn't want to misunderstand things.

"Yes! We could go wherever you want. For ice cream, to dinner, to a park, to the cinema... I don't know, wherever you can think of”

"Why?" was the first thing that occurred to you to ask. Now it was Sirius' turn to look confused.

"Well, I thought it would be an opportunity to meet and... spend more time together" he explained and although you had understood the idea it seemed impossible to think that the boy had any kind of interest in you "But it's fine if you don't want to, I don't pretend be upset"

"I'd love to," you rushed to say, fearful that the opportunity would slip through your grasp. You saw him smile and after exchanging a few more words he left with a smile that you couldn't see, but that was pure joy.

Finally, the day of "go out" arrived and you were about to tell him that you could not go. You were nervous, more than nervous you were anxious about what could happen or what he could say about you.

You had searched your entire wardrobe for something decent to wear and after pulling and removing and taking out the clothes and trying them on, none of them convinced you. You looked in the mirror and didn't feel like it was enough of an outfit to date a man as handsome as him. In the first place, you did not even know why he had chosen to go out with you, because, although you considered yourself a nice person, you could not boast of being the most interesting.

Don't think about it, don't think about it, you kept repeating yourself as you continued to get ready and looked at the wall clock waiting for the time for Sirius to knock on your apartment.

Once you were with your outfit ready, you looked yourself up and down and although he did not completely convince you, you decided to tell yourself that you looked beautiful. Still a little nervous you looked at the makeup bag that was under some things on your dressing table. You hadn't put on makeup for years, because you were still scared to hear the comments in your head with that horrible voice.

You look like a whore.

You shook your head to ward off all the negativity and taking a breath you plucked up the courage to open the zippers and remove the beautiful makeup that you had abandoned. When you were finishing and without giving a chance to regret there was a knock on the door that took you by surprise. You went out and found Sirius wearing a striped t-shirt and ripped jeans that reminded you of that blond singer... Kurt was his name?

"Wow" you heard him say and he caught you staring at him adoringly. But you noticed that he looked at you the same "You are beautiful" he said with a smile. You frowned, again a little afraid that he was lying, but you tried again to push away those ideas of self-sabotage and smiled widely.

"I'm glad you like it. You look very handsome, you look like...”

"A rock star? I know” he said winking at you and managing to make you laugh “It's a joke, thanks for the compliment, sweetie” he replied, with his pretty smile of sealed lips. Just when you were smiling at him you watched him pay special attention to your makeup and put on a face that completely terrified you, taking all your confidence.

"Something wrong?"

"Your makeup" he pronounced. You felt your heart squeeze a little.

"You do not like? I can go take it off if you find it ugly or something like that…”

"Ugly?" he asked offended "No! It’s beautiful, but I feel like it lacks a touch. You know, the cherry on the cake that stands out in your eyes” he explained. You looked at him confused for the third time and he snapped his fingers as if the answer had suddenly come to his head "Eyeliner"

"Eyeliner?"

"Of course! Don't you like to use it? " he said kindly, turning his head to the side. You denied.

"I never learned how to do it" you lied. There was a bit of truth to it, but it also had a lot to do with the fact that he kept repeating that you looked vulgar with the eyeliner.

“I'm good at it! Come with me,” he murmured. He took your hand carefully and dragged you gently through the hall until they reached his apartment. You were a nervous wreck when he invited you to join him. "Sorry about the mess, I'm really the most distracted person on the planet and I forget to arrange things," he said with an embarrassed smile. You looked at some vinyl lying around, clothes, food packages, paintings, a guitar. There was a certain peace and beauty within all that mess, completely reflecting the boy who was desperately searching for his favorite eyeliner.

"Come," he asked once he left his room. You sat in a red leather chair he had and he leaned in your direction, very close to your face "Raise your head and look slightly down" he asked you and you listened. He took you by the chin with one hand and you saw him stick his tongue out just a little bit (as a sign of his concentration) while drawing on your eyelids. When he indicated that he had finished you saw him smile from ear to ear, which you imitated when he saw yourself in a mirror.

"Wow..." you whispered. Years ago, you loved putting on makeup and especially eyeliner, so seeing you again like that you were surprised. Besides, he was right, his hand was excellent at it.

"Now it's perfect, right?" he said excitedly. Perfect, that's how Sirius described what was in front of his eyes.

"Yeah... it looks much better" you admitted shyly. You couldn't believe that Sirius could make you feel so comfortable and calm, as well as help you maintain your confidence in yourself.

"I just hope I don't meet jealous guys for not having someone so pretty accompanying them," he said flirtatiously, making you laugh because of your nerves and making you blush "Shall we go?" he asked smiling and extending a hand to help you up.

You looked at him, still amazed to have found someone like that in your life, and took his hand with a smile.

Who would say that sometimes love stories begin like this?

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[hpalways]

Broken Petals || Kazuha

Note: This is a hanahaki disease Kazuha oneshot! So heads up, angst is waiting hehe

Some days, he could hear it, crawling right out of him. Other days, it would be serene as the rippling waters below him. It usually altered between the two, distorting his reality for a few while the wind tickled his ears and the trees warned him of the inevitable. He was connected with the outside world, allowing them to guide him on all aspects of his life, because he longed for freedom. But this one very thing, he shrunk away from their touch, too stubborn to rescind the very thing that kept him going.

His eyes trailed to the [h/c] locks that furled with the breeze, to the gentle smile that was locked on your lips as you pulled at the wagon through the fields. Being the small townsperson you were, you worked in the fields of Inazuma daily until you had nothing left to lose. It was a difficult life, but most had no other choice, shouldering burdens to carry a family back home. Your mother sick and your brother too young, you were the one to take care of everyone. 

But deep inside, he sensed something more from you. It was a longing of freedom, just as he did. Each time he approached you, he could hear relief in your breath -- relief from the harsh labor that always came to haunt. 

"Do you need help?" he asked quietly, extending a hand to the handle of the wagon you lugged. 

You shook your head, gratefully smiling nonetheless. "You know it's always going to be a no. Besides, I'm almost done anyway. Instead, why don't you tell me a poem like you do sometimes? That, in itself, helps me a lot."

Pondering for a second, he watched your figure for a silent moment, red hues drinking you in. That was what he always loved about you. You were so selfless, so graceful, and so beautiful. You didn't need to be a noble to show off such attributes to everyone -- you didn't need to wear silky robes to become the person everyone looked up to. Nothing you did was ever taken for granted, because you lived your life with a smile, despite never being able to achieve your true dream. 

In the dark shed, he realized how tight spaced it was. Cheeks glowing warmly to be in close proximity to you, he stayed on the side to see you shoving the large wagon back. He dug his heels into the cool dirt when you turned to him, wiping sweat off your forehead happily. "No poem today? Aw, that's too bad." Stepping up to the samurai, you pat his cheek in a friendly manner. "Your presence was enough, so that's okay. Oh... I shouldn't dirty you in my hands. I'm sorry about that." Just as you were retracting your hand, he instinctively latched his fingers onto your arm to stop you. [e/c] irises widened momentarily, bewilderment coloring your features. 

There was nothing romantic about this -- not at all rosy like the poems he made up with his thoughts on you. He let out a sigh and released your arm. "My apologies," he whispered, stalking right out of the shed before you could utter a word. "I need to get going now."

His trek back to his home was a quick one, with stealthy footsteps from all his training as a samurai. The sun was setting warmly, casting shades of orange and pinks across the skies in an ombre fashion. 

Though each step was quick, the heavier it got as it went on. 

He thought about the Vision Hunt Decree and how he would have to escape from Inazuma soon. No matter what, he couldn't stay here, not when all his aspirations were kept in his vision. After what his dear friend went through to fight against the Decree, Kazuha could never sit back and allow the officials to rob of him. 

If he were to leave Inazuma, then there was one thing he wanted to do, to wrap things up and cut clean ties.

Arriving at his home, he walked into the cold building. Just before he could go in deeper, an unfathomable pain spread through his torso. Releasing a gasp, he crumbled to the floor, clenching his stomach and curling up into a ball. Salty tears clung to the corner of his eyes, blurring his vision and setting the world on fire. He was burning along it, fireworks going off internally, trickling red, red, and more red, that soon grew black. 

His nails curled into the wood planked floors while he whimpered, the agony becoming unbearable. Getting into a fitful cough, every sound he let out wrenched at his soul, tearing it into pieces. They took their time, shoving an arm down his esophagus and cackling in joy at his suffering. 

One last cough stopped the pain. Something flew out of his mouth, daintily spinning in the air like a lone ballerina. It was a petal, coated in thick blood at the edges.

Another one. 

Numbly staring at the sight, he thought that it looked beautiful. It was almost as beautiful as you, a soft texture to its surface, yet stronger around the edges. It was almost as beautiful as you, but nothing could ever match your beauty. 

He was going to endure this. For you.

The next day, he decided he had to rip the band-aid off. Time was less on his side by the day and soon he would have to leave. 

Fortunately, today you had a day off, so you invited Kazuha out to stroll around the paths of Inazuma. Of course, he agreed to it, knowing that this was the opportunity he was waiting. 

The two of you aimlessly wandered within the stretching paths, taking in the purple petals that sat prettily among branches and listening to the song of noisy birds. How stunning it was today, causing the corners of your mouth to lift up in sheer excitement. Your eyes lapped it up like a curious child running through the fields during free time, observing every little thing that failed to be inspected as a farmer. Staring at you, his heart squeezed. There was nothing more he wanted than to be by your side. 

"The Vision Hunt Decree is growing stronger by the day," you suddenly brought up, sorrow taking over your usual face. "You're leaving, aren't you, Kazuha? I know how precious that vision is to you."

But you're just as precious to me, he wished to say. "Indeed," he said instead, glancing up to the wispy clouds. "I am being called to leave. I don't believe it will be too hard to sneak out of here."

Your eyes watered and you opened your arms to wrap him into a hug. Skin brushed silk and your fingers clenched tightly to his back, trembling in sadness. Your head leaned into his shoulder, breathing him in. He let out a breath in surprise, heart pounding at your warmth, your skin, your touch. "I will miss you so much. I will miss your poems and your comforting voice and the time we spent fooling around like nobodies."

That was when he came to a realization. He was selfish for holding onto you, for even thinking that you would come with him when so many responsibilities held you down. Your situation and his were different, leading you two onto separate routes, never to be met again. 

He didn't want to let you go. It was driving him insane. It was driving him so insane a hand plunge into his chest. 

"Sometimes I yearn for more than what I have... more than what I deserve," he muttered, pulling away from you and putting a gap to the distance from the light of his life. 

"I do too," you agreed, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. "Come visit me when the Decree is over, okay? Promise me."

How could he give you false hope like that? Even if the Decree were to be lifted, how could he ever dare face you again after such heartbreak? He knew you didn't love him the way he did you, but he chose to stay ignorant about it. And now... because he came to terms with it, it stung like hell just to be by your side. "I promise," he lied, the words slipping from his lips like slippery honey running down. Too sticky to hold on. And too sweet to ever be true. 

"I love you, Kazuha," you murmured, planting a kiss on light colored locks, the action erupting goosebumps all over his body.

Those were the words he dreamt of hearing from you. He cried because of those dreams, but he cried even more because the meaning behind them were not the kind he sought. 

Soon enough, you left, your back turned on him and growing smaller in the distance. He watched you without ever taking his eyes off of you, feeling the same pain burst into his system. He continued to keep his eyes on you when he crashed onto the ground, wheezing in raspy breath. A waterfall of tears slid down his cheeks, combining into one at the bottom of his chin, his features contorted from torment. 

He would endure this for you. Always. 

A kick to the gut sent him reeling and he doubled over, hugging himself as he coughed, over and over again. A petal flew out... and then another...

A flurry of petals escaped his mouth, sprinkling the sky of petals. This was more than what he would normally get. 

Coughing turned into hacking, succumbing him into the earth. He was being suffocated, suffocated by a love that was never his to begin with. With one last cough -- a clean petal rested on the side of his cheek, representing you. Fluttering his eyes shut, he decided that he would endure this, even death, for you.