#just the one eye and the affinity to stars

[reedsolis]

[silkjade]

FAIREST OF THEM ALL

alhaitham x mermaid!reader au ⤀ synopsis: mermaids, and their vanity, and their affinity for pretty things... who better to admire, than the fairest one of all? ⤀ cw: fem!reader, established relationship, mirror sex, fingering, praise, rough + unprotected sex, size kink, creampie, a lil bit of dom!haitham, overstimulation, cervix kisses, squirting, subspace, vry sweet he’s actually so in love — mdni || ꒰ 5.1k wc ꒱ ⤀ notes: recommended to read the affiliated series, but it can stand alone as well ! reblogs & feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡

series masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼

Mermaids and their vanity and their affinity for pretty things…

Where Alhaitham lacks in idle conversations, he makes up for in his acute observation; taking note in particular of the way you glance at your reflection—not only in the mirrors of a merchant’s passing display, but at every turn, and every corner. In the stained glass windows of the Akademiya, in the bronze vessels decorating Lambad’s second floor…even now, on your excursion through the Grand Bazaar, he catches the quick flit of your head as you peer at yourself in the fountain beneath Zubayr Theater. 

Not that he’d ever fault a star for its beauty, when even the sweltering Sumeru sun is roped into your orbit—bending to your will as it dazzles behind you, like a halo in your backdrop. Perhaps the world is, but a shell…and a pearl such as yourself—beautiful and rare—ought to shine on a more veracious display. A familiar smirk plays on his lips, painting his handsome face in a devious shade of sly.

It’s clear from just your peripherals that he must be devising something terrible… Yet there’s a dance to your step when you stop him in his path; your hands clasped coyly behind your back, as you dip into his vicinity with your feigned innocence. 

“And just what are you smiling for?” you lilt, shifting your weight forward onto your tiptoes. He leans over to honor what he can only surmise to be a wordless request, but you pull away before his lips ever have the chance to meet yours. You gleam in that coquettish smile of yours—one that sits so perfectly atop your playful flirtations. “Thinking about me?” 

Alhaitham clears his throat, crossing his arms with a raised brow, despite the remaining wisp still tugging at the corner of his lip. “Am I not allowed to smile?”

By now, he can accurately read your tells and predict your actions: pursed lips and shifting eyes…all in a poor attempt to hide your grin as you quip back with something smart, or flirtatious, or on certain days, shameless—any of which might send a lesser man into a fluster. Not that he fares particularly better when it comes to you… 

So he cuts you off while he’s still ahead, his strong arm easily pulling you back into his sphere, and with a tilt of his head, gestures at the fountain, letting curiosity guide you as it casts your reflection onto the waters’ surface once again.

“Just thinking about how pretty you are...” 

And pretty you are indeed when he sits you between his legs, your bare back arching away from his chest as he curls his fingers in your cunt, hitting exactly where he knows you’d keen. His free hand kneads at the meat of your inner thigh, parting your legs wider in the process, your pussy lips following suit, blooming with the sticky sound of your wetness. 

Alhaitham huffs, impressed, as he glances into the mirror standing steadfast before you both. Large and unwavering, it’s resolute in its honorable pursuit to uncover the truth—the one with your cunt propped open and your head thrown into the curvature of his neck. The one you’re clearly not yet privy to, if your eyes are squeezed shut in the midst of all your pleasure. It’s a shame, really. For although he’s never had the ambition to conquer the unknown verities, if such beauty were the splendor of all the world’s truths, then he’d gladly partake down this endless road—as a scholar or as a madman. After all, who better to perfect his limited human perspective, than the fairest one of all? 

Tilting his head, he kisses his way up the column of your neck, feeling you curl into him as he paints intermittent bruises on your supple skin, stopping only when he reaches beneath your ear so that his teeth may tug lightly on its lobe. 

“I know how you love to admire your own reflection…” His voice gravels in your ear, the rich baritone sending a shiver whose reach extends all the way down to your core. “So don’t you want to see how pretty you look?” 

“No. That’s—” Whining, you continue to shake your head at the very prospect, ignoring the clear disconnect as you tighten and clench around the fingers still holed up inside of you. “‘s embarrassing…”

He hums from deep in his chest; thoughtfully amused at how such words could leave your mouth, when your cunt gushes as unabashedly as if she were attempting to lure his fingers further with a squelching song of her own. But there’s nothing to tempt, when there’s no iron will to break, for your bodies move like the moon and the tide: ebbing and flowing, ever connected, fates intertwined. Where his thumb spreads to draw harsh circles, your breath shallows in response, crying out at the sudden aggressive waves of pleasure that surge at your clit. Your nails dig into the sheets, hips lifting and squirming to no avail, as he continues to barrage you from the inside out. 

“Haitham…” you breathe, and he knows you’re close from how you moan through sealed lips, brows furrowed and teeth clenched, until the disappointing realization that he’s pulled out. Your doe eyes flutter open, perplexed and brimming with spoiled petulance at his amused brow and little smirk, whilst at the same time, your lips part with all the intention of asking your lover ‘whyyyy?’, if only for the fact that he’s simply…faster. 

Slick-coated fingers grasp onto your chin, slowly tilting your head down—away from that safe corner by his neck—so that you’d come meet him in the mirror, with all your vanity in tow. He holds your gaze, never turning away, not even as his head dips again so that his lips are level when he whispers low and sultry into your ear.

“If you look away, I’ll stop.” 

…And so you watch as Alhaitham turns his attention back between your legs, spreading open your folds until they’re well smeared with your free-flowing slick. And you watch as two lithe fingers penetrate past your slit, steadily pumping slow, smooth strokes, before splintering apart to stretch you open in preparation for the third prodding at your entrance, eager to join the fray.

“That’s it,” he coos, though his low voice does absolutely nothing to soothe how you squirm against him at the…discomfort? The fervor? Perhaps even the discomfort of such fervor, as it’s become nigh difficult to tell, when his free hand has migrated to fondle with one of your breasts, roughly kneading the mound to double your sensations. “Look at you…” 

Yet what is there to look at but the lascivious combination of your shame and desire? Both wrestle for a place in your reflection, battling to outweigh the other upon your visage…but it’s hardly a fair fight when shame has never been your forte—especially not when you squeeze around him so tightly, almost as if in resistance to how he’s scissoring you open.

It’s almost mesmerizing how your body reacts so eagerly: how your mouth falls open in a gasp and then a squeal, as your gummy walls concede to stretch by way of his provocation. Or that slight hitch in your breath, chest stuttering as you inhale the familiar stretch of three digits sinking into your cunt whilst you sink ever deeper into the watery depths of such hedonistic volitions.

Still, Alhaitham so greedily grasps at every open inch of you, ravishing your body with almost everything at his disposal. His chiseled frame looming behind you as he holds you open and bare, his grip the jaws of lust incarnate; his heavy breath crowding on your skin like a heated apparition of his own dire need to fuck and please and share in the admiration of just how beautiful he thinks you are—until like fine mist, it disperses across your mind, and the shame melts off your bones, replaced with only the desire for more, for him, for more of him.

“Haitham…” you mewl again, brows furrowing in an earnest attempt to keep your eyes open in spite of the rush, because god forbid he stop… 

But it’s tortuous, the way Alhaitham pumps his fingers in and out—slowly, steadily—so that you’d see in your reflection, just how wet you are, hear every squish that sounds as he repeatedly buries himself three knuckles deep. Your slick coats his skin with a layer of gloss at every re-emergence, wordlessly conveying that it isn’t nearly enough to satisfy the burning ache between your legs.

“Please more… ‘m so close…” Pleading, you do what you can to muster your sweetest voice, your most honeyed cadence, in the hopes that you’d persuade him to your cause, rolling your hips to embody your words, furthering both his reach and your intent. For all the time you’ve spent with your lover in the nation of wisdom, it’s certainly helped to remember that only praxes can truly validate such words of honesty, and you truly are honest in your intent to cum.

“As you wish,” he hums, and his breath wraps around the shell of your ear in a warm embrace (though it’s hardly even an ember compared to the heat quickly ebbing in your belly.) The want amplifies by tenfold as he digs the heel of his palm against your clit, forcing another wave of euphoria to course through your form, as he angles his fingers in pursuit of where you feel him most. 

Every twist, every curl, beckons at sweet release, as the tips of his fingers drag past each velvet inch of your walls at an ungodly pace, drawing out your orgasm with such magnetic fortitude that even your own lucidity seems to fade in the midst of such mental upheaval. It goes, and it goes, and it’s gone—as if the plug had just been pulled from your very being—and like a doll, your eyes fall shut to the joy of diving back into such revelry.

A sharp slap to your clit jolts you back to reality with a staggered gasp, your thighs nearly snapping shut at the sudden impact, while rootless static fills the emptiness in your stolen pleasure. Your perpetrator, however, only spares you a half-lidded glance whilst he continues to brandish the finishing touches of another hickey along your neck.  

“Keep looking,” he issues, one part a command, the other, a warning. His grip loosens from your thigh, allowing your legs to fall just the slightest bit slack, before his voice softens and he pries open the lips of your drenched cunt, strumming through your folds so unbearably lazily, as you situate your gaze back into the mirror. “I want you to see everything I do to you…”

“Like how pretty you are when I touch you…” He dips a finger between your pussy lips, unfolding the rippling petals on his way up your slit, carefully paving the way for his place beneath the hood of your clit. “Here,” he drawls, rubbing at the nub so deliberately, that the sudden titillation evokes your instinct to shrink away with a broken, pitched cry; for wherever you squirm, Alhaitham follows, and backed against his chest, there’s nowhere left to turn, but forward at your reflection in the glass. 

It's obscene. You’re obscene. But despite the disconnect with your head, your body still begs for more, and you think it’s almost pathetic how far you’ve sunk into his magnetism (though you vaguely recall it was once the other way around) that you hardly recognize the figure before you, so…distorted by the draw of lust. Your chest heaving with every breath that circulates through full, parted lips, your face bleary from carrying the heavy weight of pleasure on your lashes. Yet, the longer you watch, the more you glisten between your legs, clearly seduced by that perfect view of your own body on display. 

Perhaps there is something provocative about the way your folds are spread, barred open by his fingers while he taps away at your clit. Perhaps there is some coquetry in the way your empty hole drools, some enchantment in how your juices shine…everything to flaunt how you need to cum—how you need him and anything he’s willing to give. 

Your eyes begin to glaze, your focus drifting as you continue to stare at how your lover’s reflection so teases the hardened nub, every touch drumming your nerves with pleasure like the beguiling lull of gentle waves. At least your lungs seem to appreciate the monotonous pattern; your heaving chest adjusts to match his rhythm, the faint stimulus now an almost comfortable familiarity—one too easily shattered by the whims of another, as Alhaitham presses firmly into your swollen clit.

Renewed arousal swells in your belly, burning through whatever you thought had previously dissipated, and closing the window on any remnant of self-restraint, as you soon start to squirm with electrified impatience. Once steady breaths devolve into ragged gasps; your spine curves and your hips jolt, all from exposure to Alhaitham’s prolonged stimulation, writhing this way and that, until you inevitably grind against his cock, surprising him with his own throbbing rush of sensation. 

“Do you see how,” Alhaitham grunts, gritting his teeth as he holds down a groan, “erotic you are…” Even half-dazed, you can feel just how hard his erection stands against the small of your back.

You exhale, waveringly so, as you steady yourself before releasing your grasp on the sheets, clawing weakly at his toned bicep in an effort to garner his attention. Between your misty eyes and sweat-mottled skin, disheveled hair and trembling thighs…there’s a delicate show of tenacity as your reflection holds his gaze, daring to dance with the devil you’ve chosen to submit to. “So show me what I look like when you fuck me.”

“Gladly,” he chuckles, and there’s a wicked glint that shines from beyond the turquoise, accompanied by a dim clang and a quiet rustle, as he frees his cock from its fabric confines. 

A low growl rumbles from deep in his throat as his hands run a path along the concave of your waist, before scooping you up by the underside of your thighs, and shifting you further in his lap—spread open on wide display, behind the glaring pink of his leaking tip. 

Alhaitham drags his cock along your slit, gathering slick from your fluttering anticipation, as he tempers the urge to plunge into you right then and there. He swallows the thought, giving way for the honeyed lilt of your name to flow from his lips instead. You turn, looking up at him with that darling half-lidded gaze, and he breathes in the sweet image of your pretty face. Please allow him to have one good look at you—the real you, in the flesh—before he fucks you into oblivion. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, murmuring something you don’t quite catch. “‘Ayouni,” he hums, aligning his cock at your entrance. (My love, my eyes—as precious as the gift of sight.) “Nour ‘ayouni…” His tip dips past your entrance, wallowing in the tight fit, before finally pushing into your quivering insides—a resolute promise to fill both your desires, and your cunt as deep as you’d take him. (Light of my eyes, anything for you.)

Large hands secure themselves onto your hips, easily crowding you in until your knees are folded before your tits and your back is pressed flush against his chest. Every bead of sweat stitches your bodies together, skin on damp skin, though only you are locked on full, shameless display; your body and limbs tethered to invisible strings in his hands—his little mermaid, his little doll—to maneuver and fold as he pleases.

A pitched sob breaks the thickness in the air, followed by a few hushed whimpers and stifled moans, as you watch yourself take him, inch by overwhelming inch. It’s never truly occurred to you how big he really is—at least not until now, when you’re confronted before your very eyes with just how much your little hole must work to accommodate his size. That initial stretch when he first pushes past your folds, and how it grows wider little by little as he forges on… (it’s no wonder you always feel so delectably full.) Or how you can clearly see the protruding veins disappear as he glides deeper (is that how he’s always able to touch upon every crook and corner?)

The sight alone has you pulsing: your greedy cunt quite literally drooling at the prospect of swallowing him down to the base, churning out more slick to ease his descent, and melting any discomfort into delight. As his bonafide lover, it’s one thing to be fucked beyond belief, but to see yourself completely surrendered to your lecherous desires, and entirely pliable at his behest…? What a terrifying way to solicit your pleasure.

Still, you’ve no choice but to sputter out a moan as your walls constrict around his shaft, drawing out a grunt from Alhaitham with how titillating it feels when you cling to him like this. His rasp reverberates on the shell of your ear, travelling down your spine like lust-tainted fire to pass the message down between your thighs. And although dew threatens to blur your vision, from what you can see in the mirror, it’s clear that he’s yet to bottom out. Even worse, is that you can feel the emptiness—your insides so cravenly wanting what is amiss—because it’s just so inherently wrong that you aren’t full enough, that he isn’t deep enough.

An urgent hand flies to tangle your fingers in his hair, as you turn to pull him into a wanton kiss, your lips just as greedy as your hips that grind on his cock for more. “Want you,” you murmur between tongue and teeth, exchanging breaths as desperation and uncertainty clash in your throat, and crack like lightning in your voice. “All of you, all the way…please…?”

“Aren’t you, ngh,” he pauses, failing to swallow down his grunt, as disbelief rolls in with another tide of arousal that pulses in his cock. His attempt to taunt, ruined by his inability to resist any longer. “Aren’t you shameless today?”  

“Don’t care.” Though slurred, the words still tumble out of your mouth with a sense of urgency, your fingers curling against him, grasping onto the hope that he’d finally fill you. “Just n-need you.” In such a deliriated state, it’s difficult to tell whether you had imagined the way his breath rings through the hollows of your bones—the resounding echoes of a small, yet exasperated laugh reverberating through the very core of your being…but it was real, and his presence was there, and how could he ever say no when you’re asking for his cock so nicely? Per your request, of course he’ll drop you lower onto his shaft.

Alhaitham groans, powerless against the way you whine, tightening around him as he advances further and further, until he bottoms out with a guttural ‘fuck.’ He’s never had you in such a position, but with you atop his lap and gravity as his prerogative, it’s suffice to say he’s reached... 

“Too..d-deep…” you babble, eyes rolling back as your words disperse into the same nothingness that’s engulfed your thoughts. 

A soft tut tut clicks from his tongue, followed by a light roll from his hips…and suddenly your string of whimpers break into a shrill gasp as his eager tip kisses the entrance to your womb. Alhaitham is, after all, a man of his word, though this time, he lets his actions speak in his stead. (Where did I tell you to look, habibti?)

There’s little time to process any of his wordless cues—especially not when his stuttered breath is hot against your neck, the warmth just beginning to melt away the jarring discomfort of being penetrated so deeply, before equally warm fingers squish your cheeks to turn your attention back to the mirror in question. “Like what you see?” he whispers, and your dew-laden eyes flutter open to the sight of you and him: thighs spread, legs tangled, your hips on his, as you sit impaled on the entirety of his length. 

All you can muster is a whimper and a nod, because what else can you do when you’re so overcome by the feeling of Alhaitham…everywhere? On your tongue where you can still taste his kiss, in your veins where his love circulates to your heart, and most obvious of all, in your cunt where his leaking precum swirls with your slick.

“Show me where you feel me,” he rasps, gingerly plucking your hand away from that wrinkled patch of sheets you so desperately latch on to. His touch is sticky on the back of your hand—no doubt the remnants of your juices still clinging stubbornly to his fingers, like a souvenir collected from his last venture between your legs—but he serves well as a guide: directing you along your abdomen, letting just the very tips of your fingers, ghost across your sensitive skin. 

“This…” Starting at the apex of your thighs, he helps you along the path up your lower waist. “... is how far I am inside you…” 

You can’t help but wonder if it were even possible to be buried so deep within someone, but curiosity gets the better of you, and your hand begins to move on its own, absentmindedly glossing over where you feel his tip so deep, it almost seems…taboo. Not that you really care for the ins and outs of such moral standards, especially when it feels so right to be stuffed so full. Or perhaps your eyes are simply playing tricks on you—dirty work done by the fog that’s settled in your head with the sole intent of altering your cognition. 

“Don’t believe me?” Hand in hand, he presses gently down onto your belly, where even the slightest bit of pressure is enough to make you jolt. But from the way he struggles to catch his breath, to the violent throbs bursting all along his length, Alhaitham too, suffers from the repercussions of his boldfaced provocation—too human to act as if he’d been left unscathed.

For even as you cry in little songs of pleasure, your walls almost seem to be spinning a trance of its own: clenching and unclenching, the pulsating rhythm urging him to move… Which he obliges to of course—adjusting ever so slightly, until he’s perfectly angled and prodding at the divot that absolutely ruins whatever’s left of you, as you’re made to feel everything all at once. Every long, languid stroke comes as an electric current, reinvigorating dead limbs as the muscles come twitching back to life, conducting more and more arousal with every rough drag of his cock. Euphoria surges and sparks fly, overloading the wires in your head, with each thrust into the very spot that unravels you so. 

“Keep singing for me,” he murmurs, content with how the shape of his name breaks into pieces of fragmented  whimpers and moans, echoing across the room. It’s clear his words are largely lost on you—displaced by the fresh barrage of wet kisses down your neck, to be absorbed through your skin and used as fuel for your core. 

“My beautiful mermaid,” Alhaitham keeps his eyes locked on your reflection; eager, despite his own fraying disposition, to catch all your reactions. “My beautiful mermaid…who always…” 

His grip tightens around the meat of your thighs, while a dominant hand glides up to the back of your knee—effectively lifting your leg higher and spreading you open wider—before a quick, rough motion lands him somewhere inexplicably deep.“…takes me so well.” 

You keen, nails digging into whatever they can, anything that might still tether you to this reality when every sensation has been ignited into something far too big for you to handle. Your back curves in response, arching away from his chest, but the shift in position only sits you deeper on his cock, and a shrill sob cracks from your throat, as your stomach coils and your teary eyes flutter open to the direct image of your reflection. In the mirror’s shallow abyss, your looming orgasm stares back as its own depraved monster—inhabiting your body and tainting your pretty face with lecherous intent, as it urges you to let go. 

“Come on, let go…” Or perhaps the fiend whispering in your ear is Alhaitham himself. “I promise you’re just as ravishing when you cum,” he croons, speeding up his pace to climb the heights of his determination. “Maybe even more so…”

The sheer intensity of his rough fucking is overwhelming. The extensive depth, the meticulous precision, the impressive girth—they’re all things you’ve come to expect in the bedroom with your less-than-feeble lover. But to exploit your vanity, whilst simultaneously feeding you with praise…to hold you open with his own hands, to make you a spectator of your own base instincts…

It’s a dangerous combination. It’s too much. It has your entire body trembling as the pressure peaks—your muscles wound taut, and your pussy clenching tight. 

“‘m c-cumming…” you sob, though your quivering voice soon falls flat from the sheer enormity of the orgasm that races to smother you in its fervor, replacing the blood in your veins with liquid bliss, and allowing that to circulate through every inch of your being, until it becomes the only thing you can even bear to breathe.

The name ‘Haitham’ tangles with your cries, and he loves it—addicted even, to the sound of you, the sight of you—finds it near impossible to tear his eyes away from that perfect view of your pretty little cunt, obediently stretched and fully stuffed with every inch of his length. Warmth blooms and engulfs him at his mushroom tip, and Alhaitham bucks by reflex, desperate to chase your waning orgasm with his.

He’s close too; you can feel it. The familiar (yet delusional) way in which each throb seems to fill you out even more, the relentless increase in speed and force, unapologetically running his veined cock along your sensitive walls, over and over until he drags you back to the edge. His own breath skips and stutters in his lungs, but still he punctuates each word with power and precision, jutting in as deep as you’d allow him to follow. “Just. Like. That.” 

And so, when it breaks, it shatters—like skipping stones across the water, rippling and disruptive as they bound on and on in a path of hedonistic destruction—until your vision blanks, and your body convulses, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. Your release comes in a violent torrent, uncontrollably battering through your body as you drench him in your juices, leaving the remaining splice of your consciousness trembling, spent, and completely surrendered to the pleasure. 

Somewhere in the white noise, you hear the echo of your name, said with a pleased lilt, as if he were…impressed? Proud? Maybe even both, for Alhaitham finds himself mesmerized by the undeniable, tangible evidence, that he’s pleasured you this far beyond belief. It’s surreal—the only word in any of the languages he’s studied (including yours)—that could even begin to describe such eroticism. For a moment, he loses track of his movements, lets his hips fall to an irregular rhythm as he fully takes to the reflection in the mirror: colorless, liquid pleasure still dripping from your hole, glistening as it runs down his shaft with every shallow draw…only to be pushed back with a squish and a squelch from the wetness that now finds a rival in the soaked sheets. 

Without hesitation, he pummels back to reality, thinking only with his cock, as he pounds into you with a newfound ferocity that seems almost inhumane…but then again, a mermaid like you isn’t quite human after all.

“Can you, ngh, hold out…a little longer…?” His voice is low and strained, yet still retaining a softness reminiscent of morning mist above the waters, grazing wisps atop your skin. (Just a little longer, I promise.)

“‘kay…” The word spills from your mouth, melted and slurred into a weak mewl, too dazed to process much, other than the fact that you’d do anything he asked of you, even at your own expense. Just a little longer…(but ignore the tears that prick of overstimulation.) For him, for Alhaitham, anything for Alhaitham (in spite of how your body screams ‘too much,’ as you cream around his cock again, this time faster than all the others had come.)

Any sense of clarity found in your mantra, only serves to prove that perhaps your head truly has been scrambled to nonsense, because the only thing you could even fathom to think of, is the desperate need for him to finish inside you. For him to paint you with a white fire so hot, it’d cleanse away even the smallest remnants of your tortuous embers. The final few thrusts come sloppily—too busy drowning in your deluge to care—while the very last stroke nuzzles deep against your womb, as he fills you full of his cum. 

Two sets of labored breathing resonate around the room, and in the afterglow, Alhaitham sets your frail legs down, knees buckling and knocking into one another, as your feet are finally brought to rest on something solid. (Though mentally, you don’t feel any closer to the ground.) Still, the drastic change in position shuffles his cock against your sensitive walls, breathing life to another soft groan that escapes into a silent harmony. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, peppering you with soft kisses wherever his lips can reach. The unyielding grip, once pressed so firmly into your thighs, melts away—replaced by gentler hands that work to sooth the tenderness in your flesh. “I’m going to pull out now, okay?” He readies himself to withdraw from your warmth, but you blink your bleary eyes, and the distant stars in your pupils illuminate just a fraction more. 

Alhaitham studies the ‘you’ in the mirror; watches the steady rise and fall of your chest as your breathing evens out, and your red-rimmed gaze drifts down the length of your body. One of your hands absentmindedly wanders, delicately brushing over the dark imprints left upon the skin of your thighs, color-matched to the hickeys blooming along your neck and shoulders—each one a bruise forged from his passion. And nothing could ever attest more to the throes of passion than the very reflection of your bodies, melded seamlessly together: his cock in your cunt, leaking with shared essence.

‘How…beautiful…’ 

You shake your head in dreamy opposition. “W’nna stay like this…for…a bit longer…” Your words trail into a content sigh as you rest your head back against that comfortable nook at the juncture of his neck, angling just enough to still catch your reflections in the mirror.

notes2: mirrors in his kit -> mirror in the bedroom pipeline, am i right (๑>؂•́๑) … i wasn't able to complete this in time for mermay this year, so consider this a little something for kinktober, i suppose ^^;; but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless ! as always, thank you so much for reading, and reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated ♡

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[trillscienceofficer]

from Sci-Fi Universe magazine, October 1996

KISS ME DEADLY: In REJOINED, one of the season's finest episodes, a kiss proved to be more than just a kiss

Maybe it's another sign of format maturity, but the modern Trek era has never seen anything like the controversy that erupted over the airing of DS9's Rejoined, which takes the science fiction story opportunity made possible by Dax's Trill host/symbiont race and twists it into a social comment on sexual orientation Gene Roddenberry would have been proud to call his own.

"Last July," begins Terry Farrell, whose Dax character is at the heart of the story, "Rick Berman called and asked me if I would kiss a woman, and at that point I guess I didn't take it that seriously. I said, 'Yeah, as long as she's beautiful I don't care!'

"And then it spurred me to thinking about it before it actually happened, and I felt bad I had been so flip, because I didn't realize how serious a love story it would be—and how nervous I would be about it, really want to be sure I'm honest and I'm doing the story justice, and I really want people to talk about it and think about it afterward. It really meant a lot to me.

"I think it's really important to love people for who they are, and spiritually it was a great show for me too, because it just reinforces that all of us—whether we want to admit it or not—can really be judgmental at times. That was a really important show to say, to the smallest degree, you've got to remember that people's lives are always so much more complicated than you think they are."

"We had a lot of advance buzz, but we also sat on that show a bit,' adds producer Steve Oster, who recalled the flap in 1969 when Kirk and Uhura made history with television's interracial kiss in Plato's Stepchildren. In fact, the show didn't go looking for attention.

"Because it had a kiss in it, and because of the Roseanne hoopla a few years ago (concerning the high-profile star's on-screen lesbian kiss), our publicity people wanted to have them come over and take pictures of 'the famous kiss scene,' have a news crew like Entertainment Tonight there—and we opted not to do that for a couple of reasons.

"For one thing, because we didn't want to become the Roseanne issue where stations were deciding not to air it, and secondly, to Rick's credit, he did not want to make that what the episode was about. It was not about two characters kissing—it was not about making that a tantalizing factor of the episode."

As directed by Avery Brooks, the episode maintained a remarkably naturalistic feel through the acting of all concerned, including Farrell and guest star Susanna Thompson.

"They chose to play it as real, as we would any other scene with those emotions going on: not 'Okay, a girl is going to kiss a girl,' but it was 'This is someone you were in love with before and you still are,' and that's the arc of the scene. It was not about the kiss," says Oster.

"I think we were trying to be as realistic as possible," Farrell agrees. "Really, the only scene I remember going way out and pulling back was the last scene were I give her the ultimatum—where Avery let me basically go all out and cry my eyes out and then pull me back. So that was the only time I remember going from one extreme to the other, trying a range; otherwise it was pretty natural."

In fact, the scene with Sisko was one of the easiest to play, she revealed, because of the natural affinity she feels tor Brooks, the actor. "He was so supportive of me during the first year of DS9 when it was really difficult for me, he was the only one who reached out and really made me feel comfortable, and tried to help me build my self-confidence and self-esteem in really healthy way," she says. "So I felt like I didn't need to do a lot of homework."

Farrell reveals that, in fact, the hardest scene for her as an actress was the moment in which Dax and Lenara Kahn realize at dinner, without voicing it directly, that they are still in love. Aside from the new situation of seeing Dax giddy like that, Farrell recalled it was the first day of shooting on the episode. "I felt a little uncomfortable and was feeling nervous about the whole thing," she says, "and I remember trying to make her comfortable at the same time."

The chemistry that sparked between Farrell and Thompson—finally out from under the makeup as a Romulan and Tilonian, both on TNG [on The Next Phase and Frame of Mind respectively]—came as no accident, since the producers had taken pains to have Farrell read with those who came in during casting for the role.

"We auditioned and auditioned and auditioned," Oster reports. "We needed to find that chemistry, someone who can play that role as a human being, not as someone who's wondering about kissing another woman. And if someone has delivered for us, we'll bring them back if they've been in makeup before because that can change."

"And," agrees Farrell, "we made sure we had a meeting before we started the show—Susanna and Avery and I—to discuss the show. Usually we don't have time for those kinds of things to happen on our show, but they just made the time. And it really made a difference, I think."

Before the show aired, executive producer Rick Berman said he hoped it would be "received with some controversy."

"I think it does deal metaphorically with homosexuality in the sense of how society puts taboos on certain sexual orientation," Berman said. "It deals with it from both sides, I believe. And I'm sure there are those in the gay community who will probably feel that, again, we haven't gone far enough. But our objective in this story was very specific and very related to the big points that are exhibited in the story—it was never designed to be 'how far can we push this?' It's another step in our attempts to supposedly open stories that deal with a variety of sexual orientation [sic]."

The low-key strategy seemed to have worked: among the affiliates who knew what was coming, Oster reports, none ever dropped the show completely. All ran the episode on first airing—with a parental advisory added by the Atlanta station—and "two or three" others cut the scene out when repeated.

"The studio was very supportive of it; it was one of those things that when Roseanne became the cutting edge and it passed by, it suddenly became not much of an issue."

—Larry Nemecek

"Negative callers couldn't make the leap between seeing this kiss and the famous one between Uhura and Kirk in 1969 as both being a matter of prejudice."

—Producer Steve Oster

[mysticalserenity-tarot]

🧸♡ what they like about you♡🧸 (Pick a pile)

{How to pick a pile? First, take a deep breath with your eyes closed to clear your mind. When you open your eyes, don't hesitate – pick the image that immediately grabs your attention or stirs up a memory. Remember, you can pick more than one pile if you feel called to. If none of the images stand out for you, it means there's no message for you at this time. You can always come back to it later.}

⋆��� ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡ ⋆⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡

Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3 (from left to right)

Hello, and a huge thank you to everyone for your incredible support! I'm so glad that my first Pac has been so well-received.

In this collective pick a pile reading, we'll delve into what your specific person likes and appreciates about you. You can consider this the continuation of my first Pac, if you prefer. Let's see where your energy takes us.

Disclaimer: This is a collective reading I picked up on multiple energies, so please only take what resonates and leave the rest. When something resonates you usually feel a light energy and in your heart you can feel it's your message, and the pic that attracts you is a clearly sign.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡ ⋆⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆

🧸PILE 1🧸

2 of Pentacles, the Hierophant, Page of Swords. (top: 4 of Pentacles)

Hi Pile 1, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

This is a delightful and quircky energy. As multiple cards representing the number 2 kept coming out. Your person seems to want me to know that they love how you balance your light energy with your dark energy underlining the importance of this aspect in their mind, and they feel a connection because they share similar traits - from you previous reading, I sensed this affinity. This is either my spiritually inclined collective or those who resonate with a sense of inner peace and balance. If you've chosen this pile, bravo! You've made the right choice! [ it's okay if you're new, welcome <3 ]

I sense that many of you are in your prime years, and your person appreciates your vibrant youthful energy. Regardless of your age, they believe you'll fill a void and complete them, like a "missing puzzle piece", as I just heard. Many of you have a deep love for reading and acquiring knowledge, which may or may not be associated with formal education. I sense that you might prefer solitude, perhaps engrossed in your favorite book, while your classmates or colleagues (if in a work setting) are gathered discussing different things. Therefore, your person finds captivating the way you immerse yourself in your activities amidst the 'chaos' surrounding you. Some even observe and admire you from afar, potentially without your awareness. Your person finds you inspiring and loves how you handle problems with patience and diplomacy, without letting anger and stress take over. They also appreciate your thirst for knowledge and how you're curious about diverse topics. Your person values how secure you are in yourself and how you stand by your values and beliefs.

Overall, they are drawn to your mysterious yet serene, and intellectual nature, making you almost like an enigma to them. 🧙‍♂️✨

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 1.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together.

🧸PILE 2🧸

The Star, 9 of Swords, the Tower. (top: Ace of Swords)

Hi Pile 2, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

Ah, Pile 2, based on the energy of the cards, your person has clear ideas about what they appreciate about you.

You possess strong manifesting skills and when you are certain about what you desire, you make it happen, I'm hearing the song "I Want It, I Got It" by Ariana Grande in my mind. For you, I have two cards confirming your innate manifesting power. You may have powerful water placements or inner planetary influences in your water houses (if you're not into astrology and don't know what i'm talking about, please feel free to ask). Some strong air energy is also sensed, whether it pertains to you or your person - one of you has great communication skills even. Your person finds it remarkable that you can create positive outcomes in adverse situations, emerging even stronger after initial doubts or negative emotions. This is not only temporary but a trait your person admires in you.

The energy here feels mature, likely older regardless of your age (old souls, perhaps?), indicating that some of you actually laugh in the face of adversity due to an innate ability to rise above struggles. Your determination draws your person's admiration; they struggle while you have clear goals and pursue them despite what others may think. You may receive sudden insights or instincts, unaware of their source, which are hints from the divine. Your person loves your strong will and determination, which they lack and need. This is one of the reasons they're attracted to you. I'm also sensing some popular individuals here, possibly on social media. Your determination, strength, and success have garnered success, with many followers and admirers, including your person. However, for those not yet successful, if you stick to your path and mindset, you'll reach your goals. Best of luck, my dears! 🍀🧿

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 2.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together.

🧸PILE 3🧸

Queen of Wands, The Sun, the Lovers. (top: Knight of Cups)

Hi Pile 3, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

Wow, your cards are amazing, Pile 3! This person is head over heels in love with you, and the question is, what do they like about you? As I look at the cards as a whole, I'm feeling an intense passion surrounding you. They're burning with desire for you - sparks or flames, especially the color red may be significant (and for some a sign that is your pile!. Some of you may have worked or are working on your Root Chakra, which fuels this intense passion. I'm not supposed to do a spicy reading here but I'm feeling really hot lol. It's important to not a strong presence of two Major Arcana cards in a positive and powerful sequence, underlining this passionate hidden desire. Your person admires your overall positivity and passion for life, or specific interests. You may be a hopeless romantic, and they find this endearing. They perceive you as a powerful and passionate leader who remains unfazed by gossip about them and actually enjoys the attention.

It's intriguing that the Knight of Cups appeared on top of the deck in my previous pick up pile and has come up again here. You and your person may both be dreamy and romantic souls. In summary, your person appreciates your positivity, harmony, and artistic nature. You might be a creative individual, perhaps making unique art or being an enthusiast of it. They are fascinated by you and have vivid fantasies, like going to an art museum together.

I'm seeing blue stars on a blue neon ceiling in a potential art museum setting, which could be significant for some of you - and also the color blue. Now, very specific, maybe someone here has created a drawing or work with stars or blue stars on a blue background and shared it with their person and they're reminding me of it, or you or them work in a planetary museum? Take it how it resonates. Anyway, how cute! 💙

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 3.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the pricetogether.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ANY LIKE/REBLOG/COMMENT IS APPRECIATED, ALSO IF YOU LET ME KNOW IF IT RESONATED.

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.

ALWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EACH ONE OF YOU'S SUPPORT, I'M GRATEFUL 🤗🤍

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note that I used AI language bot to help improve grammar and spelling in my readings, as English is not my first language. However, the interpretations and insights provided in my readings are all my work, based on my intuition and the cards' symbolism.

Disclaimer: Tarot readings are for entertainment purposes only and are not meant to predict or dictate your future. The cards provide insights and guidance, but the ultimate power of choice lies with you.

[sserpente]

By Chance

Synopsis: The very first time you meet Eddie the Freak Munson, it’s because you found his bracelet on the floor and decided to wear it, and he claims to have lost one just like that.

The second time you meet, he is absolutely flabbergasted because you are the only one outside of Hellfire who wants him to sign their yearbook.

The third time you meet, he’s feeding you drugs through a sloppy kiss before making you see stars.

The fourth time you meet, he is all but taken aback that you greet him with a boyfriend-and-girlfriend-kiss in plain sight of some other former Hawkins High students, thinking that you, just like all the other girls, would want nothing to do with him after one hot and high night together…

A/N: Just a couple of ideas that had been ghosting around in my head on digital paper. Enjoy!

Words: 4880 Warnings: drug use, alcohol, smut, RC has parents in this one, drunk driving

A/N: Both Eddie and RC are over the age of 21 in my stories.

The first time you met Eddie Munson, it was in the school cafeteria. You were new in town, damned to finish your high school years at a later age due to unforeseen circumstances in your past. Let’s just say it involved the military, an illegal weapon deal, you and your family being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and a witness protection programme. Not exactly the funniest years of your life but here you were now, significantly older than all the other students trying to keep up with everything you had missed when one fateful day, you found a leather chain bracelet on the floor in the hallway near the boys’ bathrooms.

You figured it looked cool, so, instead of throwing it away, you decided to wear it. Little did you know it belonged to Eddie The Freak Munson himself who, as it turned out, was absolutely gutted he’d lost it. He ended up in line to get his lunch right behind you that day and of course, he instantly noticed the edgy accessory on you when you reached for a cup of chocolate pudding.

“Cool bracelet.”

You’d be lying if you said that the other students hadn’t “warned” you about him. But being old enough to legally buy alcohol, you were long past the silly idea of popularity in high school, knowing that once you were out of that building for good, no one—literally no one—cared anymore. Respectively, you turned around to smile at him.

“Thank you.”

“I had one like that too. Lost it recently,” he added a little distraught, underlining his words by throwing a single peanut in his mouth. Your eyes widened.

“Oh my god, what? I found that on the floor in the hallway the other day! It must be yours!”

And just like that, Eddie blinked and then frowned at you as if you’d just sliced the tyres of his van. “Why are you wearing it?” he asked—carefully, if not suspiciously.

“I just thought it looked cool. Here, take it back,” you announced, unclasping it from your wrist to hand it to him. “I’m glad it seems you didn’t lose it after all.”

“Yeah, uh… it was a gift from my uncle, so… it means a lot to me.”

You could have imagined it but you were pretty sure that you received something like an electrical shock when your hands touched.

“That’s sweet. Good thing I didn’t throw it away. Well, enjoy the rest of your day, Eddie. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you around too.”

And that you did. Every day. You did have a few classes together, after all, and sooner or later you realised that you kept stealing glances at him. He was fucking handsome—a classic metalhead with an affinity for fantasy novels and Dungeons & Dragons, so you soon found out, and of course, a renowned bad boy selling drugs right under the noses of all the teachers which, strangely enough… did not hinder him from finally graduating that year. It turned out that 1987 was his year and to call what he pulled off at the graduation ceremony a show would have been an understatement and you certainly couldn’t stop clapping and cheering along with his friends when he did flip the principal the bird and acted like he’d just won the gold medal instead of his diploma. That man was a chaotic rockstar in the making, you just knew it. In fact, you were more excited for him than you were for yourself even though you had barely spoken after the bracelet exchange.

Unfortunately, apart from his beloved Hellfire club as well as two freshmen called Dustin and Mike, everyone else in the school just seemed to be happy to finally be rid of him—Miss O’Donnells the most, you figured.

So when it was time to get those last few signatures in for your yearbooks and students rushed from person to person with markers in hand, Eddie was left out entirely.

You guessed that this was why nothing prepared him for the very moment you approached him and two of his friends—Jeff and Gareth, you believed—and held your yearbook out to him.

“Hey, Eddie. Care to sign my yearbook for me?”

It took him a second to process your words, you could tell. “Me? You want me to sign your yearbook?”

“Of course.” And you meant it, if anything to have an excuse to speak to him again.

Eddie took your yearbook from you with slight hesitation, flipped the front page open and then, using the red ballpoint pen he must have been using for his friends’ yearbooks, scribbled something in yours.

You couldn’t wait to read what he’d written when he handed it back to you. Another moment of silence followed.

“Do you… want me to sign yours as well?”

“Uh… yeah… if you want.” Jeff and Gareth were a lot more suspicious than Eddie was, perhaps thinking you’d write something nasty in his. In fact, he didn’t even pay attention to what you were writing in it. Instead, and you could practically feel his curious brown gaze on you, he wouldn’t stop staring like you were some sort of hallucination.

The truth was, he probably didn’t quite know what to make of you. You’d never been part of a specific clique ever since your arrival and hence socialised with whoever circumstances put you in close proximity with. They’d all seen you with Jason and the others a few times—and given how the basketball team treated Hellfire, it was not short of a miracle they all radiated a pinch of hostility toward you.

Eddie almost flinched when you shut his yearbook shut and gave it back to him. “Thanks.”

“Thanks to you as well. After your stunt on stage, I have no doubt that you’re gonna be the next Ozzy Osbourne. I wish you and your band all the best, I’m sure you’ll rock it.”

Jeff and Gareth blinked. Incredulously so. Eddie on the other hand gave you a sheepish grin. “Thanks,” he said again.

You figured there was nothing else going to come out of his mouth—and you hoped that your phone number that you had scribbled into his yearbook and which he still hadn’t noticed yet was going to give him a broad hint.

That’s why your heart almost leaped out of your chest when you suddenly heard him calling after you. “We were going to, uh… celebrate together just outside of the town centre tonight. You know… snacks, dru- I mean drinks, music… care to come?”

It was only when you turned back around that you noticed Jeff and Gareth looking downright shocked at Eddie’s invitation. The head of the Hellfire Club appeared genuine though. And with those sweet puppy eyes, how could you turn him down? You simply could not, even if you had wanted to.

“Oh, I always fancy some snacks and dru- I mean drinks.” You grinned at him. “Should I bring anything?”

“If you want. Don’t have to though. Do you have a car or… should I come pick you up?”

“If it’s not too much trouble? Here, let me give you my address.” Using your pen from before, you snatched one of the napkins from one of the tables (almost wiping an empty champagne glass from the surface in the process) to scribble your address on it.

You decided to make brownies for the occasion. They were spiced with rum to add a little bit of flavour and dressed in your edgiest outfit before Eddie came to pick you up. To say you were excited was an understatement, for despite being generally friendly with everyone, you hadn’t exactly made a ton of friends in Hawkins yet.

Funnily enough, however, you were not even in the least surprised that Eddie drove straight to the infamous Reefer Rick house near Lover’s Lake. The entirety of the Hellfire Club, excluding the two freshmen, were there, along with a couple of other friends of Rick’s you didn’t know. It wasn’t a proper party per se—although they did have music but given Eddie’s taste and looks, it was metal blasting through the speakers for the most part.

“You’re insane, Munson. Who is she again?” Rick hissed into Eddie’s hair, grabbing his upper arm as you walked past and you took in the dimly lit boathouse. The atmosphere here was great. Foldable tables held a large selection of snacks, with two massive pizzas from Surfer Boy’s Pizza taking up the majority of the space. Another table was filled to the brim with so much alcohol you feared it would all topple over if someone attempted to remove one of the glass bottles. The fishing boat swaying in the water unsurprisingly took up most of the space in the boat house. Only for the occasion it had been repurposed to a cosy-looking lounging area and covered entirely with several layers of blankets and pillows.

The most prominent feature of this small get-together, however, was the smell of weed—and you were certain that those rolled little cigarettes were the most harmless drug Rick had on offer tonight.

“You’re telling me you invited the girl who found your bracelet a few months ago to a party at my house? What if she calls the cops on us?”

“I don’t think she will.”

“I brought brownies,” you offered, holding them out to him with a smile. Both Rick and Eddie blushed when they realised you had been able to follow their conversation over the loud guitar riffs.

“Oh. Thanks. Welcome to the party then.” And that was that. You set the homemade dessert on the table and had Eddie pour you your first drink of the evening.

“You know, it took me a hot minute to figure out you’ve written your phone number in my yearbook,” Eddie admitted after a few drinks and some casual chatting.

“Oh.” You chuckled, following up with a wink. “Well, I figured I’d take my shot.” Eddie had skipped prom, of course, not buying into the whole idea of wearing a suit and awkwardly asking someone out only to dance to shitty music and drink non-alcoholic punch in the school’s stinky sports hall.

It was a shame really—you would have loved to have seen him in a suit. Besides, you figured that the real reason Eddie hadn’t been to prom was because he’d been unhopeful any girl would have wanted to show up there with the town freak who was regularly accused of satanic rituals.

Well, you would have. But you ended up going with your classmates from chemistry class who had all sworn they didn’t need a man to have a good time. Which was also true.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

Eddie raised his eyebrows slightly, offering you a sweet smile.

“Why did you invite me? We’ve barely spoken all year and Rick is not wrong.”

“Listen, sweetheart… no one—and I mean no one outside of Hellfire has ever asked me to sign their yearbook for them. It might not sound like a big deal to you but you decided to come over to me despite what everyone else must have told you about me.” Sweetheart. Now that was a reason for your heart to skip a beat. The rising alcohol level in your body did the rest, of course, but you were far from drunk yet.

As of right now, Eddie’s hair was even messier than usual from headbanging to the latest Metallica hit that had come on after Rick had yelled “To our new graduates, Jeff, Gareth and Eddie!”. He was still a little out of breath. You were resting on the boat now, watching him giggle at a filthy joke Rick had just pulled and it was then you decided there and then that tonight was going to be the night. All good things started with a kiss, right?

Eddie must have noticed you staring at his lips. He took another draw from the cigarette he was smoking and then held it out to you with a mischievous grin on his face. “Want a draw?”

“Sure. Bring it on.”

Before you could close your mouth around it though, Eddie pulled away again, making you crawl closer to him in a confused manner. “Wait a second. You’ve… smoked before, right?”

“Duh,” you gave back. “Yes, I have. Never done anything stronger than weed though.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Just making sure you don’t throw up all over the boat.” Eddie didn’t hand the cigarette over. Instead, he brought it to your lips with his fingers, watching intently as you took a draw. The taste was just as awful as you remembered but it got the job done quickly. You relaxed, feeling more daring after only minutes.

“Hey, Eddie?” You stared at him matter-of-factly. It clearly confused him. You took another draw when he offered the weed to you yet again but this time inching even closer to him. His lips parted when you didn’t move away from him. “Can I kiss you?”

The metalhead grinned like a kid that got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. He didn’t respond. Instead, he lifted his ringed hand to your face to stroke your cheek and then, his mouth was on yours. Eddie kissed you softly and patiently, seemingly enjoying this first taste as much as you did. After you parted, you both smiled and as the night proceeded, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other anymore.

Eddie insisted on taking you to his place instead of staying at Rick’s, and after some initial protest that he too had had alcohol and shouldn’t be behind the wheel, you agreed to slowly drive back to his place. Fortunately for the both of you, you both made it out of this risky mission alive and you soon plopped yourself down on Eddie’s bed.

His room was a complete and utter mess. Clothes and cassettes along with handwritten song lyrics on crumbled paper were scattered everywhere, along with the odd guitar pick and lone sock. The walls were plastered with posters of metal bands as well as some maps and other drawings he must have made for his D&D campaigns.

His uncle wasn’t home—Eddie claimed he was pulling night shifts and that you had the house all to yourself. Which was certainly a good thing. You weren’t exactly quiet in bed and you had no doubt that you’d make use of those condoms sitting on his nightstand tonight.

Eddie grinned, turning his back to you for a moment. Then, he got rid of his battle jacket and leather jacket almost at the same time, kicked off his shoes and joined you on the bed wearing only his ripped trousers and a washed-out band shirt.

He was quick to take the initiative now that you had made the first step. Eddie leaned down, his hair tickling your face, and lowered his lips to yours to kiss you again, without any unwanted eyes watching you both this time.

He tasted like the weed you’d been smoking and the fatty pizza you’d all been munching on. His kisses were consuming, you had learned this much quickly. You sighed when his tongue slipped between your lips, teasing yours gently all the while his right hand went on an exploration quest, repeatedly stroking over your side.

Joyful anticipation of what would happen next flooded you like a hurricane, your body all of a sudden annoyingly aware of the fact there were way too many layers separating you both still.

It was then you felt the small pill on Eddie’s tongue that he passed on to you, gently biting your lower lip before breaking the kiss. You closed your mouth with wide eyes, returning his eager grin as he hovered above you.

“It’s ketamine,” he said, still grinning, “Rick got a new batch, fancy pill form. Nothing like anything else you’ll ever experience.”

You swallowed it down. “Shit. How long does it take to kick in?”

“With how strong that dose is I’d say about fifteen minutes. Thought you’d better have your first trip safely without accidentally drowning in the boat house at Rick’s.”

You hummed.

But what was the point of waiting around for it to kick in? You wanted Eddie. Now, and regardless of the drugs. Biting your lower lip, you pulled him back down to you and crashed your lips against his, kissing him ferociously.

“You’re wearing too much,” you announced out of breath when you had to pull away for oxygen.

“I could say the same thing about you, sweetheart.”

“Hmm��� we should do something about that, then.”

You both giggled like children. Eddie scrambled out of bed to get rid of his clothes, only leaving his plaid boxers on all the while you peeled yourself out of your shirt and your trousers.

“Do you know how to take off a bra?” you asked with a cheeky grin.

“You wound me, sweetheart.”

“C’me here and prove it then.”

He was on top of you again before you could blink, hands wandering behind your back as you arched it for him so he could take it off for you. He did in fact have no trouble whatsoever getting that last piece of clothing between your naked skin out of the way. When he tossed it out of bed, it landed straight on the neck of his acoustic guitar in the corner. Eddie chuckled but he soon gasped for air quietly when his brown eyes fell on your bare breasts, nipples hardening from both the sudden temperature change and your growing arousal—and perhaps the drugs, too. You could feel them kicking in now. It was like you were walking on clouds. Like everything you did was wrapped in cotton candy and each and every one of your senses was heightened.

Eddie seemed to feel the same way even though surely this wasn’t his first time on ketamine. In a haze, he cupped your breasts with his hands, kneading them gently all the while you tugged at the hem of his boxers, not failing to notice the growing bulge in them. Eddie’s erection sprung free when you pulled them down as far as you could in your current position, taking in his length. Damn. You didn’t have a lot of dicks to compare him to but you certainly liked what you saw.

Reluctantly, the metalhead let go of your breasts to reach for a condom. You moaned at the loss of them at the very same moment you started feeling like you were floating. Shit.

“I am craving ice cream right now.”

“You are?”

“Yes! I could eat three. No, six! You know what? Let’s go and have ice cream tomorrow!”

“At the mall?”

“At the mall!” you repeated, almost yelling the words. You blinked. Fuck. You were so high. Eddie grinned when he realised. You wriggled out of your knickers and tossed them out of bed with your foot. Utterly naked before him now, you watched him with your lower lip sucked between your teeth as he rolled the thin layer of latex onto his length and then positioned himself between your legs. You spread them even further for him, inviting him in.

“We can always stop, you know that, right?”

“Eddie…” You pulled him down to you, shutting him up with a sloppy kiss. The drug was really kicking in now and making out with him was like a whole new experience altogether. You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you. You needed him. Now.

You doubted he was still a virgin when he guided his member into you with skilled movements, slowly pushing in inch by inch without finishing instantly. You wouldn’t have minded to take a break and then try again but right now, the ketamine in your body was making you impatient for lust. Impatient for him.

“Move, Eddie, move…” you whispered, throwing your head back in the process. The metalhead obeyed. Slowly at first, he began to thrust up into you, each and every single movement eager and on the verge of madness.

You were an entanglement of sweaty limbs within a matter of minutes. Panting and kissing, you didn’t know where Eddie ended and where you started. You moved together rhythmically, your legs wrapped around his hips as he kept rutting into you.

It was the very first time you felt your arousal climbing higher and higher, that familiar knot of pleasure in your core tightening without any additional stimulation whatsoever. Surely, that was because of the drugs. It must have been because of the drugs. Eddie hit every single pleasure spot hidden deep inside of you but normally, even that was not enough for you to slip over the edge. Not so today. You could already feel your orgasm approaching, your toes curling and your cunt tightening around him.

Eddie groaned. “You going to cum, sweetheart?”

The sound that escaped your lips didn’t even remotely resemble a yes. So you nodded with your lower lip between your teeth, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You shattered underneath him like a piece of glass, breaking into a million pieces scattering across his room.

Moaning his name, you dug your nails into his naked back and pulled him even closer to you. Eddie didn’t stop. On the contrary, he sped up. His strokes were erratic now, uncontrolled. Eager for his own orgasm, as you pulsed around him times and times again, you felt him tense up and then, find his release.

After a few more thrusts he stilled, burying himself as deep inside of you as he possibly could and shot his load into the condom. You wished you could have felt it, wished you could have felt him coating your still lazily contracting walls instead. Next time. There was always next time.

And fuck… that was quite possibly the best sex you’d ever had.

When you woke up the next morning, memories of last night came flooding back to you like a tsunami. Your head rested on Eddie’s chest. He’d draped his blanket over the both of you after he’d gotten rid of the condom—or simply threw it on the floor to be precise—and then cuddled up with you to keep you warm, to keep you safe while this trip lasted. You were almost a little disappointed you had sobered up now but the aftermath lingered like the taste of a particularly sweet strawberry on your tongue.

You opened your eyes, inhaling Eddie’s scent. Cigarettes, alcohol, leather and a little bit of sweat… it made for an oddly attractive mix. Unfortunately, however, your blood ran cold as soon as you spotted the time on the watch on Eddie’s wrist.

“Eddie! Wake up! Eddie, come on!”

He grumbled—and you wanted to kiss him senseless for being so cute and sleepy—but your parents must have been worried sick by now. Besides, you felt a little nauseous. Certainly the after-effects of the ketamine. You were lucky you weren’t hugging the toilet at the moment.

“What? You okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m okay but I need to get home.”

“Huh?” Finally, he cracked an eye open. Another moment passed for him to take the time to wake up. You chuckled.

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. Ugh, and I feel gross.” You needed a shower—and a change of clothes. “I need to get home and freshen up, and my parents are probably wondering where I am. Let’s meet at Starcourt? Around three?”

You wanted nothing more than to lazily wander into the kitchen and have a coffee and breakfast with him before doing what you did last night all over again—sober this time. But by now, his uncle was probably home too. You’d have to do that as soon as you got your own place. Then you could be fucking all day long and… you swallowed.

“Uh, yeah… sure. Three.”

“Alright.” You beamed at him. “I’ll see you there then.” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips before you climbed out of bed naked and gathered your clothes. Eddie grinned when you blew him one final kiss before you left the room fully dressed.

You had to admit it got a little awkward when you ended up walking straight past Wayne Munson who was at the kitchen table with a coffee and the morning paper in hand. There was absolutely no doubt the man new exactly what Eddie and you had done last night.

“Uh… morning, Mr. Munson.”

“Morning?” You didn’t need to explain. Well, Eddie did but not you, not right now. So you only gave him an apologetic smile and hurried out the door because three o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

You couldn’t stop grinning. Not when you apologised to your parents for worrying them and not calling, not when you took a shower, not even when you got some sustenance in to chase away the residue of the drugs and the alcohol in your body.

At around two thirty, you put on some make-up and then practically darted to the bus station to make it to Starcourt in time. Eddie was waiting for you already when you arrived. He leaned against a pillar near Scoops Ahoy wearing his usual attire, with one leg propped against it. His face lit up when he spotted you—only to darken only a fraction of a second later when he saw Jason and his laundry basket crew approach, instantly alert.

You paid them no mind. So you only nodded at Jason in greeting and then hurried toward Eddie, wrapping your arms around him to give him a long and passionate kiss.

“Hey…” he breathed out when you broke apart. Eddie blinked at you, incredulous at what you’d just done—almost as if you hadn’t had sex on a high last night.

“Hey. What’s… wrong? Are you alright?”

“N-nothing. I’m fine, sweetheart.” He glanced at Jason who kept on staring at you as if you’d just sacrificed a sheep to a demon. You shrugged your shoulders, interlaced Eddie’s fingers with yours and dragged him inside the ice cream shop.

“What do you want? I think chocolate chip mint is the best one but cherry sounds nice too. Pick whatever you like, it’s on me.”

Eddie quirked an eyebrow at you. “No, no, sweetheart. This is a date. I’m paying.”

“No you’re not. You can pay next time. You know how much the stuff you gave me…” You cleared your throat and lowered your voice. “…you gave me last night normally costs. I’m paying.”

Eddie smirked at you—you just wanted to kiss him all over again. “Cherry and chocolate chip mint, how about that?”

“I like the way you think.” So you ordered and then made yourself comfortable in one of the booths to munch on your ice cream. Eddie glanced behind him and then, all of a sudden, he had that unbelieving expression on his face yet again.

“Okay, what’s up? Something’s up. Did I say something? Did something happen?”

“I just… didn’t expect you to want to be in public with me.”

“I’m sorry, you what?” It was you who had incredulousness written all over your face now. Your heart dropped to your feet. “What… do you mean?”

“The girls I hooked up with before, from school… they didn’t want anything to do with me after they’d gotten laid by the freak,” he admitted. “Granted, there weren’t that many but still.” Your lips parted. Shit. That’s why he was acting all surprised. You had just snogged him in front of the entire former basketball team, after all.

Of course that raised the question of why he would invite you to that party in the first place if he’d suspected that you’d only wanted some free drugs and to be able to claim you’d fucked the freak to find out if he was just that in the sheets as well. But there was always hope. Hope that it could be different this time even if it was all subconscious. You suppressed a sigh.

“Why the hell wouldn’t I want that?” you asked so you wouldn’t pause for too long.

“Don’t know. I’m just used to it, okay?” he said with a fake smile, scooping up some of his ice cream.

Oh. And now he was overwhelmed and flattered and touched and confused and… and he didn’t know how to act. You scooted closer to him in the booth, leaning against his shoulder. “I couldn’t give a shit about what the other people think, Eddie. I was in a rush this morning because I didn’t tell my parents I’d probably spend the whole night out. And I said I felt gross because I hadn’t showered and because the remnants of the drugs made me feel all icky. Not because I regret what we did. Actually… I can’t wait to do it again.”

Eddie’s face lit up. He grinned. “With or without drugs?”

“Both.”

In other words, that cheeky metalhead was your boyfriend now. And you’d be damned if you didn’t tell the world that you were his girlfriend.

[communicationthroughlyrics]

I Just Wanna be Yours

Summer in Westview hasn't officially started until the Rogers throw their annual Memorial Day Beach Bonfire. Now the torch was passed to Y/N Rogers, the local playgirl little sister of the boy next door, Steve Rogers. Your reputation preceded you for most, but you really only had your sights on one person.

One Wanda Maximoff.

TW: Daddy kink, smut, orgasm denial if you squint? Lol

A/N: Not proofread- let me know if you find any big errors :] Enjoy!

Word Count: 9.6K

Memorial Day weekend marks a few things for most. A long weekend, the start of summer break, barbecues, parties, and a day of remembrance. For those who attend Westview High? They circle the calendar for another reason- the annual Roger’s Family Party and Bonfire. 

Your older brother Steve had restarted the tradition after finding out that your father threw the same party when he was in high school. Steve had been the All-American, the school’s Football and Baseball team captain. He was every girl’s dream high school sweetheart, kind to all, piercing stare paired with his dusky blue eyes, blonde crew-cut hair, and always clad in blue denim jeans with a t-shirt. His athletic build and confident stature paired with his boyish charm were endearing to all who attended high school with him, earning him the nickname "Captain America".

Now, it was you, in your senior year, carrying the torch that leads the who’s who of Westview High filling the Rogers family beach house for a day of barbecue (courtesy of Steve, equipped in nothing but swim trunks and his Grill Sergeant apron), music, booze, and a traditional bonfire on the beach at dusk. You had branched the family image out. You were the athletic, mysterious bad girl. Leather, ripped jeans, band shirts, tattoos, and piercings were more your speed, a stark departure from your brother’s more traditional appearance. You had recently made the switch from your long, charcoal locks to a short, spiky undercut that displayed more of the tattoos creeping up your neck.

Your upbringing was charmed, the typical "busy" American family with parents who were less than present. Your father was a hedge fund manager, your mother a successful lawyer. Both led busy careers that led them all over the country. You hardly saw them as a result, your nanny was more of a parental figure than your own. Steve was the consummate gentleman, while you ‘played the field’, having slept with most of the female population and moved to the neighboring schools. Even in Steve’s shadow, you were able to maintain a large social group, but never, really let anyone in.

That changed your sophomore year when a certain brunette walked in the front doors for her first day of school. Wanda Maximoff and her brother Pietro were star athletes in their own right. Pietro, the tall, silver-haired goofball was a track star from a rival high school, and stud midfielder on the pitch. Wanda, was a quiet, scholarly type, always in the top rankings in women’s golf and tennis. She was always willing to assist others with their academics, her affinity for science and math making her an asset for many. Her stormy, dark appearance kept most at bay, but she did have a tight-knit group of friends you never seemed to be able to penetrate. 

You never seemed to be able to corner the green-eyed woman, wanting just a chance to talk, to get to know her. You were sure that her friends had warned her that all you would try to do was add her name as a notch on your bedpost. But this feeling Wanda gave you, whenever she shot you a shy smile or her viridescent eyes found you in class or at a tennis match, the butterflies and sweaty palms feeling, was beyond what you felt with others. She seems oblivious to the flirting thrown her way, many guys and girls trying to pull back her veil of mystery.

“Hey, sis.” Steve came charging down the stairs, clad in only his swim shorts as he made his way to the fridge, grabbing a protein smoothie from the confines of the fridge. 

“Morning,” you mumbled through your mouthful of Lucky Charms.

He rolled his eyes at your antics, polishing off his drink before throwing the bottle in the trash. “What time did you tell everyone? I need to start getting the food ready.”

“12 at the earliest. Open house, people can come and go.” You respond.

"And don't forget about the bonfire. It's going to be a good one." He grinned, nodding in the direction of the backyard. "I've got everything set up. Should be ready to go by nightfall."

"How could I forget?" you fire back, shooting him a megawatt smile.

You glanced at him over your shoulder. His smile was contagious, and it was easy to see why everyone liked him. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy, but you pushed it aside. You had your own life, your friends. You didn't need to compete with him for attention. He winked at you as he turned away, heading out back to fire up the massive grill on the back patio and get it ready for the multitudes of burgers, steaks, bratwurst, and chicken that were about to be strewn across it.

Your thoughts drifted back to Wanda, and you wondered if she'd show up. You hadn't seen her at school yesterday, but you hoped that maybe she had plans to come. It would be a shame if she didn't make it, but you had your things to do, your people to see. You finished off your breakfast, glancing at the clock that read 10:15 am before grabbing your keys and cell phone and heading out the door to pick up the booze, sodas, and ice you needed for today.

Your car, a shiny black Maserati GranTurismo, started on the first try as you backed out of the driveway and made your way down the quiet residential street. The sun was shining, the sky a brilliant blue, and the air smelled of freshly mown grass and the sweet scent of blooming flowers. You hummed along to the radio as you drove, taking a right at the end of the block and heading towards the local liquor store.

The parking lot was mostly empty, save for a few other early birds like yourself stocking up on supplies for their parties. You grabbed a cart and wheeled it over to the back of the store where the beer and soda coolers were. You spent the next few minutes selecting just the right mix of beers and sodas, making sure to get a variety of options for everyone. As you approached the front checkout, the cashier gave you a bright smile. 

"This must be for the annual Rogers summer break kick-off,” he quipped, grabbing the scan gun and walking around the counter to begin scanning the items on your flatbed cart.

You grinned, a little embarrassed that the liquor store clerk had recognized your family's party. "Yeah, well... it's going to be a good one," you said, trying to play it cool.

He nodded, glancing up at you with a knowing look. "I'm sure it will. And don't worry, I've been to a few of these parties myself. I know how much work it is to make sure everything goes smoothly. Your family does a great job." His smile was genuine, and it made you feel a little less self-conscious about the attention your family's gatherings sometimes got. "Do you need any ice?"

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. I'll take 12 bags, please." You added, reaching into your wallet to pay for the booze and sodas. As the cashier rang everything up, you glanced at the clock on the wall. You still had plenty of time to stop by the grocery store and pick up the rest of the food and supplies you needed.

The drive to the grocery store was uneventful, and you managed to get in and out of there with all your items promptly. As you loaded your car up with bags of chips, dips, and other snacks, your mind drifted to Wanda again. You wondered if Wanda would show up today, and hopefully, you would get the chance to talk to her.

When you finally pulled into your driveway and parked the Maserati in its spot, the yard was already filling up with cars and people were starting to mill about. The smell of charcoal smoke wafted through the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and music. You had to make multiple trips inside, but luckily your best friends Natasha and Maria were already there and helped you carry everything inside. 

You had a couple of large coolers set aside for food, so Steve could keep the waiting items cold, and you could keep the typical sides like potato and macaroni salad chilled while the food was cooked. You had 2 coolers of sodas, and 5 coolers of booze to fill, which Nat and Maria quickly took over because they just wanted to throw ice at each other.

Taking the moment before more people started to arrive, you ran upstairs, getting into your black bikini, and black swim shorts and pulling a black tee shirt over your torso. There was no point in shoes, so you padded back downstairs barefoot, and out to the outdoor bar you would be manning.

As you were setting up the bar, more people began to filter in, and soon there was quite the crown milling in and out of the house. As you began making some drinks for a large group of people, you saw Wanda walk up with a couple of her friends, their laughter ringing through the yard. You couldn't help but smile as you watched her, her long brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, and a cover-up over her barely there red bikini. She looked stunning, but little did you know that she would be putting on a show today, and you were the sole reason.

You caught her eye as she was making small talk with her friends, and she smiled back at you before walking over to the bar. "Hey, Wanda," you said with a grin, "Glad you could make it."

She returned the smile. "Thanks, I'm glad I did too. I haven’t been able to make the last couple of Rogers Family parties, and this looks like it's going to be a good time." She glanced around, taking in the crowd of people before leaning in closer to you. You gulp as her breasts push up her bikini top, almost taunting you. "So, what can I get from the bar? You've got quite the selection here."

You chuckled. "Well, you've got a variety of beers in the coolers, the proverbial White Claws and seltzers, some sangria in the far tap, and of course, my signature tropical punch." You nodded toward a tap of punch on the counter. "That's my specialty. It's got a bit of a kick to it, but I've had plenty of people tell me they like it." You winked at her, hoping she would take the hint.

Wanda considered your offer for a moment, her eyes lingering on the punch tap. "You know, I think I'll try that. I've never had your punch before, but it sounds delicious." She flashed you a dazzling smile, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest at the compliment. "Thanks, Y/N." You grabbed her cup, poured her a cupful, and slipped some fruit slices into her drink. 

"There you go, Wanda," you turn, flashing a charming smile her way before sliding her drink over. "Have fun at the party." You wink again before turning to make some drinks for the group at the other end of the bar. You pretend to not notice the blush creep over her chest and face before she turns and saunters away, making sure to sway her hips to garner your attention.

As the day goes on, the party gets going. People are dancing, laughing, and enjoying themselves. You can't help but steal glances at Wanda now and then, watching as she lets loose and has a good time. She's enjoying your signature punch, and you're glad to see that it's helping her have a good time. Natasha took over for you after a couple of hours at the bar, and you found yourself poolside, laying on a lounge chair talking to one of your teammates from the softball team. Carol nodded at something over your shoulder, causing you to turn and almost spit out your drink. 

Wanda was now walking towards you, throwing a towel down on a lounger a few spots from you. She sent you a shy smile, before turning her back and pulling the cover-up off her body. Your mouth went dry as you raked your eyes over her body, her milky-toned thighs and athletic body driving you insane. This is when you were glad for your dark sunglasses, as she bent over, straightening her towel on her chair. You were sure you were flush, as it took all of your willpower to pull your eyes off of her. 

Carol smirked at you, slapping your shoulder as Wanda dove into the deep end of the pool.

"Looks like she's enjoying herself," your teammate chuckled.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah, she is." You glanced back at Wanda as she floated on her back in the pool, her long brown hair spread out around her. The water seemed to cling to her skin, revealing every curve of her body. You couldn't help but feel a surge of arousal as the water continued to bead off her body as she swam around, talking to people who were also meandering in the pool.

You looked back at your teammate, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I didn't realize she was this... attractive." You stammered, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "I mean, she's always been pretty, but... I dunno."

Carol almost choked on her drink, before looking at you bewildered. "Bullshit, Y/N. You've had a huge crush on her since she started at Westview."

You blushed even deeper at your teammate's words. You couldn't believe you hadn't realized it before. "I-I didn't mean it like that. I just... I've never really thought about her like that." You stammered, not wanting to admit your true feelings.

"Well, maybe it's time you did." Carol grinned, nudging you with her shoulder. "She's single, you're single. You two would be perfect together. And judging by the way she looks at you, I think you may have a better chance than you realize."

You shook your head, feeling even more flustered. "I-I don't know, Carol. She's drunk, she’s just being flirty. She’s made it clear since she started at school that she wasn't interested."

Carol sighed, shaking her head. "Y/N, think about it. Have you ever seen her date someone at school?"

"No...I haven't."

"Exactly." Your friend rolled her eyes. "Well, you should probably make a move before someone else does. She's been single for a while, and I think she deserves someone who appreciates her." She paused, looking over at Wanda, who was currently laughing with some of her friends. "And I think you're the perfect girl for the job. And my god, does she need to be appreciated." she smiles, nodding in Wanda’s direction, causing you to look over and see her on Pietro’s shoulders, playing a game of chicken against Steve, who had Peggy on his shoulders.

You watched as she fought to knock Peggy off Steve's shoulders, her muscles flexing, her intoxicating laughter as the pair fought for bragging rights. Both women soon fell off their partner’s shoulders in tandem, a loud shriek coming from each of them.

Wanda swam to the end of the pool by your chair, pulling herself out, and giving you an up-close view of the water dripping down her body before she made her way over to the lounger that was a few down from you. Your gaze drifted over her body again, before realizing she was watching you watch her.

Her cheeks flushed, and she cleared her throat, trying to play it cool. "So, Y/N," she started, her voice slightly deep from the exhaustion of being in the pool, "I heard you're good at beach volleyball."

You looked over at her, not sure if she was just being friendly or if there was something more to it. You smiled, deciding to go along with it. "Well, I've been playing for a while. It's not that special, though."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she took a seat on the lounger beside you. "Oh, please. Everyone here says that, but you're really good. I've seen you play volleyball at school a few times now. You're one of the best."

You blushed, looking away from her. "Oh, I dunno about that. There's a lot of other good players too."

She chuckled, leaning in closer to you. "Well, a group of people were gonna start a match down on the beach. Care to join us?"

You hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Carol and the others. They were all busy talking and laughing with each other, and you didn't want to leave your friend alone. But the thought of spending more time with Wanda was too tempting to resist. "Sure," you finally said, standing up. "I'll meet you down there." You winked her way before going up to grab another drink.

As you made your way down to the beach, you couldn't help but feel a little nervous. You hadn't talked to Wanda like this before, outside of the occasional hello or passing comment in class. But the more you thought about it, the more you realized how much you enjoyed her company. She had a way of making you feel comfortable and at ease, even when you were around a group of people.

When you finally reached the beach, you saw Wanda standing near a group of people who were already gathering, clad in their swimwear as another crown began to flank the sides of the makeshift court to watch. She smiled brightly when she saw you approach, and her cheeks flushed slightly as she turned away to hide it. You smirked, setting the small cooler with water and Gatorades off to the side, swapping out your aviator sunglasses for the sports ones you wore out on the water. 

You couldn't shake the feeling of someone watching as you played with a volleyball in your hands as you awaited the rest of the people who would be playing. Steve was carrying down a speaker so you had music to play to. Turning ever so slightly, you saw Wanda’s gaze locked on you, rather, your hands, as you threw the ball up and down. Deciding it was time to tease her a little bit back, you threw the ball to the ground and decided it was time to lose the Van Halen tee shirt.

She blushed even harder when she realized what you had done, but she quickly regained her composure, calling out for everyone's attention. "Alright, alright, let's get this game started!" she shouted, clapping her hands together. You pretend to not notice how she bit her lip when your abs made their debut, your tattoo down your side and back on full display.

The game started well, with everyone splitting up into teams. You found yourself on the same team as Wanda, and you couldn't help but feel a little cocky. Having her on your side was the perfect way to bump her around a little bit, to get close to her.

As the game progressed, you and Wanda worked well together, communicating seamlessly and reading each other's movements like a well-oiled machine. Your team began to dominate, and the other players started to take notice. Carol shot you a warning look, but you ignored it, focusing on the game and the girl beside you.

"Alright!" Carol stopped the game, calling an audible. "Nat and Wanda, switch!" she yelled, causing the two teams to moan.

You and Wanda exchanged a look before she shrugged and jogged under the net to switch sides, putting you across from each other. As you took your place on the court, you couldn't help but feel a little bit of nervous excitement. It was one thing to be teammates, but something else entirely to be opponents. You both smiled at each other, the tension between you seeming to grow in the air. 

You shot her a sly smile, winking before Nat served the ball over the net.

You both watched the ball as it sailed through the air and then you moved into position, bending your knees as you readied yourself to spike it. The ball came down, and with a powerful swing of your arm, you sent it hurtling toward Wanda's side of the court. She jumped up, meeting the ball at the height of her reach, her fingers just managing to touch it before sending it flying back over the net. The two of you continued to volley back and forth, your movements becoming more fluid and in sync with each other.

The game progressed, and the other players began to fade into the background as you found yourself locked in a battle of wills against Wanda. Every time you sent the ball her way, she seemed to be waiting for it, her reactions sharper than ever. You couldn't help but wonder how much of this was due to the competition between you, and how much was simply her natural talent. Either way, it made for an intense match.

As the tension grew, you saw your opportunity. Wanda had just hit the ball high into the air, and you knew she would have a hard time reaching it. You took a step back, bending your knees, and then exploded forward, leaping into the air. Your hands connected with the ball, sending it flying toward her with all your might. But instead of aiming it at her side of the court, you spike it right at her feet.

"Fuck!" Wanda yells as Carol shoots you a warning glare. You fire a cocky smile back their way, before heading off the court.

She looks furious as you return to the sidelines, her face flushed and her breath coming in ragged gasps. You can't help but feel a little thrill at the power you have over her in this moment. You want nothing more than to see her lose control, to give in to her anger and frustration.

As you watch her compose herself, you can't help but admire her determination. Despite her best efforts to remain calm, you can see the fire in her eyes, the passion that drives her. It's a strange mixture of attraction and intimidation, and you find yourself drawn to it in a way you can't quite explain.

The next game starts, and you and Wanda are once again on opposing teams. This time, though, there's an undercurrent of tension that runs between you. Every time you make a move, she's there, anticipating it, blocking it with ease. It's almost as if she's reading your mind, knowing exactly what you're going to do before you even do it.

Finally, after multiple set matches, your team won the best of 7. Deciding that now was the time to get more to drink, you left the volleyball game in your brother’s capable hands as the guys began to play. You scooped up your shirt and towel, using the shirt to wipe some of the sand and sweat from your body. Now was the perfect time for a dip in the pool.

"Hey, wait up!" Wanda called after you, quickly catching up to your side. "You looked good out there," she admitted, her voice a little less sharp, but laced with a little bit more innuendo than it had been before. "I didn't expect you to be so... competitive."

You smiled over at her, feeling the heat of her gaze on your skin. "I've always been a bit of a natural athlete," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "Besides, it's not like I don’t play sports at school or anything, Wanda."

She pursed her lips, considering this for a moment. "Yeah, but you never really seem so competitive in school," she said, looking away for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "It's... nice to see another side of you." There was an almost wistful quality to her voice that you couldn't quite place.

You shrugged, not sure what to make of her reaction. "Well, I'm just a complex lady, you know? You never can tell what you're going to get with me." You flashed her a cocky grin, trying to lighten the mood. You had reached the pool at this point, so you threw your shirt and towel onto the closest empty chair. "I need to cool off." you smile at her, nodding to the pool.

Wanda smiled back, following your lead. "Yeah, it is pretty hot out here." She hesitated for a moment, then looked around at who was at the pool. As she looked around, you took the distraction as the perfect opportunity to sneak behind her, giving her a gentle push into the deep end of the pool. She let out a shrill shriek as she fell into the crisp water. You jumped in shortly after, wiping the water from your eyes as you surfaced.

"That was cold!" she exclaimed, splashing you playfully. "You asshole." You smiled and swam closer to her, grabbing her around the waist. "But it was worth it, wasn't it?" She struggled against you for a moment, but eventually gave in, relaxing in your grasp. You couldn’t help but feel the butterflies at the skin-on-skin contact, the electricity was palpable. You quickly realized the position you both were in and let Wanda go. She sent you a captivating smile before swimming over to some people who were calling her name. You pulled yourself out of the pool, drying yourself off before heading up to where Steve's best friend Bucky was manning the grill.

"Hey man, what's for lunch?" You asked as you approached him. He grinned, flipping a burger on the grill. "Well, if it isn't the champ herself! You guys just get done playing?"

You nodded, stretching your arms over your head. "Yeah, just now. Tough match." He chuckled, nodding in agreement. "But enough about that. I was asking what's on the menu. You got anything I can help with?"

Bucky smiled, handing you a pair of tongs. "Well, since you asked so nicely, I could use some help with these burgers. But as for the menu, we've got burgers, dogs, and some of that potato salad you brought. Oh, and don't forget the chips and salsa." You took the tongs gratefully, picking up a patty and flipping it over on the grill. The smell of sizzling meat filled the air, making your stomach rumble.

"Sounds good to me," you replied, watching the burger cook. "And thanks for having me, man. This party is shaping up to be a real blast." Bucky smiled, and you nodded his way. You glanced over at Wanda, who was still talking to some of her friends, then back at Bucky. 

"Of course, Buck. You're always welcome here, you know. Mom and Dad love you." you smile as he slips a burger onto your dressed bun, and you flip its lid over onto the meat.

The sun beats down on the grass as you take a bite of your burger, feeling the juices dribble down your chin. Wanda finally finishes talking to her friends and makes her way over to you, a towel wrapped around her hips.

"Hey," she says with a smile, "this is quite the party, Y/N. Thanks for putting it on."

"You're welcome, Wands. I'm glad you’re having a good time."

"Could you do me a favor, Y/N?" she asked shyly. You looked at her, a bit taken aback by the sudden request. "Of course, Wanda. What do you need?"

She bit her lip, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. "Well, I was wondering if you could maybe help me with something." You nodded, waiting for her to continue. She held out a bottle of sunscreen, a flush on her features.

"I, uh... forgot to put some on earlier. And now I'm kinda burnt, and it's starting to sting. Do you think you could...?" She trailed off, looking up at you with those big, green eyes.

You couldn't help but smile at her. "Of course, Wanda. Let's go find a spot where we can sit down and take care of that." You lead her over to a nearby table and pull out a couple of chairs. As she sits down, you kneel in front of her and unwrap the towel, revealing her bare hips. Her skin is indeed a light shade of pink, so putting the sunscreen on now would save her a world of hurt later.

"Okay, just lay back and relax, I'll take care of you." You say, as you gently push her back into the chair. She lets out a soft sigh and tilts her head back, exposing her neck and shoulders. You take the bottle of sunscreen from her and unscrew the cap, then begin to rub a generous amount into her skin. You start at her lower back and work your way up, massaging the lotion into her flesh as you go. You pretend not to notice the goosebumps that erupt in the wake of your hands as you rub the lotion into her skin.

As you work your way up her back, you can't help but take in the softness of her skin, the way it feels beneath your fingertips. Her shoulder blades are sharp and defined, and you find yourself tracing them with your fingers, wondering what it would be like to touch her like this under different circumstances. You snap back to reality as you finish rubbing the sunscreen into her shoulders, feeling a bit guilty for letting your mind wander.

"There you go," you say, sitting back on your heels. "All done." Wanda sits up and turns to face you, blushing a deep shade of red. "Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate it." She looks down at the floor, seemingly lost in thought. "I-I guess I should meet up with Agatha and Peggy down at the beach now." She bites her lip, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. She sends you a shy wave before getting up and running to her friends on the beach, jumping onto one of their backs. You continue to watch her from afar as you finish your food.

"Hey, Bucky. You wanna toss the frisbee around with me for a bit?" You ask your friend, trying to distract yourself from the strange feeling in your chest. Bucky nods and stands up, grabbing the frisbee from the table. The two of you make your way over to the beach, joining a group of other guys as you all start tossing the frisbee back and forth. The sun begins to set, painting the sky in a warm, orange glow. You feel your muscles loosen up and your mind begins to wander. A chill begins to set in as Steve gets ready to light the bonfire, and you are sure that a large group of people have left for the day. You glance around, disappointed when you don’t see Wanda. You decide to make your way into the house, heading upstairs to your massive bedroom, so you could change into some sweatpants and a hoodie.

As you're changing, you decide to take a quick shower, washing off the day's sweat and sand. The hot water feels good on your skin, but you can't help but feel a little off. You step out of the shower, drying off quickly and throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. As you're about to step out of your bathroom, you are shocked when you walk into your room and see Wanda on your bed.

"Wanda?" You ask, confused. She looks up at you, her cheeks flushed red and her eyes glistening with mischief. "What are you doing here?"

She grins and shrugs her shoulders. "I-I just wanted to see you." Her voice is soft and hesitant, but there's a newfound confidence in her eyes that you haven't seen before. "I mean... I had fun today, and I didn't want to go home yet. All my friends have already gone home, so I went looking for you."

You're taken aback by her admission. You weren't expecting this at all. "Oh... well, uh... I'm glad you had fun. You can stay if you want." You gesture towards your bed, feeling a bit awkward now. You stand there, shocked at who is currently on your mattress. This is the first time you are unsure of what to do, or to say with an insanely attractive woman in your bed.

Wanda grins and climbs over to the other side of the bed, plopping down on the pillow. "Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate it." She looks around the room, taking in the band posters and trinkets, her eyes landing on your guitar. "So... what do you usually do when you're bored?"

You chuckle and sit down next to her on the bed. "Well, I play guitar sometimes. Or I'll watch a movie, or just hang out with my friends,” you smirk, walking over to the chair by your desk and sitting down backward on it. "But those are just fillers for my favorite pastime."

Wanda tilts her head, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Oh? What's that?"

You grin, feeling a thrill run through you at the thought of what's next. She fell right into your trap if you want to call it that.

"Well, Wanda..." you eye her up and down, a slight smirk on your face. "I'm hoping it's going to be you."

She blushes deeply, looking away for a moment before meeting your gaze again. There's a newfound fire in her eyes that makes your heart race. “That's quite the line, Y/N," she smirks back.  "What makes you think I'm like the other girls who have fallen into your bed?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Oh, I don't think you're like them. I mean, I've seen how you are with people. You're sweet and funny, and..." you trail off, looking her up and down once more. "...and you're gorgeous." You stalk over to her, placing your knee in between her legs, and leaning close enough to feel the warmth of her breath on your skin. "But most of all, I think you're honest. And that's something I appreciate. You're not like the others."

She bites her bottom lip, looking into your eyes as she nods slowly. "And what if I wanted to be?" she whispers, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Well, that would be a shame, Maximoff." you start, as her gaze darts back and forth between your eyes. 

"Oh?" she asks, inching closer to you, her lip trapped in between her teeth. 

"Yeah. That’s what I like about you. You aren't like anyone else."

You lean in slowly, feeling the warmth of her breath mingle with yours as your lips meet hers. Wanda's mouth is soft and yielding, her tongue dancing against yours in a rhythm that sends shivers down your spine. Her hands slide up your chest, over your shoulders, and around your neck, pulling you closer still.

She moans softly into the kiss, arching her back off the bed and grinding her hips against you. You can feel the heat between your legs, and you're aching to touch her, to feel her skin against yours. Your hands wander down her back, over the curve of her ass, and up underneath her shirt. You can feel the soft skin of her stomach, the warmth of her breasts pressed against your palms.

Her hands slip under your shirt, feeling the muscles in your back, before moving up to cup your neck, her thumbs brushing against your jaw. The sensation sends a shiver through you, and you deepen the kiss, wanting more. Wanda's tongue darts out, teasing your lips before delving back in, their rhythm growing faster and more intense. The tandem you made out on the volleyball court seemed to carry over to the bedroom, as you both responded to each other’s bodies. 

When you both needed to come up for air, you pulled away, resting your forehead on hers. 

"I've been waiting a while to do that," you whispered, staring at her kiss-swollen lips.

Wanda smiled, tracing a finger along your jaw. "I'm glad you finally did." She leaned in, pressing her lips against yours again, their heat melding together. Her tongue darted out, exploring your mouth as your hands tangled in her hair, holding her close.

The passion between you was palpable, and you could feel it building with each passing second. Her body was pressed tightly against yours, her hips grinding against your erection as she moved in time with your kiss. Your heart raced, and your blood pounded in your ears, drowning out everything else. You had all but forgotten the party downstairs as you pushed Wanda's bikini-clad body further onto your bed.

The arousal was obvious as you caught a glimpse of the darker spot on her bikini bottom, and the glimmer that coated the inside of her creamy thighs. You groaned as you hovered over her, trapping her beneath your body weight.

"Oh, I like you like this," you breathed, as she arched her back upwards, pressing her chest against yours. 

She tugged at your hoodie as her blown pupils found yours. "For someone who has been waiting for this for so long, you sure do have a lot of clothes on."

Your heart skipped a beat as her words sent a thrill through you. You leaned down, kissing her neck, and her collarbone, before moving back up to capture her lips once more. The taste of her, the feel of her skin, was intoxicating. You could feel the heat between your legs, and the need to be inside her growing more urgent with every passing second.

With a groan, you peeled off your hoodie, and then your bra, tossing them to the floor before pushing her bikini bottoms down her hips, revealing her smooth, toned legs. She gasped as you parted her legs, laying yourself between them. You ground your hip upwards into hers, allowing her to feel the strap-on that was hidden under your sweatpants.

Her eyes went wide, and she arched her back off the bed, her hands clawing at your shoulders. "You've got a strap-on?" she breathed. You laughed, pecking at the side of her neck, up to her ear. 

"Daddy is always packing, baby," you whisper in her ear, licking the shell.

Wanda shudders, her breath catching in her throat. She reaches down between your bodies, feeling the thick length of the strap-on, her fingers wrapping around the base. "Oh, God," she moans, grasping at the waistband of your sweats, trying to get them off as quickly as she could in her state.

Her movements only serve to further arouse you, and you lean in, nipping at her collarbone as you watch her fingers fumble with your clothes. You help her out, yanking your sweats down your legs, revealing the hard cock beneath. She gasps, her eyes going wide with desire as she takes in the sight of you.

"Fuck, Y/N," she breathes as you push her thighs further apart and position yourself between her legs. You grasp the base of the strap-on, guiding it to her entrance, you can practically feel the heat and wetness of her waiting for you. She arches her back, lifting her hips off the bed, practically begging you to enter her. With a groan, you push forward, watching the head of your cock slip inside her.

Her muscles grip you tightly, her walls milking you as you begin to thrust slowly, feeling her body stretch to accommodate your size. You look down at her, at the way her eyes are closed and her lips parted, her skin flushed and damp with sweat. You reach down between them, teasing her clit with your thumb, feeling her tense and shudder beneath you.

"Fuck, Y/N," she moans, arching her back and meeting your thrusts with her own. "So big... so good..." Her fingernails scrape down your back, leaving trails of pleasure-tinged pain as you continue to pound into her. She's so wet, so ready for you, and you can't help but lose yourself in the sensation of her greedy pussy swallowing the toy before you, her vanilla perfume mixed with sweat and the smell of the sunscreen you applied earlier invading your senses, and her whimpering, whiny sounds as you mercilessly thrust the dildo into her.

Her hips rise off the bed, her breasts heaving as she pushes herself up towards you, her expression a mix of ecstasy and agony. You can feel the tension building inside her, the telltale tightening of her muscles as she nears her peak. You slow your thrusts, savoring the feel of her body moving against yours, her body milking the cock attached to your hips with each slow, deliberate push.

"Ask for permission to cum, baby." you kiss the valley between her supple breasts, her hands running through your hair.

"Y-yes, Daddy," she stammers, her hips undulating against yours, her eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy. "I want to cum so badly..."

"Aww, baby," you tweak her nipple between your fingers, causing her to clamp her eyes shut and a pornographic moan to come from her. "You can do better than that for Daddy."

Her breath comes out in ragged gasps as you continue your slow, steady rhythm, your hips moving in perfect synchronization with hers. Her hands grasp at the sheets, her nails digging into the fabric as she fights to keep herself grounded. "I'm close, Daddy," she whimpers, her body starting to tremble beneath yours. "Please..."

"Please, what?"

Wanda's eyes snap open, her pupils dilated as she looks up at you with a pleading expression. "Please let me cum, Daddy. Please let me feel you inside me." Her voice is ragged, her body shaking with the effort of holding back. You can feel her muscles tense and release, her pussy clenching, her breath hot against your skin.

You look down at her, taking in her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, and the way her breasts heave with each ragged breath. "You're doing so good, baby," you whisper. "Just a little bit longer for me, okay?"

Her eyes closed, her head falling back against the pillow in submission. "Please Daddy," she whimpers, her body arching upward in surrender. She holding on to everything she has, you can tell she is fighting for her release. 

"Fucking beg, Wanda. Let me know how close you are."

Her eyes snap open, her pupils dilated, and her expression a mix of pain and ecstasy. "I'm so close, Daddy! I need you to make me cum! Please, Daddy, let me cum!" she whimpers and moans, burying her face into your neck as her nails rake down your back, leaving trails of fire behind them.

Her hips buck up against yours, her inner muscles gripping you tightly, her body tense with the effort of holding back. Her breath comes out in short, ragged gasps, her chest heaving with each one. You can feel the tension building inside her, the anticipation coiling tighter and tighter.

"Let go for me beautiful, let me see how I make you feel."

You watch as Wanda's eyes close, her head falling back against the pillow, her lips parting as she takes in a deep, shuddering breath. Her body tenses, every muscle in her abdomen tensing as she lets go. Her fingernails dig into your back, her hips undulating against yours, stuttering as her orgasm rips through her body.

"Oh, Y/N!" she screams, her voice muffled by your shoulder. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" Her inner muscles squeeze you tightly, her pussy milking your fake cock as her pleasure washes over her in waves. Her body arches upward, her breasts spilling from your grasp, her nipples hard and aching for your touch. Her eyes flutter open, looking up at you with a mixture of shock and ecstasy.

"That's it, baby," you whisper, your voice rough with desire. "Let it all out for me." Her hips buck wildly against yours, her nails raking down your back, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tries to catch her breath. Her orgasm seems to go on forever, her body shuddering with pleasure as she clings to you, her lips parting in a silent moan.

Her pussy grips you tightly, her inner walls fluttering around your fake cock as she comes down from her peak. You watch in awe as her features soften, her eyes flutter shut and her breathing begins to steady. Her body is still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure, her nipples hard and aching for your touch. You brush your fingers over them, circling and teasing as you continue to thrust slowly inside her.

"That's it, baby. Just relax and enjoy." You whisper, your voice gentle and soothing. Her body responds to your touch, her hips moving in time with yours as she leans into the sensation. Her eyes open lazily, meeting yours with a look of contentment and gratitude.

"Oh...my...god, Y/N," she started, her breathy, husky voice making you swoon. Her body trembled beneath yours as she reveled in the afterglow of her orgasm. Her pussy clenched tightly around your fake cock, her inner walls milking you with each gentle thrust. Her eyes were half-lidded, gazing up at you with a look of pure adoration and desire. Her eyes widened as you lowered yourself down her body, the realization of what you were about to do hitting her. "Y/N, honey I don't think I can..."

"Shhhh, Wands, I've got you. Don't think. You have one more for me, I know you do."

Your words seem to have the desired effect as her body tenses, her breath catches in her throat. Her eyes closed, her expression one of concentration and determination. You gently blow a burst of air to her sodden sex, before nudging her perky clit with your nose.

"Oh fuck, Daddy!" she groans, arching her back as her hips buck wildly against your face. Her hands grab fistfuls of your hair, urging you closer, wanting more. Her inner muscles clench and release around nothing as you kiss around her lower lips. Once you dive into her, you plunge two fingers into her as you lick at her swollen clit. You alternate between lapping at her juices, sucking on her swollen clit, and twisting your fingers around to hit the spongy spot inside her, determined to make her cum harder than ever before.

Her legs tremble beneath her, her toes curl as her orgasm builds quickly. She cries out your name, her voice hoarse and desperate. Her body quakes as she holds her orgasm back. You can feel her pussy clenching tightly around your fingers and tongue as her inner walls spasm uncontrollably, her muscles relaxing and tensing in perfect rhythm with your ministrations.

Finally, with a long, drawn-out moan, she arches her back, her hands gripping your hair, her hips bucking wildly against your face. Her orgasm ripples through her, shuddering through her body as her inner muscles squeeze and release around you. Her juices coat your tongue and flow down your throat as you drink in her ecstasy. Her legs tremble, her breath comes in ragged gasps, and her eyes roll back in her head. Her legs locked you between them, and you swore that you could die then and there, and be happy.

Slowly, you pull back, watching her eyes as they refocus on you. She looks dazed, her lips swollen from your kisses and her cheeks flushed from her exertions. She reaches out, trailing her fingers down your chest, over your abs and lower, until she cups your sex that was surely dripping down your thighs. You had dreamt of this moment, of when Wanda Maximoff would end up here, and now, you wanted nothing more than to keep her here forever.

You fell next to her, a sweaty and panting mess, as she rolled over on top of you. "I am so glad I showered," you laugh, looking into her adoring eyes.

"Must be nice," she laughed, as your eyes drifted over her body once more, her breasts hanging before you as she hovered over your body. She sat back, resting on your lower abdomen, shrieking as the dildo still attached to your hips poked her ass.

"Well, now I think I need another," you laugh as you prop yourself up, pecking at her lips as her arms wrapped behind your neck.

"Yeah you do, Y/N," she smiled her million-dollar smile. "But, this time I think you should invite someone to join you."

You raise your eyebrow, gazing into the pools of sea green before you. "Oh really? Maybe I'll invite Nat. She said she needed her monthly shower."

Wanda giggles, shaking her head. "You're an ass, Y/N."

You feign offense, gasping as you rest a hand on your chest. "Wanda! Is that what you think of me?"

She laughs, shaking her head. "No, idiot. You should invite someone else. Like me. I could use a shower." she leans forward, tracing her finger between your breasts before looking back up at you, her lip caught in her teeth again.

"You keep doing that, Wanda, you're going to lose your lip," you pull it out from her teeth, before leaning in and kissing her gently and passionately. Your hands slid to her back, pulling her closer to you. She moaned into the kiss, grinding herself down onto your lap, causing you to moan when she pushed the toy into you. You shuffled her and yourself over to the edge of the bed, without breaking the kiss.

As your lips finally parted, you gazed into her eyes, seeing the lust and desire there, and knew that she wanted this as much as you did. "Well, if you insist, darling," you grinned, leaning in and taking her nipple into your mouth, sucking on it roughly. Her back arched, a quiet moan escaping her throat. "But I'm going to need you to be good."

She smiled down at you, her hands running through her hair, flinging it to one side. "Oh, Y/N," she sighed, "I'm always good." With that, she lowered herself down, taking the dildo back into her warmth, moaning at the intrusion. You groaned at the sight, watching as she began to rock her hips back and forth.

Her breasts swayed with each movement, her nipples hard and pebbled. She leaned forward, her hands on either side of your head, her hips moving faster as she began to ride you. Her skin was hot against yours, and the scent of her arousal filled the air.

"Fuck, Wanda," you rolled your head back at the feeling of her rocking against you, but her hands ran up the back of your neck and into your hair, guiding you back to her. 

"C'mon, Daddy. Take me to the shower," she smirked, knowing that this was going to be a challenge. You firmly grasped her ass, stilling her motions as you lifted her till the toy was almost fully removed, before slamming her back down onto it. You smirk at the moan that left her, as you wrapped her legs around you, standing up to walk to the bathroom.

The cool air of the bathroom hits you both as you make your way to the shower, Wanda's nails dragging down your back as she holds on tight. You can feel her dripping down the front of you, her arousal making a mess of you. You step into your shower, slamming her against the wall and thrusting into her.

She gasps, her head thrown back as you take her roughly. Her hands slide up your chest, over your shoulders, and into your hair, tugging you down so that you're looking her in the eye. She leans forward, their lips just inches apart, her breath hot against your skin. "I'm going to come, Y/N," she whispers, her hips bucking against you.

"Fuck, Wanda," you gasp as you roughly fuck her against the cool tile wall. "You drive me insane."

She whimpers, arching her back as she comes, her legs wrapping tighter around you, her nails digging into your shoulders. Her inner walls clench around you, milking your cock, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body. Her lips part, and she gasps, her breath ragged as she tries to catch it. Her eyes close, her head thrown back against the wall as she comes down from her orgasm.

"Fuck," you groan, thrusting one final time into her, your release taking over. You grip her ass, feeling her walls clench around the toy as your orgasm drips down your thighs.

She sighs, her body still pressed against yours as she comes down from her high. You lean against the wall, watching her as she runs her hands through her hair, looking somewhat dazed.

"Well," you say with a smile, "That wasn't how I anticipated today going," You reach over and turn on the shower, letting the water wash over your bodies, helping to cool you down.

You can feel Wanda leaning against you, her breath still ragged from their exertions. "Yeah," she says softly, "I think... I think we both needed that." She presses her body closer to yours, their skin slick with sweat and sex.

You let the water rinse away the sweat and your cum, the heat from the spray adding another layer of sensation to your already overloaded senses. You idly run your fingers through the water, tracing patterns on her back, feeling the play of muscle beneath your touch.

Wanda leans in, pressing her lips to yours, her tongue darting out to greet yours, her hands slipping beneath the water to cup your ass. You moan into her mouth, feeling her strength and her desire pressing against you, the wet heat of her body. She breaks the kiss, breathlessly, her chest heaving as she looks into your eyes.

"I think we need to get down to the bonfire before Steve or Pietro come looking for us," Wanda laughs.

"You think they'd care?" you ask with a grin, as you step out of the shower and help her dry off.

Wanda laughs, shaking her head. "Probably not. But we don't want to give them an excuse to tease us, do we?" She winks, slipping on one of your loose tank tops and a pair of sweatpants. You nod in agreement, pulling on a clean pair of sweatpants and your hoodie.

"Y/N?"

You turn to face Wanda, who is leaning against the door frame of the bathroom, her expression a mix of mischief and concern. Her hair is still damp from their shower, and you can't help but smile as you take in her beauty. You swoon at the sight of her damp hair and her wearing your clothes.

"What's wrong, Max?"

Her expression softens at your use of her nickname. "Nothing, just... I don't want to go back out there and pretend that nothing happened, you know? I just want to stay with you."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Me too."

Taking her hand, you lead her back out through the house, watching the shocked gazes of those who remain. You wind through the sea of people, walking down the timber steps and out to the beach. The bonfire crackles and spits, casting flickering shadows across the group of people gathered around it. You can see Steve and Pietro laughing together, sharing a drink. They look up as you approach, their expressions changing from amusement to surprise as they see Wanda's damp hair, and her wearing your clothes.

"You two been having fun?" Steve asks, the humor lacing his voice.

Wanda laughs, shrugging. "You know, just us." She leans into you, resting her head on your shoulder. You wrap an arm around her, feeling the warmth of her body through your thin sweatshirt.

Steve grins. "Well, you two should get back out there. I'm sure there's plenty of people who'd love to party with you." He winks, and you can't help but chuckle. Pietro sends you a warning glare.

"Y/N, if you hurt her, I swear..." he growls, as Wanda blushes before burying her face in your chest.

You laugh, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Don't worry, Pietro." As you say this, you glance down at Wanda, feeling a pang in your chest at the thought of her being hurt. It's been so long since you've felt this way about someone. You've been alone for so long, just surviving day by day, that the idea of losing her... it terrifies you. "I may have a reputation," you continue. "but Wanda is the last one that I would do that to."

Wanda looks up at you, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She grabs your hand, squeezing it. "Thank you, Y/N." Her voice is barely a whisper.

Pietro nods, seeming satisfied for now. "Alright, you two. Have fun." He slaps your shoulder, then takes another beer from the cooler before heading back into the crowd.

You lead Wanda back towards the fire, feeling the warmth of it on your skin. She leans into you, her body pressed against yours as if she's afraid to let go. You wrap your arms around her, holding her close. The music starts up again, and the party seems to find its rhythm once more.

[evermoredeluxe]

How Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour Took Over the Entire World

By Chris Willman

By Alissa Gao for Variety

On the morning that Taylor Swift’s “Eras Tour” is about to begin a three-night stand in Dublin, the older gentleman taking charge of my passport at airport customs has clearly had his fill of Swifties, probably processing them by the hundreds already today. When I reveal myself to be one too — despite being arguably the wrong gender, inarguably old and lacking a telltale “Lover” mascara star over my right eye — his disdain is palpable. Suddenly, I’m getting way more screening questions than anyone not on a watch list should. “What do you like about her?” he sneers, peering up over specs.

This is probably the wrong time for me to point out Swift’s Irish heritage, or to assert that she is this generation’s James Joyce. (The original king of the Easter eggs, right?) I wouldn’t really go that far — I’m only on record as doing my best to certify her as this century’s Beatles. Trying to figure out how to answer him, the past 18 years of extolling Swift in print flash before my eyes. I end up murmuring the bare minimum: “Um, her songwriting.” This seems to disturb him further. He snaps back: “Aren’t they all the same song” — a slight pause, and I know what’s coming next — “about her breakups?” Then, abruptly, he stamps me through, sparing me a detour to Interpol for more grilling.

In the cab into town, the driver is blasting a local talk-radio personality sharing his dismay about the fans of an awful superstar taking over his country. The host reads an email sent in from a hater who says, “A year ago, when tickets went on sale, my partner and I made a reservation to take our kids out of the country this Friday morning. … Thank you for creating a safe space with your show.” I start to wonder if Swift might have met her match at the Cliffs of Moher.

But from my drop-off forward, the next three days are like living in a Swift-topia. The mile and a half to Aviva Stadium each night is like Disneyland when it shuts its doors early for an affinity group. Whether stopping in the pubs or walking through the charming neighborhood of Victorian brick homes adjoining the fancy new stadium, there’s that warm feeling of people who are united by one quality: They are all super in touch with their feelings — or else they wouldn’t be Swift fans. And they all are happy to stop on the street or over pints to talk about poetical expression. (Well, except for the occasional taciturn, invariably straight young male who has signified his supportive-plus-one status by wearing a jersey bearing the name of Swift’s Super Bowl beau, Travis Kelce.)

So it is that I end up chatting with a middle-aged gay man in a sequin-covered shirt whose female companion whispers to me, while he steps away to trade friendship bracelets with a 10-year-old girl and her mum, that Swift’s music just helped him through a difficult breakup. The girl then runs off to trade her homemade bracelets with a pair of high-helmeted Dublin policemen loaded up to their own elbows with friendship swag — unexpected accessories for long arms of the law.

All the stories about American Swifties swarming overseas to catch “The Eras Tour” turn out to be true: You couldn’t swing a neon golf club around here without hitting a Yank. Approximately one out of every five fans I approach is visiting from the States — and the jubilation they’re feeling about the night’s impending concert is compounded by the fact that nearly all of them financed a European vacation and a concert ticket for roughly the same amount they would have paid on a secondary ticketing site for a typical four-figure ticket to one of last year’s predatorily repriced U.S. shows.

Remember the venerable stereotype of the Ugly Americans, brusquely trampling over refined Europeans in their travels? Thanks to Taylor Swift, who has a gift for laying out global welcome mats, this is the summer of the Spangly American.

At the stadium on night one, just down the row from me are a group of millennials from New Jersey, several in glam unitards inspired by the “Lover” or “1989” portions of the career-spanning show and looking like they were costumed by Swift’s own designer, with fake jewel-encrusted microphones to match. I ask how many hours went into perfecting these nearly pro-grade outfits.

“About 80 hours for mine,” says Megan McLaughlin. “Hers probably longer,” she adds, nodding toward one of her sisters, Margo Steinberg. “She knows all the glues and the best gems.” Indeed, confirms Steinberg, “I was working on mine since January. And, yes, I did quit my job to finish it!” She adds, when I ask if she cares to share any secrets to a particularly good look, “You have to use the B-7000 glue.” (A third sister, Amelia McLaughlin, admits she resorted to buying her spangly dress off Etsy — “I was doing a PhD, but I had to match these girls’ enthusiasm” — while a fourth, Carolyn McLaughlin, skipped the glitter and went for a red dress that matches Swift’s from the “I Bet You Think About Me” video.)

Certainly, there is an element of cosplay to many of the fans’ outfits. Some have seen footage of the new segment Swift added to the tour beginning in April 2024 — devoted to her most recent album, the 31-song “Tortured Poets Department” — and have managed to manufacture gowns that look like they’re made of paper and feature lyric excerpts printed on them in script, à la Swift’s custom-made Vivienne Westwood dress. I meet a group of American women who became friends as literature majors in college who have “Tortured Poets”-themed outfits, one duplicating the Westwood dress and the other with handmade printouts of the latest album’s lyrics pinned all over her black dress, as if she were literally pulling pages out of Swift’s playbook.

It’s the devotion to lyrics, even more than glitter, that is most impressive about the bespoke outfits fans have concocted for the occasion. There are scores and scores of Swifties wearing homemade T-shirts — sometimes singular, sometimes matching with a friend, like walking Burma-Shave signs. Some of the messages are obvious, like the dozens of laddies wearing “It’s me, hi, I’m the husband/boyfriend/father, it’s me” shirts. (Bet that seemed really original at one time.) But a lot of them refer to more obscure songs or stanzas, as if every nearby street or stadium loge section is full of human Easter eggs, begging to be unpacked. It’s hard to think of any other superstar in the history of stadium tours who could have inspired as much fan-crafted clothing rooted in the power of words.

Combos of middle-aged mothers and their teen or 20-something daughters abound; some of them have seized on Swift’s mentions of her own mother, Andrea, to come up with their T-shirt ideas. On Lansdowne Road, I talk to a mum whose red-on-black shirt says, “Had to listen to all this drama,” accompanied by a daughter bearing the legend, “And here’s to my mama.” (This is a reference to Swift’s song “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things.”)

Later, in a stadium Guinness line, I chat up a pair of thirsty locals, the daughter’s shirt reading “I call my mom, she said …,” with the mom’s shirt completing the thought: “It was for the best.” (Damn it, I had to Google to recall that’s from a “1989” Vault track that came out last year.) I ask the daughter if she had to explain to her mom what she was wearing. “She’s 52,” she replies. “I don’t think she knows.”

Age is really no guarantor of not getting it — the popular #SwiftieOver50 hashtag on X proves that. Although outnumbered, plenty of older people are unaccompanied by a minor, or by anyone who has been a minor in the past 20 years. I approach a middle-aged couple, Jean Sebastian Conley and Natasha Gagne, again bidden by their matching shirts — “Who’s Taylor Swift?” and “Who’s Travis Kelce?” They turn out to be French Canadians who found their 206-euro SRO tickets to be a steal compared with the extravagant resale prices they briefly considered back home after being shut out of the initial on-sale. I ask what attracted them to Swift since, unlike so many others here, they didn’t grow up with her.

“I really fell in love with her with the ‘Folklore’ album,” Conley says, referring to her low-key Grammy-winning album recorded during the early months of the pandemic. “I think different audiences and older audiences found her through that and ‘Evermore’ because they were more singer-songwriter, a little bit rougher indie music, and that’s what we like most. So that’s how I got hooked.” For her part, Gagne says, “I like everything she represents. And when she redid all her masters, that’s where I thought she was a lady boss.”

It’s a reminder that, for however many mini-narratives Swift packs into the three hours and 20 minutes of an “Eras” show, there are really four or five years of backstory that feed into the audience’s shared awareness. When she sings the ominous ballad “My Tears Ricochet,” accompanied by a coven of stone-faced dancers, at least some fans will understand it as a distant reflection of her very public feelings about the men she considers her business bêtes noires, Scooter Braun and Scott Borchetta, who bought and sold (respectively) the rights to her first six albums, spawning much vitriol as well as four “Taylor’s Version” rerecorded albums to date.

When the dancers put their grins back on, Swift plays an ebullient excerpt of a very recent “Poets” bonus track, “So High School,” which every person in the crowd will know is inspired by Kelce. There are some breakup songs of recent vintage too — yes, Mr. Customs Man! — like “The Smallest Man in the World,” which may or may not have cost Matty Healy, the 1975 frontman and former Swift paramour, a night of sleep.

The whole tour is themed around not just the newer records but the rerecordings that have made every older album in her catalog feel improbably fresh. It was, quite possibly, the single most baller move in the history of the record industry … and led to the career-retrospective concept for what is already unquestionably the biggest tour in the history of popular music.

Any discussion of the charms of fandom isn’t meant to forestall discussion of “The Eras Tour” as big business. The numbers are fuzzy because Swift’s camp does not release grosses from her shows, unlike nearly every other artist at the stadium or arena level. Even when the tour wraps after 20 months on Dec. 8 in Vancouver, it seems likely those numbers will continue to be guarded with a zeal on par with the government of North Korea’s. Many industry experts believe the gross will approach or even surpass $2 billion.

What is known for certain — even without a confirmation from Swift World — is that she broke the all-time tour-gross figure when she hit the $1 billion mark, whenever exactly that might have been. The two trade publications that specialize in the touring industry have slightly differing estimates: Billboard calculated a cumulative gross of approximately $900 million when she took a break at the end of 2023, figuring that she would crack $1 billion shortly into the tour’s resumption in April, while Pollstar estimated that she had passed $1 billion by the conclusion of last year. Any way you guesstimate it, Swift took less than a year to break the previous record of $939.1 million, which Elton John grossed with his ��Farewell Yellow Brick Road” tour across nearly three years of shows.

One source close to the production said early in the “Eras Tour” era that her average gross each night is $14 million. Others believe that is a highly conservative estimate, with a possible total that on at least some nights edges closer to $17 million. One remarkable aspect is that this does not include the revenue from any inflated resale tickets — which, as anyone who has tried to get tickets through Vivid Seats or StubHub knows, mostly have gone for several times their face value. It was little publicized, but Swift had “dynamic pricing” turned off for her ticket sales, possibly to avoid the controversies Bruce Springsteen encountered when the face value on some of his tickets leaped to the four-figure range upon their first sale. Swift left money on the table by not participating in the scalping of her own tickets, which had an average price of around $230 and topped out at $499, excepting VIP packages, which zenithed at $899 — all well short of what some other superstars ask nowadays. Of course, neither Argentina nor anyone at Wembley Stadium ahead of Swift’s opening night performance in June will be crying for her when she’s in reach of $2 billion without the resale inflation … not to mention the hundreds of millions of dollars in merch.

(This is extraordinary also because Swift hasn’t done any press to promote the tour, except for when she was selected as Time Magazine’s Person of the Year in December. But she doesn’t need to — the tour is constantly being celebrated on social media with every outfit change. And it’s also become so huge, it’s featured more A-list sightings than the Oscars, from Julia Roberts to Tom Cruise to Stevie Nicks, who had the surprise song “You’re on Your Own, Kid” dedicated to her in Dublin.)

Benson Boone, whose “Beautiful Things” is the most-streamed song of 2024 in the U.S. and the world, says he felt dwarfed when performing as the opening act at one of Swift’s seven shows at London’s Wembley Stadium. He has forever committed to memory the exact attendance figure he was given for the night: “89,497,” he says. “Just her stage alone is bigger than anything I’ve ever seen — 300 feet of it!” he says. “I took in every moment. It was cool for me to experience another artist’s world and learn from it. I want to work that hard and be the captain of my ship.”

Although it’s maddening to a media that likes official box office reports and can’t get them, it’s easy to see the wisdom in not flaunting those figures if you’re a superstar artist who counts on being seen as relatable. Swift certainly is proud of breaking records — she posted a tweet when “The Tortured Poets Department” spent its first 12 weeks at No. 1 on the album chart, one of only three albums in history to do so. But she’d rather count fan impressions than dollars. By the same token, she doesn’t publicize or confirm acts of generosity that leak out, like the sizable food-bank donations she makes in every city she tours, or the $100,000 bonuses that the tour’s 50 truck drivers reportedly got for Christmas.

An addendum to all this is how the “Eras Tour” film — released last fall, less than halfway through the actual tour — grossed just over $180 million domestically and $261 million globally, beating the records set by Justin Bieber’s concert film in the U.S. and Michael Jackson’s globally. Massive big-screen spoilers only heightened, rather than diminished, resale demand for the shows yet to come on the 152-date tour and helped precipitate the movement among Americans to head overseas, to make up for the supply found sorely lacking at home.

“She is the torchbearer for the live industry,” says Andy Gensler, editor of Pollstar. “It’s nothing we’ve ever seen before, and it’ll be a long time before we see it again. Her timing was exquisite: The pandemic created this yearning and hunger for live entertainment like nothing else in our history, so she couldn’t have picked a better time to go out.” Pollstar called last year a “historic golden age” for touring, as the top 100 global tours collectively surpassed $9 billion — up 46% from 2022 — with Swift obviously contributing a significant chunk of that total. (This year, the trade reports that overall tour attendance is down, with flat grosses, representing a slight reckoning for the live industry that, obviously, isn’t impacting “Eras.”)

“What my partners and I talk a lot about is how it’s one thing to have a big tour in North America. It’s another thing to have an equally big tour wherever you are in the world and to do doubles and triples in these markets,” says Bernie Cahill, an Activist founding partner and manager of acts including the Grateful Dead and the Lumineers. “It’s an anomaly. It’s not normal. And don’t forget, you’re going into what I call asymmetric venues, which are venues that are not really built for music; these are venues that are built for football games or soccer games and can be very challenging to do music. And they get it right every time — Louis Messina [Swift’s tour promoter since her earliest days] and his team are world-class.” But for all that globe-trotting, he notes, “there are some artists that you see do a show and you know they don’t even know what city they’re in. I always feel like Taylor knows exactly where she is. She has a relationship with that city or that market and those fans and she’s connected to them in ways that are very authentic, that you can’t fake.”

The one big snafu in the rollout of “The Eras Tour” occurred in November 2022 when the Ticketmaster system melted down after too many North American dates went on sale at once, causing thousands of fans to experience long delays. The on-sale broke the all-time record for tickets sold in a single day at 2 million, but it also nearly broke the world’s largest ticketing platform. Swift herself was Teflon in this situation, as the blame fell on a ticketing system not capable of handling so much of the Swift-loving world at once. And although most of the problems people have with Ticketmaster are different from what fans faced in the “Eras Tour” debacle — mainly, hidden fees and monopolistic practices — it could have big legislative consequences anyway. Dean Budnick, co-author of “Ticket Masters: The Rise of the Concert Industry and How the Public Got Scalped,” believes that the Swift hullabaloo was the main catalyst for Congress enacting reform. “There’s no question that perhaps there’s gonna be some meaningful change in ticketing as a result of what people experienced with that on-sale.”

That sense Cahill spoke about of the singer making it clear to an audience she knows exactly where she’s at is in full force in Dublin. Swift introduces the “Folklore”/”Evermore” segment by suggesting that she had a spiritual locale in mind when she started writing that more intimate material, locked in during the first part of the pandemic. “It keeps me up at night all year long: Which era is the most Irish?” she half-jokes to the crowd. “I’m gonna make a case for it being ‘Folklore’ … This album’s imaginary world had a whole aesthetic — like I lived in this cabin in a really green, nature-y, moss-covered landscape. You see where I’m going?… Another thing that I think makes it more Irish than the other eras is, ‘Folklore’ was all about storytelling. And I know you hear this a lot, but you guys are naturally gifted storytellers, right?”

Later on, Swift will cement the local connection by playing, as a “secret” surprise acoustic song, “Sweet Nothing.” She doesn’t have to give the crowd any explanation for that: From the first notes, Irish Swifties will immediately recall that the lyrics reference to the coastal town of Wicklow. The real cherry on top of the show for locals at any international Eras Tour stop, though, comes with a customized moment each night during “We Are Never Getting Back Together” when the spotlight is put on backing dancer Kameron Saunders for a couple of seconds, as he blurts out something locally appropriate, and cheeky. One night in Dublin, it’s the Irish catchphrase “the neck of ye!”; on another, he yells out “pog mo thoin,” meaning “kiss my ass!”; the massive, knowing laugh that inside joke gets makes it clear this isn’t entirely an audience of American tourists after all.

But the basic theatrics and emotional currents remain consistent from show to show. If Swift is surprisingly reticent to make her “Eras Tour” numbers public, that may be, in part, her desire to keep the focus primarily on a personal fan connection. Music industry veterans are taken aback by Swift’s ability to be giant and intimate onstage. “She’s a master marketer of herself — and she is not afraid to be vulnerable to her fans,” says Michele Bernstein, who runs a consultancy that works with stars like Drake. Bernstein could almost be quoting the lyrics of “Mastermind,” where Swift describes herself in almost comically omniscient terms, then dives into a bridge about how no one would play with her as a little girl.

People like my guardian of the customs gate may complain about Swift’s songs centering on her romantic splits, but that subject matter magnifies her own insecurities and weaknesses, expressed in genuinely eccentric wordplay, in ways that keep the audience in thrall to someone they perceive as a humble underdog as well as a veritable cage fighter. She could do a $10 billion tour someday and still keep the crowd enraptured by how she measures up to, or rallies to exceed, the smallest man — or men, or Kardashians — in the world.

This plays out in the “Eras” show in all sorts of symbolic ways, like the new segment in the “Tortured Poets” section where she seems to have fainted from the vapors of failed romance. Dancers in tuxedos try to revive her while a swing version of “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart” plays over the PA. A pair of women dressed as nurses fit her with what looks like a majorette’s uniform — or, with all its off-white stripes, is it really meant to resemble a straitjacket? The resemblance is probably not coincidental. Swift fans know there’s nothing like a mad woman.

The most exhilarating moment that has been added to the show this year has her gliding down the ramp on a platform, appearing to anyone at floor level like she is levitating like the witch she makes herself out to be in “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” Taylor Swift: She was Agatha all along!

Yes, there is much to unpack. But in Dublin and in every other city where “Eras” has alighted, there is also pure inspiration for those who maybe haven’t always felt like they’ve had a voice, whether it’s her LGBTQ+ fan base or, well, women. It’s a modern transmutation of Beatlemania in which Swift manages to be all four Fabs, and a mirror, as well as object, of that gaze. You don’t have to be a woman to experience the explosion of pure female joy that takes place on a mass scale at an “Eras” gig, but for men, it doesn’t hurt to have a healthy sense of where you might sit on the female spectrum.

Outside Aviva Stadium, two young Londoners have formed their own two-woman straight-gay alliance: One is wearing a shirt with the hand- drawn words “You’re obsessive and crazy,” and the other’s shirt has the phrase “You’re gay,” each with an arrow pointing to the other. This echoes the original lyrics to Swift’s 2006 oldie “Picture to Burn,” which was rerecorded after some were offended by “gay” as a possible teen epithet. “I am obsessive and crazy, and she is gay,” laughs Zoe Gibson, pointing to her friend, India Day. “We want to bring back the original lyrics. We never found them homophobic — we want to reclaim it.” Day adds, “We’ve listened to her since we were 4 years old, so obviously there’s the nostalgia factor. But for me, she speaks on quite a lot of issues like gay rights and feminism, and all of her songs perfectly sum up the experience of being a woman.”

Some of the shirts are apropos for Pride Month. Seeing a boy of no older than 15 or 16 wearing a homemade “But Daddy I Love Him” shirt (the title of a “Tortured Poets” fan favorite), it’s easy to imagine some courage was required to don that apparel. Along the same lines, I spot any number of women making their own statement in shirts with the modified exclamation “But Daddy I Love Her.”

Gay or straight, 6 years old or 60-something, female or just female-allied, the crowd inside gets its sway on early in the show, with the arrival of the gentle, waltz-time “Lover.” It’s not one of the big set-pieces of this nonstop Broadway-style production — the spotlight is just on Swift and her acoustic guitar — but it might be the one where the entire audience feels like it’s at a four-minute campfire. No wicked witchiness here, just winsomeness.

Down on the floor, I’m seeing what amounts to a Taylor Swift mosh pit: gangs of two or three or five young women, ignoring the fact that Swift herself is just yards away from them on the ramp. They’re singing and acting out every last line to each other, as if the superstar isn’t even towering right over them. A waste of their euros? Hardly. Swift will capture their full attention again as the show proceeds, but in the moment, she isn’t just a superstar — she might be the world’s greatest community organizer.

[luvfy0dor]

“In Love With All of These Vampires ♡⁠˖” Vampire!Fyodor x Gn!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; blood, blood sucking, kissing, grinding, suggestive, Dazai hate, slightly sassy fyodor

Description; on nights like tonight, you're sure to prepare yourself for a visit from your night-stalking and hungry boyfriend. About 1800 words, even though it doesn't look like it.

A/n; he lingers in my mind 25/8 I love him so much- for more vamp stuff here's a post about vampire chuuya, and then here's one of my mooties posts about vampire fyodor ;333 ALSO HERE IT IS @mariaace ANDDD THANK YOU TO MY BSF FOR THE IDEA @ilovechuuy4 :3333

In the dark of the night, a tall man lurked in the shadows, his raven colored hair dangling in his face as the subtle wind gently pushed against it. His chilling gaze sent shivers down the spines of those who met it, instilling such a strong feeling of uneasiness that such unlucky souls made quick work of picking up their pace and fleeing. His fangs poked out of the corner of his lips, reflecting a shiny glare underneath the streetlights. His shadow stretched far in front of his body as he passed them and his footsteps created a small tapping sound as he made his way down the pavement. He was moving rather quickly to your home, hoping to arrive fast enough to avoid the rainstorms predicted by the earlier forecast. He could only move so rapidly though, as he hadn't fed in awhile and wasn't usually used to very much physical activity. One of those problems, however, would soon be fixed.

By the time he reached the gate to your yard, a soft rain had started to fall from the dark clouds above, blocking out any and all light from the stars and moon. All that was left to guide Fyodor through the darkness was the incandescent glow that shone through your window. His hair and hands were slightly damp, and as he tried to climb up to your window, his grip kept slipping. After a few attempts, he finally made it onto the roof, huffing and puffing as he took a breather. Once he felt that his heart was steadily beating again, he crawled over to the clear panes and knocked. His eyes scanned your room through the glass that was made blurry by the rain, droplets falling down the window in thin rivulets. Your body quickly came into view as you did a little jog over to open the window up and let him in.

"You didn't get caught in the rain, did you?" Was the first thing you asked him. He stared blankly at you with a damp face, hair, and outfit. "No." He replied sarcastically, slinging his leg over the sill and entering your room. You laughed a little bit, steadying him by holding his shoulders before turning to exit your room. "I'll grab you a towel." He hummed and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. The knees of his pants were roughed up, a remaining indication of his struggle to get up onto your roof. When you returned with a towel for him, you noticed and commented on it. "It must have been difficult getting up there. There's always the front door, you know." You say, raising an eyebrow and draping the towel over his head, drying his hair up for him. To you, he seemed to have an odd affinity for climbing through windows and nearly fatiguing himself by doing such a thing, but he really just didn't want to encounter your roommate. What you didn't know was that the guy you lived with was his mortal enemy. Fyodor was simply petty enough to enter your home through the window rather than the door because he knew that the brunette man liked to hang in the living room with whichever woman he comes home with, if one at all, and that's where the door was.

"I can't do that." He'd tell you, his tongue tracing the point of his right fang. Your brows furrowed and you looked up at him through your eyelashes. "Why not? You literally wind yourself every time you climb up here." You say, drying his scalp underneath the top layer of his hair. "It's rude to ask a vampire that." He tells you, so seriously that you almost believe him. "And it's even ruder to comment on my physical abilities. I get up here just fine." You let out a skeptical hum and nod. "Okay, sure." You toss the towel at your laundry basket on the other side of the room and grin when you make it in. "Look at that, I'm a baller." You say, turning to him. "You should go pro, Myshka." He says, peeling the dampened coat off of his body and tossing it over the back of your desk chair. "Do you want some dry clothes? Your..." You gesture at his whole body. "Vampiric attire doesn't look the most comfortable for cuddling. And kissing. And etcetera." You offer, already making your way to your dresser before even hearing his answer.

"That would be nice, thank you." He says, already starting to remove his shirt. He took the clothes you had lended him and headed to the bathroom connected to your bedroom to change. When he emerged again, he looked much more comfortable and huggable. "Are they good?" You ask, looking him up and down and concluding that they fit him well enough. He nods and puts his wet clothes in the hamper with the previously discarded towel. "They fit me just fine, thank you." He says, approaching you and putting his hands on your waist. "Good, didn't want you to get my bed all damp with your wet butt." You tease, ghosting your fingertips over his spine with a grin. "Oh please, that bed has gotten wetter because of you on several occasions." He bluntly mutters, tracing your jawline and bringing your lips to his to give you a sweet and hungry kiss. You were still a bit stunned by his words, even after the two of you pulled apart. "Wowww, okay. I guess you're right, though. Tonight's probably gonna be one of those nights again, yeah?" You ask, twirling some of his long, black hair around your finger. "Hmm, maybe if you taste satisfactory enough." He says, brushing his thumb over the most recent puncture mark he had left in your neck to draw your blood.

"We both know I taste more than satisfactory." You respond. "I think it's just a matter of how hungry you are." You tilt your head to the side, awaiting the pinch of his bite. "Maybe." He responds in partial agreement, leaning down and finally sinking his fangs into your skin. After a moment of his sucking, the blood finally hit his tongue and he hummed, having missed the sweet feeling of his hunger being satisfied. It had been a week and a half since he last fed, and sure he could go for longer than that if he really needed to, but you just tasted so sweet- how could he not crave it? The crimson, wine-looking liquid that escaped his tongue trickled down your chest, but he scooped it up, making sure that his fingertip was facing the ceiling to keep the delicious substance in place for when he was ready to pull out of your neck and lick you clean. He usually hated messy food, but when it was your blood smeared on your chest and his hands, he thought of it almost as dessert.

Once he finally got his fix, he pulled away, licking his lips and teeth clean of your cherry colored fluids, wearing the dark color like a lip stain. He then sucked the excess blood off of his finger. "Mm, you taste magnificent, darling." He says, closing his eyes and catching his breath. He leaned in and kissed right below your ear, his bitten down fingernails touched your skin as he tightened his grip to pull you in further, making you furrow your brows at their rigid texture. "Are you sure? Maybe you should kiss me here so I can taste too.." you whisper, pressing your pointer against your lower lip. He smirks and sighs, leaning further into you, his lips hovering a solid inch away from yours. "I suppose, if you're so insistent on tasting yourself on my tongue."

He closed the gap and kissed you once more, his nose nudging your own as your lips moved together in a passionate pattern. His tongue ran acrossed your bottom lip, and you responded by opening your mouth to let him in. You could, infact, sense the metallic taste of yourself, quite easily, too. The taste of blood obviously wasn't one of your favorites, but Fyodor made it good. The only way your body could react to his lips and tongue on your own was by leading him over to your bed and continuing the kiss on his lap, your arms draped over his shoulders and your eyebrows knitted together desperately. Your hips moved against his ever so slightly, but it was enough to turn the both of you on. Fyodor grabbed you to hold you in place, pulling away from the kiss to speak. He was still hardly an inch away, and you could feel his breath against your skin.

"Stay still and be good, okay?" He muttered, his voice lower than usual. You gave a quiet 'mhm' and pushed his bangs out of his face. "We should take it slower. Wouldn't want to move to fast and get too excited. Your..less than appreciated roommate might hear and want to join..that freak." He mutters. You laugh at him under your breath. "You don't like him?" He shakes his head and chews on his lip. "He's a little bit promiscuous and shady for my liking. I do not." He affirms, his hands making their way to the small of your back. "So THAT'S why you won't go in through the front door and you prefer my window. You don't wanna see him! You're so petty, Fedya." You tease, poking his cheek gently. He swats your hand away and groans. "I never said that, but yes. Seeing that oaf is less than ideal, especially when I'm here to see you." You roll your eyes. "Dazai isn't even that bad. You must have caught him on a bad day whenever you formed this vendetta of sorts." Fyodor frowns and pinches you, giving you a rather exasperated look at the idea of his rival not being 'that bad.' "His only good quality is his intellect, which I see as a meet challenge. Other than that, he is undesirable to me. Enough about him, focus on me." He says.

"Oh, ofcourse." You grin, cupping his cheek and pulling him back into the kiss, running your fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp soothingly. Soft moans were exchanged throughout the rest of the night, but the two of you generally decided that cuddling was more preferable in the moment than anything more intimate besides kisses, so that's how you ended the night- in the arms of your vampiric lover with the sound of his steady heartbeat right beneath your ear as the two of you chatted about anything and everything. The both of your voices were just above whispers, the soft lighting from the lamp on your nightstand added to the calming ambiance of your bedroom, allowing the two of you to peacefully fall asleep together, various types of hunger satisfied that evening.

A/n; YAYYYYYY I LOVE VAMP FYODOR HES SO FINEEEE BUT YEAH I hope this don't flop, if u can tell me what song the title lyric is from ill uh give u a cookie telepathically

[grandisknight]

to wish upon a star

summary: Xavier gifts you a token of his affection, paired with promises to fulfill whatever you wish upon him.

tags: nsfw (mdni), established relationship, afab!reader, fluff (at first), kissing, feelings, crying, banter, teasing, body worship, eventual smut, pwp, breast play, improper use of light evol, consent checks, ring play, v fingering, mirror sex, dirty talk, finger sucking, handjob, p in v, creampie, ‘i love you,’ implied/referenced sex

+ wc: 7.6k | ao3 version

notes: inspired by the affinity 100 rings! i started this when i got said rings with xavier like… last month… oops. let’s pretend their promise rings are actually On their ring fingers 🤫 (in-game they’re on the middle ones…) this is like honestly 90% smut and 10% feelings so take that as you will! also song cameo is ‘must be love’ by laufey c:

dividers from cafekitsune

“I can’t believe you pulled this off,” you spoke in awe to Xavier.

When he had mentioned needing your hand measurements before, you were sure it was for your worn-out combat gloves that had seen better days. It seemed natural, largely due in part to a passing conversation from just days ago. He heard out your concerns then, and agreed it’d be best to invest in a new pair.

But now, there was a silver metal wrapped perfectly around your finger in its place. Surreal, it shined with every angle of your admiring hand. Delicate jewels inlaid all around to meet at the central place, a dazzling shooting star. Everything about it was a perfect capsule of him. It was now a piece of you too, a promise to the twinkling cosmos that sealed your affection.

Xavier’s hand clasped over yours, his own band glinting just the same and lightly clinking at the contact. His star pressed to the engraving of the smaller equal, a completed puzzle that only the two of you held the pieces to. “Now whenever you wish upon a star, you can look here.”

His fingers quietly thread into your counterpart, bringing them to his lips and a gentle kiss graced your knuckles. Peering through his lashes, the kind pools of blue searched yours, reflecting a sea of stars that found their home in you.

“Are you saying I can’t ask this star of mine for a wish anymore?” A lighthearted remark was all that it was, but you still caught the surprise in his eyes at the sound of it.

They soon settled into crescents, a small smile pulling at his lips. “No. This star will always, always be the first to hear your wishes.”

Such an earnestness in his honest confession pulled at your heartstrings, eliciting yet another awe from you and a chuckle in his place. Xavier angled your hands, lips brushing over the band to prove his words. “Make a wish now, and I’m sure it’ll be granted.”

“Really?” You pull your hand away, only to cup his jaw in beckoning. “I wish upon my star for him to kiss me right now.”

He lets out a lofty sigh then, the tip of his nose meeting yours in proximity. “Your wish is my command.”

Xavier’s lips tenderly pressed into yours, the plush pillows melting almost immediately upon contact. A hint of warm vanilla and honey tinted his kiss, lingering traces of the milk tea from earlier fragrant all throughout. It was slow, practiced and careful—to admire the love he had waited eons for, sealing the reality he had once thought would be a far away dream.

No sooner did he quietly ask for permission for something more, tongue ardently pushing against yours. It was granted with a simple parting of your lips and a tilt of the head, more than happy to oblige. Xavier took greater care to memorize you then, tracing the contours of your canines and sucking in the warmth you returned to him. A low moan passed from his throat and into yours, his hands searching for your waist in an effort to draw you closer.

Parting for a moment of breath, you gently thumb at his cheek and realize how flushed his skin had become. Rosy from the shell of his ear, spreading across the skin just below his fluttering lashes and sinking into the lines of his neck—if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he just came home from an intensive workout, the poor thing.

You could only snicker at the way he blindly chased for your missing lips, causing him to finally peel open what was a lidded gaze of disappointment and pause.

“Someone’s impatient,” you muse. Your forehead meets his and a whisper of his breath tickles your face as he huffs lightly.

“And someone is the reason behind it,” Xavier points out.

The moment was calm, only the soft puffs of breath and thudding hearts echoed through the space you shared. His fingers dimple into the plush of your sides in an off-beat pattern, a quiet hum of notes resonating from his throat. Arms wrapped around his neck, the two of you began to slowly sway to a gentle melody. Occasionally, Xavier would swap out the notes for a mumbling of the lyrics—

I’m all in, I’m fallin’… Can’t get back up… Can’t think right, too tongue-tied… It must be love…

Padded footsteps attempted to follow such a tune, your bodies soon naturally flowing with time and dancing amidst the comforts of his living room. Your muscle memory led to a simple one-two step of a waltz once put to use from a mission of the past. And while practice did not make perfect, it aged in the progress you’ve made since then, now well attuned to his footsteps and his to yours. You found yourself resting your cheek against the square of his chest, humbly feeling each vibrato of his song.

“By the way.” Xavier suddenly speaks up, the soft notes coming to a halt.

He watches as you look to meet his gaze, and oh, you were truly beautiful. The light of his life—undeniably he was enamored, a lost cause and irrevocably yours. Not like he would have it any other way, and a skip in his heart’s beat proves to him just as much. He nearly forgets the words he wanted to relay to you, stunning him into silence the longer he  looked at you. A hand brushes a strand of your hand to rest neatly behind your ear, moving to your chin and tilting to meet his lips in a quick kiss.

Reminding himself, reminding you.

“Mm?” You mumbled against him, though made no effort to protest and returned the peck in affection. A series of blinks met your gaze when you pulled back, fluttering glimpses of a curious blue drinking you whole. 

“Using your Xavier cipher again? What could it be…” Your lips pursed in thought, and he could only press yet another quick kiss at the endearing sight.

His voice lowers in a request that holds your breath in anticipation. “You’re also my shooting star. Won’t you grant me a wish?”

———

Time blurred itself into a dizzying sequence that landed yourselves in the dip of his comforters, hands unabashedly making quick work of your clothes and his. Somewhere, someplace were the mixed fabrics—in a pile saved for a later time to deal with. Here, the thin layers of your undergarments were the only barriers to complete entry of enveloping each other in bare warmth. 

A light sheen of sweat speckled your skin, fingers gripping his shoulders and a huff pushing past your lips. You squirmed beneath him, his larger frame bracketing yours as he added yet another flower of red to decorate your neck. A kiss of consolation fluttered over the newfound mark, and Xavier dragged his lips to the centerpiece of your collarbone.

“Xavier.”

“Mm?”

He looked up at you then, azure stared lost in the cloudiness of his desires. His calming beauty had shifted into something sharper, keenly observing the ways he could devour you whole. A stark contrast to the bright, cheerful twinkle from just moments ago. It hammered your heart into a thundering pace, and Xavier could tell. 

His lips curled then, slowly kissing his way down your sternum, stopping just above the place that exposed your flustered state. Hands smoothed themselves from your sides down to the high of your thighs, parting them deftly to slot himself between the newfound space. Soft massages of his fingers melted into your skin, patiently waiting for you to continue.

“Do you want to stop? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” Xavier reminds you. A tentative peck places itself between your breasts, before his chin lightly rests upon it. 

“No, we can keep going.” You reach to rake fingers through his silver locks, brushing the soft parting away in revealing his furrowed brow. A thumb traces the thin hairs to smooth the tension, working instantly as they settled and you hummed. “You never said what your wish was. How am I supposed to grant it if you don’t tell me?”

“It’s you,” he simply responds. Speaking as if it was a universal truth and the most obvious thing in the world, not a hint of doubt behind his conviction.

“Me?” Now you were confused by a mere two words. Pulling your hand back, your arms slid to prop themselves as you gave him an incredulous look. “Yeah, I’ll grant your wish if that’s what you’re saying. So spill the beans already.”

Xavier shakes his head, a faint laugh passing through his breath. “You’re my wish. Everything about you,” he starts, a gentle kiss pressing to your sternum once more.

“From the way you laugh at the videos you show me, and to the smile on your face after we complete a trial.” Another press of his lips moves down, a peppered trail soon making its way to your navel. “Even your sassy remarks during cards, passionate energy when we play the claw machine and sad moments alike when we leave empty-handed.”

One of his hands sneak up to squeeze your side, gingerly massaging the plush skin. His mouth lingers longer here, inhaling your warmth and nose nudging into your abdomen. “My wish is you, always has been. All you have to do is be yourself, and allow me the honor to stay by your side.”

You’re not sure what good deed you must have accomplished in your previous life, but you were more than grateful that it led you to this very moment. And the overwhelm of such an awareness had your eyes burning and sight blurred to sudden tears—great, you were crying. The atmosphere had quickly sobered into something more raw, subsiding the heat of the moment.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Xavier coos, eyes of love searching yours in realization.

That alone had your bottom lip trembling, furthering the waterworks at his kindness. Swiftly but gently did he lean forward to capture your tears between his puckered lips, kissing them away. A hand cradled your jaw with every little weep that paired your breaths. 

You reached for his face then, taking hold of his surprised cheeks before pressing those very lips to your own. It was a measly attempt of a kiss, one to quell your emotional heart and to reign in all your focus on your lover—but he returned it all the same, tender and careful pecks falling into the smile that melted into you entirely.

“You’re an idiot.” You sniffled, pulling away with a slight pout to defend your disposition. He could only chuckle at the poor name-calling.

“I thought I was your sulking, jealous dummy,” Xavier teases, lightly rubbing his nose against yours. “And you said that was your favorite kind. Now you take me as an idiot?”

“You can be both,” you reason, stroking the apples of his cheek in turn. Your eyes flick towards the metal resting on your finger, and you tap it against his face in thought. “Lucky for me, those versions of you are mine.”

“All versions of me belong to you. Every part of me is yours.” He raises his own ringed hand, cupping it against yours. “You’re the only star I could ever need in this vast universe.”

“That really makes us a pair of shooting stars then.”

A flash of astonishment spreads across his features before it’s soon blinked away, replaced with sentimental adoration and a relaxed expression. “You’re right,” he hums. 

He takes your hand and presses the ring to his lips—a new habit that he’ll have a hard time breaking, it seems—before trailing down your forearm and making his way to your shoulder. It left you feeling ticklish, and you squirmed as much by the time he made his way to your ear.

“Is something funny?” Xavier’s warm breath blew past the shell of your ear then, earning him a delightful squeal from you in turn. 

“Ack! Don’t do that, it tickles!” You attempted to widen the distance between your now closely pressed bodies, feeling embarrassed at the proximity. It was to no avail when you had one of the greatest Deepspace Hunters leaning over you, encapsulating your body beneath his with such practiced and natural ease. 

“Hm? What did I do?” He asked innocently, before knowingly blowing another puff of air and chuckling at the sight. “You’re so sensitive, and I’ve barely done a thing.”

The words were lodged in your throat when you felt something hotter welcome itself over your ear. Xavier’s tongue traced the curves of your helix down to your lobe in a circular pattern, leaving a lasting impression of his warmth behind. His teeth catch the end of your ear, a gentle yet foreboding nibble sinking in and pulled away with a tug.

It took all of your fighting spirit to put some air back into your lungs, and the look you gave him matched it. “Xavier, you know what you’re doing.” Though you didn’t particularly have it in you to disagree, a warm tingle sparks throughout your spine in enjoyment.

“Maybe?” He feigns an innocuous air, though the edge of his lips quirk briefly. “So about my wish,” he starts, calmly staking his claim with a brush of his hand over the curve of your rising chest. 

Not only was the sound of it prevalent, but the ardent thumping of your anticipating heart sparked an unexpected feeling within him. Relief, for one. You were alive, warm to the touch and resounding so beautifully. But also, a sense of unbridled attraction arose from the touch, his blood pumping in more places than one. A deep inhale followed the movement of his fingers, which danced themselves to the sweet spot just beneath your navel. 

“You remember what it is, don’t you?”

It felt like a trick question. Especially so, when you could feel the pads of his fingers smooth over the waistband of your underwear. Those very fingers that were centimeters larger than your own, a ghosting touch just barely skimming over the clothed mound of heaven’s gates—temptation in the palm of his hand.

“Me.” 

You managed the singular word with a faint breath, a sense of mind quickly blurring with the heat that overwhelmed you from the presence of his fingers. A tentative press, though gentle as ever, presented itself between your heat and elicited a shaky sigh from you. If he had just moved them a little closer, you could relieve yourself of this building tension. Yet, he made no motion to do so, fingers soon coming to a halt. The delicious thought ran away from you, and you had half the mind to curse him out right there.

“Correct.” Xavier’s voice lowered, a rasp you weren’t quite used to and even so, scratched all the right parts of your brain. A purr that settled into the crevices of your memory for days to come. “And what I want in this very moment is you. To touch, see and hear all that you have to offer.”

Contrary to his list of wants, he removes his hands from you entirely, leaving you to feign disappointment at the sudden loss. Moving to the edge of the bed, his thighs spread apart as he patted the space between them in invitation. You rose from your spot, a frown on your face earning you a chuckle in turn. The comforter padded your crawl towards the newfound seat. Xavier tugged you into his embrace, caged between firm leg muscles and biceps that circled around your waist.

Doubt was written across your face at his unspoken motives. “What’s this all about?” You huffed, less than pleased to be left strung on from just seconds ago.

Yet, Xavier only rested his chin on your shoulder, snuggling in comfortably and choosing not to meet your eye. The sweet gesture contrasted the heated words that brushed your ears in beckoning. “Look up, and tell me what you see.”

“I see…” You lift your gaze then, realizing exactly where you were. 

It led you to the mirror of your reflection just paces away, tidily pressed against the wall and encompassing your image in its entirety. Xavier’s frame had neatly shadowed yours, where his ringlets of blue were awaiting you expectantly in the glass. The melting sunset made your combined bodies glow, and your eyes instinctively trailed over the grasp that kept you in place. 

“Us,” you deduced. “You and me.”

“That’s right,” he nods, tufts of silver bouncing. His hands sneak themselves upwards, one each cupping your breast and giving a light squeeze. “Keep talking. What do you see now?”

“Now?” You echoed, a tinge of embarrassment to your voice and skimming the tips of your ears. “I can’t—Ah, ah.”

Xavier rolled your nipples in between his fingers swiftly, teasing and pulling the skin as your breasts spilled out of their brassiere. He kisses your shoulder as his massaging and tugging cycle themselves, gaze coolly pinned on you through the reflection. “You can. Use your words and tell me.”

“You’re teasing me,” you breathed, shrinking in on yourself with every press of his fingers. A fingertip pressed into your areola and you inhaled sharply, “Touching me… y’know, over there.”

“Where?” He questions, fingers splaying out to cup your breasts wholly and giving a firmer squeeze. 

“Is it here?” His chin rubs into your shoulder blade with the affection of a kitten seeking warmth. 

“Or maybe here?” Following were his knees kneading against the sides of your thighs, his chest pressing into your back to capture you entirely. A hunter who had his prey in the fine confines of his muscles. 

Xavier murmured. “This all counts as touching too. So, where exactly am I touching you then?”

“My… my…” You squirmed against him, back arching away when his thumb and forefinger returned to pinching a firm bud. 

Even as you moved, Xavier would follow, hands over your skin and attached without remorse. His eyes glimmered in merriment, shining clearly amidst the reflection of your tangled bodies. “Hm? Did you say something?”

“Chest, my chest, damn you.” You managed as much through gritted teeth, biting down a mewl to his indecent touches. Xavier smiles against your shoulder, rewarding you with a smooch of commiseration—ironic, when it was all part of his plan. 

You felt like you were finally catching a break as soon as his hands slid away from your sorely swollen breasts, a sigh of relief passing under your nose. Though, it was shortly lived with the dive of those very hands finding their way to the plush of your abdomen.

“And what about now?” He asks, dimpling his fingers into the flesh in the adjacency of a kitten pawing a blanket. It was a comforting touch, hands flattening across your stomach in a gentle massage.

“My stomach,” you answered, having quickly picked up on his tactful play. “Though, you seem to be nicer this time around.”

“I’m always nice.” Xavier shrugs his shoulders, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your skin. “And you’re beautiful. I can’t help but appreciate the gentle soul between my arms.”

He attempts to make various shapes with his fingers just above your navel before settling on a slightly crooked heart. Well, it was the thought that counted.

The hook of his cramped forefingers and equally contorted middles had you giggling at the sight, as sweet as the sentiment was. “We do this all the time at the photo studio, but look at your poor posture,” you teased, attempting to relax the tensed appendages.

He eases at your touch, allowing you to reshape his fingers in a more comfortable position. “Yeah. There’s only so much the photography poses book for beginners could do,” Xavier spoke earnestly, his chin finding rest atop the crown of your head. “But since you’re my partner, it’s been easier to handle the studio light at the very least.”

“Good, because we’re heading there later this week anyway. We’ll need new photos to commemorate today.” Your gaze trails over your hands atop of his, a downward peek over your skin and finding it reflected in the mirror’s orientation. It was a natural illustration of what it meant to feel at home, especially when he held you in an embrace that promised a shared tomorrow. Your heart felt warm in the blanket of his care.

You shift your head away to peer up at him, and he looks downwards to curiously see why his resting place had moved. You pressed a light kiss to the edge of his jaw then, a token of gratitude in reminder of what led you here in the first place.

Xavier lets out a pleased hum, though takes the opportunity to cup your chin. His thumb brushes against the brim of your lower lip, looking intently. Bringing your faces closer, mouth dipping to meet yours, he mumbles a remark. “You missed the most important spot.”

Another smack of his lips against you lingers longer than the one before it, your eyes fluttering to a close. Like clockwork, the prodding of his tongue against yours seeking allowance melted into a warm welcoming as you tilted into his embrace. It distracted you momentarily, perception dulled in the efforts of capturing your breaths—Xavier smoothed his hands over your thighs, and only then did their parting cause you to blink into realization.

Drawing back, you saw his gaze was no longer set on yours but straight ahead once more. “Xav…ier?” His name left your lips in a sense of familiar foreboding, a bubbling cauldron of heat settling into your senses. “That’s…!”

“I haven’t fully touched you here in a while and yet,” said the man in question, dipping a finger to push against your clothed folds. The fabric darkened over where you were practically weeping with need, and even as he drew back the appendage, a light string followed in suit. “You’re soaked, angel.”

“You can’t just say that,” you bemoaned, embarrassed at the honest nature. In an attempt to save yourself some face, your thighs instinctively pressed together to hide such an exposed state.

Though it was rendered useless when Xavier stopped you halfway, purposefully keeping your legs spread with a click of his tongue. One hand squeezed the plush of your inner thigh in tune, the other returning to skim over your underwear. The slightest drag of his fingernails and digging of cloth created a friction that had you squirming, a line between the need to flee for your pride and need to be satiated for the sake of achieving pleasure promptly blurring.

“Just observing,” he softly brings up in countenance. “Admiring, even. Is that a problem?”

“Well, I just—Ugh, please.” Your heart spoke before your mind could, practically mewling when the tips of his fingers curled just above your entrance—where you needed him the most. “You know why it’s like this…” You’re to blame, you thought, with the unspoken words hanging off your tongue.

Xavier sighs into the curve of your neck. “Maybe I do, or don’t. What do you want me to do about it?”

Your thighs twitch when he prods further, lightly pushing back and forth in reminder of what you could have. The orbiting sensation of his fingers had you fluttering around nothing, and your patience was wearing thin. Fine, fine. It was time to throw in all your dice and hope your numbers scored high. Throwing away your shield of pride for now, you ultimately settle to be honest with your desires.

Boldly, you press your hand over his and firmly slotted his fingers between your neatly soiled cunt. He lets out a soft gasp, stunned by your affirmation. Though Xavier doesn’t pull away, decidedly enveloping your heat wholly against the expanse of his palm.

“Make me feel good here.” Your eyes never left the reflection, enjoying the sight of his brow twitching at your demand. Concentrated entirely on your words, they deepened as you continued to lay out your thoughts. “Use these nice, skilled hands of yours and make me think of nothing but you.” 

The lowered gleam of his eyes twinkled when they found yours in the reflection. “Are you asking for a second wish?”

You nodded, coyly exaggerating your request. “You’re the only star I’m wishing on. Can’t you do this one thing for me?” Testing his resolve, it was as if you were questioning his steadfast promise.

With a sharp inhale, the thread of his patience snipped soon thereafter.

“I can do that, surely. But these are in the way,” he mumbles calmly. A familiar glow emits from his fingers, gentle specks floating around them. There was an even fainter woosh accompanied by the slightest gust of air. It fell past your ears before both disappeared with a blink of an eye.

You gasped in disbelief. “My underwear, Xavier!”

It was no more, a ruined scrap of fabric that had been neatly sliced into two. The sides of the waistband fell forward, leaving you exposed to the cooled bedroom air. “I liked that pair,” you sighed.

You didn’t really care for it truthfully, but an exaggerated pout to cover your surprise of his evol was your best front in the moment. No wonder why he never lets you touch his light blade, when the luminance emitted from his fingertips alone could already do so much—effortlessly, at that.

“I’ll get you a replacement later.” With a quick tug, the measly piece of cloth is pulled from beneath you and discarded to the floor. “As many as you want,” said Xavier, though distracted in thought. His fingers moving with a mind of their own to quell those thoughts. 

“It’s not like you’ll need them right now.”

His forefinger and middle parted your labia with ease, offering him a devious view of the very image he had longed to see. The glistening state of a cunt that had withstood his relentless and teasing touches, puffed and awaiting for something, anything to relieve your tension. The longer fingertip dips into your entrance first, light in effect though it echoes a slick noise in return. A second follows in suit, before Xavier slowly sunk the joints of both fingers into your heat. 

Your head falls back onto his shoulder, a soft moan of relief tickling his ears. He carefully retracts before pumping back in, setting a slow yet meaningful pace. 

“Look at how beautiful you are,” he croons, and a curl of his fingers emphasizes his words. His lips quirk into a small smile when he finds your hips rutting forward to chase his strokes. “So warm, so perfect and sucking me in so nicely.”

A mewl of his name parted your lips in response, ringing in a sweet melody that has him twitching against your backside. This would do for now, he tells himself as much—and remains firm when he stares at your blissed expression in the reflection. All because of him, riding his hand and giving you pleasure with every knowing press against your ridges. He could come alone at the sight and thought, but another passing of your whimpers has him leaning forward, bright idea in mind.

Xavier kisses the shell of your ear, voice dripping with a raw sense of need, desperation even. “Do you think you can take a third? For me?”

Pure bliss is all that runs through your mind, and you have half of it to manage a gaze towards the reflection. And what a mess you found yourself taking in—both your skin and his had begun to drink in the settling sunset, sparkling from a sheen of sweat beading his forearms and your thighs alike. The greatest shine of all could be found pooling between his fingers and your cunt, which mindfully played you along. 

You swallowed. “A…another one?”

Xavier hums, moving to pepper a kiss just beneath your earlobe. “If you can’t, just say so. Your comfort comes first.” 

You shake your head in immediate effect, stubbornly so. Who were you to back down from a challenge? 

“No, I… I can try. Give it to me.” You lift your hips by a centimeter or two, further parting your legs in offering. “I can take it. Please, Xavier.”

With the final words of permission, he gently pulls his two fingers back, before welcoming your entrance with the sensation of three tips. “Alright. Tell me when it’s too much.” 

His ring finger, just like the ones before it, slowly sank into your heat and gave into a newfound stretch that had the two of you gasping. It proved to be a tighter fit despite earlier coaxing. The stretch had you reeling, and he patiently held his excitement in place for your sake. 

Xavier paused once he was knuckle deep, and that’s when you felt it.

“Xavier—“

“Safe word?”

“N-no, but,” you gulp, feeling a different kind of flush sink into your skin. “Your… ring.” 

The cooled band found itself melting against your inner heat, just barely pressed against your walls but was nevertheless a welcoming presence. You could feel his breath freeze above you, the dominoes quickly falling in succession. “It’ll get dirty if you—!”

“Ah, that’s what you’re worried about?” Xavier snickers, before angling his wrist to slide out and push back in, reaching his fingers as far as they could go. “It should be the least of your concerns right now.” 

“Give me some time,” you draw out, experimentally pushing your hips forward and hissing at the shift. “Your hands are big, y’know…”

At your own pace, you gently grind into his palm to grow accustomed to the sensation. Hands on his knees to balance, Xavier’s eyes raked over the arch of your back, mesmerized. His free hand rested into the dip of your love handles, following your movements in quiet encouragement.

You called for his name when you felt a familiar brink creep towards the edge of your consciousness, slowing your hips then. Xavier followed, chin shifting to rest on your shoulder. “No more?”

“I’m ready now.” You spoke in a sense of confidence, supporting your words with a slight raise of your hips. Leaning back into him, you fall back down and respire a sound of pleasure, more comfortable compared to before.

The peaks of his knuckles fully brush against your clit when you touch base, a cherry on top of the indecent sundae. A switch had flickered inside his mind, thoughts pouring out through the parting of his fingers from within. He groans, burning the feeling of your warm walls that welcomed his ministrations to memory.

“I want you to remember that this very ring,” he emphasizes with a particularly firm smack of his palm. “Makes you mine. As much as I am yours.”

A small cry rips from your throat, pushing yourself against him from the sudden change in pace and newfound sensitivity. His fingers begin to pump with improved ease, aided by the dripping arousal coating his busied hand. His palm became wet with every crude contact to your overwhelmed heat, a faint string of arousal attaching itself to his skin.

“Look at yourself, how much you want this. Do you feel it? The way this band presses into your pretty cunt, drenched in your honey.” Obscenely loud squelches echoed his words, proving his point in rapid effect. A knowing chuckle rings amongst the noises. “Hear that sound? You’re so wet. Amazing how concerned you were, but I bet you’re actually enjoying this. Dirtying my ring, our ring like this.”

“Please don’t—ah—say it like that, it’s embarrassing,” you whined, though not outwardly denying his claims. “Not true, I promise—mmh!”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Xavier circles inwards, applying a particular pleasure that had you bucking in weakness—he cooed at the sight. “You say that as if I’m wrong. Denying the truth before us.”

A string of incoherence swirled into the sounds you created, overwhelmed by the vivid heat coursing through your body. Your eyes were fluttering to a close, but soon snapped open at the feeling of his sneaking hand grasping your jaw.

A sharp whisper of his tone nicks at your ear, redirecting your face to focus on the glass ahead. “Don’t look away. I want you to watch just how you come undone for me. On my fingers, with the very ring that binds me to you.”

It was a fight to keep your gaze steady, to witness how he held the entirety of the world in his hand with every knowing, calculated stroke. There were  faint glints of the silver band winking back at you during the few off-seconds his fingers weren’t buried deep into your weeping cunt.

“That’s my girl, you can do it.” He offers encouragement, skimming his teeth in a downwards trail, hotly breathing against your neck. The hold on your jaw loosens, sliding over the valley of your breast and dipping towards your clit. Pressed together, he begins to circle patterns of infinity, matching the pace of his remaining digits dutifully plugging you whole. 

He exhales in admiration, feeling his heart swell with a sense of pride when you tighten around him. “You want to come, don’t you?” 

Xavier searches for your pulse point, lips drawn in an effort to leave behind a stubborn mark. A quiet command echoes the ardent stimulation, tilting you to the edge. “Go on, let it all out. Make my wish come true, come, come, come.”

No sooner did a searing flash of heat strike you, seamlessly and pleasurably tearing you into two. Waves of long-awaited release ebbed through your walls and out into the maestro of his fingers that orchestrated them. Your hands found the closest thing to cling onto for purchase, fingernails digging into the tensed muscles of his thighs. 

Everything was hot, intensely warm from your body  and a testament to his efforts. His name became nothing but a broken chant, spilling from your lips relentlessly just as your arousal leaked into the sheets below. 

An act of kindness came with the eventual slowing of his fingers, soon leaving your trembling cunt. The parting broke with a slicked pop, and the successive emptiness drew a disappointed whine from you. 

Xavier finds it amusing, softly nudging your temple with his nose to pair his sympathy. “Are you doing okay? That was a lot, but you did well.”

You nodded for reassurance, lulling your head to meet his shoulder and limbs relaxing in recovery. 

He held out his hands for the two of you to see just how well you did, a fine layer of your fluids coating him from tip to knuckle, spread across the palm alike. Thoroughly drenched and sticky by design, they web between his fingers as he stretches them out.

“I didn’t know what to expect,” you spoke up in sheepish admission, then glanced at the outcome. You reach for the soiled hand, curling a hold around his wrist as you bring it closer to your lips. “But it was hot. I enjoyed it.”

Confusion colors his expression. “What are you doing?”

Slyly, your tongue peaked out and traced a path along the crevices of his palm. Stray droplets of your arousal were caught on your tastebuds, and it was exhilarating. Making your way to the tips of his fingers, your mouth welcomed their slicked length in whole. Lips pursed and carefully taking them as far as you could, you began to greedily tongue him clean. You bobbed forward to capture the base of his knuckles, then upwards to the edge of his nails in a repeated motion.

Xavier tensed above you, eyes sharp and narrowed to the deliberate suckling of your warm mouth. He made no sudden effort to pull away, entranced by your devious performance. A hum of approval would echo your throaty sounds on occasion, before he decidedly removed his saliva-ridden fingers and parted with a fine string.

“Generously cleaning the mess you made,” he observes. Sincerity softens his tone and the smile he graces you with shortly after. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You return the gratitude in mild jest. You watch as he dries his hand off to the side, eyes soon trailing to the evidently darkened ripples of fabric just underneath your bottom. With a scrunched nose in apology, you could only hide part of your grimace. “Speaking of messes, sorry for your sheets. I’ll run the washer later to make up for it.”

He barely spares it a glance, finding the soiled padding to be of lesser interest. A kiss reaches your shoulder instead. “We can do laundry together later, there’s no rush.” 

His mindset furthers when his hands massage careful circles into your thighs, taking his time in soothing your skin. Falling into place, serenity begins to filter through the air. The bands of stars sparkled under the newly unsheathed moonlight, welcoming the cosmos your hands held together.

“Say, Xavier?”

“Hm.”

Delicately, you push his hands away and slowly come to a rise, power replenishing itself after a moment’s rest. Xavier could only hold his breath, eyes raking over a tantalizing backside view as you stood. You were bathed in a faint sea of starlight, a glowing visage he adored greatly. 

He released an exhale when you turned to face him, lips upturned in a knowing display. A blink later he found himself against the bed, back in full contact with the comforters.

“What’s the matter—Mmh.” He stifles his surprise with the back of his hand, blush creeping over the tips of his ears in succession. 

You take the opportunity to swing your body over his, and he swallows. Your knees sink into the bedding, paired at his sides and hips hovering over his. A stray hand quietly runs a line from the heart of his chest down to his navel, pausing just above his waistband. 

“I have another wish, if you’ll indulge me.”

He lowers his cover, on the cusp of intrigue and anticipation. “And that is?”

Xavier’s head dips back into the bedding further with an airy moan at your answer. Gingerly, your hand felt for his aching and abandoned cock, hot to the touch even through the cottons of his boxers. You leaned back to enjoy the view of pulling out his hardened state, his hips raised to discard the very fabric. Exposed to the cooler air, you could clearly make out the beads of arousal pulsing past his slit.

Finally freed from their confines and heavy between your fingers, Xavier twitched in unadulterated relief. A small laugh, one of recognition and affinity, escaped you. “I knew it. You were hard this entire time.”

He breathes out in defense. “Could you—mmh—blame me?” 

“I can’t,” you replied in truth. 

You honestly couldn’t, when you saw for yourself just how much of a mess he made of you only an instant ago. The flashing image of your reflection and his masterful play sprint past your mind, relayed through a squeeze of his length. You dragged your hold to the tip of his burning affection, then back down to the base. His brows knitted at your leisurely strokes, fingers curling into the sheets. 

“But what does that mean then?” You teased, pressing questions you knew the answers to with another flick of your wrist. “Did watching me get off having you that riled up, hm?”

“Course it did.” Xavier answers immediately, tossing aside his front and presenting himself in honesty. “I meant it when I said you were beautif—uck, fuck.” His train of thought falls short into a curse, huffing out pleasantries at your touch. “Yeah, just like that. You’re so good, so good to me.”

His hips buck with your other hand palming his sensitive head, especially so when the curves of your ring skim the skin with every downward press. He squeezed his eyes shut, labored pants combatting the meek groans of your name. It was a sight for sore eyes and a euphony for your ears—to see his hair messily fall apart with every toss, rising chest that pushed out such sweet mumbles and abdomen constricting the closer he was brought to the edge.

“I’m—“

“Close,” you finish his sentence, and he only nods in affirmation. 

Perfect.

A part of you felt guilty for releasing your hold on him then, and the way his eyes snapped open at the denial. But it wouldn’t be for naught—far from it. 

He opens his mouth to protest before it quickly falls to a close, biting down on his lip as your hips rise. The curve of his stickied head kissed the warm entrance of your cunt, soon buried deep within the instance you sank down. Even as you coaxed yourself into taking him in stride, it didn’t beget the stretch of his girth filling you whole.

“What a sly vixen you are,” he lowly murmurs, though not in protest but rather of astute respect. 

Xavier relocates his grip from the sheets to the curve of your sides, steadying your place over him with every purposeful grind you pushed forward. “Riding me like this, I’m really close this time. I can’t hold back when you feel so good around me.”

“Then don’t hold back for me.” You knew that well enough from the beginning, hands sliding past his abdomen and giving his shoulders an affirming squeeze. Leaning down to press your chest against him, your lips hover above his pillowy ones and smile. 

“Give me everything you have, that’s my second wish.”

Pools of a lustful blue widened at your greenlit request. The speed of light was slow in comparison to the realization that quickly dawned onto Xavier—the glide of his hands dipping to firmly hold your ass were more than enough of a signal. Virtues of patience thrown out the window, his hips snap upwards in fervent need, setting an unruly pace and reaching depths you hadn’t thought possible. Desperate, wet smacks of his skin into yours loudly filled the room and accompanied your equally crude moans.

He captured those very sounds into his mouth, sharing his own before his hips stuttered and bliss overwhelmed his senses. Streams of hot release clung to your walls, readily accepting every thick drop of his undoing. He takes your face into his hands then, taking the care to properly kiss you through the cock that continues to spill his spend.  

By the time he pulled away, your lips were swollen with the affection of his love, breathless all the same. Even if he had just come like his life depended on it, the gaze of pure adoration that bored into you showed no sign of such a thing.

With what little strength you mustered, you lean back and allow his softening length to escape you. A fine trail of viscous white followed in suit, pearling along your folds and dripping onto him. 

“Another wish comes true,” you remark. Pleased nonetheless, your body reacts in agreement as another string of combined release slowly pushes past your entrance. “Combined with your luck, you could make a killer living off of this.”

It earns you a light chuckle in return, amusement wrinkling his eyes. “As long as you’re my only and willing client, then I’m open for business. Just you, though.”

You wiggle your brows in an unserious manner at the prospect. “Do I get a discount?”

“Yeah. The exclusive lover one,” he retorts, though it's a committed promise despite the friendly sarcasm. “Anyway, our desires are well aligned. It makes fulfilling them light work.” 

He takes you back into his hold, chest to chest and heart beating to one another. Xavier tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before placing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I love you. My north star, I’ll always do my best to have your wishes granted.”

Whatever playful comment you had prepared melts quickly at his admission, honeying into fondness for your lover. “And I love you,” you sweetly sing back to him. “My shining trace of light.”

You stretch a hand to cup his face, to which he was quick to nudge against in reciprocation. The glimmer in his eyes faintly resembled the focal jewel inlaid within your ring, bright and wholeheartedly yours. Whispers of the stars blinked at you, relaying their oath as you admired Xavier in his entirety, and he to you.

“Let me guess. This time, your cipher is…” You paused, pondering at the possibilities and flipping through your mental notes. The conclusion came to a stalemate the longer you dwelled on it, and a sigh resulted in its place. “Actually, maybe I don’t know. Mind telling me what it means?”

“Sure.” A brisk warmth touches your lower lip, leaving behind a kiss too short for time to hold. “The message was… ‘Would you like to see the stars with me?’ The night is still young.”

You raised a brow at the proposal. “I’m already looking at one, though. And he’s really pretty, looks a whole lot better than the ones in the night sky.”

Xavier shakes his head, though a bashful flush at the compliment digs into his skin. “A simple yes or no would do.”

“Then, yes. The patio would be a nice view.” You make an effort to get up, but his arms around you give no room for freedom. You glance at him, wondering what was the literal hold up. “What is it? I thought you wanted to see the stars, so we should clean up and—Ah. You!“

Gravity was lost to you and the next moment, a familiar view of his shadowing frame shields you once more. The pads of his hands slide down your sides in greeting, torso making its slow descent down your body. He tilts his head, mirth coloring an expression that homed itself in front of your parted thighs.

“I do,” Xavier confirms. “But right now, I’ll have you seeing stars. Starting from right here.”

[estapa-edwards]

Rempe with singer reader??

SINGER - M. REMPE

paring: Matt Rempe x reader

word count: 1.3

requested? yes

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

It all started on a brisk autumn evening in New York City. Matt Rempe had just finished a grueling game against the Boston Bruins, where his team had secured a hard-fought victory. As he made his way out of Madison Square Garden, a close friend invited him to an exclusive after-party in Manhattan. Reluctantly, Matt agreed, hoping to unwind and celebrate the win.

Meanwhile, Y/N was performing at a high-profile charity event across town. Known for her soulful voice and poignant lyrics, Y/N had taken the music world by storm, earning numerous accolades and a massive following. Her performance that night was nothing short of magical, leaving the audience in awe.

Fate, however, had something special in store. As the night wore on, the after-party and the charity event merged into one grand celebration at an upscale rooftop bar. The stars aligned, and amidst the throngs of people, Matt and Y/N's paths crossed.

The rooftop bar was buzzing with energy, filled with celebrities, athletes, and influencers. Matt, feeling slightly out of his element, found solace near the bar, nursing a drink. As he scanned the crowd, his eyes landed on Y/N, who was engaged in conversation with a group of friends. Her laughter was infectious, and her presence seemed to light up the room.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Chris nudged Matt, noticing his gaze.

“Yeah, she really is,” Matt replied, unable to take his eyes off her.

Encouraged by Chris, Matt mustered the courage to approach her. As he neared, Y/N turned, and their eyes met.

“Hey, aren’t you that guy who scored the game-winning goal tonight?” Y/N teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“And you’re the voice behind my favorite song,” Matt retorted, flashing a grin.

Y/N laughed, a melodic sound that immediately put Matt at ease. They struck up a conversation, discovering a mutual love for classic rock, an affinity for late-night diner runs, and a shared disdain for the paparazzi. As the night unfolded, they found themselves drawn to each other in a way that neither had anticipated.

--- --- --- 

The initial encounter left a lasting impression on both of them. Over the next few days, Matt couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N. Her energy, wit, and genuine personality had captivated him. Determined to see her again, he decided to take a chance.

With some help from Chris, who managed to get Y/N’s number through a mutual friend, Matt sent her a text.

“Hey Y/N, it’s Matt from the other night. I was wondering if you’d like to grab coffee sometime?”

Y/N, who had been equally intrigued by Matt, responded almost immediately.

“Hi Matt! I’d love to. How about this Saturday?”

They arranged to meet at a cozy café in Greenwich Village, away from the prying eyes of the media. Nervous but excited, Matt arrived early, dressed in a casual sweater and jeans. Y/N walked in a few minutes later, her smile lighting up the room.

“Hey there,” she greeted, sliding into the seat across from him.

“Hey yourself,” Matt replied, grinning.

The conversation flowed effortlessly. They talked about their careers, dreams, and the pressures of living in the public eye. Matt was fascinated by Y/N’s passion for music and her dedication to using her platform for good. Y/N, in turn, admired Matt’s humility and determination.

As the hours passed, the café buzzed around them, but they were in their own world. When it was time to leave, neither wanted the date to end.

“Do you have plans for the rest of the day?” Matt asked, hoping to extend their time together.

“Not really. Why, do you?” Y/N responded with a playful smile.

“I was thinking, if you’re up for it, we could take a walk through Central Park?”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “I’d love that.”

--- --- --- 

Central Park was alive with the colors of autumn, the leaves creating a picturesque backdrop for their impromptu date. They strolled through the park, talking and laughing, occasionally stopping to watch street performers or admire the scenery.

At one point, they found themselves at Bethesda Terrace, a serene spot overlooking the lake. They sat on the steps, enjoying the tranquility.

“You know, this is nice,” Y/N said, leaning slightly against Matt.

“Yeah, it really is,” Matt agreed, feeling a warmth spread through him.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the park, Matt felt a sense of contentment he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He turned to Y/N, his heart pounding.

“I’m really glad we did this,” he said softly.

“Me too,” Y/N replied, meeting his gaze. There was a moment of silence, the world around them fading away.

Then, without thinking, Matt leaned in and gently kissed Y/N. It was a tender, sweet kiss that took them both by surprise, but felt undeniably right.

When they pulled away, Y/N smiled, her cheeks flushed. “I think this is the start of something really special,” she whispered.

“I think so too,” Matt agreed, his heart soaring.

--- --- --- 

As Matt and Y/N continued to see each other, their relationship blossomed. They shared countless dates, exploring the city, attending concerts, and even sneaking into Rangers games where Y/N cheered him on from a private box.

However, their romance didn’t stay private for long. The media quickly caught wind of their budding relationship, and soon, the headlines were filled with speculation and scrutiny. Paparazzi followed their every move, eager to capture the latest scoop on the new power couple.

Matt and Y/N were strolling hand in hand through Central Park on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. The autumn leaves crunched under their feet, and the crisp air was filled with the scent of hot dog stands and roasted chestnuts. They had just come from a cozy brunch at their favorite café and were now enjoying a rare, leisurely day together.

As they approached Bethesda Fountain, Matt noticed a small group of paparazzi lurking near the edge of the park. His grip on Y/N's hand tightened slightly.

“Looks like we’ve been spotted,” he murmured.

Y/N glanced over and sighed. “I guess it was bound to happen. Let’s just keep walking.”

The couple continued their walk, attempting to ignore the growing cluster of photographers. However, the paparazzi were relentless, quickly closing in on them and bombarding them with questions.

“Matt! Y/N! Are you two officially a couple?”

“How do you handle the long-distance with your busy schedules?”

“Y/N, how does it feel to date a hockey star?”

The questions kept coming, each one more intrusive than the last. Matt could see Y/N tensing up beside him. She had always been a private person, preferring to let her music speak for itself.

Deciding it was time to address the crowd and hopefully get them to back off, Matt raised his hand for silence. The paparazzi quieted down, eager for his response.

“Listen, we appreciate the interest, but we’re just trying to enjoy a day out together,” Matt began, his voice calm but firm. “We’re happy and we’re doing great. That’s all there is to it.”

He paused, then added with a grin, “And if you really want to know how Y/N is feeling, I’d recommend you stream her new song, ‘Delicate’. It’s out now and it’s incredible.”

The paparazzi exchanged glances, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected plug. Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle, squeezing Matt’s hand in appreciation. She loved how he could diffuse tension with his easy going nature.

“Thanks for your support,” Matt continued. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’d like to get back to our day.”

With that, he and Y/N resumed their walk, leaving the paparazzi to chatter excitedly among themselves. As they strolled away, Y/N looked up at Matt, her eyes filled with gratitude.

“You handled that perfectly,” she said, smiling. “And thanks for the shout-out.”

“Anything for you,” Matt replied, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. “Now, let’s find a quiet spot and enjoy the rest of our day.”

They found a bench near the lake, far from the prying eyes of photographers and fans. Sitting close together, they talked about everything and nothing, savoring the rare moments of peace in their otherwise hectic lives.

[here-there-be-drag0ns]

Okay I have had this theory for months but I never actually laid it out before now. However it's well past time I actually do that considering episode 115 all but confirmed its truth (theres still wiggle room for me to be wrong, but honestly not much)

THE FERIN FAMILY ARE AASIMAR, AND HERES WHY:

The thing that originally made me go Hey Wait A Damn Minute was the visions of the original prophecy and its history that gillion got from that tree: "Another flash, and you see these red-haired olympian looking humans and elves and all kinds of different races that are flying with their own wings". And I heard that and thought about how much that sounds like aasimar, and then the weird dreams jay had and then captain widow insisting she has powerful blood and then star saying she sensed divinity on jay and then the whole ferin family's affinity for fire magic and everything just clicked into place.

Then in episode 114 we got the recording of Faye Ferin saying "hail the solar mother" and i was like no fucking way- BUT i set it aside because it felt like I could be reaching with that evidence. It could just be a religious phrasing, not necessarily something literal.

Then episode 115 happened and I got confirmation of my theory.

Grizzly doesn’t outright say "yes the ferin are aasimars”, but he gives us all the last few pieces of the puzzle.

Here's a link to the episode that should start where the confirmation is - the two tablets: https://youtu.be/M9ig9XCUrvU?si=oYdisYFxTqx6ogbb&t=868

Transcript of the tablets: Tablet One: Shards of the divine, these words are for you and you alone. We are descendants of the sun. Thus, we are the light - the beacon that will eradicate the dark. We are the flame to which all will yield. We are the shining justice that will always prevail. Our steps illuminate the way forward and our hands spark the tales of history. Tablet Two: Shards of the divine, these words are for you and you alone. Know your kin, recognized by the manes of flickering flame, wings that rival dragons, the golden suns in our eyes. Unity is the key to prosperity. Our elders will raise generations that burn with vigorous radiance.

NOW ON TO MY EXPLANATION!!

The thing that confirmed it outright for me is literally the line "We are descendants of the sun", because there are no ifs ands or buts about it - aasimar are descended from celestials. The aasimar entry for Monsters of the Multiverse states "Whether descended from a celestial being or infused with heavenly power, aasimar are mortals who carry a spark of the Upper Planes within their souls." the tablet Jay stole from her grandmother is written in celestial, and says they are descended from the sun(aster), ergo, descended from a celestial.

Next up is the whole "Thus we are the light - the beacon that will eradicate the dark. We are the flame to which all will yield. We are the shining justice that will always prevail." bit. The entry for Protector Aasimar (the subrace i believe Jay fits best) in Volos Guide to Monsters reads "Protector aasimar are charged by the powers of good to guard the weak, to strike at evil wherever it arises, and to stand vigilant against the darkness."

Then there's "Our steps illuminate the way forward and our hands spark the tales of history." Which then in the MotM entry it says "aasimar are mortals who carry a spark of the Upper Planes within their souls. They can fan that spark to bring light, ease wounds, and unleash the fury of the heavens."

THEN THERES THE REAL FUCKING GIVEAWAY!!! THIS LINE: "Know your kin, recognized by the manes of flickering flame, wings that rival dragons, the golden suns in our eyes."

MotM says "They resemble their parents, but … often have features that hint at their celestial heritage." and VGtM says "They are a people of otherworldly visages, with luminous features that reveal their celestial heritage."

OF THE CELESTIAL FEATURES OPTIONS OFFERED BY MOTM, ENTRY 2 IS "METALLIC, LUMINOUS, OR DARK EYES" AND ENTRY 3 IS "STARKLY COLORED HAIR". THE FERINS ARE WELL KNOWN FOR HAVING BOTH.

The tablets are, of course, not my only evidence.

the ferins arent born with The Ferin Eye as revealed by Jay having to earn hers and Drey talking about when he got his. "now icarus," i hear you say "wouldnt that mean they dont actually fit the celestial features requirement?" and to that i answer "NO! IT IN FACT FITS IT BETTER!"

In discussing aasimar celestial features, MotM says "These [features] often begin subtle and become more obvious when the aasimar gains the ability to reveal their full celestial nature." Jay didn’t have the Ferin eye until she earned it and its subsequent abilities. And we all remember how she earned it, right?

A weird ass fucking dream.

Now let’s look at that. According to VGtM “An aasimar, except for one who has turned to evil, has a link to an angelic being. That being … provides guidance to the aasimar, though this connection functions only in dreams. As such, the guidance is not a direct command or a simple spoken word. Instead, the aasimar receives visions, prophecies, and feelings.”

In Jay's first sun dream (Juice Roll With It // Episode #88), Grizzly describes the sun and says "You feel like its presence is trying to reach you. And as you notice, you feel almost like you want it to.”

And then the core of the dream itself:

Grizzly: “Do you think Jay can withstand this impossible heat of the sun as you get just barely one step closer?” Condi: “I’m gonna say no… but she would try anyways, if that is, like, what the feeling is kinda giving her, you know?” Grizzly: “This powerful presence, as hot as it is - you can’t help but think of your sister. You can’t help but think of your friends. But then, you think of your mother, and then you think of your father, and then you think of your grandmother” (makes condi roll con save with disadvantage, condi got an 11) “with an 11, you take that step forward, but this overwhelming pressure, anxiousness, fear, handcuffs your spirit, closes your mind, and you just feel the heat of the sun overcome you. And you are jolted awake back in the reality. … but you know that in this dream you lost. You lost to the heat.”

Then the second dream (Happy Wife Happy Life // Episode 102), where the sun is hotter and larger than before and excruciatingly painful:

Grizzly: “You just can’t help but stare at it with both eyes wide open. And behind you you feel another heat.” (Condi asks if Jay can see this heat or if Jay is too focused on the sun) “You know that this heat signifies that backing away and falling is not an option this time. But as you look at the sun, you once again think about your family: your mother, who said she was sick; your father, who called you naive; your grandmother, who threatens the safety of your friends. You think of your friends. So I ask again, this time: do you think Jay can withstand that heat? That pressure and that fire?” Condi: “I think as Jay is staring up at this sort of immense fireball that represents… obviously her pressure, and she feels that heat at her back… I don’t think she would look at the heat as, like, something preventing her from stepping back and falling anymore. But in this metaphorical sense - since a lot of this is a metaphor - she’d probably look at it as what she basically can’t turn her back on, what she can’t leave behind. Basically like her new hope. You know, what she wants to protect. So she’s in between this and this giant fireball. Um. And I think with that in mind she would take a step forward and, um. While maybe not fully confident in herself, she would jump into the fireball with all her might, doing her best. ... I think she can handle it. She thinks she can handle it.” Grizzly: “Fair enough. That’s all I asked. You jump in- go ahead and roll a con save with advantage.” (Condi got a 19) “You leap with almost like a raging fire of conviction even if you doubt yourself, jay. And the sun almost seems to open up to welcome you in. And at first, the searing pain of the fireball’s heat feels like it’s melting your skin. You scream until it feels like it’s melting away that doubt. And then, all of the pain subsides. There’s a calming sense that kind of overtakes, jay, in your subconscious. And it’s all white at this point - your whole vision.”

So the sun reached out to jay through a dream, as aasimar’s celestial links tend to do, and gave her a test of strength that she had to figure out for herself (“as such, the guidance is not a direct command or simple spoken word. Instead, the aasimar receives visions, prophecies, and feelings.” - VGtM). She only passed it by remembering she had people she needed to protect (“Protector aasimar are charged by the powers of good to guard the weak, to strike at evil wherever it arises, and to stand vigilant against the darkness.” - VGtM). And when she passed this test given to her in a dream: “speaking of your vision, you begin to feel a warmth behind one of your eyelids. And the next day comes as you’re the first to wake at the very crack of dawn. The sun rises, and you rise with it. And you blink a few times - you feel something different. … This time, you look into a mirror and, just like your dad, just like Drey, you see this bright orange glowing eye on one of the sides. And you feel whatever that was: you passed it.”

This, therefore, perfectly fits Jay into the aasimar’s celestial features description that “these [features] often begin subtle and become more obvious when the aasimar gains the ability to reveal their full celestial nature.” Jay had to prove herself to the goddess to earn another celestial trait.

And once more, “Icarus!” I hear you cry. “You keep saying Jay fits the Protector Aasimar subrace, but don’t Protector Aasimar have incorporeal wings that come from their celestial heritage? Jay’s wings are from a tattoo! That doesn’t work!” To which I say, “Are you sure?”

The Protector Aasimar’s subrace ability is called Radiant Soul and allows the aasimar to “unleash the divine energy within yourself, causing your eyes to glimmer and two luminous, incorporeal wings to sprout from your back.”

Jay’s wings come from enchanted tattoos with which she can cast Fly. These were a deliberate choice Jay made and are not celestial in origin. However, in the first sun dream, when Jay reaches out for the sun Grizzly says “You begin to feel the tattoo on your upper back sting.” When condi asks to clarify if it’s the Niklaus tattoo, Grizzly only says “Just the upper back.”

This, of course, leads me to believe that those dreams will or already have affected her wings in some way - perhaps leaving space for her to unlock more of her celestial heritage and power as she earns it. It’s something we’ll just have to watch and see for.

Either way the Ferins are aasimar, Jay's gonna be the first one in generations to earn their true celestial power from Aster, and i will Die On This Hill

[soapsilly]

Betrayal - Roronoa Zoro Imagine

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x reader

Spoilers for One Piece (?)

Summary: It's been two years since the straw hats got seperated by Bartholomew Kuma. Two years since (Y/N) and Zoro have last seen each other but when the day finally came to reunite things didn't quite play out like they had envisioned.

Requests are closed

Part 2 Part 3

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It wasn't love at first sight. Not at all. It wasn't like they disliked each other either - far from it actually. When the Straw Hats picked her up, it didn't take long for (Y/N) to make friends with almost the whole crew. When they arrived on her little autumn island it didn't take much convincing for them to make her part of the crew. She liked her little home outside of the village but she was never part of it. The Straw Hats found (Y/N) when they made a stop at the island for supplies. Whilst Nami and Sanji stormed to the market in the search for pretty things and food supplies respectively, Zoro and Luffy wandered into the next bar for drinks and meat - also respectively. That left Chopper and Usopp on the look out for medicinal herbs and whatever else was needed for Usopp's ammunition. When they asked the townspeople they told them about the witch that lived outside the village. The villagers usually avoided her unless they needed something - which made (Y/N) a rather lonely person. When Chopper and Usopp told their captain about what they've heard, Luffy was immediately excited. So the whole crew made their way up the hill to the hut where the alleged witch was located.

Once they arrived, Chopper immediately went for the flowers and herbs that grew in the garden infront of the little house.

"I wouldn't touch those. Most of them are poisonous", the girl that came out of the house didn't look like a witch at all. No warts, no hooked nose, not even a witchy hat or black boots. In fact, she was young and -

"Beautiful!", the tall, blond guy was at her side at an instant. He took her hand in his and starred deeply into her eyes, "my name is Sanji and you are?"

"(Y/N)", she giggled.

************************************************************************

It was easy for (Y/N) to make friends with the crew - well most of them. Luffy was a friendly guy by nature so no problem there, Sanji was swooned as soon as she stepped out of her house, Nami was just happy to have another girl on the ship and Chopper was happy about the few healing balms and herbs she could provide him with - even though he had hoped for more when he saw the densely vegetated garden in front of the witch's house. Much to his dismay most of them were poisonous plants, not because she planned something foul but rather just because she liked them the most. Usopp wasn't as easy to win over as he seemed to be rather sceptical of strangers, but as she handed him some ammunition for his sling shot she finally gained his sympathy. The first batch was a little too strong for Usopps liking - lethal to be specific - but after careful calibration, whoever was hit fell into a temporary paralysis, much to Zoro's dismay who quickly became Usopp's favourite victim for target practice.

The swordsman however was a different story. He wasn't outright mean to her but no matter how much she tried, how many smiles she sent his way or how many attempts at small talk she started, he just didn't seem to care. She didn't take offence to that though. She still enjoyed his company whilst the crew sat down for dinner or during their excursions to different islands. It was during those times that she noticed his abysmal sense of direction, his affinity for hard liquor and his dislike for a certain curly-eyebrowed cook. She always enjoyed the seemingly pointless fights that the two would get themselves into. It's not that she disliked either of them - quite the contrary in fact - she grew rather fond of both of the men even if one of them didn't want much to do with her and the other wanted a little too much. It was rather that entertainment on deck was scarce and they never really hurt each other in a serious way anyways - so no harm, no foul .

One night after dinner when most of the crew went on to do their separate things, (Y/N) decided to try it again with Zoro.

"Is it your turn to keep watch tonight?", she asked as she approached him on deck.

He looked at her for a few seconds but decided to answer her anyways. "No, I think it's Usopp and that shitty cook tonight"

That's just what the girl wanted to hear. "Great!"

He sent her a suspicious squint but let her continue.

"You like alcohol" - she stated and as if to confirm her statement he lifted his cup, which was already filled with some kind of liquor - "I got us some", she continued.

"I got my own", he grunted.

"This one's better. Believe me, I made it", she grinned.

"You made this?"

"Yep"

"Yourself?"

"Yep"

"With your poison plants? Are you trying to kill me?"

"Yep.... Well, no", she sighed, "it's really good. In a low dosage it has a euphoric effect. I usually drink it as a tea but I made it as a drink.. for us to share?"

The green haired man contemplated for a moment but then shrugged and held out his cup for her to fill.

After the first sip, he let the taste linger for a second and then decided to chug the whole thing before (Y/N) could protest.

"I like it. Give me another cup"

"What? No! This is stronger than normal sake. It's not supposed to be downed. You can't have another one so soon after the first"

"I don't feel a thing. I can handle it. Give me another"

She thought for a moment. What was the worst thing that could happen?

"Only if you drink this one slowly..."

He sent her a short nod, indicating his approval.

So for a while they sat there in silence sipping their drinks with the occasional question here and there.

"So, you're a witch, huh?"

"Me? Nah.. The townspeople liked to say that because I like to do tarot card readings and sold them potions and healing balms. There's nothing magical about it but rumours spread fast in such a little village"

"Why didn't you correct them?"

"I don't care. I made money off of it", she shrugged.

They both fell into silence again but it felt comfortable. She could feel the slight buzz already forming and by the glow on Zoro's cheeks, she could see that the drink started to have it's effect on him too.

"I wouldn't mind another drink, you know", he grinned at her mindlessly.

It was late already but (Y/N) didn't feel like cutting the time with Zoro short. Who would've thought that the way into a man's heart was freshly distilled alcohol?

Just as she was about to fill their cups yet another time, Sanji made his way patrolling around the ship. Only the sight of the cook was enough to make Zoro clench his jaw.

"What's your problem with Sanji?", she found the interaction hilarious.

"You wouldn't understand anyways. That talentless ero-cook..."

"Hey.. he might be a pervert, but his food is amazing!", she scolded the moss-head.

"You don't seem to mind the way he dances around you and Nami", he huffs.

"No, I think it's kinda nice actually but I wouldn't put too much thought into it", she shrugged, "he can't control himself around women. I wouldn't fall for a guy like that"

"Hah!", the swordsman seemed to like hearing that. One man's misfortune is another man's treasure. Especially if the first man happened to be a curly-browed cook.

The night went on and on and the more the two of them drank the more they opened up about their past, their dreams and aspirations. But since (Y/N)'s alcohol was indeed stronger than what Zoro was used to after a few more cups the deep conversations turned into silly jokes and stupid impressions, which was not unusual for (Y/N) at all but when Usopp told the others about what he saw in the morning neither wanted to believe Zoro had partaken aswell.

"I knew she was a real witch... She cast a spell on him", Chopper whispered.

************************************************************************

Since that night Zoro and (Y/N) would consider each other as friends. Neither would talk about it but during meal times they would sit by each other, during island walks they stayed with each other and during night patrol they kept each other company. And every now and again at night they would sit down on the deck with a bottle of (Y/N)'s liquor and repeat the first time they really talked to each other. And it was during those times that during a moonlit night they shared their first kiss. The next morning neither could say who it was, that initiated it but it didn't really matter anyways. For the most part nothing really changed between them and they never gave it a name but they never kept it a secret either.

************************************************************************

Zoro wasn't the same after Thriller Bark. He spent all his free time excercising and training without giving his body the time to properly heal.

"Zoro... please", she stood in the doorway of the crow's nest, "you need to heal"

He ignored her and just kept going.

"You heard what Chopper said. I'm worried about you"

Still no response.

"Damnit! Zoro, is your deathwish that big?", her voice was equal parts angry and sad, "how will you become the best swordsman in the world when you're dead?"

With a loud 'BANG' Zoro dropped his weight and turned to the girl in front of him, "I made a promise! Don't you understand I need to become stronger?"

(Y/N), of course knew about Zoro's past. She knew about Kuina and his promise to her but why did he have to be so stubborn?

"Is that promise more important than all of us? Your nakama?", she was on the verge of tears now.

"It's not just that", he yelled back. Why was she so stupid? "If I don't become stronger, I can't protect any of you"

"You can't protect us either if you're dead! And then you'll never be the world's best swordsman and I'll be alone again!", she screamed.

The Straw Hats could hear the fighting all the way down on deck. They were used to their fights being loud but this was different. Sanji was already half-way up the ladder to break up the fight, outraged that Zoro would dare to make (Y/N)-chan cry but Robin held him back telling him that there were some things that a couple needs to sort out themselves.

That night (Y/N) took the time to put a heap of pillows and blankets into the crow's nest to make it easier for him to relax a little. At first he refused to follow her at all but once she grabbed his hand and really stared into his eyes he realized how serious she was. Once she got him to settle in, she turned to leave but his voice stopped her.

"Stay", his voice was quiet, "please, stay"

She nodded and turned back to him. Usually she was the one to initiate closeness between the two, so moments like those were rare. Once she nestled into the mountains of pillows she heard his voice again.

"I'm sorry"

She was stunned. All the years and all the fights, she never heard him apologize to her before. She tried to say something but he continued.

"I know I'm stubborn, but the thought of not being strong enough to protect any of you kills me. I won't always have time to heal and when the time comes and we'll get attacked I will have to fight. And if anyone, especially you, gets hurt because I wasn't strong enough, I wouldn't be able to live with that"

The witch didn't know how to react to his confession. Instead she opted to brush her fingers to Zoro's green hair and soon after she could hear the deep snores of her lover.

************************************************************************

The Straw Hats were hopelessly at the mercy of marine admiral Kizaru. There was nothing they could do. All of them were battered and bruised already from the fight with the Kuma Androids and now (Y/N) had to witness Zoro collapse from one of the Admiral's attacks. In the distance she could hear Luffy scream his name. She knew it was too soon for a fight. Almost automatically she sprinted to the sprawled out form of her boyfriend. Once she reached him, there wasn't much time to spare. She grabbed his form and dragged his body away from the impending kick, that would kill him. Brook and Usopp tried to attack Kizaru while (Y/N) created some distance but in the blink of an eye the admiral stood above Zoro once again. One leg on his back, the other hovering above his head.

"I won't let you get away. It's no use", he said almost too calmly.

The thoughts inside of (Y/N)'s head were racing and before she knew what she was doing she threw herself over Zoro's exposed form.

"You fool. That won't save him. You'll die together", Kizaru laughed almost carelessly.

Her heart was racing and she felt the blood rushing in her ears, but she didn't dare to open her eyes.

"Get away!", she couldn't quite tell whose voice it was that reached her ears first but after the first exclamation another followed and another and another... but she only shook her head repeatedly tears streaming down her face.

"Go", Zoro's deep voice sounded raspy and like even that small little word hurt him immensely but (Y/N) only shook her head yet again not caring that the man beneath her could probably not even see it. But the deadly stomp never came. Instead, Rayleigh, Gol D. Roger's first mate, decided to come in and fight with admiral Kizaru himself.

"Grab Zoro and get out of there!", she heard Luffy yell. Usopp grabbed Zoro underneath his arm and dragged him out of the danger zone.

"You - You should have left", the swordsman tried to scold his girlfriend but his voice was weak.

"Can we fight about this once we're safely back on the Sunny, please?"

He tried to laugh, their bickering was one of his favourite things about their relationship but they never even got the chance to return to their home. Shortly after Kizaru, the real Kuma showed up and one after the other the Straw Hat Pirates disappeared.

************************************************************************

It's been two years since Kuma seperated the crew, two years since Luffy lost Ace, two years since Zoro has last seen (Y/N). But the time has finally come to reunite. Zoro was actually the first to arrive ten days ago. Shortly after the other Straw Hats arrived one after another. It was only the witch that was still missing. Zoro couldn't wait to tell her that not only did he arrive before her AND that shitty cook, he also arrived first overall. He decided to conveniently remain silent about the help of a certain Ghost Ghost Brat.

"Has anybody had any contact with (Y/N) in the last two years?", Nami asked the group but she only earned headshakes as a response. Zoro felt a touch of melancholy. He would never admit it infront of the crew but eventhough he had used every single day of those two years for training with Mihawk, he did miss her. And then just like that, there she was walking up the gangway.

Zoro felt like his heart skip a beat once he saw her fully. She didn't change much, she was still beautiful. So much infact, that the ero-cook almost bled out once she went to greet him. The only thing that changed were the many tattoos that littered her body - mostly her arms. Flowers, beetles, stars and moons.

She came up to him last but something was weird. He expected her to leap into his arms like she had done so often in the past. He never initiated PDA infront of others - or rather at all - but he never complain when she did it, but this time she just stood there.

"Zoro, your eye..."

For a second he felt insecure. He never paid the fresh scar that decorated his left eye any mind and he didn't think that (Y/N) would either.

"Are you okay?", she seemed worried.

He grunted as to confirm that he was fine.

"You look good", she sent him a reassuring smile.

For a while the two of them just stood there but then Luffy's loud voice pulled them out of the moment.

"So now that we're complete let's set sail!"

(Y/N) flinched and then looked panicked.

"Wait, no, no no. There's something I need to tell you guys"

The crew waited in silence for their friend to continue.

"I won't come be coming you"

It was quiet for a few secong before Luffy's booming laugh filled the space, clearly thinking she was joking but Zoro knew something was wrong. In all those years as a fighter he learned to observe high stress situations and this was one. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but something was very wrong.

"Luffy... I'm not - I'm not joking", her voice was quiet.

Luffy abruptly stopped laughing. She didn't dare look up into the faces of her former crew mates in fears of what she might see but her decision has been made. It's not like she had much of a choice anyways.

"What's going on? Who's making you say this? Is someone threatening you?", Sanji asked. Even he mellowed out considering the tense situation. As much as he disliked the cook, Zoro approved of the questions, he knew she wouldn't leave them on her own accord.

"Nobody is threatening me and nobody is making me say this. I just can't - I don't... I will not be coming with you"

"But why?", Nami tried to reason with her.

"You guys don't understand. I have a home, a little house with a garden..."

"You can have a garden here on the Sunny...", Franky interjected.

"Whatever you'll need from your home, we'll get it on the way. Don't you worry about it", Luffy laughed, still not understanding how serious the situation was. Everybody was talking, asking questions, yelling suggestions but (Y/N) just kept shaking her head vehemently.

"Don't be an idiot. Just tell us what's going on", that was the first time Zoro spoke up. He had enough of the excuses. His voice cut through the noise like a sword and now all eyes laid on him.

"I had a child!", she yelled.

For a few heartbeats nothing and nobody on deck made a sound.

"A little boy to be specific", she continued, "I have a family now"

Zoro could've sworn there was a ringing sound that filled the air but the truth was, it was probably just the blood rushing through his ears.

"What?", Nami's voice sounded cold, mechanic even.

"I-"

"Don't!", (Y/N) had never seen Nami so enraged, "You found someone else? How could you do that? To us? To Zoro?"

"It's been two years...", the witch pleaded.

"So? So? None of us had any issues keeping it in our pants but you had to go and play house with the next best guy ?"

Nami's words hurt but (Y/N) knew that she deserved them. It was never her intention to hurt anybody - especially Zoro - but two years were a long time and a lot has changed.

(Y/N) looked around but the other Straw Hats avoided looking at her. Once her gaze landed on the spot where Zoro was leaning against the railing, she noticed that he was missing. She didn't know at what point he had left but she didn't blame him.

(Y/N) tried to say something but as soon as she opened her mouth Nami interrupted her.

"You should leave"

The other woman nodded and turned to say her goodbyes to the rest of the crew.

"So... Fish-Man Island, huh?", she sent Robin a little smile. The older woman was always so understanding even when the other person didn't really deserve it.

"Yes.. but first we'll have to make a stop at the next island over. Sabaody is full of marines, we didn't get all the supplies we needed, soooo if you change your mind ...", she suggested.

"I don't think Nami would let me live if I'll ever show my face around here again", she answered, "not that I could blame her"

"Give it some time", Robin hugged the younger woman as a farewell.

For a moment (Y/N) just stood there staring at the ladder to the crow's nest. But before she could even make an attempt to say her good-byes to Zoro Nami interjected.

"Don't you even dare. Don't think about it. Just leave."

(Y/N) was happy that Zoro had his friends that cared so much about him. Nami really cared about every single one of them - even if they sometimes drove her crazy. And if somebody hurt them, may it be their own nakama or anybody else, her mama-bear instinct kicked in. The boys always acted like the strongest, toughest warriors of the sea but deep down she knew they were idiots at heart. Her idiots.

"Nami-", the witch decided to try it a last time but the navigator only turned away from her former friend, signaling her that she doesn't have anything to say to her anymore.

As (Y/N) was walking down the gangway Usopp climbed up the crow's nest.

"Zoro... (Y/N) is leaving..."

But Zoro did not make a move. In fact, he didn't even react to Usopp at all. He just kept on exercising the way he usually does whenever anything is on his mind. In times like these, it was (Y/N), who would calm him down and get him to eat and even relax a little but now it was her that caused his isolation. He never felt the need to open up to anybody. Love was more of the ero-cook's thing even if he never actually had any success with the women he made his feeble attempts at. Zoro remembered how him and (Y/N) used to make fun of how much he was doing with so little payoff. He put some more weights on to get his mind away from the hurtful memory.

He would've never thought that she'd do something like that. Zoro wasn't the jealous type - never has been. Even when they were together the cook wouldn't stop flirting with (Y/N) but the swordsman was never worried. And whenever a slimey fool in the bars during their island journeys got a little too close for comfort, his girlfriend would easily send them away.

"I'd keep my hands to myself if I were you", she'd say, "Do you see that mosshead over there? He'll be the strongest swordsman in the world. You reeaally shouldn't bother his girlfriend"

His girlfriend...

Zoro shook his head. He was a fool. Of course, she'd find someone else. She basically always told him that she wasn't a person that could deal with being alone easily. That was probably the only reason she was ever with him to begin with. He put yet another set of weights on the barbell. She already said she wouldn't fall for Sanji. So was he just the next best option? But a whole family? A child? If it was just a new boyfriend, she could've surely left him after the two years. She could've come back to him. Zoro was so hopelessly in love with her, he wouldn't even care. But now she had a family. A family that she would never leave alone. She knew how much Robin suffered from losing her mother early. She wouldn't do that. Zoro let the weights drop to the floor with a loud 'BANG'. With all that thinking the swordsman however never once stopped to consider that his former partner made her choice not only out of obligation but rather because the truly was happier now...

************************************************************************

Epilogue

(Y/N) never felt as lost as the moment when she stepped off the Thousand Sunny. Within just a matter of moments she lost her family, her friends, her nakama. And even worse, she hurt someone, that she very deeply cared about. For a while she just stood there, thoughts rushing through her head. But whatever scenario she made up, there wasn't any other way. So after a few deep breaths she made her way back to her new home - back to the moss-headed boy, that reminded her so much of his father already.

[ps-froggie]

Bound two ObiKaka works by beetlebee, aka @sloaners using the sewn boards technique!

Akatsuki Babysitter's Club (left)

Obito thought quickly. "They're part of a... club... for babysitters." "A club," said Kakashi, flat. "Yep. A... babysitter's club." "I see," said Kakashi, who clearly didn't see at all. "Yeah, the clouds on the coats are supposed to be a soothing visual for kids?" Obito said, as he decided to dig himself deeper. "In red and black." "Okay, the color scheme could maybe stand to be changed," Obito conceded. He heard Konan snort from underneath the table. He glanced briefly at Hidan, who was now shaking his shoulders, and the entire curtain, laughing at Obito. --- (Kakashi decides to raise Naruto. The Akatsuki takes a new direction.)

Thirst Contact (Right)

Two shining, reflecting eyes are staring right at Kakashi. It’s a person, at first glance, holding some kind of ring of fire. Kakashi opens his mouth to say something, anything, but the person steps closer, and he realizes that the ring of fire seems to be dancing along his shoulders, where protrusions—tendrils—are breaking through from the skin. The skin itself is pale, green tinged, and speckled with scales along the being's right side. Which is nothing compared to the horns sticking straight out of his head. Or the—wow, the *incredible* lack of clothing. This alien seals it: Kakashi's absolutely high. And should maybe stop reading so much Icha Icha. ---- (Kakashi's crew goes to answer a distress signal on a seemingly abandoned satellite. And then the story goes in three wildly different directions.)

Some ramblings about making it and a few more pics to hopefully make up for my phone's less than stellar camera under the cut.

First off, Akatsuki Babysitter's Club. This one is a certified classic and I had some marbled paper I had lying around from 32NorthSupplies on Etsy that I used for the cover. It has a some real nice gold veins in it that shimmer so nice.

For the endpapers, I carefully used gold paint with a stamp to make a pretty pattern on black cardstock.

And for the title page, well, I copied the look of the old babysitters club books as closely as I could for that part of it and chose a font I thought looked like it'd compliment it for the "Akatsuki" part.

For Thirst Contact, the cover paper is this really thick and glimmers black paper I got at a craft store and it just felt sci-fi to me.

The endpapers are made from a piece of cardstock I marbled myself and liked the look of.

For the title page I used a Star Wars-esque font already installed in my computer because it well, reminds me of space, and then did some heavy editing in Affinity Design to get that Thirst looking juuuuust right lol.

For both books, the spines are made of homemade bookcloth. For Thirst Contact, it's the same cloth I used for my Small Medium at Large bind so they're kind of like cousin binds.

[m-y--p-a-s-s-i-o-n-s]

Supernatural Fanfics

Title: Couples Costumes

Rating: E

Words: 4k

Summary: Dean and Cas are attending a Halloween party with all their friends, and Dean has decided on the perfect outfits for them.

Title: Whatever This Is Between Us 

Rating: T

Words: 2.3k

Summary: Dean discovers just what kind of relationship the 2014 versions of himself and Castiel have, and maybe he can discover something about himself too.

Title: Drinking Buddies

Rating: T

Words: 2K

Summary: Crowley went to Bobby's to die, but instead the hunter might have just saved his life.

Title: Drawn To You

Rating: E

Words: 5.7K

Summary: Dean is a stripper at 'Crossroad Cowboys' and gets called in to work a hen's party. Dean's expecting all women in the party, but then there is a blue eyed man in a trench coat with them and Dean is instantly drawn to him. When the ladies pay for the guy to have a ride with Dean on the mechanical bull it's clear that the attraction is mutual, is either of them willing to do anything about it though?

Title: Within Blue Gaze

Rating: T

Words: 1.5K

Summary: When Dean is transported to 2014, he spends some time with Cas catching up on the last five years. During that time he discovers something that changes everything, is he ready to pursue it though?

Title: Under the Versatility of a Dream

Rating: T

Words: 942

Summary: Their dynamic has changed now that they’re free from the cage, Adam tries to hide how he feels, but Michael figures out a way to help his human get what he needs.

Title: Under the Storage Shelf 

Rating: M

Words: 1.1K

Summary: From the first moment Lu laid eyes on Balthazar he knew that he wanted much more than to serve the man drinks at the bar.

Title: Coming Home to You

Rating: T

Words: 3.1K

Summary: Dean likes to bring home a gift for his boyfriend from his business trips, this time is no different, he just needs to find the right time to give it to him.

Title: Earth is a Place in Heaven

Rating: T

Words: 1.4K

Summary: After Dean dies in the final episode he spends a lot of time in Heaven thinking about Castiel, who he never expects to see again...

Title: Human Things

Rating: E

Words: 1.5K

Summary: When Adam and Michael are released from the cage they head to Earth and Adam takes a little time do some human things, Michael wants to help.

Title: The Things That Really Matter

Rating: T

Words: 3.4K

Summary: When Dean is zapped forward to 2014, he learns an important lesson, but its not the one Zachariah wanted him to learn.

Title: Forever

Rating: T

Words: 570

Summary: What happens if Dean never got rid of the 'Mark of Cain'?

Title: Dean's Angel

Rating: T

Words: 865

Summary: An alternate scene in ep 11x18 "Hell's Angel" where Crowley smokes into Castiel's vessel to convince him to eject Lucifer, and things go a little different than he expected.

Title: First Day

Rating: E

Words: 14K

Chapters: 9

Summary: It's Lu's first day at a new school as a Math teacher and he instantly falls for the French teacher, Balthazar, who has an affinity for skinny jeans and v-necks. Balthazar's ex shows up and wants to get back with Balthazar, will he go back with his ex or stay with Lu?

Title: Two Worlds

Rating: E

Words: 9.1k

Chapters: 6

Summary: Castiel is nobody in high school and Dean is the captain of the football team. When Dean asks Cas to help him study, their two worlds start to merge, but can they become one?

Title: Coffee Beans & Motor Oil 

Rating: E

Words: 14.6K

Chapters: 10

Summary: Dean meets Cas at his favourite coffee shop where Cas has just started working after moving into town a few days previous. They hit it off immediately, Dean asks Cas on a date and it all unfolds from there.

Title: Wings 

Rating: T

Words: 1K

Summary: Castiel's back is itchy, could it have something to do with his wings?

Title: Under The Wooden Staircase

Rating: G

Words: 301

Summary: Bobby sets a trap for a crossroads demon but Crowley turns up instead.

Title: Under The Stars

Rating: G

Words: 327

Summary: Sam and Gabe make a plan to get Dean and Cas together on Christmas eve.

Title: Under The Roof Of The Impala

Rating: G

Words: 385

Summary: Dean and Cas find themselves under mistletoe and Cas makes his move.

Title: Acceptance

Rating: E

Words: 25.4K

Chapters: 17

Summary: Dean & Cas are 3 months into their relationship & living in a house with Sam when Bobby calls them to come & check out his new overfriendly neighbour. Things become a bit mysterious & Dean doesn't like what he finds.

Title: Winning Over Hearts

Rating: E

Words: 12.6K

Chapters: 11

Summary: Castiel returns from a holiday at Gabriel's house with Gabe, that night Sam is invited over for dinner and it is love at first sight for Gabe, not so much for Sam. Gabe has two weeks to win Sam's heart, but will he be able to?

Title: House Hunting 

Rating: E

Words: 1.2K

Summary: Dean is a real estate agent and Cas is a nurse. Cas comes to look at a house to buy and they flirt and christen the master bedroom, but Cas buys the house in the end.

Title: Guessing Games

Rating: E

Words: 15.3K

Chapters: 10

Summary: Sam and Dean are in high school and make deals to ask out their crushes and dates ensue. John isn't too happy about his sons having boyfriends.

Title: Stuck In The End

Rating: T

Words: 471

Summary: Set in 2014, based on things we saw in 'The End', basically Cas is high and ends up crying and Dean comes in to comfort him.

Title: Birthdays

Rating: M

Words: 666

Summary: Dean decides Cas needs a proper birthday, so they celebrate and Dean gets Cas a nice gift.

Title: Understanding

Rating: T

Words: 537

Summary: Dean and Cas had a fight which leads to them understanding their feelings.

Title: A Small Misunderstanding

Rating: G

Words: 548

Summary: Cas walks in on Dean hugging another man and quickly jumps to conclusions.

Title: Truth Or Dare 

Rating: T

Words: 2.2K

Summary: Gabriel wants to play truth or dare, and Dean and Cas find out things about each other that changes their relationship for the better.

[ryin-silverfish]

Headcanon: Dragons of the Four Seas

(inspired by a recent discussion with @the-monkey-ruler)

-Although Chinese dragons are water deities, there are dragons who control stuff other than water: Cold Dragons under the Dragon King of the North can freeze stuff, and Bailong Ma used to be a Fire Dragon in pre-novel variants of JTTW.

"Wouldn't it be interesting if the four major lineage of dragons all have their unique side-power, apart from water and weather manipulation?"

-It starts off as this, then spins out of control and becomes one giant worldbuilding exercise.

East Sea:

-The eastern direction is traditionally associated with the Wood element. However, I feel like plant manipulation will be too obvious.

-So instead, they are the master of Thunder and Wind——the trigrams that represent these two things, Zhen and Xun, are both Wood-aligned.

-Their lightning has a notable azure hue, and have adapted the force of Thunder specifically for underwater usage, creating highly potent sonic blasts as well as what basically amount to a sonar spell.

-They kinda consider themselves the archetypal dragon, representative of their kind, and certainly have the attitude to match.

-Like, they claim to be descended from the Azure Dragon of the East, even though the idea that a Divine Beast of the Four Directions, stellar guardian of the entire eastern section of the sky, can reproduce is...dubious at best.

-Don't you mention the time Ao Guang got bullied by Wukong. Or Nezha. Or Huaguang. Or the Eight Immortals. They are very touchy about that. Violently touchy.

-They also have close relations with water-dwelling Yakshas, who act as a sort of elite mercenaries in their military campaigns against other seaborn demons and rogue flood dragons.

-Basically, the proud generals of dragonkind, with a vast weapon collection to match. The dragon king's family also name their kids after Celestial Stems and Earthly Branches, much like the ancient Shang dynasty rulers.

-The East Sea dragons are the only lineage who has an official representative of the Celestial Host stationed in their territory, who's only known by his title, the "Water-dividing General of the East Sea".

-He seems to be an older sort of god, the half-man, half-beast ones who look like they walk out of an illustration of the Book of Mountains and Seas.

-Most of the time, he takes the form of a seal, lounging around on rocks and watching sunrises, and has the personality of a sarcastic old man.

-Whether he's here to keep an eye on them, or they are supposed to keep an eye on him, no one can say. Ao Guang certainly treats him like an old acquaintance, though.

West Sea:

-They are a bit tricky. West is associated with Metal, and the two Metal-aligned trigrams, Qian and Dui, represent Heaven and Marsh...which don't neatly map onto weather and natural phenomena.

-Then I had an idea. What if they have a natural affinity for heavenly bodies? In ancient times, the movements of stars are believed to affect weather, after all, not to mention the sun and the moon.

-This affinity can be figurative——their lineage has a strong relationship with the stellar deities of the 28 Lunar Mansion and Dipper Mansion——or literal.

-Like a natural talent for divination and astrology, predicting the future from the patterns of stars. They are no governors of fate, unlike the actual Star Lords, they are just fate's weather forecast guy.

-This puts them in an awkward position, though: the stellar gods act according to the Jade Emperor's orders, some of which are very much secret and beyond their clearance levels, but the best scions of the West Sea can just infer it from the movement of stars alone.

-Which makes them obsessed with proving their loyalty, as well as enforcing a draconian standard of secrecy, just so they wouldn't get into trouble for knowing something they weren't supposed to know.

-Even more rarely, they can harness the power of astral light. Most of the time, such light is of lunar nature——Star Lord Taiyin also holds sway over the ocean's tides, though it is an easily forgotten power.

-But sometimes, that light comes from a fiery, lively, or ominous star, and the power that results is just as temperamental as their stellar origins.

-Enters Ao Lie, Third Prince of the West Sea, who has highly potent fire powers despite not being a South Sea dragon, and became the subject of some rather tasteless gossips about his parentage the moment it awakened.

-All dragons love their pearls: it's kinda like an ordinary yaoguai's "inner core", an orb of solidified Qi that can be spit out and store separately from the body, but much more powerful and culturally significant.

-Well, the West Sea dragons use their pearls in the same way a Feng Shui master uses their geomantic compass, or a Zhou Yi diviner, their turtle shell and copper coins. The ones left behind by venerable ancestors are especially treasured, believed to lead to clearer insights and more reliable readings.

-Through that lens, Ao Lie's burning of one such pearl is the equivalent of descrating the dead + destroying a priceless, irreplacable supercomputer.

-Intentional or not, to a lineage that is so serious about their discipline, taboos, and absolute loyalty to the Celestial Host, it is enough to warrant death.

-To no one's surprise, they are the diplomats, the inter-department coordinators when it comes to weatherly business. Not just between relevant celestial bureaus like the Thunder and Water Bureaus, but also between local dragon kings of rivers and lakes.

-As a result, the West Sea lineage is the most open to marrying non-oceanic dragons, even though these are often out of practical and political needs.

-That's my explanation for why, in JTTW, Ao Run's nine nephews either guard rivers or work for JE/the Buddha. The West Sea lineage has really turned nepotism into an art form.

North Sea:

-In JTTW, we know that they have Cold Dragons that can chill stuff. It is certainly not too much of a stretch to imagine them as the ice-and-snow specialists, the ones you summon when you are sick of the heat or need to insta-freeze something.

-Historically, the "North Sea" in Chinese texts refer to Lake Baikal. However, I think it is cooler if their palace is literally in the arctic zone, under the ice caps.

-Instead of garden-variety shrimp and crab soldiers, they have lots of cultivated marine mammals. And elite legions of belugas and narwhals and bowhead whales.

-The smallest and most isolationist lineage also carries the grimest duty, as border patrols and prison wardens. Not only is the North Sea a hotspot of rifts that lead to the Underworld, it also conceals the portal to the Evil-Vanquishing Mansion of the North Pole——realm of Emperor Zhenwu, Lord of the North.

-Kind of like the Lord Father of the East and Queen Mother of the West, he is the sovereign of the northern direction and the Water element, as well as the direct superior of Xuanwu, one of the Four Divine Beasts.

-And his job? Subduing demons. The Evil-Vanquishing Mansion is basically a fleet of giant, hollowed-out icebergs, packed to the brim with powerful demons, ghosts, and rogue immortals.

-Any prisoners that make an unlikely escape will emerge into the North Sea, where the vigilant army of the dragon king awaits. However, that is not their main duty; it is the Eye of the North Sea that they swear to eternally guard.

-And the prisoner of the Eye is none other than Shen Gongbao, the infamous traitor of the Chan Sect who was behind most major conflicts in the War of Investiture.

-It was said that, though his body was stuffed into the Eye of the North Sea as punishment, in the end, his soul still gets deified as a minor water god.

-However, if there is only a mindless body left in there, why the need for such heavy security? Only the most experienced elders and veterans are allowed to go into the Eye's vicinity to check on Yuanshi Tianzun's seals, and repeated visit by the same people is strictly prohibited.

-Perhaps, instead of a split of soul and body, deification has split the soul itself: one half is exorcised of all the undesirable qualities, the other left to stew and simmer in them until it mutates into something unrecognizable.

-Such is the rumor among the North Sea's younger scions. But folks will make up anything to pass the time in those long, cold arctic nights, and whatever the truth is, it doesn't matter, as long as the seal still holds.

South Sea:

-Their element, Fire, is directly opposite to the North Sea's; much like the Cold Dragons, the Fire Dragons of the South Sea are heat specialists, creators of droughts and wildfires as well as bringers of warm winds.

-And their fire is a peculiar variant of Earthly Fire. Unlike Heavenly Fires, which draw from the blaze of the Three-legged Sun Crow, or the True Fires immortals used in internal alchemy, Fire Dragons channel the power of earth's flaming veins: that is, undersea volcanos and thermal vents.

-Though they usually display their power in less flashy ways——steam clouds, a playful whiff of sulfur, a blast of warm wind on a winter night, a Fire Dragon fully on the offensive is just like a mini live volcano, unleashing streams of magma and scalding smoke clouds.

-When dragons are mentioned as one of the Eight Classes of Demigods in Buddhism, more often than not, they are from the South Sea lineage.

-Like, the most popular Bodhisattva in Asia, Guanyin, resides in the South Sea. It's all but granted that the local dragons would also be heavily influenced by Buddhist teachings, in the same way their northern kins are drawn to the entourage of Zhenwu.

-Fun fact: the imagery of dragons has appeared in Chinese art since the Neolithic period, but the specific worship of dragons as gods of the Four Seas is a result of Buddhist influence.

-Prior to that, the gods of the Four Seas in the Book of Mountains and Seas are all beasts with human faces, wearing snakes as earrings or standing on a snake.

-And in Sui-Tang era works, some variants merged the Four Seas gods with the Four Directions gods of ancient times, and said that the god of the South Sea was Zhurong.

-A.k.a. the fire god that defeated Gonggong (in the most well-known version of the tale), who, being the sore loser he is, went and knocked over the sky support pillar with his head. Thus, Nvwa's patching of the sky.

-Legends of the South Sea lineage claim that the Fire Dragons draw their power from Zhurong's embers, and their king is descended from the two dragon mounts of the primodial fire god.

-To the outrage of more traditionalist dragons, they often intermarry with Nagas, the serpentine water gods of the Western Lands. Guanyin's dragon girl attendant is born of one such union, between the Naga lord Sagara and a princess of the South Sea.

-Their palace is located inside an underwater volcano, said to be the remnant of Zhurong's great forge. Giant tube worm gardening is a popular hobby among the South Sea nobility; however peculiar it may appear to outsiders, these colorful creatures thrive in the union of Fire and Water, much like the lineage itself.

(Pictures of the Four Dragon Kings come from Nezha 1979.)

(The animated film makes the dragon king of the West a black dragon, and the North, a white one, a reversal of the colors traditionally associated with the two directions——West = White, North = Black.）

[myheadphonesareneverloudenough]

i have this idea/possible au in my head and its been floating around for a while. it came to me when i realised that there were 5 lords in black and 5 nerdy prudes (including steph), and i thought what if these poor kids were each haunted by one of the LiB...

Ruth with Pokey, because of her love for theatre and dreams of being the star of a show. pokey would find her weak spot by offering her the role of a lifetime, her chance to be in the spotlight for once. i also have a hc for ruth that she has some form of ocd, and pokey has an affinity for everything to be perfect and in order, too.

Grace with Blinky, because her family and upbringing has taught her that everything she does in her life is under critical review. in grace's mind, she's always being watched anyways. she is always being judged or judging herself based on her actions and the "sins" she does/doesnt commit. honestly, she's so freaked out by doing the right thing at all times, she might already be watched by blinky.

Pete with Tinky, mostly because of that Spankoffski connection. of course, tinky wants to have the whole collection. ive thought a lot about how if ted is the time bastard, its likely that tinky would appoint his little brother as the space bastard. i hc pete to have a lot of social anxiety issues (im projecting) and believe me, it would be hell of a lot easier if space and time were on his side now and again.

the last two took some thinking. so bear with me.

Steph with Nibbly. not just because of nibblys "yum yum" line, or the very popular headcanon that steph's mother was honey queen (i still believe that she was, btw). but i think as the mayor's daughter, steph was raised to be very aware of her public image, that includes how she is perceived AND who she is associated with. before pete came into the picture, she probably had a lot of exes within the "cool kids" dating pool. someone she can be with for a few weeks to keep up her status, suck them dry until she couldn't bare to be with someone she didnt actually love, and then move onto the next. additionally, she probably has an idea in her head that she has to make herself "desirable" in order to keep up with the cool kids. between her hunger for attention, her father's hunger for success, and the overall high school hunger for popularity, nibbly would find a lot of places in steph to tap into.

lastly, Richie and Wiggly. and no, this has nothing to do with Jon playing both characters. richie, in my eyes, is a child at heart. not that he's immature or anything, but he just has a love for the simpler things. he likes anime and sci fi films. and, sure, he's smart and likes science, but he's not looking forward to college like his other nerdy friends. part of him wants to stay a kid forever, a feeling he would grow out of in time, but not before wiggly could take a stab at him. wiggly puts himself into a doll, for fucks sake. wiggly wants power and control, and richie wants his friends to stick around. wiggly wouldn't have to try very hard to befriend richie through his love of "childish" things, and from there he could "help" richie make sure his friends never, ever, leave.

im not sure how this would go, but the LiB each picking a different member of this friend group would cause a lot of competition down in the Black, and put a lot of strain on the relationships up in Hatchetfield.